The figure approached at a snail’s pace, cutting a thin black scar through the snow. Her heart leapt with anticipation – George was finally coming home! She hurried inside, threw a few precious logs onto the fire and put some water onto boil, before washing hurriedly and changing into her Sunday dress. She liked to look good for her husband.

She heard the heavy clump of feet on their porch and with a thrill rushed to the door and threw it open.

A tall, lean stranger stood in front of her, heavily clad in snow flecked furs. He looked at her hungrily. “Well aren’t you a pretty young thing? George certainly had good taste.”

She screamed and tried to close the door, but he wedged his foot in the gap and pushed the door back, throwing her to the ground.

He smiled and walked in, closing the door slowly behind him.