The third sister, who was the youngest, sighed. "Why do we always talk about the weather?"
"What else is there?"
"Well, it"s either freezing cold or baking. I mean, that"s it, really."
"That is how things are in Mother Uberwald," said the oldest sister, slowly and sternly. "The vind and the snow and the boiling heat of summer..."
"You know, I bet if we cut down the cherry orchard we could put in a roller-skating rink - "
No.
"How about a conservatory? We could grow pineapples."
No.
"If we moved to Bonk we could get a big apartment for the cost of this place - "
"This is our home, Irina," said the oldest sister. "Ah, a home of lost illusions and thwarted hopes..."
"We could go out dancing and everything."
"I remember when we lived in Bonk," said the middle sister dreamily. "Things vere better then."
"Things vere alvays better then," said the oldest sister.
The youngest sister sighed and looked out of the window. She gasped. "There"s a man running through the cherry orchard!"
"A man? Vot could he possibly vant?"
The youngest sister strained to see. "It looks like he wants... a pair of trousers..."
"Ah," said the middle sister dreamily. "Trousers ver better then."
The hurrying pack stopped in a chilly blue valley when the howling filled the air. Angua loped back to the sledge, lifted out her bag of clothes with her jaws, glanced at Carrot and disappeared among the drifts. A few moments later she walked back again, doing up her shirt.
"Wolfgang"s got some .poor devil playing the game," she said. "I"m going to put a stop to it. It was bad enough that Father kept the tradition going, but at least he played fair. Wolfgang cheats. They never win." "Is this the game you told me about?"
"That"s right. But Father played by the rules. If the runner was bright and nimble he got four hundred crowns and Father had him to dinner at the castle."
"If he lost, then your father had him for dinner out in the woods."
"Thank you for reminding me."
"I was trying not to be nice."
"You may have an undiscovered natural talent," said Angua. "But no one had to run, is my point. I won"t apologize. I"ve been a copper in Ankh-Morpork, remember. City motto: You May Not Get Killed."
"Actually, it"s - "
"Carrot! I know. And our family motto is Homo Homini Lupus. "A man is a wolf to other men"! How stupid. Do you think they mean that men are shy and retiring and loyal and kill only to eat? Of course not! They mean that men act like men towards other men, and the worse they are the more they think they"d really like being wolves! Humans hate werewolves because they see the wolf in us, but wolves hate us because they see the human inside - and I don"t blame them!"
Vimes veered away from the farmhouse and sprinted towards the nearby barn. There had to be something in there. Even a couple of sacks would do. The chafing qualities of frozen underwear can be seriously underestimated.
He"d been running for half an hour. Well, for twenty-five minutes, really. The other five had been spent limping, wheezing, clutching at his chest and wondering how you knew if you were having a heart attack.
The inside of the barn was... barn-like. There were stacks of hay, dusty farm implements... and a couple of threadbare sacks hanging on a nail. He snatched one, gratefully.
Behind him the door creaked open. He spun round, clutching the sack to him, and saw three very sombrely dressed women watching him carefully. One of them was holding a kitchen knife in a trembling hand,