Page 13 of Weaving Winter

He nodded. “We can fix that.” He lifted me down from the horse and then removed the rope from my hands, binding it around my waist instead. “I can hold onto the end while you’re in the bushes.”

I wanted to make a smart assed remark but decided to forego the urge. I reached for the saddle bag to get the roll of tessori. Before I could open the bag, he had gripped my wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my tessori,” I said. “I’m not going to use my hands.”

His nostrils flared, but a faint grin shattered his hardened stare. “Allow me,” he said, lifting up the flap covering the leather bag. He peeked in, then handed me the roll. “Come on, then.” He led me over to a thick stand of tall ferns surrounding a tall bush.

I crossed behind it. After making sure he was turned the other way, though he was still holding the rope, I removed my gloves, lowered my trousers and finished my business, burying it in snow. Feeling much better, I gathered snow to wipe my hands on, then pulled my gloves back on. As I returned to where Bran was standing, he turned around.

“Thank you,” I said. “Do you mind if I eat something? I’m hungry.”

He shrugged. “My men are frying up some meat. We have plenty to spare, if you want to join us.”

I glanced over to where the scout was sitting on a log, staring sullenly at the fire. “I’d love something hot, but I don’t want to be near him.”

“Is the sheriff in your village really so bad?”

It sounded like he was asking a real question, not making a judgement.

I nodded. “Yes. He’s well known for using his servants—the women and girls—for his own needs. His wife never says a word. I think she’s afraid that he’d cast her out if she did. Some women aren’t cut out for a life on their own.”

“And you are?” Bran led me over to a log near the fire but at a distance from the scout.

“I was brought up by one of the best hunters in my village. My father was one of the Horned Brigade. He single handedly took down a large cat who attacked him. He always brought in the most game, and we always had food to spare for friends who were in need. He taught me how to hunt early on, and how to make fire, how to skin and clean game.”

“You say was. Is he dead, as well as your mother?”

I nodded. “He died a couple years ago. Then, my mother caught the cough going around earlier this year and death claimed her.”

Bran cocked his head. “Why aren’t you married, Asajia?”

I met his gaze. He looked truly curious.

“For one thing, I never met anyone I wanted to marry—at least not yet. For another, I’m known as…cantankerous.”

He laughed. “Cantankerous? That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“To the men in my village, it is. But mostly…the year before my father died, he did something that blackmarked our family. Not enough to expel us, but close enough. After that, there was no possibility anybody who wanted their name clear with the Magistrate would consider marrying me.”

I stared into the fire, realizing that talking to this strange man seemed incredibly easy. By all rights, given I was being held captive and I didn’t know anything about him or what was going to happen to me, I should be scared witless. But I wasn’t. I actually trusted him, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“You intrigue me,” Bran said. “What did your father do that was so bad?”

“You’re one of the People of the Snow, right? My father brought down a bear. The bear wasn’t attacking him. He just…I suppose he was thinking about the meat and skin that he could sell below the Leanderial line. When he returned home with it on the sledge, the sheriff marked him, along with my mother and me. We spent the rest of his life living under a cloud.”

Bran stiffened ever so slightly. “Ah yes, the bear…” He licked his lips. “Not all people in Bramble Fel identify themselves as belonging to People of the Snow, you know?”

“Really?” That was news to me. “I thought that everyone between the two lines belonged to the People of the Snow. We’re forest folk, after all.”

After a long pause, Bran said, “I’ll get your food. Promise me on your honor you won’t try to escape if I leave you sitting here alone?”

I nodded. Even if I wanted to try, the odds were against me. “I promise, while you fetch me food, I won’t try to escape.”

He handed me the end of the rope. “Don’t untie the knots.” As he stood, he added, “And don’t think I didn’t notice what you did there. I’ll be back in a moment.” With a grin, he moved toward the roaring campfire.

The heat was welcome. Even at our distance, it radiated through me, warming me from the inside out. I closed my eyes, leaning forward to let it radiate against my face. I wasn’t sure what to think about Bran and his men. Who were they? And was he referring to himself when he said that not everyone identified with the People of the Snow?

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