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The master was asleep. Kare could hear him snoring from his little room off the kitchen.

Carefully, so as not to make the floorboards creak, he padded in his bare feet to the door. Before he opened it, he plucked a single apple from a barrel. Kylie would like it.

He hardly made a sound as he slipped out the door. The cold air hit his bare shoulders with a bite as sharp as a whip. Kare flinched and for a second, considered going back. But no, he couldn’t, Kylie was waiting for him.

He trudged through the growing drifts of snow and down dark alleyways until he reached a patch of snow lit by the window of the trading post. He hurried up the slick steps and tested the doorknob. Unlocked as promised.

He pushed the door open and was welcomed by a gentle ripple of heat and the warm glow of candles. He shut it behind him and looked around.

A rattling cough drew his attention from the exotic wares to a thin girl standing behind the counter, her face barely visible above the worn wood. “Kare!” The little girl’s voice was quiet, but enthusiastic. “You came!”

Kare let himself smile. “I promised, didn’t I?” He tossed her the apple.

She tried to catch it, but another fit of coughing threw off her balance and it smacked into a glass jar. The jar fell to the floor with a crash.

Kare felt all the color drain from his face. Footsteps sounded above his head.

“Quick! Hide!” She pointed to the swinging doors leading to the backroom.

Without a second though, Kare dove through them just as a man’s voice called out, “Kylie? What happened?”

He searched for a place to hide behind the various boxes and crates. He crammed himself between two barrels. Being a bit small for his age was useful sometimes.

“What happened?” the man’s voice repeated, this time closer.

“I dropped the jar.” Kylie barely spoke above a whisper and Kare had to strain to hear her.

The man laughed. “Why were you after the basil? And what is this apple doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

He couldn’t just hide back here and let his sister get into trouble because of him. He pulled himself from between the barrels and pushed open the swinging doors.

He kept his eyes glued to his bare feet. If you didn’t give the master a saucy look, or any look at all, you were usually better off.

“Who is this?” The man’s voice was not angry, but rather curious.

“Kare, sir.” He hazarded a glance up.

The man smiled down at him, his long, dark hair streaked with gray. “What are you doing here, Kare?”

Kare didn’t want to talk. He clamped his mouth shut. It would only get them in more trouble.

“Tell me, boy, I won’t hurt you.”

Kare shook his head and backed away. He tripped over a barrel of coffee, sending the beans skittering across the floor. He looked up, biting his lip.

The man only smiled.