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Finally, late into the night, I finished and tried on the padded outfit. It fit. It wasn’t the best made, but I could wear at least two pair of knickers beneath the voluminous makeshift trousers. I hunted through the armoire, finally finding a light cloak. It wasn’t anywhere near as warm as my cloak that Karehl had taken. But…
I glanced at the bed. The comforter was thick and warm, and if I covered it with a layer of fat or wax from the candles, it would repel water and snow to some degree. I draped it around my shoulders. If I had the time, I could adapt it with the sewing kit. But I wanted out of this place. Even if I perished in the woods, it was better than being at Karehl’s threats and whims.
I thought of Bran. I missed him. It hurt to think of him being locked up—but Karehl had said that he’d escaped and I could only hope that he made it far enough away so that the prince couldn’t find him. Fenling, too. I’d grown fond of both of them, in different ways. Bran, I was falling for. I’d never been in love, but there was something about him that made me want to crawl inside his embrace and stay there. And I thought he might feel the same way, though I wasn’t entirely sure.
But I knew that he cared about me, and the thought of him having been locked up in the dungeon had plunged me into a depression. Fenling, who was Bran and Karehl’s cousin—and a close friend of Bran’s—had become a good friend and I trusted her. Hopefully, she and the Lorani who followed her had managed to avoid the prince and his guards. I wondered if I’d ever see them again, but that led to darker thoughts and I pushed them away to concentrate on the business of escaping.
I carried several candles over to the counter and found a pan. I put them in the pan and sat them in the corner of the hearth, where they began to melt. Once the wax had melted, I spreadout the comforter out on the floor, found a broad, flat knife and began to spread the wax over the cloth as evenly as I could, creating a thin layer that soaked into the bedspread. It wouldn’t be waterproof, but it would help. I finished doing that near midnight, then spread wax over the ankle boots. After they dried and I put them on, I would wrap torn sheets around them and my legs, tying them with strips of cloth. I would then cut up the deer hide rug I had found, and tie those strips around the boots.
I decided to start out at dawn, after a few hours of sleep. As I crept into bed, pulling the rest of the blankets over me—the comforter I’d waxed was drying—I reflected on the fact that freedom was going to cost me a great deal—perhaps even my life. But it was a price I was willing to pay.
CHAPTER THREE
I had preparedas 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 absolutelyknewthat 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 ofmy ancestors. I belong to the People of the Snow, andwe 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.
