Christmas Eve at Grandma Hela's house smelled of borscht and gingerbread. Outside the window, snow was falling and the sky was covered with heavy clouds. Janek was hanging the last ornament on the Christmas tree by the tiled cooker. It was a tiny bell carved by his great-grandfather from a pear tree. When he touched it, something sounded once more, all by itself. A red envelope with a pattern of frost and stars shimmered under the Christmas tree. On it was his name and a reindeer sign with a compass. Janek opened the envelope carefully, as if it held creaking ice. In the letter it said: Urgent! The spare buckle is gone, the stars are restless. A wooden casket with a petal-shaped lock was waiting on the carpet. Frost's casket is in your house; it will be opened by the first star. However, the sky was silent and the casket was completely deaf. Janek looked at the old cuckoo clock above the sideboard. His great-grandfather had said it could produce a starry shadow on the wall. He turned the key, the mechanism buzzed and constellations appeared on the ceiling. The casket shuddered, heated up, and a soft ice rustled inside. A plan of the garden with a large arrow grew out of the frost on the glass. The arrow pointed to a cell by the fence, behind the snowman. Janek slipped on his boots and buttoned his jacket before his grandmother matched the map. He stepped out onto the porch; the wood creaked and his breath turned to mist. He skipped through the snowdrifts and stood at the cell door, buried up to the handle. He grabbed the rusting handle as a whisper sounded from behind the snowman: "Janek..."