Page 14 of Weaving Winter

“Long thoughts?” he asked, returning with a bowl of broth and meat. He handed me a spoon, and then a knife to stab the meat with. He also set a piece of cloth down with a large hunk of bread and cheese on it, along with what looked like a sweet bun. “Eat up. This weather takes it out of a body.”

“How long before we reach your base?” I asked, cautiously sipping the broth. It was good, spiced with something that bit the tongue ever so slightly, and I drank it down, the warm liquid radiating through me. “Or…will I live to see your base?” I finally decided that I had to know what his plans were.

“Oh, no worries on that. Unless you do something stupid, I’m not planning on killing you.” Bran glanced at the sky. “We’ve another ride, though shorter than this morning’s, to reach the outpost. Once there, I’ll decide what to do with you.”

“And him?” I asked, nodding toward the scout.

“Same answer.” He pointed toward the food. “Eat up. We break camp shortly.” He stood, motioning for another guard to join us. “When she finishes, call me.”

I ate as quickly as I could without getting sick. The food provided reserves and I needed as much fuel as I could, in case I needed to escape. Once I finished, the guard called Bran back.

“Do you need to tend to your business again?” he asked, pointing toward the bushes.

I wasn’t sure, but took him up on the offer, just in case. Then, it was back into the saddle with my hands tied and one of the guards leading Yaran. We set out again, and without the fire, the day seemed icier and gloomier than before.

The storm clouds had firmly packed in, and the temperatures were still dropping. I raised my hands and adjusted the scarf around my neck to cover my mouth and nose, so my breath wasn’t so harsh in my lungs. As the afternoon gave way, the silver light illuminated everything with an eerie glow. This was no normal storm, indeed. As it drew closer, I could feel the magic swirling in eddies. It was like being in the middle of a fast current that was trying to sweep me off my feet. I’d always had a feel for the woods, but this was something I wasn’t used to. I’d never experienced anything quite like it.

The man leading me turned to say, “She’s a frightening creature, she is. I’ve been through a few of her storms.”

“I don’t think we ever had one in my village. At least, not that I noticed. And I think I would notice this anywhere.” I decided that, given the chance, I’d find out what I could. “What’s your name? I’m Asajia.”

“Pieter,” the guard said. “And yes, if the Snow Witch brought storms to your village, you would notice. She seldom travels beyond the southern edge of the Bramble Fel Forest, though.”

“Do you live in the forest?”

He considered my question for a moment, then said, “I’ll let Bran answer that one, should he choose.”

I backtracked quickly. “How bad do the Snow Witch’s storms get?”

“Bad enough for people to die if they’re exposed to her cold for long enough. During a few of the storms, the ice fall is enough to freeze people into a solid icicle. So we make for the nearest shelter when we sense one coming in. We were out on a scouting expedition this morning when we found you and your buddy over there.”

“He’s no buddy of mine,” I muttered. “Don’t lump us together in the same sentence,” I added. The last thing I wanted was for any of them to put us together into the same room or cage.

“That bad?” Pieter said, a glint in his eye.

“Let’s just say, I’d rather weather the Snow Witch’s storm out in the open than find myself in his hands,” I said. Realizing I wasn’t going to get much information for now, I fell silent, trying to focus on the forest passing by. The storm riding the winds was strong enough to throw me off center, and it felt like tiny insects were jumping all over my body, but I knew that it had to be me reacting to the energy coming from the Snow Witch.

It was coming towards dusk when Bran shouted, pointing ahead of us. I strained my eyes to see the lights of what looked like a village ahead. As the woods opened into the clearing, I saw that a fence surrounded the compound. Tree trunks about as thick as a small pot had been sharpened into spikes at the top, and they were bound with leather straps, nestled deep in the ground to form a circular fence around the settlement. Inside the fence were tents everywhere, many of them small enough for two to three people. Still others were pavilions. The horses were stabled at a makeshift shelter, and next to the shelter were a number of large carts. The path led through the settlement, then out the other side.

I glanced around. There were some women, but most of them looked nothing like the women in Renmark. These women were muscled and they wore trousers and tunics like the men. Everyone’s hair here seemed long, like mine, including the men. And everyone that I saw had to be at least five-eight, the women included. They were a fit, strong looking people and I wondered where they came from? Was this their permanent home?

Bran motioned to one of the blonds who was watching another woman who stirred something in a large cauldron. The cauldron and fire were protected from the wind and weather by a lean-to. Whatever it was, it smelled fabulous and the aroma of vegetables and broth and meat filled the air. My stomach rumbled. It had been hours since we broke for food, and I was hungry again.

The blond came over. Her hair was shorter than most, and she wore it back in a ponytail. She glanced at me, raising her eyebrows. “I’m glad you made it back before the storms.”

Bran clasped her hand and hugged her like men hug—patting her on the back. “I was worried we might be caught in the open, but we made good time. I estimate we have an hour before they come through. Are the horses secured?”

“All is well, cousin. The horses are safe, the gear is stowed.” She glanced at me again, obviously curious. “We have company?”

“We found her and the man over there in a brawl out in the woods. One man was dead. He and his buddy were attempting to capture her, apparently they were sent to drag her back to a life of servitude to their sheriff. Asajia, this is my cousin, Fenling. Fenling, Asajia’s a hunter by trade, from the village of Renmark.”

“You duff. Take those ropes off her this moment. I’ve heard of Renmark, and of their sheriff. He deserves to be on the wrong end of someone’s sword, from all accounts. If she’s on the run, then she has reason.” She gave me a firm, but warm, smile. “You look exhausted.”

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t Bran’s cousin coming to my defense. “I am. I’ve been on the road…I don’t know how many days now. I escaped under the cover of nightfall. And whatever you’ve heard about Garimorn—the sheriff—it doesn’t do him justice. He’s a power-hungry asshole. Once under his power, you might as well write the rest of your life off.” I shuddered. Just thinking about him still gave me the creeps. “Watch his scout. He’ll do what he can to escape. That I know for certain.”

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Bran said. “Fenling, can you find Asajia some clean clothing? She’s worn the same garments for days. No offense,” he said to me with a grin, “but you reek.”

“No offense? That’s an awful thing to say, except I know it’s true. I could use a good wash up, but I know the storms are on the way?—”

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