Page 24 of Weaving Winter

“I see.” I paused, thinking. “I’m twenty-four…I must seem awfully young to you.”

“Different peoples age at different speeds. The soothsayers and witches of the world are older than the shifting folk. It’s just the natural order of things.” She bit into a sandwich from the platter that one of the cook’s helpers deposited on the table, then pushed the platter towards me. “Mmm, eat up. You need sustenance after a night like tonight.”

“I’m mostly just tired,” I said.

“We’ll go to bed as soon as they refresh the tent.” She paused, then said, “What you did for Quen—you don’t know how much that cemented your position here.”

“I didn’t do it for that reason,” I said. “He was nice to me. He was hurt. He needed help.”

“And you jumped in without thinking about your own safety. Seriously, that’s admirable. We respect selfless courage, without thinking over what it might cost you. Granted, at times one has to think about the consequences. But when a friend is down, you help them. When someone you care about is in danger, you jump in. What you did tonight shows a great deal about the kind of person you are.”

I listened to what she said. I knew she was right, but I still felt odd, having it applied to me. I was learning more and more about myself since I had run from the village. After a time, I asked “Do you think I was wrong to run from my punishment?”

“Not when it was so targeted. Money…well, coin matters. But not at the expense of a life. Not when the situation can easily be fixed. No, compared to the wrongs of the world, what you did was a minor blip.” She stopped as one of the servants walked over to whisper in her ear. “All right, thank you.”

To me, she said, “Our tent’s ready for us. It’s clean, with new blankets. Grab another sandwich and let’s get to bed.”

I pocketed two of the sandwiches and, on the edge of exhaustion, followed her back to the tent. The moment I laid my head on the pillow, I fell asleep. But all through the night, I kept starting awake, listening, wondering what other creatures lay in wait, out in the Bramble Fel Forest.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

All night, I kept waking up, listening for anything out of the ordinary. By dawn, I finally slipped into a restful slumber, sleeping hard until after sunrise. As I yawned and stretched, I saw that Fenling had already gotten up.

I pushed back the covers, shivering as the chill hit me. A peek outside told me we were still in the middle of the storm, but it had lessened, and I thought maybe we were coming out of it. I found my clothes on the bottom of my bed, clean. As I dressed, I realized that I was getting used to living with the Wolf People, and I felt like I was starting to fit in, just a little. Fenling was already closer to me than anybody back in Renmark except for Sanya, and even then, no one was judging Fenling for befriending me.

My stomach rumbled. The fight and adrenaline the night before had left me hungry. I entered the mess tent and saw Zahner and Fenling at the main table. They had saved a place for me. Quen’s seat was empty.

I sat down, accepting a plate from one of the serving women. “How’s Quen this morning? Did he…” I wanted to ask if he was alive, but it sounded so final.

“He’s alive, thanks to you. He’ll heal up, but the puncture was deep. The healer is staying with him until she knows it’s not infected. But it looks like he’ll be back in action in a few days.” Bran stood up and held up his tankard. “Attention, please.”

Everyone in the tent stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.

“I want everyone to know that last night our guest—Asajia—saved Quen’s life. She’s earned her right to stay with us, if she chooses. Asajia, you always have a place here with the Lorani.”

Everyone lifted their drinks—a few lifted their forks—and toasted me.

I hadn’t expected that, and I blushed, but it felt good. For the first time in years, I felt welcome in a community. Here, I wasn’t judged by the actions of my father. Here, I mattered, and somehow, I had carved out a niche for me in a group of strangers.

I stood as they clapped and pounded the tables, whistling. I quickly realized they were waiting for me to say something.

As the whistling quieted down, I said, “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what to think when Bran brought me here, but he saved my life and for that I’m more grateful than I can express. That you accept me into your midst is a gift I needed right now. Life has been difficult the past few years, and I didn’t actually expect to survive once I left my village. I just knew that I couldn’t face the life that was stretching out in front of me. So, thank you for being so generous with your friendship and acceptance.”

I sat down amid the sounds of dishes clinking and the savory aroma of beef and bread and melting cheese, and freshly baked pies filled with apples and cinnamon. For the first time in a long, long time I felt a sense of belonging that touched me to the core.

“I want to stay,” I said. “I want to stay with your people.” Thoughts of traveling to the south had receded. I wasn’t cut out for warmer weather. I might not be one of the Wolf People, but I was born to the snows and the cold climes and the mountains and forests. I was a hunter, and I wasn’t in my element in the temperate zones.

“Once Quen has recovered, we’ll hold a ceremony to welcome you into the Pack. Fenling can talk you through what’s expected, and then you’ll have time to make certain that this is what you want,” Bran said. He leaned closer. “I hope you still want to make your home with us. I really do.”

Fenling gave me a quiet smile, and she looked content. “One thing—once you take the oath of our people, you cannot break it. We bind ourselves for life. Though given you aren’t wolfen by nature, the bond might not be the same. But we can discuss that as time goes along.”

I filled my plate, nodding. “To be honest, when you’ve been an outcast for awhile, belonging and being welcome aren’t things you take for granted. Ever since my father killed the bear, our family was on the outside of everything. I lost all my friends except one, our family lost its standing, and my father blamed everyone but himself.”

“I can imagine,” Fenling said. She turned to her cousin. “So, what was in the letter the messenger brought you from Karehl? We never got a chance to discuss it.”

“He’s ordered us back to Eleago as soon as the Snow Witch’s storm passes.” He turned to me. “Eleago is our castle. Karehl is my brother, the prince.”

“I was curious about that,” I said. “If he’s a prince, aren’t you, as well?”

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