“Of course,” Skúfr replies, pleased that he gets to show off a bit. I demonstrate the pose I want and the yeti obliges me, giving the snowman a nice mane of hair at my instruction, including a lock that droops fetchingly in front of one eye. He even creates eyebrows and a thin blue frosty beard that hugs the jawline.
“Can you write something for me on the ground in frost letters, but using English?” I ask him.
“If you trace it out, I will do so.”
I scrawl a phrase in front of the snowman’s feet, then back away as Skúfr changes it to blue ice and fills in my foot and handprints, smoothing out the surface of the snow.
“Oh, that’s perfect! I love it!” My cell phone’s battery is long dead, so I haven’t a prayer of capturing an image. “I wish I had a camera. I want a picture of me talking to him.”
“Does he represent someone you know?” Ísólfr asks.
“No, he represents a character from one of my favorite stories. A handsome fictional man. On several occasions, a beautiful redhead tells him what I have written there.”
“What do the words say?”
“They say, ‘You know nothing, Jon Snow.’ ”—Kevin Hearne
“Iron Druid Chronicles 07 - Shattered”