Kasumi sent word to her brother and sisters that she had married, and would be staying with her husband, Kisuke, in their childhood village.

The young couple had a happy year together, enjoying each other’s company.

The following year in midwinter Kasumi gave birth to their first child, a boy.

He was very small and very pale for a newborn, but he cried very loudly, showing he was healthy and strong. Kisuke’s mother was only too happy to finally hear the sound of children again, and hastened to become a loving grandmother.

In the following years Kisuke and Kasumi had three more children, two of them twins girls, the youngest a second little boy, all who were adored by their grandmother.

The four children were also loved by the villagers, whose children befriended them.

The elders were rather pleased that Kasumi had found her way home again, and spent many afternoons drinking tea with her and the children. Kasumi’s fellow mothers often joined them when they took breaks during their daily chores, and Kasumi soon settled back into her old village.

To Kisuke, Kasumi was the most beautiful woman in the world. He loved her very much, not just her beauty but her kindness and care toward him and their children.

She was gentle with her mother-in-law, who was getting on in her years. She was respectful to the elders and other villagers, too. To her children’s friends she would offer cold drinks on hot summer days and tell stories of her past to them when they came to visit.

Kasumi’s charm came in that she cared for others before herself. She was nothing but gracious and compassionate, like she had a lifetime of love to share.

Kisuke confessed to Kasumi one day that he never thought he’d see her again, so he was grateful that she had come back into his life.

She was what he’d been missing in his life, someone who would love and cherish him, whom he could love and cherish in return. Sometimes it all felt too good to be true, but Kasumi’s gentle touch reminded him that this was not a dream.

Caught up in this new happiness, Kisuke and Kasumi had many happy years together.

Kisuke barely noticed that the other women whispered about Kasumi, praising her patience and noting how even after bearing children she had not lost her beautiful face and willowy figure. They noted how a wife like her was hard to come by, the latter being the only gossip that ever reached Kisuke’s ears.

When their youngest boy turned three Kisuke’s mother passed on in her sleep. Kasumi had taken good care of her, so she suffered very little. She died with a smile on her face, happy to have lived to see her grandchildren.

Kisuke wept at the death of his mother, mourning with Kasumi and their children. Kisuke had her buried next to his father so that they might meet again in death.

Time passed and grief faded into wonder as the children grew.

The youngest was five now, the twins seven and the eldest ten. They were the best four children a man could have, Kisuke thought. They were wonderful, just like their mother, another piece of what Kisuke’s life had been missing before.

All seemed right with the world, as Kisuke found that he had more than he’d ever wanted or hoped for.

Alas, winter came ‘round again, and Kisuke braved the winter woods for work.

He made sure to come home before dark so not to worry Kasumi or their children. Kasumi would send him out early with warm clothes and have a hot meal waiting for him when he returned.

On days when Kisuke returned later in the evening he would find Kasumi and their children snuggled together by the fire listening to Kasumi’s stories of the past. Upon Kisuke’s return the children would squeal happily and run to embrace their father, thankful that he’d finally come home.

One night in midwinter Kisuke sat by the fire warming his toes, having returned later than usual from the woods. He gazed fondly at his children who were asleep on a bed of straw. Kasumi tucked them in, humming a lullaby to soothe them, then joined Kisuke by the fire to make straw sandals for the coming summer.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, a flame dancing in the right direction, or a hole in the walls where moonlight slid through, but something flickered in Kisuke’s gaze, and as he gazed upon his lovely wife he was reminded of a certain night in the winter woods many years ago.

He recalled to Kasumi the time when Old Fuyuki, his mentor, and him had gotten lost one winter's night and had to spend the night at an old shelter. But Old Fuyuki would not live to tell the tale, for he had been frozen in ice by a snow woman from the wilds.

Kisuke considered how he must’ve been hallucinating from the cold, but said that in this light Kasumi reminded him of the snow woman. Perhaps it was her ethereal beauty, he mused, then shook his head.

Kasumi went silent. She set down the tiny sandal she’d been weaving and turned to meet his eyes.

Kisuke’s face went pale when he saw her, for Kasumi’s beautiful warm face had stiffened into a pale, icy glare.

“All those years ago in the woods it was me.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Kisuke angled his head in confusion, unsure of what she could possibly mean.

Kasumi’s eyes flared.

She leapt to her feet and raved, “It was me in the snowstorm that day! I promised I would kill you should you ever speak of it again, but I cannot kill you now, for our children sleep soundly there.” She pointed her sleeve at the four little heads resting in the straw.

Kisuke stumbled away from the fire, speechless, not knowing who this creature was who stood before him, not knowing if he should be afraid.

“You’d better take good care of these children,” the snow woman hissed, “For if you don’t I will return and kill you as I promised!”

Then she shrieked a piercing wail and flew out of the house, the door opening for her and then shutting as she disappeared into the snowy winter night.

For a while Kisuke cowered close to the fire, stunned at what he’d just seen. This night bore little difference compared to what he’d seen all those years ago.

Only this time, no one had died.

Kisuke hoped it was all just a dream, that his wife had just stepped out for some air. She would come back in shortly and sleep next to him. What he’d just seen was the result of having been out in the cold all day long.

But as Kisuke laid down next to his children, holding them close in protection, it occurred to him that perhaps this was real, as real as the cold nipping his toes.

He did not sleep well that night.

–––––