As the Night-Mares slowly receded into the dawn, she thought of the fateful day that the Buckle Factory had become her home…
Winter arrived, fresh and clear as a diamond shining in the early morning sun. The factory doors stood above her, a study in iron, wood and rivets as the last hollow booms faded from the grimacing knocker on the postern door. She didn’t have to wait long before the door was pulled ajar and the balding head of – who she would come to know as – the Head Feeder peered through the last greasy strands of his hair.
“Whaddaya want Witch?” Snarled the sallow face, " ‘Mancers leavings aren’t ’til Thursday!"
“I,” replied Winter in a voice that would freeze your bones at thirty paces, “am here at the request of Master Buckle. I am Winter!”