Page 10 of Mistletoe

Terraforming the entire planet before the colonists woke from stasis had been the plan, yet this area seemed… alien. Alarmingly alien.

A small animal that looked like a picture book illustration of a bunny darted out from a clump of snowy vegetation and quickly disappeared into another. The herd that appeared as nothing more than dark specks in the distance moved steadily closer, or he moved closer to them.

The creatures were unlike anything he had ever seen—large two-legged birds with gray and white feathers and a ridiculously long neck. They strongly resembled an emu or ostrich, but the faces were off. The eyes were too large and the beaks too sharp.

They eyed him as he walked by, shifting from foot to foot, the sharp talons catching the sunlight.

Hal had never met an emu or ostrich on Earth. The animals had long gone extinct, so he couldn’t say if malice rolled off the Earth variety the way it emanated from the herd.

He decided to skirt around the herd to avoid any unpleasant accidents. Soon enough, he detected the scent of civilization: coal and smoke. His mind, still gummy, pieced together fragments that resembled a plan. He would report his captivity to the governor or whatever administrator had been put in charge of the colony. Ethan might have been a staff member with rank and privilege on the ship, but Hal read the charter. He knew his rights. Being held captive was a clear violation. One only had to look at Hal and know that he suffered unspeakably.

If his brother survived the assault on his mountain fortress, Hal would make him pay.

Thoughts of revenge cheered him and kept his steps brisk, even as his stomach grumbled with hunger.

The land was alive. He was no longer confined to the dark, be it a crowded city or a dungeon. He walked in the sun. All things were possible.

Emma

West Lands

Mistletoe Farm

A thundering explosionshook the morning, jerking Emma out of her sleep. Shouts came from her parents’ bedroom, followed by feet pounding down the stairs.

Emma wrapped herself in a blanket and followed. Her first thought was that the fort suffered an accident or attack. She hoped for an accident, as coldhearted as that sounded. A stray spark in the ammunition depot generally held a better outcome for the nearby civilian population.

On most days, the only reminder of the town’s existence was coal and wood smoke on the horizon. On bad days, the wind shifted, bringing all the foul smells of smoke and worse. It was far enough away to feel removed but close enough to reach without losing more than half an hour of travel. It was perfect for the small farm but Emma worried about the proximity. Anything bold enough—or desperate enough—to attack the base was a grim prospect.

She found her parents on the veranda, facing the mountains. Wearing nothing but a thin robe and house slippers, her mother shivered in the cold. Her father nodded his head in greeting, then turned to face the mountains.

“The explosion came from there,” he said.

There was just enough light to make out the mountains in the distance and smoke rising, dark gray against a pale gray sky.

The bleak morning light made the air seem colder. Emma draped one end of the blanket over her mother’s shoulders, bringing her close to keep warm.

Another year, another attempt to take the mountain from the vampire Draven. The military was reliable that way.

But they had never forced service on the men before. And the military had never raided local homesteads for supplies either.

This was a major operation.

“That’s Felix’s work,” Agatha said, nodding to the smoke. “My boy will come home.”

Smoke was never good. Regardless, Emma said, “They’ll come home.”

Oscar drew himself up to his full height, as if coming to a decision. He didn’t say a word as he vanished inside the house, emerging a moment later wearing his coat over his nightshirt.

Agatha gripped Emma’s arm in a silent plea.

“There’s no point in going to town,” Emma said. “The papers won’t have anything printed until tomorrow.”

“There’s always talk,” Oscar said, putting on his hat.

Agatha’s grip tightened.

The town didn’t hold any answers for them, at least not today, but that wouldn’t stop her father.

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