[…] A twitching feeler appears through the gap. It's as thick as your thumb, and furry - no, that's not fur. That's soft rime. You open the window further. An eye as big as your own stares at you, round and translucent. You slam the window shut.
[…] A twitching feeler appears through the gap. […] An eye as big as your own stares at you, round and translucent. The frost-moth pulses forward, trying to get in. You pull down at the sash. The moth whispers, 'Why have you not gone North?'