All her life, Sophie Hatter never left her village in Market Chirping. Neither has she wondered what lay beyond the enclave of alps separating her from the jagged northern border. She is the oldest of her three sisters, which means she is to inherit the hat shop and marry a town gentleman with respectable money when her time comes. Her future, plain and forward as her dull gray dress and straw hat, plays before her eyes each day as she sits in front of her work stand at the hat shop. Lettie, the young family jewel – defiant sapphire blue eyes beneath her long curls and charmingly wicked smile – is a prodigy bound to leave the town to study magic at Mrs. Farifax's academy. Martha, as pretty as the first chirp of a blue bird at dawn, has already packed her leather suit case and run away with a young novelist to Paris. Sophie's role in her family is to be the shop keeper, the family glue. If nothing else, Sophie understands the word "duty" and she holds it beneath her tongue like a precious boiled stone.
One a morning in early October, Market Chirping grows abuzz with breaking news. A mysterious smoke has risen from the Alps north of the town. By noon, not only had the smoke not dispersed, it had moved to the west side of town. This is the first time Market Chirping has had such an unexpected visitor, and every aunt in town seems to have their own story. "It must be the infamous wizard Howl come to town," Sophie's young salestress whispers to another customer. "I heard he dresses as a wealthy gentleman and moves from town to town preying on young girls. But don't be fooled, he'll steal your heart and use it for his wicked potions."
"I heard he's dreadfully handsome," Sophie's stepmother responds, waltzing through the door in a splendid frock of silk.
"I wouldn't mind having my heart eaten by handsome wizard," the young customer giggles. "Better than that blushing young boy Joe Hardy come to clean our garden on Saturdays."
A tiresome conversation ensues between the three excited gossipers. Sophie looks down at her plain gray dress and simple braided hair, and closes the door to her workroom adjoining the shop. She begins sewing hats of all shapes and sizes, floral printed wedding caps and fruit patterned sun hats for every occasion.
By nightfall everyone has left the shop but Sophie. As she watches the last worker leave, she cautiously begins trying on the hats in the shop one by one, imagining the lives of each shopper who is to buy and wear her hat. The owner of this one will sail all the way to Denmark, Sophie sighs to herself, twirling in a leather brown hat. There, she'll be the first woman to fly across the world in her own flying machine, in a day when there won't be a need for witches and wizards.
The candle lights in Sophie's hat shop begin to dim, and at that moment a strange, foreboding figure steps into the shop. From the dim fire on the counter, Sophie can't discern his face or age beneath his tall black hat and cloak. His tall stature creates & ominous shadow across Sophie's sparkling hardwood floor.
"Good evening, miss. I heard from town the smoke rising from the alps comes from the castle of a terrifying young wizard," the man says. Despite his appearance, the man's voice is young and fresh, like nothing Sophie has heard before. "He is the ruthless son of a Mongolian warlord traveling from town to town preying on the hearts of young women and burning them for fire power, I'd be careful working alone on a night like this."
"I'm not afraid; Howl only preys on pretty women." Sophie replies, pulling off her leather hat. "Besides, my place is in the shop, where I'll stay till the day my skin has turned sponge. No man would want to a cold and drying heart like mine."
The man walks over to Sophie's work rack and casually begins lifting hats from her stash of newly sewn hats. "These aren't for sale yet," Sophie objects hurriedly. Sophie notices the slender silhouette of his fingers as he tilts his wrists to inspect each hat. A soft tuft of uncut yellow hair falls into the candle light. "This one," the man says finally, propping up a black silk banded hat from its rack and throwing a handful of silver coins on Sophie's work table, "for a little gray mouse."
"Wait!" Sophie suddenly calls as the gentleman exits her shop, "you forgot your change."
"Tomorrow night at the masquerade ball," the man calls after her. "Give it to me then."
