Page 8 of A Dream of Snow

I’d trained my horse from when I was young to settle when we were around big game like bears. My father had set up practice runs in the forest, near to where he knew the bears were roaming, so that I would learn how to handle emergencies. Now, I whispered a prayer of thanks that he’d been so thorough with my training.

Yaran shifted, but remained on all fours. As the creature headed our way, I took a deep breath and brought up my bow, quickly nocking the arrow as I aimed for where I imagined its heart might be. I let the arrow fly, immediately reaching for a second one.

Quen’s horse bucked again, throwing him off. But Quen came up, sword in hand, as his horse sidestepped away.

My first arrow lodged into the creature’s chest, piercing deep. Blood began to flow from the wound, staining it’s long clumps of fur, and the creature let out a loud shriek, flailing at the arrow, trying to knock it away.

I took aim again and shot a second time. This time, the arrow struck the creature in the head, but by then, it was only a few steps away.

I commanded Yaran to move, and we galloped out of the way. Quen was out of my reach, or I would have tried to sweep him up onto the back of my horse. But the creature was aiming for me—giving Quen the chance to chase after his horse. He managed to catch it, swinging into the saddle again. Holding the reins in one hand, and his sword in the other, he swung around and charged forward, his sword out. He galloped past the creature’s back, slashing with his sword, knocking the monster to his knees.

I took the chance to nock another arrow, then quickly shot, hitting the creature’s head again. As I did so, Quen leaped off his horse and raced over behind the creature. He brought his sword up, but at that moment, the monster turned and swiped with one, long armed paw. He hit Quen across his arm, slicing deep with his claws.

Quen ignored the wound, thrusting his sword into the creature’s chest. The next moment, the brute let out a loud roar, and collapsed forward, landing near Yaran’s feet. I stared atit for a moment, then looked over at Quen, who was bleeding, holding his arm as he sat in the snow.

“Quen!” I slid off Yaran’s back, racing over to where he knelt. He groaned, bleeding with a steady flow from the three long gashes. I was wearing a scarf under the hood of my cloak, and now I pulled it off my head, wrapping it around Quen’s wounds. I whistled for his horse, and helped him up.

“How do you feel?”

“Not great,” Quen said, grunting. “I’ll live, but…” He winced. “I need to throw up.” He turned to the side and I braced him as he vomited. He grabbed a handful of snow and stuffed it into his mouth. “It’s the pain. I can’t believe how much this hurts.”

“Let’s get you back to camp. We aren’t that far away,” I said, helping him over to his horse. I boosted him up into the saddle, and he leaned forward with a groan, trying to hold the reins with one hand. I took them from him and, swinging back into my saddle, I turned, leading his mount behind me.

As I navigated our way back to the campsite, I kept my eyes open for any other creatures like the one we had just fought. I had no clue what it was, but questions flew through my mind—did they travel in packs, or were they solitary? Was there venom in the claws? This was the second time I’d saved Quen and I hoped that he’d heal up like he had the first time.

Finally, I saw the mark we’d left on a tree where we’d turned left after we came through the treeline. I quickly turned right, and there, not far ahead, was the campsite. As I rode into camp, Bran and Fenling jumped up.

“What happened?”

“We met some sort of beast out there and it injured Quen,” I said, sliding off Yaran’s back. “We managed to kill it, but not before it caught him.”

“What sort of beast?” Bran helped Quen down, and he and San guided him over to a stump and sat him down.

“It stood as tall as three men standing on each other’s shoulders, and it was covered in fur. White fur, that hung in long matted clumps. The creature had red eyes and long talons on its front paws. It stood on two feet. It wasn’t a bear or anything else I’ve encountered.” I followed them, pulling off my gloves.

San stripped off Quen’s cloak and they carefully helped him out of his tunic so we could see what damage had been done. Fenling fetched the medical kit. Bran examined the wounds, then turned to me.

“Bring me hot water and I need a cloth to wash away the blood,” he said.

I hurried to fetch the water. We had extra rags in our supply bags, so I found one that looked the cleanest. I carried it, along with the water, over to Bran. He began to wash away some of the blood. Since the sun was still up, we were able to see the wounds clearly. It was obvious they hurt, but they weren’t festering, and Bran leaned close to one of the gashes and smelled it.

“I don’t smell poison…or venom. The blood runs clean, but we’d better treat these so they don’t get infected.” He finished cleaning Quen’s arm.

Three long gashes bled freely, though the blood was beginning to slow. Quen winced as Bran asked for more hot water. Finally, San handed him the powders that healed and cleared infection, and Bran sprinkled Quen’s wounds with the medicine, making sure they were fully covered. After that, he stitched up the gashes while Quen swore a blue streak, and we tore strips of the clean cloths into bandages to wrap around his arm.

“That should keep you until we finish our challenge, but be cautious with that arm. I don’t want those stitches pulling. If it’s too difficult to manage, I order you to hide. I won’t have youlosing your life because you’re too wounded to defend yourself.” Bran stood, eyeing him closely. “How do you feel?”

Quen stretched his arm, staring at the stitches. He flexed, carefully, swore, then reached for his tunic. “They hurt, I’m not going to lie, but once again, Asajia saved my life.” He glanced at me, then inclined his head. “You’re my good luck charm, I guess. Whatever I can do to protect you, I will.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “Protect Bran with your life. He must win.”

“Weallwill,” San said.

“So, did you find anything while you were out in the woodland?” Fenling asked.

I shook my head. “No, and while we still have light, we should go out again. San, come with me? Quen should rest.”

“You’re willing to try again, after that encounter?” Bran asked, as he washed his hands with snow.

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