Chapter One
The sky above was thick with clouds, blocking out the stars, and contrasting with the sleepy, snowy hills that overlooked Castle DunBroch. Both Castle and village were deceptively still, the only signs of life the candles glowing faintly in each window. Anybody who approached the Castle from the loch that lapped at the cliffs directly below its fortifications would have seen a similar wall of candles, adapted from a tradition meant to guide wanderers indoors on cold winter nights.
Deep within the sturdy stone walls of the castle, a tall, brightly bushy-haired young woman made her rounds, dutifully moving from room to room to fill the windows with light. A small creature on her shoulder accompanied her, chirping cheerfully. Winged and reptilian, it had to be one of the few mysterious dragons that had returned to DunBroch after the dreaded Mor'du had been defeated. But unlike her enormous counterpart, Sorcha could not breath fire, but watched with fascination as Merida touched unlit candles to the lit one in her hand.
Realizing that she had come to the last window, Merida paused, looking out onto the black, quiet surface of Loch Na Keal, searching for a disturbance, or a sign that the person she had put the candles out for would see them. But, like every year, for the past five years, her mother still did not appear.
"Well, Sorcha," Merida said finally, straightening her shoulders. "Let's see how Da is doing, shall we?"
It was the first time he had not joined her on her pilgrimage through DunBroch Castle. Losing his wife had been hard on the Bear King, and as the land around DunBroch had begun to recover from the destruction left by Mor'du, he had started to fade. His huge frame was no longer commanding, and the white in his hair had drained all color from his face. He spent less time hunting and more time at prayer in the castle's new chapel. Merida believed that perhaps he-and the entire castle itself-would liven up a little if her brothers were still around. But after the fiasco arising from her refusal to marry any of the sons of her father's vassals, a gesture of unity among the three kingdoms was still needed, and they had sent each of the triplets to live with the lords MacGuffin, Macintosh, and Dingwall. At first, Merida had welcomed the freedom to roam the castle without the boys underfoot, but now her days were long and lonely. Sorcha helped, at times, but since her mother had gone, things had not been the same.
She found her father in his room, settled in a chair before the fire, draped in a bearskin, just as she'd left him. Though now he was snoring-so loud, in fact, it was no question where he'd gotten the nickname of Bear King. Smiling to herself, Merida adjusted the blanket, and tossed more logs on the hearth. Unlike the newer section of the castle, this part of Dunbroch was practically ancient, and much draftier. Once she was certain her father was nice and cozy, Merida exited the room, and began to make her way to her own bed.
Her poor, sword-scarred four-poster, and most of her other possessions, had fallen into the loch along with the part of the castle destroyed by Mor'du, but she had made a new home at the top of Bran's Tower, which was still intact. It was bigger, and gave her a better view of both the sea and the land. Not to mention the trapdoor leading to the roof had been useful when her friends from the far north came to visit.
Astrid and Hiccup had not come to DunBroch since the first snows. Like her, they were needed at home to protect it during the winter. However, unlike her, they also had an advantage-their Berk was home to not only Vikings, but dragons. Bigger, fire-breathing species that could keep their human partners warm and help them hunt for food. All Merida had were her arrows, and while Sorcha's poisonous saliva could help the little dragon take down pheasants or the occasional rabbit, the princess had taken it on herself to supply the castle's kitchens with bigger game. That, too, had become scarce with the arrival of the cold, forcing Merida to push Angus deeper into the dark, forested hills, among the eerie hollows and stoic menhirs that populated the island of Mull. Even there, where she could not see or hear the waters of the loch, Merida would remember Elinor, and her mother's stories of the ancient and magical history of their home.
She would be out there again tomorrow-which meant she'd best get to sleep now. Her bed was warm, and the night was calm. On the wall across the room, a tapestry a hung, a portrait of her family as it had once been. Staring at it as she lay there, Merida was reminded of something, and leapt out of bed with a cry.
Sorcha, who had been curled up beside her, squawked an alarm and flapped clumsily to the foot of the bed, then crawled up the poster to give herself a better view of the room. Laughing, Merida said, "Aye, I'm sorry, wee one. I only just nearly forgot something."
Merida went to the dying fire and lit one of the candles waiting on the mantelpiece. Then she moved to the window, placing it in view of the loch. Softly, she said, "Happy Christmas," and pressed her fingers to the glass. As before-and as expected-she received no answer.
