The Snow at Gilded CreekNo one in Gilded Creek had seen the first snow for nigh on twenty years; they'd tell you straight to your face if you asked. My folks had moved up here when I was just four years old; things had got hairy back home in New Orleans. Papa said the sea was getting higher and the fish were shy about getting caught. Alaska was far enough away that the sea couldn't catch us. Truth be told, I never understood why that was a problem. I'm not a weather lady myself, or I never thought I was anyway. I guess last week might've changed that.

Gilded Creek sits in a valley right near a mountain that the locals call Soltaanh--"The Lady" in the old language. Nobody quite knows why that's her name, but we show her respect and give her our love. She rises three miles at least over the land; some days, you can see the clouds floating round her peak like a fluffy scarf. The creek itself--the one our town's named for--brings us fresh, clean water from the Lady's snow, which melts at the end of the