Page 16 of Weaving Winter

As if reading my mind, Bran said, “He’s been dealt with. You won’t have to worry about him again.”

I froze, looking up to meet his gaze. I wanted to ask what he meant, but the feral light shimmering in his eyes made me pause, and I realized he meant it. I’d never have to deal with the scout again. I wasn’t sure what they’d done, but I decided to forego asking.

“Thank you,” I said.

Fenling handed me a bowl of the stew, and one of the men opposite her handed me a large roll and a crock of butter. I murmured another thank you and dove in.

Bran stood, whistling loudly. “Everyone, I want you to welcome our guest Asajia. She’ll be staying with us for a while. Please help her find what she needs.”

There were shouts of welcome and a few waves. Bran waited for a moment, then said, “Our trip was successful. We found what we needed to. We’ll ride out the Snow Witch’s storms, and then head south for supplies.”

“What about Eleago?” one of the men asked.

“I’d rather not go back there right now,” Bran said. “There are stirrings that make me worry about my brother’s rule.”

I started. I’d heard the name somewhere, but I couldn’t remember. “Eleago?”

“Our home,” Fenling said. “Where we hail from. It lies at the northern edge of the Bramble Fel Forest, right below the Eiralpine Line.”

I nodded, wondering how far away that was. The Eiralpine Line was quite a ways north of Renmark—at least two week’s journey, as the crow flew. “Who runs your village?” I had no idea if they had any dealings with Renmark, but I wanted to find out before I got there.

She gave me a solemn look. “Don’t worry. We won’t send you home. Bran’s a fair man, and he won’t force you to return to your village.” She worried one lip, looking as though she wanted to say more, but then she shook her head and went back to her meal.

I peeked at Bran, who was wolfing down his meal. There was an energy to these people that I wasn’t sure of, but being in the midst of a group of them only emphasized that, whoever I was dealing with, they weren’t the normal folk I was used to. They struck me as a warrior race, but the roughness was missing. Whatever the case, I had time to figure it out. I returned to my meal.

The food was delicious, settling easily in my stomach. My eyes fluttered and I yawned, covering my mouth as a deep weariness ran through me. Between the warmth of the bathwater and the food, I began to feel how very tired I was—both physically and emotionally.

“I’ll get you settled into bed when we finish the meal,” Fenling said. “You look like you’re ready to fall asleep in your plate.”

“I am,” I said. “I had to leave Renmark quickly.” I suddenly thought of my mother’s bride-dress and felt incredibly sad. I had sold it for no reason.

“You look wistful,” she said.

“I am. I did something I’ll probably always regret, and it wasn’t killing the scout who came after me, although I’ll probably always have nightmares about that.” I sighed. “Never mind, it’s in the past and there’s nothing I can do about either action, except learn to live with both.”

Fenling nodded, and to my relief, she didn’t push me for an explanation.

After the meal, several people came up to greet me. I struggled to remember their names—I was so tired—but Fenling rescued me and escorted me out.

The winds had picked up and they whistled through the camp, biting against the skin with a bitter edge. The pavilions and tents were well staked, but the standards flying from raised poles whipped back and forth with a fury. Fenling led me to a smaller tent, raising the flap for me to enter. Inside, a fire crackled merrily in a small drum in the center, the smokestack leading through of a hole in the center of the top of the tent. There were two cots set up, along with a small table, a couple of chests, a portable privy behind a screen, and a cask of water.

“You’ll be staying with me,” she said, pointing to what looked like a freshly-made bed. “You may sleep there. The blankets are heavy and will protect against the storm. She settled herself on the other bunk. “We should sleep. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow the storms will be raging fiercely.” She pointed to a pile of wood. “If you wake and notice the fire running low, stoke it so that it won’t go out. The woodpile is right by the tent flap. The warmth is our only protection against the anger of the Snow Witch.”

“I always thought she was a myth,” I said, spying the heavy nightshirt laid out for me. “I can’t thank your cousin enough for coming along when he did. I’d have died at the hands of Garimorn’s scouts because there’s no way in hell I’d allow them to drag me back. Best a death in freedom, than a life spent in servitude.”

“He’s that bad?” Fenling asked, stripping off her clothes.

“Worse.” I glanced around. “Where are my weapons?”

“Your dagger, sword, and bow are safely stowed. You’ll get them back soon enough.” She shrugged. “We have to take some safety measures?—”

“I understand,” I said. And I did. They had no idea if I was telling the truth. I could be a mass murderer, for all they knew. Unless… “Do you have a shaman with you?”

“We have a healer, and we have a witch woman. She consulted her crystals and the gods assured her that you are no danger to us.” As Fenling changed into her gown, she let her hair down and brushed it quickly. “Would you like me to brush your hair?” she asked.

I shyly nodded. “Thank you. My mother used to brush my hair. I miss that. I miss her,” I whispered. “I’m alone in the world, and it’s a frightening place to be.”

“Didn’t you have friends back in Renmark?” Fenling asked.

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