Page 21 of Weaving Winter

“Turns out Karehl killed her grandparents during one of the raids.” He dug into his meal, eating as though he was famished.

Fenling let out a slow breath and turned to me. “Is that right?”

I nodded. “Yes. My grandparents died before I was born. My father hated the Wolf People, but given I had never met my Nan and Napa, it all seems distant to me.”

“Then Bran is correct, we owe you a blood debt.” She paled, her fork and knife poised over her plate, as though she didn’t know what to say. In fact, by the look in her eyes, I had the feeling she was embarrassed.

“It was long ago,” I said. “This is a harsh world. I know that all too well.” When she still didn’t respond, I said, “So, the storm will last another couple days?”

“That’s what our soothsayer predicts,” Fenling said, shaking out of her silence. “The Snow Witch is dancing in the clouds.”

At that moment, the tent flap opened and a man broke through, looking half-dead and frozen. Immediately, Bran and two others were at his side, examining him. They carried him over to the central fire and Fenling brought him a mug of hot tea. As he shivered, groaning as the healer examined his hands and face, he managed to whisper out a few words.

“Lord Bran, I bring you orders from the prince.”

“Oh?” Bran’s expression changed ever so slightly. “And what are they?”

“You are to proceed back to Eleago as soon as the storm is past. I bring you a letter from his lordship.” The man groaned again, and said, “I’m starving, may I have something to eat?”

As they gathered around to tend him, I turned back to my food. Across the table, Quen openly stared at me.

“I see the Wyrd Women are on the move again,” he said, but when I asked him what he meant, he shook his head and went back to his meal.

CHAPTER TEN

Fenling sat cross-legged on her bed. She watched me closely as I changed into my nightshirt. After I burrowed under the covers, she said, “You never met your grandparents, then?”

I shook my head. “No. They were killed before I was born. My father was about my age, but he and my mother weren’t married yet. I came along a few years later.”

She brought her knees up, wrapping her hands around her legs as she rested her chin on her knees. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry my cousin killed them.”

“It was a rough year,” I said, swallowing hard.

While I hadn’t thought about it much before, I’d spent the entire day thinking about the situation. I wasn’t sure what had shifted—after all, tonight was the same as last night, the only difference was that I hadn’t known that my rescuers were also the people who had destroyed a part of my past. I wasn’t sentimental, and it felt untrue to my nature that I mourn them anymore now than I did yesterday. Yet, somehow, I felt a distant sense of longing. If my father and mother were still alive, I might not be in the position I was. And if my grandparents had lived…who knew what my life would have looked like now?

“I hope this doesn’t change how you look at Bran. At me,” she added. “I like you, Asajia. I like talking to you.”

I worried my lip. “I like you too. You and Bran have shown me great kindness.”

At that moment, there was a loud shout outside, then what sounded like a flute and drum playing a misty song. Fenling jumped up and raced to the tent flap, peering out. “Oh, no!” She grabbed her trousers and began to change.

Her urgency spurred me on, and I—too—hastily dressed, this time in trousers and a shirt that I spied on her bed. They were a little big, but I didn’t care. I realized I still didn’t have my weapons with me, but I followed her out the door.

There, in the center of the camp, were four crystal figures, dancing wildly in the wind and snow. Illuminated by some inner light, they were beautiful. Their features were angular and rigid, and while they looked like humans, they were anything but.

“What are they?” I whispered to Fenling.

She leaned close. “Ice Maidens. They’re a form of elemental, and they attend the Snow Witch. Don’t let their beauty fool you. They’re dangerous and they have absolutely no conscience. They come out at the height of her storms, and they dance themselves into a frenzy, then attack.” She handed me a sturdy dagger. “We can’t access your weapons now, but I can’t let you go unarmed. That won’t work against them very well, but it’s the only thing I have right now.”

She, herself, was carrying what looked like a silver hammer. “Stay back. If they come this way, run. Hide in the tent beneath your bed, if you can.”

I didn’t want to leave her—though now all over camp, the Wolf People were emerging from their tents. Bran let out a loud shout and drove forward, a massive hammer in his hand. He swung at one of the dancers and immediately, the rest sprung to attention as the rest of the Wolf People moved in. I hung back, trying to keep out of the way. While I was an expert shot with a bow, a dagger wouldn’t deflect the chill, frozen bodies of the dancers.

Bran and Fenling were at the front, working in unison. Both moved fleetfooted, darting through the ranks of the ice creatures, who had gone from delicate dancers to dangerous adversaries.

Quen swung his hammer towards one of the dancers and missed, and the creature began to morph, changing shape into a massive frozen spider. I screamed as it reared up, then came down on him, stabbing him through the side with a razor sharp tip of its front leg. A flush of red blossomed across the white, spreading through the snow with a hissing sound as the warmth of his life force met the frozen breath of the Snow Queen. It spread out, like petals staining the snow with a rosy glow. But he was still moving as the snow spider shook him off its leg and moved towards the others.

No one had turned when he screamed. The Wolf People just kept on fighting the other three, focused on their battles.

---