Page 425 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 32

It was with considerable pride and triumph that Rossa carried two brace of pigeons to Boris's cave. Yes, she was late bringing his Yule gift, but she'd been so preoccupied with hunting the pigeons to punish them for what they'd stolen, that she'd forgotten one of her father's most repeated tenets: that it was easier to make a mark come to you than chase it across the country.

So she found the sack of wheat they'd already ransacked, scattered it on the snow outside the barn, and waited. Within hours, she'd had a whole flock of pigeons to choose from, fattened on lowland wheat. She'd picked them off, one by one, until Sal promised her pigeon pie for supper, and she still had enough left over to take to Boris.

Yet the bear wasn't here, and hadn't been for some time. The ashes from his fire were cold, and there was no food left. The only thing remaining in his cave was a small pile of firewood and a lumpy sack she'd seen before, which she knew contained treasures like the brooch he'd given her on their first meeting, back in autumn. Old jewels she wished she could ask him about, for surely such treasures had a fascinating story behind them. As well as how they came to be here, in a cave in the mountains, guarded by a prince who'd been turned into a bear.

She waited and waited, but he didn't appear, and even when she sent her magic out questing for him, she found no bears at all. Perhaps he'd gone down to the river to catch some fish, for he was most skilled at that, if her Yule gift was anything to go by.

She'd never seen a bear fish. It would surely be fun to watch.

So Rossa left the pigeons in the cave and set out for the river. She found the river easily enough, but still she didn't see a bear. Rossa had hunted all her life, but she'd never bothered to catch fish, so she hadn't the slightest idea where a good fishing spot might be. She followed the river upstream a way, until the banks grew too high and impassable, before heading down, toward the lake. The river grew deeper as streams joined it, widening as the banks became easier to traverse.

She fancied she heard a cry for help, then dismissed it.

Wait, there it was again.

She barrelled along the river bank, praying she'd be in time.

Then stopped and swore when she realised it was the beggar boy. This time, he was chest deep in the river, howling as something pulled him under, before he popped back up again, coughing and spluttering, before calling for help.

She knew she'd sworn not to help him, after the last time, but she could hardly leave a boy to drown, no matter how ungrateful he was. Swearing, she stripped off her cloak and boots and waded into the water. It only came to her waist, but she was numb within moments – the boy was surely freezing. It was a wonder he was even alive.

It wasn't until she stood beside him that she saw the problem. A monster of a fish, easily twice as long as she was tall, had taken hold of his belt, and wasn't letting go. Every time it gave a mighty tug, the boy slipped under the surface, and had to fight his way up for another breath before the beast dragged him under again.

She tried to unfasten his belt, but it had swollen in the water, and her numb fingers could scarcely feel the belt, let alone work the knot free. Rossa pulled out her knife, and began sawing at the boy's belt. He was too busy fighting to breathe to notice, until she managed to cut through the belt and it floated free, dragged away in the maw of the monstrous fish.

Only then did the boy look down and let out a wail: "You horrible witch! Now I have no belt to stop my tunic flapping in the wind…and you lost me my dinner! That fish would have fed me for a month!"

He spat in the water, then struggled to shore. When he climbed up the bank, he stopped long enough to make a rude gesture in her direction.

Rossa barely noticed, for the riverbed was slippery, and she struggled against the current on her numb feet. More than once, she slipped and landed face-first in the water, so she was soaking wet from head to toe by the time she reached the bank.

Only then did she realise that her cloak was gone – likely taken by the beggar boy turned thief, who was now nowhere to be seen.

Swearing and shivering, she did the only thing she could – head back to the bear's cave, to light a fire and hope it would be enough to warm her up and dry her wet clothes.

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