The snow creaked under the windows and the house smelled of orange and cloves. Maja was mending the chain on the Christmas tree when the Christmas Eve star disappeared. A moment ago it had sparkled at the tip, now only a trace of glitter remained. Olek, her cousin, looked up and whistled quietly. 'That's impossible, Maja. After all, no one had come in here. Maja noticed silver dust on the carpet, leading towards the attic. The footsteps looked like footsteps in the snow, only tiny like from a toy. - Elf? - whispered Olek, but he pretended to be joking. Maja carefully climbed the stairs, carrying a torch from the cupboard. Ice had settled on the handrail, although it was warm in the house. The higher up, the more distinctly the soft metallic bells rang. I swear, I hear sleigh bells, and here, after all, is an ordinary attic. The door creaked open and revealed twilight, boxes and an old chest. Someone had stuck a note on the lid: Do not open until midnight. The clock in the living room chimed eleven o'clock, and the crate rang slightly. Olek checked the padlock; it was cold as snow and locked tight. - Are we waiting until twelve? - He asked, but Maja glanced at the dust. It was sparking harder and harder, as if reacting to their breathing and whispering. Suddenly something rattled inside, then they heard a quiet, quick scraping. The latch twitched of its own accord, and the ear of the padlock swung open a hair's breadth. A cold gust blew in from the side of the window, though the glass was closed. Maja raised the torch, and the beam of light hit the footprint of a shoe. It was not a human footprint; the sole had a snowflake symbol and a number. Six twelve, whispered Maja as the padlock vibrated once more. Something from inside pressed on the lid, as if asking to be let in. A quiet whisper came from inside: Maja.