My Swordhand Is Singing, book 1
Marcus Sedgwick2006

He came to the gate of the graveyard. There could be no doubt. The wool ran over the fence ... Dumbly, he gripped it, as if it were a lifeline, when in reality it was leading him towards death itself ...
As surely as the snow falls softly in the forest of one hundred thousand silver birch trees, a father and son must face a soulless enemy and a terrifying destiny.