Two years ago they had buried her princess mother under the tall spruce near their cabin.

That day Pierrot's sun had set for all time, and her own life became filled with a vast loneliness.

There had been three at the graveside that afternoon as the sun went down--Pierrot, herself, and a dog, a great, powerful husky with a white star on his breast and a white-tipped ear.
He had been her dead mother's pet from puppyhood--her bodyguard, with her always, even with his head resting on the side of her bed as she died.

And that night, the night of the day they buried her, the dog had disappeared.

He had gone as quietly and as completely as her spirit.