Page 7 of A Snowstorm & A Stronghorn

“But the secret,” I press. “Your hidden town. How do you know I won’t tell anyone?”

He sighs, his massive shoulders rising and falling. “We have ways of ensuring our secret stays safe. Nothing dangerous or painful,” he hastily adds when I blanch. “I hope it won’t come to memory-wiping spells. I hope that once you’ve had a chance to see Evershift Haven for yourself, you’ll understand why it’s so important to keep it hidden.”

I nod slowly, not entirely reassured but willing to reserve judgment for now. “What do we do until then?”

Bram rises, gathering our empty bowls. “For now, you rest. Your body needs time to heal. When you’re feeling up to it, I can show you around the cabin, maybe teach you how to play chess if you’re interested.”

I scowl at him, irritated he assumes I don’t know how to play. “I know how to play chess.”

He flashes a grin, and his flat, square teeth are pearly white. “Excellent. That will pass some time, and when the storm breaks, we’ll head into town.”

The thought of venturing into a village full of magical creatures makes me tremble with equal parts fear and excitement. What wonders might I see? What dangers might be lurking?

I look up at him, this gentle giant who saved my life and turned my world upside down in the span of a few hours. Despite everything, I want to trust him.

“Okay,” I say, managing a small smile. “I guess we’ll take it. one step at a time.” As the storm continues to rage outside, I settle in to wait, wondering what strange new world awaits me when the snow finally clears.

Chapter 3

THE NEXT MORNING, Iwake to the gentle crackling of the fireplace and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Bram’s massive form moves about the kitchen, his hooves making surprisingly little noise on the wooden floor. I stretch, wincing at the lingering soreness from the crash.

“Good morning,” I call out, my voice still husky from sleep.

Bram turns, a steaming mug in each of his large hands. “How are you feeling today?”

I sit up, accepting the offered coffee with a grateful nod. “Better, thanks. Still sore, but I think I’ll live.”

He nods, studying me with concern. “The storm’s still going strong. We might be stuck here for a while longer.”

I take a sip of the rich, dark coffee and glance out the window. The world beyond is a swirling mass of white. “Looks like it. I hope I’m not imposing too much.”

“Not at all,” he says, his deep voice warm. “It’s nice to have company, actually.”

As I finish my coffee, Bram moves to a nearby shelf and pulls down a wooden box. He opens it, revealing an intricately carved chess set.

“Who taught you to play?” he asks, setting up the board on the coffee table.

“My mom taught me when I was young.”

He nods. “My father taught me. Would you like a game? It might help pass the time.”

I nod, eager for the distraction. “You’re on.”

We settle on opposite sides of the board, the fire crackling beside us. I take white, moving a pawn forward to start the game. Bram responds quickly, his large fingers surprisingly dexterous as he maneuvers the pieces.

As we play, I study him more closely. His brow wrinkles in concentration,as he scans the board methodically. Each move is carefully considered, revealing a strategic mind I hadn’t expected from someone so physically imposing.

“You’re quite good,” I say after he captures my bishop in a move I didn’t see coming.

He gives me a small smile. “I’ve had a lot of practice. My father used to love the game.”

We continue to play, the game stretching on as we match each other move for move. Bram’s patience is remarkable, never rushing me even when I take extra time to consider my options. It’s a sharp contrast to his intimidating appearance, and I relax more in his presence.

“Checkmate,” he says finally, his voice tinged with a hint of surprise.

I blink, studying the board. He’s right – my king is trapped, with no escape. “Well played,” I concede, impressed. “That was a close game.”

Bram nods, already resetting the pieces. “Another?”

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