“I looked up from my book that night to find the Njogel peering down at me through my bedroom window, his black horse’s nostrils exhaling whorls of blue fog into the frigid air. I kicked away my blankets, sat up on my heels, pressed my fingertips to the glass as if to reach through it to caress his muzzle. In the moon glow I caught sight of my own reflection. The snow light had turned my skin pale blue, and for a moment I thought I must be staring at my own ghost. But no, not yet, though I knew that’s why he’d finally come for me, that reaper of the deep I’d longed for on so many terrible nights without you...”