Page 65 of Blood & Snow

The paper snowflakes crafted by my niece and nephew flutter as I tape them to the window.

Anya sits cross-legged on the floor, cutting more from old newspapers while Mikhail builds a tower from empty cereal boxes.

The apartment feels smaller with all the decorations, but warmer too, like traditional holidays when I was young and my mother would bake honey cakes forNovy God.

It brings a smile to my face.

"Tell us about the Snow Maiden again," Anya says, not looking up from her scissors.

I settle onto the couch, pulling my legs under me.

"Well," I start, "she lived in the forest with her father, Ded Moroz. Every winter, she helped him deliver gifts to good children."

"Was she lonely?"

Mikhail asks, abandoning his boxes to climb onto the couch beside me.

"Sometimes. But she had the animals and the trees for company. And she knew that every year, when the snow melted, she would return to her father's realm until winter came again."

Anya frowns and puts down her scissors.

"That's sad. She couldn't stay forever."

I smooth her hair back from her face.

"But she always came back every year."

Her sweet, compassionate heart reminds me of when I was a child and prayed to Ded Moroz myself that his daughter could stay with him forever.

The gifts stacked in the corner catch my eye.

Three neat piles, each wrapped in different colored paper.

More than I could have afforded on my own.

More than I should have been able to buy.

The guilt sits in my stomach like a lead weight, but when I see their eyes light up every time they walk past and there are a few more, I can't allow myself to wallow.

Mikhail notices my gaze.

"Are those all for us?"

"Some are forMamochkatoo," I say.

"But yes, most are yours."

"Where did you get the money?" Anya asks.

She's eight, but she pays attention.

She knows we've been struggling because every time Irina scolds her about not having enough money for something, she sweetly offers to sell her long wavy hair to a wig shop.

It makes that bittersweet feeling even worse.

"Tips have been good at work. The hotel gets busy during the holidays."

It's not entirely a lie.