1
BELLA
Iwake to the familiar bite of cold air on my nose, the only part of me exposed from beneath the pile of furs. Reluctantly, I peel back the covers, shivering as I slip my feet into worn leather slippers. The wooden floor creaks beneath my weight as I shuffle to the window, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
Outside, Oshta greets me with its harsh beauty. Frost clings to every surface, turning the world into a glittering wonderland. The sun struggles to pierce through the thick blanket of clouds, casting a muted light over the village.
"Bella! You up yet?" Mara's voice carries from downstairs, jolting me into action.
"Coming!" I call back, quickly pulling on layers of warm clothing.
I hurry down the stairs, nearly colliding with Tomas as he emerges from his room.
"Watch it, squirt," he grumbles.
In the kitchen, Mara stands over the hearth, stirring a pot of porridge. The aroma of cinnamon and apples fills the air, making my stomach growl.
"Morning," Mara says, shooting me a warm smile. "Mind setting the table?"
I nod, grabbing bowls and spoons from the cupboard. As I lay them out, I can't help but feel a surge of gratitude for this makeshift family that took me in. They're not blood, but they're all I have.
"So, what's on the agenda today?" Tomas asks, plopping down at the table.
Mara ladles generous portions of porridge into our bowls. "Well, we need more firewood. And someone needs to check the traps."
I take a bite of the porridge, savoring the warmth as it slides down my throat. "I can check the traps," I offer quietly.
Tomas raises an eyebrow. "You sure? It's pretty cold out there."
I nod, determination rising in my body. "I can handle it. I want to help."
Mara gives me an approving look. "Thank you, Bella. I’m grateful that you’re always willing to lend a hand."
As we eat, I listen to Tomas and Mara discuss village gossip. I'm content to stay quiet, letting their banter wash over me.
I soon finish my breakfast, eager to get my daily chores started. Several minutes later, I bundle up in my warmest furs, steeling myself for the biting cold outside. The door creaks as I push it open, a gust of frigid air rushing in to greet me. I take a deep breath, my lungs protesting against the icy intrusion.
"Be careful out there, Bella," Mara calls from inside. "And don't forget your knife!"
I pat my hip, feeling the reassuring weight of the blade. "Got it," I reply, my voice muffled by the thick scarf wrapped around my face.
The snow crunches beneath my boots as I make my way towards the forest's edge. The traps are set about a quarter-milein, hidden among the gnarled roots of ancient trees. As I walk, it almost feels like something is watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I quicken my pace.
I'm halfway to the first trap when I hear voices. Hunters, by the sound of it, returning from their morning patrol. I pause, curiosity getting the better of me.
"...biggest tracks I've ever seen," one of them says, his voice carrying on the still air.
"Waira," another replies, the word sending a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. "And close, too. We need to warn the village."
My heart races. I begin worrying about my safety as I rush towards the trap. Are the waira still out here? Should I call for help? I get so lost in my thoughts that I don't notice the root jutting out from the snow. My foot catches, and I stumble forward with a yelp. The hunters' heads snap in my direction.
"Who's there?" one calls out, his hand moving to the bow slung across his back.
I step out from behind a tree, hands raised. "It's just me," I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Bella. I was checking the traps."
The lead hunter, a burly man named Goran, relaxes his stance. "Bella? What in the frozen hells are you doing out here alone?"
I swallow hard, suddenly feeling very small. "I... I wanted to help. With the traps."