Snow Fairy pressed her hand to the frosted window of her ice-coated den and counted the winters. Six. For six long Canadian winters, Rambler Rabbit had kept her alive. He carried her bundled through blizzards. He fed her carrot soup when the wind screamed. Now she wanted to thank him, truly thank him, with a gift he would love. But her wings drooped, because she had no idea what that gift could be. She spread her choices across the floor. A wreath of frozen berries. A blue scarf. A carved bird of ice. Each one felt wrong. Rambler was loud and silly. He wore a bright shirt covered in pineapples. A stiff, serious gift would only confuse him. She had one chance, and a wrong guess would waste it. So she flew to find him. Rambler was outside his burrow, balancing a snowball on his nose and laughing at himself. When he saw her, his big ears shot straight up. "Snow Fairy! Come to watch me fail at everything? I'm very good at it." The snowball dropped. He grinned wider. She almost asked him outright what he wanted. Then she stopped and just watched. Rambler kicked snow into the air. He caught a snowflake on his tongue. He hummed a tune off-key, tapping his purple sneakers to the beat. He never stopped moving. He never stopped making music out of nothing. That was it. Not a berry wreath. Not a scarf. "I have to go," she blurted. Rambler waved both paws over his head like she was leaving on a great voyage. "Farewell, brave fairy! Send a postcard!" Back in her den, Snow Fairy worked for three days. She shaped tiny snowflakes from crystal and silver. She fit them into a lid. Inside, she set a little turning key that plucked out a soft, wintry song. When she wound it, the music box played the same off-key tune Rambler had hummed in the snow. She had listened, and she had remembered. She carried it to his burrow with both hands, her heart thudding. Rambler opened the box. The tune spilled out. His mouth fell open, and for the first time she had ever seen, he went completely still. "That's my song," he whispered. "That's the dumb little song I sing when nobody's listening." "I was listening," she said. "You saved me six winters. I wanted you to have something that was only yours." His eyes went shiny. He hugged the box to his chest, then hugged her too, squeezing until her wings crinkled. Snow Fairy flew home lighter than snow. She had done it. She had thanked him right. But on her table, a folded note waited, edged with real frost. She had not left it there. The handwriting was thin and sharp. "A gift for a gift," it read. "Now you owe me one. Come to the shop before the thaw."