Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

I had prepared as much food that I thought I could drag with me, and tied the bread, cheese, dried meats, and fruits into a sheet that I could drag behind me, along with kindling and enough wood for a couple small fires. I gathered embers, like I had when I first left Renmark, and carried them in one of the lightweight pots. It would be hard going without Yaran, but either I remained a prisoner and submitted to Karehl, or faced my risks to be free.

Once I made sure that the hidden entrances were still hidden—someone else might need to make use of them someday and I didn't want to alert Karehl to their presence—and using a fire poker for a makeshift walking stick until I could find a better one, I headed out. I had emptied the kitchen of knives, which would give me some protection. I had stuck one through my belt, another was tied to the makeshift boots, and I had more in a burlap bag that had held potatoes.

As I set off from the tower, I tried to cover my steps but that took time, and time was one thing I didn't have in abundance. I had to find shelter, and I needed to put distance between me and the tower.

The charimonts seemed to come out mostly at night, so for the moment I wasn't too worried about them. But there were wolves—as opposed to the wolf shifters—and bears, and snow spirits, and forest spirits to worry about.

"Great Mother Bear, guide my feet, guard my back, let me see the path," I whispered. I was a spiritual person, unlike my father, and I waited for a moment, hoping for some sort of sign as to which direction I should go. I had none of my normal gear and, deep down, I was terrified.

I waited for a moment, then I felt a pull so hard I couldn't ignore it. I turned to the right. The clearing was shortest in this direction, ending at the treeline, and I absolutely knew that I needed to head in that direction. Given I'd just asked for guidance, I decided to follow the impulse, and—dragging my supplies behind me—I strode over to the trees and vanished into the forest.

I made good headway, even with having to half-drag, half-carry the supplies. It began to snow about midday and even though it made the going difficult, I welcomed it. The snow would cover my tracks by nightfall if it kept up at this rate.

With no clue where I was going, I followed my instincts. Every time snow crashed off the trees, I froze, thinking it was some creature prowling around in the forest. Tramping through the snow was like slogging through mud, only colder, and my makeshift boots were minimal protection. But every time I thought about going back to the tower, I thought about Karehl, and that kept me going.

"I'm a huntress," I said out loud, trying to motivate myself. "I come from a line of renowned hunters, and I walk the path of my ancestors. I belong to the People of the Snow, and we do not quit . We do not give up. We do not surrender."

Taking a deep breath, I started in again. By the light, I could tell it was early afternoon. I was tired, but I was used to hard work and hours spent in the woodland. Hunting deer wasn't easy, either, and I had taken down many a buck, dragging it over to the sledge and forging a path with Yaran as we hauled it home. Neither was it easy to butcher the meat once I got it home.

"I can do this," I grunted, stopping to readjust the fastenings on the comforter. Then, straightening my shoulders, I pushed harder and braced myself against the wind and moved on.

About an hour before dusk, I began to scout for a place where I could build a makeshift shelter. As I poked around a dense part of the thicket, thinking all the branches might keep the snow off of me, I pushed through a dense stand of evergreens only to catch sight of lights in the distance.

Frowning, I kept going. The lights couldn't be an animal. And somehow, they looked welcoming rather than dangerous—almost cozy against the stark white of the snow and dark boughs of the trees. I pushed through another layer of tree branches and stumbled out into a clearing.

A small cottage stood in the center, behind which were several sheds. Surrounded by snow, warm lights flickered from inside. Smoke rose from the chimney, and more than anything, all I wanted was to huddle next to the fire and warm up. I had no clue who lived there, but I decided to chance finding out, rather than spend a night in the snow when I was so poorly equipped.

I knocked, hoping someone friendly would answer.

After a moment, the door opened and an older woman peeked out. She was wearing an apron over what looked like a long wool dress. Her hair was white, pulled back in a chignon, and she was holding a dagger pointed at me.

"What do you want?" she asked, peering around me, a suspicious look on her face.

"I was hoping I could find lodging. I don't have any coin, but I can work for my keep." The smells coming from inside her house made me salivate, and the warmth emanating out from the hearth only made me feel colder.

"What's your name?"

"Asajia. I come from a village near the Leanderial Line. I'm lost, and the snow is growing worse." I gave her my most plaintive look, hoping she might take mercy on me. It was a lot to ask, especially for someone living out in the woods alone, but I had to try.

"I think there's more to you than meets the eye," she said, glancing at me from head to toe. She paused, then stood back and nodded for me to come in.

The cottage was more than I had hoped for. It was larger inside than it looked outside, and a merry fire crackled in the hearth. A cauldron hung over the fire, and another, smaller, sat in the coals nearby. The smaller one had some form of soup or stew in it. The table sat against one wall, along with three chairs. A loaf of bread and a round of cheese sat on the table, along with a bowl of soup. It looked like I had interrupted her dinner.

She gave me another long look, then pointed to the fire. "Have a seat and warm yourself. You must be soaked through, girl. Let me get you something dry to wear." She vanished through a door on the opposite wall and returned with what looked like a woven nightshirt. As she handed it to me, I looked around for a place to change.

"Change here," she said. "And any weapons you have, you might as well lay on the table while you're at it."

I dropped the waxed comforter from around my shoulders, and as I changed, caught her staring at my outfit. It looked a mess, that much I knew. But it had kept me from the snow. After I had changed into the nightshirt, keeping on the driest pair of my knickers, she motioned for me to gather up my things.

"Who made your clothes?" she asked, shaking her head as she took them and spread them out over a drying rack in the corner. "And your cloak is a bedspread?"

"I'm afraid I didn't have any other options. I was kidnapped, and found a way to escape. I had to make do with what I had." I might as well tell her the truth, because it didn't make sense any other way.

"Oh child, there's a fair amount of that going around. Was it some man, determined to make you his bride?" She spat out the words as if she had experienced exactly what she was talking about.

"Not his wife. More his mistress. And I had no interest in being his play toy." I wasn't sure how much to tell her, because I wasn't sure who she was loyal to.

"Well, let's get you fed." She handed me a bowl and ladle. As I filled my bowl with soup, she examined the knives that I had laid on her table.

"All of these are kitchen knives, and nice ones at that."

"He took my weapons from me, so I took what I could find." I sat at the table and accepted the chunk of bread she offered me. She pushed a crock of butter across the table and I spread a thick layer on the bread and bit into it. The food was simple, but good and nourishing, and just being inside a warm house raised my spirits so much that I began to feel a glimmer of hope.

"You came out of the tower," she said, snapping her fingers. "Prince Karehl is the man you're running from, isn't he?"

I nodded. There was no use pretending she was wrong. "Please don't give me away."

"Any person who calls the prince her enemy is a friend of mine. He's a wicked man, and he turned on his own brother, from what I understand. I use cloaking spells to hide my cottage, in case he ever sends his guards on a looting spree." She picked up her spoon and went back to her dinner.

We ate in a comfortable silence until the loaf of bread was gone and the soup pot was almost empty. I looked around for a washtub.

"If you let me, I'd be happy to wash dishes." Even though I was weary to the bone, I wanted to thank her for taking a chance on me.

"No, girl. You look ready to drop. I don't have a spare bed, but I have plenty of padded blankets and you can sleep in front of the fire if you like." She pointed to another door at the end of the living room. "The outhouse is a few steps out there, and I'll get you some slippers so that you don't freeze your feet. If you want to wash up before bed, there's plenty of hot water that you can use. I'll get you a towel and washing cloth."

"I don't think you told me your name," I said.

"My name is Ashera. I've lived in this cottage since the day I was born. I took it over from my mother. Anyway, I'll fetch the towel and some soap for you." Again she passed through the other door, returning with a thick towel, a cloth, and a bar of soap that smelled like lavender. She also handed me a pair of slippers, which fit with room to spare.

Carrying a candle, I headed to the outhouse. When I finished doing my business, I hurried back inside to find that she had ladled out a bowl of hot water for me. I dipped the cloth into the water, and then lathered up and washed down all my vital bits. She was doing the dishes, and for some reason I didn't feel awkward at all.

Ashera brought out three large blankets, one of them padded enough to sleep on. She spread them on the rug in front of the fireplace, and then added a pillow. I wanted to ask more questions, about why she was living out here, and what she did, but I sensed that she would tell me what she wanted me to know in her own time. Feeling clean and human again, I accepted a cup of tea and some cookies from her, and then slid between the blankets and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Morning brought with it a snowstorm so dense it was almost a blizzard. Ashera made breakfast for us, bacon and bread and fruit compote from dried apples and berries. My old clothes were gone, and in their place was a warm pair of trousers and a tunic, and clean knickers. As I stood, she frowned and disappeared into her bedroom again. When she returned, she handed me a couple of thick pads.

I glanced down at my nightshirt and saw blood on it, and groaned. "I'm so sorry. I'll wash this as soon as I've finished changing."

"No need to be sorry, most every woman alive has her menses. At least it's the promise that you aren't pregnant." She shrugged. "Today's laundry day, anyway. You can help me scrub and wring the clothes. I hang them on the drying racks when it's snowing outside. There's nothing worse than clothes frozen from hanging in the winter wind. That is, unless you are planning on heading out again."

I hesitated. "Do I have a choice?"

"You didn't try to murder me in my sleep, and you have a willing nature. The storm is going to last for several days, so you might as well make yourself comfortable." Although she seemed grumpy almost every time she spoke, I had the feeling that she had a kind and caring heart beneath the surface.

By the time I had changed, she had filled a washtub with hot water and set more water to heat. She brought out a scrub board and I took over for her, scrubbing three dresses, plus my nightshirt. I rinsed them in cold water and wrung them out and she hung them on the drying racks. Together, we carried the soapy water outside and cast it onto the snow, watching the steam rise.

Back inside, she washed the counters and then brought out a bag of wheat and a grinding mill. I offered to grind the flour for her, so while I worked the mill, she began weaving fabric on a loom sitting in the corner. Finally, after a quiet hour of working, she sat back and massaged her hands.

"Tell me your story," she said. "You say you came from a village near the Leanderial Line? How long ago did you leave there? And why did you leave during winter?"

I decided to trust my instincts. "My mother owed the yearly tithe to the village. My father died last year, and my mother forgot to pay last year's tithe. She died early this year. The sheriff confiscated my house and everything I owned because I was a year behind, even though I was able to pay the balance. He ordered me into his household as an indentured servant, which translates to becoming his concubine. I didn't want that life. I'm a huntress. My father was a hunter. I have no intention of being any man's slave. If I bed a man, it will be my decision. So I ran away."

"And you ran into the prince? From one pervert to another?"

I shook my head. "Not at first. I ran into his brother Bran and the Lorani. I planned to stay with them because we got along so well. I really like him and his cousin. She's an amazing woman. But they were called back to Eleago and I went with them."

"Here," she said, fixing a cup of tea. "This will stave off cramps."

"Thank you," I said. The tea smelled fragrant and calming. "Unfortunately, the prince ambushed Bran and imprisoned him, along with a number of the Lorani."

"How did you get away?"

"Fenling, his cousin, helped me escape. We were betrayed, and that separated us. Long story short, the prince imprisoned me in the tower after he caught me. I gather Bran has escaped from the dungeon, but I don't know where he or Fenling or the rest of the Lorani are. I found a way out of the tower, and then I made my way here. And that's my story."

"Well then, rest easy. I have no love for the prince and I won't turn you over to him. You can stay until the weather's better. I cast a strong cloaking spell on my cottage, so no one should discover you here. I might be able to help you find Bran and Fenling, although I can't promise anything. We'll talk more about that tomorrow. This afternoon I want to make bread and I need to stitch up some tears in one of my dresses. That I will do. I've seen your handiwork and it's not exactly your strong suit."

I laughed. "Believe it or not, I can stitch a fine seam. Just not when I'm in a hurry to escape."

Once I finished grinding the flour, I helped her with the bread. By early evening, she was mending her clothes while I refilled the wood box from a shed around back. I could hear the howling of the charimonts in the distance. I shivered, grateful for the shelter over my head, and for the unlikely friendship into which I had stumbled.