It was the night before Hogswatch and every creature in Death's Domain was astir, except for the Death of Rats who had decamped in indignation when the cats moved in. Those same cats now stood, sat and lay about the big dark hall, a fascinated audience watching with fixed, unblinking eyes as Albert and Lily worked on Death's costume.

"Hold on, Master, nearly got it -" Albert said from the top of stepladder, struggling with the strings holding the long, fluffy white beard in place.

"A second cushion does not help," Lily declared firmly surveying her uncle critically. "In fact I think it's worse."

HO, said Death practicing. HO, HO. HO, HO, HO! I THINK I'VE GOT IT.

"Not bad," Lily agreed in a rather too encouraging tone as she refastened his belt over just one cushion.

Albert arranged the fur trimmed hood over Death's skull. I CANNOT SEE.

"Sorry, Master... that better?"

NOT MUCH.

"You've got to keep it pulled down low, Uncle, otherwise they'll see you're not the real Hogfather."

WILL ANYBODY SEE ME?

"Miss Lily's right, Master. We can't take the chance."

TRUE. Death consulted some inner sense. TIME TO GO.

----

Lily, Albert and a red costumed Death popped into existence by the Hogfather's throne in the great hall of the Castle of Bones. Norby had the sled all ready. The sacks were piled high and the one at the top was slightly open revealing a precariously balanced teddy-bear; a wooden soldier in a uniform that would have stood out in a disco; a toy drum and an improbably large candy cane.

Gouger, Rooter, Tusker and Snouter were in their harness. They were very large and very bristly. Their little piggy eyes glowed red and their white tusks gleamed. They also smelled - none of which kept Lily from going right up to Rooter and petting him, then moving on to spread her attentions impartially between the four.

"Here's the list, sir," Norby handed Death a large rolled scroll.

Death looked at it, nonplussed. LIST?

"You check it, Master," Albert prompted helpfully.

"Twice," Lily added.

Death let the bottom of the roll thump to the snow drifted floor and studied the closely written seven foot length of parchment so revealed in some bewilderment. CHECK FOR WHAT?

"Whether they've been naughty or nice, remember?" Lily said patiently.

OH.

"Don't worry about it, sir," Norby said reassuringly. "The Hogfather's already been all through it. But you've got to check - twice, like the young lady said - it's traditional."

VERY WELL. Death sat down on the steps of the throne and let the list run through his fingerbones as he scanned it. Lily picked up the end and re-rolled it as he went.

"Nice hat," Albert said to Norby with a bit of a snicker. The hat in question was green and pointed with a bell at the tip. It was also several sizes too small.

Norby blushed. "The Hogfather always takes a pixie or two with him to help. Since all of them are gone I thought I'd better stand in."

NO, Death raised his head from the list and fixed the blue points of light in his eye sockets on the young man. ALBERT WILL ASSIST ME. I HAVE OTHER WORK FOR YOU, NORBY. AND FOR LILY."

"Me?" Lily looked surprised but delighted. "What can I do?"

FIND THE HOGFATHER.

Norby frowned a little. "How do we do that?"

YOU TWO ARE BELIEVERS. FOLLOW YOUR BELIEF.

----

Unlike Susan Lily had not suffered the rigors of a 'rational' education. She had read all the right books and such gnomic instructions dismayed her not a wit. Norby, having spent his entire life with an anthropomorphic personification, was equally unperturbed. They went out the gaping doors of the Castle of Bones and down the long flight of icy green steps to the snow blanketed ground and a little ways in among the trees, then stopped and looked at each other uncertainly.

Then a wren chirped. A wren who had absolutely no business being out and about in the frozen permanent winter of the hub. A wren who should have been sunning herself on some Klatchian beach this time of year. A wren who was giving them the impatient eye.

Lily and Norby looked at each other again, primeval memories stirring like a thick, black blood soup. The wren launched herself into the air fluttering eastward under the tree cover, careful to keep in sight. Norby and Lily followed.

Norby, booted now and with a bearskin wrap over his brief tunic, plowed through the snow knee deep. Lily walked lightly on top of the drifts leaving no prints behind, her head on level with the boy's. Neither of them gave any thought to this phenomena. Both understood perfectly well that they were not in the real world and normal rules no longer applied. Nor had either of them any problem with that. In fact it all seemed quite natural - in a supernatural sort of way.

At first the forest was silent, except for the occasional crack of an overloaded branch and wump of a load of snow hitting the ground. Then, faint with distance came the yelp of hounds and the voices of men shouting in glee and excitement.

Norby and Lily hurried. The sounds of dogs and men grew louder as they grew closer. It was a hunting party in full chase, the hounds invisible but very audible to the fore, the men dodging between the trees as they ran. They were crudely dressed in skins and furs, not unlike Norby, and carried bows and spears.

Norby broke into a run himself, rapidly overtaking the hunters. Lily took a step after him -and found herself in another place, a hollow clearing hemmed in with trees, their tangled, black branches framing a circle of icy pale sky. A small frozen river or large stream, depending on whether you were a half-empty or half-full kind of person, circled around three sides of the clearing and the white snow was dimpled with a trail of cloven prints leading to a gigantic boar at bay, back to the thin ice.

He stood silhouetted, blue-black against all the whiteness, huge and real - realer than the trees and snow. The hunters' dogs exploded from the fringe of trees like so many furry guided missiles only to pull up, safely out of reach, when the boar snorted and shoot his heavy head, tusks as long as Lily's arm showing yellow against the snow. His eyes, dark and lucent, swept the half circle of bristling, wary hounds and briefly met Lily's. Then she knew. For someone looked back at her, someone she'd known all her life, though she'd never till this moment set eyes on him.

The hunters had reached the edge of the clearing now, staying carefully within the cover of the trees. Whistles brought the dogs slinking back to them, obedient and very relieved. A flight of dark arrows arched high and powdered the ground around the Hogfather boar, a few puncturing his high arched back.

Lily saw the blood trickling down his sides and screamed a high, shrill, little girl scream.

"Nooooooo!" Norby burst through the ring, sending several hunters flying, to plant himself before the Hogfather, arms spread. "No!" he panted. "You can't, you can't."

The hunters clearly did not agree. There was some angry muttering among them then Lily saw a bow raised, arrow knocked, and cried; STOP!

And they did.

In fact everything did. Men and dogs stood, caught between one breath and the next. The just released arrow hung motionless in the air beside the archer's cheek. The very flakes of snow failed to fall, hovering in midair.

After a stunned moment Lily hurried forward to touch one of Norby's upraised arms. "Not you!"

He blinked, lowered his arms, looked down at her. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Me either." She shot a look towards the frozen hunters and shrugged. "This is a magic place, and I am a believer."

That made sense to Norby. Behind them the Hogfather snorted, they turned to face him. He did not look at all friendly.

Norby dropped to his knees in the snow. "Hogfather, Father, please - it's me, it's Norby."

Lily said nothing. The Hogfather didn't know her personally.

"Please, Father, please," Norby was near tears. "Don't you know me? You must know me!"

There was a long, fraught pause - at least it seemed so to the two youngsters. Then the Hogfather took one, uncertain step forward.

Norby gave a half sob of relief. "Father!" And the boar came all the way up to him and blew gently on his cheek. The young man's arms went around the great neck and he wept into the stiff, dark fur.

Lily shot uneasy looks at the motionless forms of the hunters, uncertain of just how long the magic would last. Fortunately Norby recovered himself quickly. He ran his hands along the Hogfather's back and plucked out the two or three arrows - they hadn't penetrated deeply. Lily, remembering narrative conventions, tore the bottom ruffle from her petticoat and Norby pressed the folded cloth against the wounds until they stopped bleeding.

The hunters still hadn't come back to life. It looked like they were going to stay frozen as long as Lily and Norby needed them too.

Lily knelt by the Hogfather's head. "Everything's going to be all right, sir," she said, stroking his bristles. "Death knows what's going on and he has a plan to put things right."

"He's out now delivering the presents. Hogswatch will come this year, same as ever." Norby added encouragingly.

"And people will have to start believing again," Lily finished. She wasn't sure how much - if any - of this the Hogfather understood in his present form. But at the very least he knew that she and Norby were friends he could trust.

"We should take him home," said Norby.

Lily nodded. That made sense, certainly more sense than continuing to stand out here in the cold surrounded by hunters who might come back to life at any minute!