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Chapter 12: Tidings
Next morning's breakfast was interrupted by tired-looking Gavin, who had left to scout the terrain over a week ago, right after the celebrations. He sauntered into the central cave disheveled, face smudged with dirt and clothes filthy. The lines of his rugged face were severe, his eyes sunken. The mellow atmosphere was instantly broken, and people were on alert, the last vestiges of sleep banished.
Gavin marched straight to the center, people making wordlessly room for him, and took the bowl of porridge Beth offered to him. The remnant porridge had sat in the pot some time and was probably only lukewarm, but that didn't seem to matter to Gavin, who spooned it up in great big noisy gulps. Only when he had finished, did he sat down, the empty bowl clattering against the stone floor, the sound unnaturally loud in the silent cave.
Snow held her breath, anticipation squeezing her insides into tight knots. In the mines, the outside world became easily something distant, something that was faraway, something that wasn't quite as real as the life in the mines. Even though Snow thought constantly about the happenings of her father's plundered kingdom, agonized over the sufferings of its people, and wondered what the queen and her brother were up to, the outside world was still, well, outside. The mountain had sealed her in a cocoon of rock, surrounding her with people she cared about. She couldn't help but feel that everything else was some distance away, unheard and unseen, and in some moments very unreal. But now there were news from the outside, tidings that were going to affect them all.
Other people were as anxious as Snow to hear what Gavin had discovered on his journey, and they were silently waiting for him to share the news. The mood in the cave was sharp and expectant, as if people knew that that very moment could be the turning point, the fork in the road. Gavin drained the water bottle he had been given, took a long breath and looked first at Thomas and then at William.
William seemed to take that as a sign to break the silence, for he shifted impatiently in his place and said, "Welcome back. It seems you had a rough journey."
"Did I ever!" Gavin exclaimed. "Those damn wolves hounding me day and night on the way back, sodding beasts –"
"The queen's men were chasing you? How far did they follow you?" Thomas sounded alarmed and others tensed, ready to spring into action.
"No, I…I mean wolves, literally. Real wolves," Gavin said, confused. Beth snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. Thomas gave her a sharp glare, but she only met his look with far too innocent eyes. Gavin however, oblivious to the pair's silent exchange, was already continuing, "A vicious pack they are, the leader biggest and meanest I have ever seen. Must have wandered over the mountains, searching for prey. Now on this side, they'll have a right feast."
"Well, obviously they didn't get you," William's voice was exasperated. "But what news of the queen and her men? Has she moved her army? How about the supply trains?"
"I went as far as Oakhollow, but the people in there were silent and surly. Didn't want to part with their bread, not that I can blame them, the folk seemed to be naught but skin and bone."
"I didn't ask about the people," William huffed, "I want to know –"
"They didn't have any food?" Thomas interrupted, face sober and voice calm. Almost against her will, Snow's thoughts turned into their storages, and she worried what would happen if no one was willing to trade with them anymore, and immediately felt guilty thinking only about their own needs.
"Only little, not enough to trade with us. The queen has taken more than usual – they say the soldiers came unexpectedly, took much of anything of worth, and questioned them." Gavin's face was grim, and he gestured towards Old Arthur. For a moment Snow was confused, but the old man clearly knew what Gavin's hand signal meant, for he reached inside his jacket, pulled out a water bottle and tossed it to Gavin. Gavin drank greedily, and Snow doubted the bottle's contents were mere water.
"Questioned them about what?" Eric's sudden sharp question brought everyone's attention to him, and to Snow, who sat beside him.
Gavin wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat, smearing the dirt already on his face wider. "Oh, they wanted to know, if anybody had seen a pretty girl and a crude huntsman traveling together. Demanded to know where they had gone, if anybody had given them anything." He grimaced and raised the bottle again, but halted before taking a drink, eyes solemn. "They were not happy, when the people couldn't tell them anything. Strung a few lads up, killed their only goat."
"What else did they tell you?" William asked, clenching his fists. His shoulders were rigid, his lips pursed in a tight line.
"Well, they don't love the queen, that much became clear," Gavin said smirking, "but getting the news from them – it was like trying to pull teeth out with only your fingers, when you really need good pliers, but can't use them because you don't want to scare people off." The image made Snow shudder.
"I trust you were discreet," Thomas remarked, but the brief constipated look on his face revealed that he very much doubted it.
"Of course!" Gavin sounded wounded that anyone would doubt his skills to be subtle. "I was careful! I had to offer up all my liquor –" His voice turned regretful, and as if to prove his point, Gavin took another swig out of the bottle he kept holding tightly in his hands. "But finally this one bloke started to talk and then he couldn't shut up, telling me his whole life story."
"Horrible, I'm sure," Beth said dryly. "But what did you find out?"
Gavin, looking a little sheepish, finally seemed to realize that everyone was tensely waiting for the rest of the news. "The queen is still very much looking for the princess – I mean Snow – and punishing anyone that gets in her way. That brother of hers is scouring the land, going from village to village looking for information." As he spoke, he turned to look at Snow, and his next words were clearly meant for her, "Lucky for us, the people don't know anything. They don't know where you have gone, and they don't know about this place."
For a brief moment Snow felt reassured; they would be safe in the mines, Ravenna and her brother (Finn, her mind whispered) couldn't find them. Eric shifted beside her restlessly, almost as if he wanted to contradict Gavin, but remained silent. Snow's anxiety returned tenfold.
"Did you ask about the supply trains?" William asked, the demand to know clear in his voice.
"That did not come up," Gavin sounded almost apologetic, and was quick to add, "I doubt they would have known anything about it, it would have just raised suspicions if I would have asked." He raised his eyebrows at Thomas as if to say, see I can be discreet.
"Did you go to other villages? What about Moorland?" Thomas inquired. Snow had gotten a look at some of the maps that Thomas carefully kept in a leather satchel among his possessions. She had watched as Eric had traced his fingers over the dark lines and marks on the parchment, showing her what route they had taken, where Fenland was, where they now were. She knew that Moorland was the closest village to the mines; two days ride away, near the cabin they had stayed.
Gavin bowed his head, stared at the rocky floor. He was oddly reluctant to speak and a terrible foreboding took hold of Snow. "The queen's wrath is terrible indeed," he whispered. No one said anything, the mood in the cave turning even more somber. Gavin took one final drink and set the bottle aside. "It was burnt to the ground. All the villagers dead, left for the wolves. Aye, a right feast they had."
"Why?" Snow couldn't help but ask, unshed tears burning in her eyes.
"As a warning or a punishment – who knows why? That's her way to rule and control." It was Thomas who answered, and although his voice was calm, there was a fierce flash of anger in his eyes.
"The folk at Oakhollow said it was the queen's brother and his men who did the deed, because they…" Gavin hesitated and did not continue. But he didn't have to; Snow knew what he had been about to say and said it herself, "Because they traced our steps near to that village. Never mind that we never went there; the villagers were doomed from the moment we chose that route." Just like they had burned Fenland down, chased its people through flames and smoke, just to get to Snow. She looked around the cave, at all the people she had gotten to know, their faces concerned and grave. She wondered if she had sentenced them all to death by coming there.
"We'll revenge them," William's voice quivered with fury. "We will hit the queen where it hurts her most, we'll attack her supply trains and ambush her men, leave them to the wolves."
"We need more information first. We can't strike at anything if we're blind," Thomas said quietly but firmly. He looked at William resolutely, as if daring him to argue. William turned his eyes away first, but remarked only a second later, "We'll soon know where to strike. Sam and Tobias are due to be back soon – they'll bring all the information we need." He paused, still and hard as stone. "And then – then we will get our revenge."
-o-
As the morning turned into a day, the heavy mood only thickened. Snow did her tasks automatically, her mind far away from the caves. She thought about Moorland, only a blackened ruin now. She had never been there, but still she could picture it in her mind all too easily. She thought about other villages, people listening for the sound of hooves, terrified that the queen's men would come for them next. She thought about Finn, furiously searching for her, unleashing his rage against innocent people.
The weather was as miserable as Snow. The wind was sharp and biting, the sky heavy with dark grey clouds. Snow stood in the clearing, shivering without her long coat and wondering when it would start to rain. Eric had insisted that they had plenty of time to practice before the rain would start to fall, and so far he had been unfortunately right. After a grueling half-hour, Snow was ready to drop her weapon and retreat into a dark corner somewhere to cry out in exhaustion and misery.
Snow gripped her knife harder, trying to concentrate. Eric lunged at her, and she parried his knife with her own, then turned quickly to the side, ready to face him again. But he wasn't in front of her; a flash of movement and an arm sneaked around her neck, and before she could even raise her weapon, he was wrenching the knife from her hand.
"You are not even trying," Eric said, his voice gravelly. He was warm and solid behind her; both a familiar and an arresting presence. "You know how to avoid all the mistakes you just made."
"I forgot," Snow muttered, annoyed and embarrassed and tired in equal measure.
"You have to concentrate. There's no room for mistakes in a real fight."
"I know," She tried to sound contrite, but her voice came out as a frustrated wail. Eric released her, and she picked her weapon up, resigned to try again. But when she turned to face him once more, the huntsman only shook his head and sheathed his knife.
"Come, it'll rain soon," Eric said and strode towards the shed. Snow followed him, relieved that the practice was over, but ashamed of her poor performance. She would do better tomorrow.
It was dim inside the shed, but enough grey light came from outside for Snow to see the taut lines of Eric's shoulders, the resolute look on his face. With a flash of insight she realized she had been led to a trap, but it was too late to go back to the mines; a sudden whoosh and a strong clatter against the roof signaled that it had started to pour with rain. Snow could already see the words in his eyes, and knew she couldn't dodge his determination to get her to talk. Not unless she wanted to get drenched and to look like a fool fleeing his company. Her heart started to pound almost painfully. Would they finally talk about the kiss?
Eric went to a corner, where the bales of hay were piled up. He spread some of the hay on to the floor as padding and then sat down, taking a comfortable position, stretching his long legs. He looked meaningfully at the free space beside him and then at Snow. She fidgeted, unsure. Then she marched to one of the stalls, as if petting Spotty had been her intention all along.
The horse came to sniff her hand immediately, the velvety nose tickling her palm. The animal's big eyes followed Snow's every movement curiously. She started to pet Spotty's beautiful coat, feeling the strong lines of her muscles. The horse made a small whinny of content and Snow smiled.
"What happened to Moorland – and Fenland. That was not your fault; you know that, don't you?" Eric's low voice made her pause. Spotty neighed and turned towards Snow as if to see why she had dared to stop petting her, and Snow continued dutifully.
"I…it happened because of me, because we were there." It was easier to say the words than she had imagined and a relief to hear them; some of the weight inside of her loosened and drifted away.
"Do you think it is my fault that the queen burnt them down?"
"No!" Her vehemence surprised even her. But Eric was not to blame for anything that had happened; he had done nothing but help her from the moment they had met.
"If it's not my fault, then it certainly isn't yours either," he said steadily. "There are enough burdens to carry – no sense in taking the weight of something that doesn't belong to you."
"I know," Snow admitted. She knew he was right. "I just…it's not fair that he takes his frustration and anger out on innocent people." But life was not fair; it was a lesson she had learned on the night her father had been murdered, a lesson she had learned every day since.
Eric was silent for a while, as if considering his next words carefully. When he asked his question, it was with a hesitancy Snow was unaccustomed of hearing from him, "You know the queen's brother well?"
"As well as you can know someone, who doesn't talk to you but likes to watch you sleep," Snow snorted, surprised once again how easily the words crossed her lips. It was not something she had ever thought to share, the dark memories clinging tightly to her, isolated and somehow shameful. She pushed her head against the horse's mane, glad that Eric couldn't see her face.
"He just watched you?" Eric said flatly. He sounded calm, but there was something else just beneath the surface. It took a moment for Snow to realize it was fury and anguish and concern. She took a deep breath and made a decision. It was time to shed at least this one burden. She didn't want to carry it anymore.
"Yes, through the bars. I pretended to be asleep, wishing he would go away," Snow could almost feel Finn's gaze on her, hear his heavy breathing. The fear that came to her was almost as sharp as it had been then, as if she was still in her cell with him watching her. "He never came inside, but I always feared he would. I knew that someday he would." Spotty moved restlessly, sensing her distress. Snow soothed the animal, and at the same time tried to banish her own thoughts. Finn was far away from her; there was nothing to fear.
Eric was silent, but she knew he was listening intently, his whole attention focused on her. She plunged ahead, wanting to get the story to its end. "And one day, he did come inside. He came to take me to the queen. But first, he sat on my cot and…and I struck him with a nail, got out of the cell and escaped. So it was lucky, that he finally came inside." Her small laugh sounded brittle.
"That bastard," Eric said darkly.
"He just watched, he didn't hurt me," Snow was compelled to say, a small part of her wondering if the whole thing really was as awful as she thought it was.
"It wasn't right." The fury in his voice made Snow shiver and somehow feel better. "I promise, if I ever meet him again, I'll strike him with more than a nail," Eric swore and she knew he would keep his promise.
"Me too," Snow whispered it so quietly that only Spotty heard and whinnied her agreement.
Then Eric said, "Come here." Snow's heart jumped. It was not an order or a demand, but a softly spoken plea. She hesitated only a moment, before giving Spotty one final pat and leaving the stall to go sit next to him. Snow had wanted to do it the moment he had first wordlessly invited her to sit beside him; she didn't know why she hadn't. Now she finally sat down gingerly, leaning against a bale of hay. He immediately shifted closer and put his arm around her. She couldn't help but sigh and rest her head against his shoulder.
They sat in silence and listened to the rain. The rhythmic sound of patter was soothing, and the strength and warmth of his body next to her quieted all her fears. However, it was the firm support, the steadfast solace and the unfailing protection that he always offered her, that eased her heart most of all. It was his unique character, his skill to unburden her with just a few words. He was an amazing man.
Slowly, Snow was lulled to the soft border of sleep and wakefulness. She thought drowsily that she had been foolish to keep so much from him and resolved to tell him all about her dreams and Moira. She wanted to tell him everything – she would tell him everything. Before she drifted further down to the field of dreams, she felt him kiss her forehead lightly. Snow fell asleep with a smile on her face.
