Page 10 of Weaving Winter

If I remembered correctly, the borders of the forest were around three days trek from the village. Which meant two more days traveling. But each moment, each hour put me further away from Garimorn and the village, and so I forced myself to keep my focus as I rode along. I had brought along some yuv-yuv leaves. When chewed, they acted like a stimulant. They grew wild in the forests, but it was past the season of harvest. Luckily, they were small and easy to carry, and it took only a few to wake up a tired mind and body.

As night fell around me, I kept my focus on the present. It was all too easy for speculation to turn into catastrophizing, and the last thing I needed was to throw myself into a panic.

Instead, I thought about what I might use for a travel lantern. Tonight would be as bright as the night before, thanks to the clouds and the snowfall, but if the snow stopped, I wouldn’t be able to see beyond my hand.

I didn’t want to carry a torch, nor a lantern. Those were too easily seen in a pitch-black environment, although they were good for keeping predatory animals at bay. But they would alert any bandits or human predators to my presence right away. There were a few magical items that produced glow-lights, but I didn’t own any, and I hadn’t known anybody who did. There just wasn’t a good answer to what I needed. But, if the storms held another night, I should manage to switch to traveling during the day.

Speaking of…what the hell was I going to do? I’d gotten away, but now what? I could hide out in the Bramble Fel for a little while, then make my way to the south, down past the Leanderial line. I could get a job as a washwoman or servant, or maybe find a business I could do. There was still hunting to be done, or maybe I could start a little farm.

I let myself muse on the possibilities as the miles wore away beneath Yaran’s hooves. To my surprise, despite the snowfall, I found a peace in the silence as I rode into whatever future Fate had decided to hand me.

CHAPTER SIX

Two nights later, I stood beside Yaran, staring at the dense patch in front of me. I had reached the actual line of the Bramble Fel Forest and the difference was palpable. As the snow drifted down, clinging to my cloak, I stared at the threshold into the dark woodland. The path I had been on split into a fork. To the left and right, the trail walked the boundaries of the Bramble Fel, but directly ahead, it plunged into the stands of fel wood—the ancient groves that had stood over the land for eons. While it looked the same, everything was different.

The trees soared into the sky. The moss and lichen thickened, visible even beneath the blanket of snow. But mostly, it was a feeling—a sentience that whispered the forest watched and waited, keenly aware of anyone who walked beneath its canopy. The air seemed to thicken, weighing down like a yoke on the shoulders. Instinctively, I knew better than drink its water, and was grateful I’d filled up my water flasks at the last stream.

“Great poison fills this woodland,” I whispered. “And creatures…” Instinctively, I reached to reassure myself that my bow and sword were mere inches away. “Do you mind if I ride beneath your watchful eyes?” I asked, my heart pounding.

There was no answer, only a soft hush that sounded like the forest exhaling. The snow swirled around me, biting at my face even through the hood of my cloak. I was bone-tired. Sleeping on the ground, in the cold beneath the shelter of a large tree was exhausting. I had used my tarp as a lean-to, but even between that and my fire bucket, the cold had seeped in.

“I can’t imagine doing this for days,” I said, staring at the forest ahead. “What the hell am I going to do?” Yaran let out a snort, brushing his head against my cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I know you need more food, as well. I couldn’t carry grain and the grass is covered.”

I hadn’t let the thought that I actually might die creep into my mind, but now it was there, circling the edge of my thoughts. And there was no one to notice, or care. Sanya might worry about me, but it wasn’t like she could follow me or check on me. That part of my life was forever closed unless I was willing to return and accept my punishment, which Garimorn would extend given the fact that I’d run away. No, this was my life now—days and nights spent in solitude, relying only on myself.

Yaran whinnied and nudged me forward. I gave him a long look.

“You think we should go on?”

He whinnied again, tossing his mane.

“All right, then. If you’re willing to stick by me, then…let’s go.” Licking the snow off my lips, I caught hold of his mane and swung up again onto his back. “Let’s go meet our future, come what may.”

And so Yaran began to move forward, and we entered Bramble Fel Forest.

The eyes of the forest were on me. I could feel them, thick as flies around a honey jar. These were no creatures of the forest, looking for their next meal. No, the minds behind these watchers were intelligent. The gleam of their red eyes followed me through the darkness as we broke ground through the snow.

I kept one hand on the reins, and with the other, I held my short sword. In the darkness, bow and arrow would be of little use, but the sword, I could swing. Yaran was on high alert, as well. I knew him well enough to know when he was nervous, and while he wasn’t shying, he walked solidly, his eyes flickering to the left and right.

“If you were a man instead of a horse, you’d be my perfect match,” I said, trying to calm my nerves.

While I’d often taken two or three day hunting trips into the forest, I had never been in Bramble Fel before, nor had I faced a future without looking at returning home to my father and mother. I’d just have to get used to it. If I were to settle somewhere deep in the forest to live out my life, this was how it would be. Isolated and living in silence. It had never occurred to me how lonely it might get. I was an introvert by nature, but now, devoid of companionship other than a horse, with no one to care whether I lived or died, I realized how much my few connections meant to me. I might have to move south of the Leanderial line after all, just to keep my sanity.

Early afternoon on the seventh day since I’d left Renmark, I decided to stop, build a little fire, and warm some water for tea. I scraped snow away from an area near a fallen log.

The old tree trunk lay hidden beneath the shadow of a massive spruce. I stripped some of the bark—which was still dry thanks to the boughs above it, and below the bark I found a wealth of pitch. Perfect! Pitch caught fire easily. I not only scraped enough off for a campfire, but plenty of extra that I tucked away for when fire was hard to come by.

Then I gathered what dry twigs and leaves I could find, built them into a pyramid, set up a tent of sticks around it, and—smearing the pitch over the twigs and the kindling—I brought out one of the embers from my fire bucket.

Every time I made a fire, I made sure to keep a few of the smoldering embers for the next one. I slid the hot coal into the kindling and within a few moments, a blaze sprang up and I began feeding the flames more wood, taking care not to smother them.

With the fire blazing strong, I spread out the tarp on the ground so I could have something dry to sit on. I slid the metal pot onto the edge of the flames, filling it with snow. While the water heated, I found a patch of tall grass and scraped away the snow, giving Yaran room to graze. I knew he needed more food.

“I guess it’s time to head south,” I said, staring at the horse. “You think so too, don’t you? We’ll have to go in a roundabout direction so nobody from Renmark stumbles over us, but once we get there, you’ll have plenty of grain and hay, and I’ll find a job.” It struck me maybe the nice innkeeper would be able to hire me. I could help Jet in the stables, or help around the inn. It was a far cry from my old life, but I was strong and a hard worker.

My tea was ready and I filled a mug, then stuck a chunk of cheese onto a stick, holding it over the fire until it bubbled around the edges, melting enough for me to spread across a piece of bread. The bread was stale, but the chill in the air had kept it from molding.

As I bit into my monotonous, if filling, meal, I studied the sky. The clouds had socked in, so ominous and silver that they almost blinded me with their reflected light. It was going to storm, and storm hard. And if I was caught out in it, I could freeze to death. Winter was settling in for real, and it wasn’t gearing up to be gentle.

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