A Promise Through The Bars: The First Series

by Lemon Leopard

Princess Snow White, a title dead to her, is imprisoned one fateful night. For twelve years, she struggles to survive in her cell, slowly losing her faith, her hope, and finally her will to live. Just as she is about to end it all, a woman named Sara is thrown into the cell near hers. Sara asks Snow White to do her a favor. A favor that may change everything.

36. Chapter 36 The Day's Gossip

Chapter 36 The Day's Gossip

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A yawn pushes its way out of my mouth while I watch the world outside the window slowly brighten. Though the yawn lingers in my mouth, an inward sigh of relief relaxes my shoulders. Day thirty-one. I'm more than eager to put the long night behind me, though the hope that has grown is choked up in my guilt. What did Wessel say to Eric to make him so...to turn him into a damn monk!? In a bed that is ours beneath a roof that belongs to us. I laugh once as my yawn finally dies. How depraved am I to call Eric a monk? The life he has lived is a far cry from a chaste monk.

I shake my head. It will do me no good dwelling over his depravity and mine. There are more pressing issues. Our debt to Hector has been paid. Torrance wants me on my feet today. More pressing than my feet, there is no more business keeping us in Vilgard. My being here is still putting the people at risk, perhaps more so now than in these past four days. We must leave as soon as possible. Whoever comes in to see me first—someone knocks at the door!

My eyes go to the closed door. Perfect timing, Torrance! "Come in!" I call and look at my feet. I toss back the blankets and carefully lay my wrapped feet on top of the blankets as the door creaks open. "My feet are feeling better," I say. "They burn, though, and it still feels like I have my toes! I swear I'm wiggling them now!" I wiggle my feet. Though I cannot see my toes wiggling, I feel them brushing against the scratchy hot linen of my dressings!

"I'm relieved that you're feeling better," my eyes widen and my stomach flips, "but I need to speak with you."

I wheel around, my eyes crossing Wessel's dark ones. "Wessel!" Relief and horror batter me from both sides. Relief to see him here alive and uninjured, but horror to see his stern look. I know why he is here. Sure, he is checking on me as a loving brother would do for his sister, but he is also using this opportunity to speak with me about Eric.

Wessel frowns as he lingers in the doorway. "May I come in?"

Guilt nags at my heart. Despite his reprove, he will not intrude. I could send him away if I wish to...but I do not have the heart to. I want to speak with my brother.

I nod slightly. "Come in."

"Thank you." Wessel steps into the room. He shuts the door quietly, putting us both in this suffocating space.

"You want to speak with me about Eric," I say.

Wessel's frown deepens. He stays before the door, unmoving. "Very astute of you...Snow," he says, dipping his head to me in apology, but he crosses his arms, putting on a strange air of both respect and reprimand.

Guilt grows heavier on my heart and brings a frown to my face. "You don't have to keep standing there. Please sit." I hold a hand out to the table and the two chairs behind him. "Then we can talk." I rest my hand in my lap.

He looks back at the table and drags one of the chairs closer to the bedside. He minds his sword's scabbard as he takes his seat and returns his stern gaze to me.

"So," I start, my stomach churning, "what do you know? Eric said you both talked before about...things? Concerning me?"

He draws in a slow, deep breath. "Concerning you both." He nods slowly. "Snow…" He shakes his head. Oh no, he's going to beg me again to try and retake the throne! "I know you fear Ravenna and rightly so—"

"If you're here to beg me to try and retake Tabor, then you're wasting your breath!" Anger has sharpened my tongue. Guilt lashes my heart. Eliza, Guinevere, Mary, Annabelle, Benjamin, Jerome, Greta...Geoffrey, Sara...My people...

Wessel frowns again. "I'm not...I'm not going to implore you to again," he says with great difficulty. That...must have been the hardest thing for him to say. He clears his throat. "Eric cares about you a great deal. I saw that when we were on the road these last two days."

I swallow hard. I know he cares for me, but to hear Wessel say it…

"I know you've suffered a lot. I cannot even fathom—fourteen years of imprisonment!" He holds his hand to his chest. "Snow, I want nothing more than for you to be happy and safe. Eric will keep you safe, but does he make you happy?"

"Yes," I answer, no hesitation. Seeing him smile, hearing and feeling that sensual rumble of his laughter—he truly makes me happy.

Wessel nods slowly. "And you make him happy...but your happiness can only survive if it comes from an honest start. Eric still believes you're Greta. Do you believe it's fair to him to keep lying about who you are?"

Something ice-cold scoops a chunk out of my chest. Tears flood my eyes. "I want to tell him! I want to! Believe me, I want to be honest with him! I'm trying!" I hold my healing hand to my hurting heart. "It's just…" Nightmarish visions of Eric leaving me in ire and hatred haunt me. "If he finds out, he'll hate me…" God, I want him to love me, but he cannot for his sake!

"He will never hate you!" Wessel reaches out and rests his hand on my good shoulder. "I know Eric better than you, it seems. He's not capable of hating you!" He shakes his head in disbelief. "But I also know you, little sister." Little sister? I haven't heard that in a long time. "I know you care for Eric, but I see the pain in your eyes everytime you…" he draws in a deep breath "...I see the pain in your eyes everytime you turn your back on your people."

"What!?" My voice is raspy with tears. My chest tightens and fills with fire and scorches my heart. I don't want to look at him! I turn my face from him and glare at the wall, tears streaming down my cheeks. I don't want him in here anymore!

He takes his hand from me. "As I said, I will not implore you again," he says so sternly. I have never heard him be so stern. "I only want you to acknowledge the ramifications of your choices. By refusing your birthright, you are allowing Ravenna to continue oppressing your people, a people that she will one day annihilate!" Horror shoots down my spine. Annihilate!? Eliza said something so similar— "And if you keep up this lie with Eric, he will end up loving a lie! I cannot believe you have the heart to do that to him, but this fear you have of him that he will turn on you, or leave you, or hate you!—You said that your mistrust is necessary, but I'm telling you now that it is not necessary! It is irrational!—"

"Irrational!?" I seethe through clenched teeth. My teary eyes dart to him. "I ended up in my cell because those I love betrayed me! No one ever came to try and save me, to even see if I was alive!" I half sneer, half sob. My fingers tremble, wanting dearly to jab at Wessel's chest, but I refrain. He did not betray me. Not then, anyways. I gulp down my excess spit and draw in a slow, deep breath to cool my anger. "I've said it before. Everyone is capable of betrayal. You are. I am. Especially me." My voice is far more even despite my flowing tears.

Wessel's face falls and his eyes dims. "I should have come for you. If I knew you at all, I would have known you were still alive. I'm so sorry."

My heart lurches forward. "Wessel, do not blame yourself please! Everyone thought me dead, hell, many still believe me to be dead! I said it before. You came looking for someone in the snow who you didn't even know. That is who you are. Steadfast, selfless."

He sighs, still not seeming to accept my words. "I know you have lived fourteen years of hell. I cannot fathom what you have endured, let alone how you survived, but Snow...that's behind you now. I have no ground to say this, but for your sake you must confront this fear of yours! If you continue to let your fear control you, it will keep you from doing the right thing! At the very least, it will kill the happiness you find with Eric if you choose to run away with him."

My eyes widen. If I choose to run away with Eric!? I...I suppose that is what I want. I want to live out the rest of my days in safety, freedom, and happiness. I want to die in Eric's arms. All of that can only happen if we run away together. But I do not want him weeping over me when I die. I must be nothing more than the shortest sentence in his two hundred fifty-three year long saga.

I swallow again and steel myself before Wessel. "I want Eric. I don't want him to hate me, but he cannot love me."

Wessel's brows furrow with bewilderment. "W...what?" he asks softly.

I breathe in—the door creaks open! Wessel and I both look back at the opening door. Torrance steps in and halts.

"More tears!?" Torrance asks. He looks sharply at Wessel and back at me. "Is this oaf making you cry now!?"

I shake my head. "No, we were just discussing past memories – from my childhood—" Approaching footsteps tickle my ears, silencing me. The towering hunter appears behind Torrance's shoulder.

He slows in his steps when he sees me. His eyes bore into mine. "Lass?" he asks softly and squeezes past Torrance to get to me. "Why are ye cryin'?" He stops at my bedside and cradles my left cheek in his hand, brushing my tears away with his thumb. My stomach twists and churns so much and my throat tightens. What am I to tell him!? That I'm crying because Wessel...my mind and heart both falter as Eric continues stroking my cheek. The warmth of his hand, that selfless concern burning in his eyes for me—I don't want to lose this. Him.

Eric looks back at Wessel. "Weasel...what'd ye do to her?" he asks accusingly.

"He did nothing!" I say. Eric looks back at me. Wessel is not to blame for my tears!

"She said they were talking about childhood memories," Torrance says. He looks between Wessel and me. "Sad ones?"

"Yes. Sad," Wessel answers. My eyes almost go to Wessel, but they are drawn to Eric while he looks down at the redhead. God only knows how the two are looking at each other, but the thick air between them makes me queasy.

"Wessel, if you wouldn't mind, could you leave so I can tend to her feet?" Torrance asks, gesturing to my wrapped feet. "It's too crowded in here."

"Of course!" Wessel gets up and squeezes between Torrance and Eric. He steps out into the hall and turns back to us. "Are we all packed to go?" he asks.

My heart picks up. "What's this about being packed to go?" I look up at Eric.

He looks down at me, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "Ye said ye wanted to leave here as soon as possible. There's nothin' more to keep us here, so we packed and saddled our horses. All that's left is to check yer feet, bundle ye up, and get ye to the stable." He winks down at me, his smile turning playful.

I sigh with relief. "Thank god. Well," it takes everything in me to pull my face from Eric's hand and look at Torrance, "we're all waiting for you, Torrance."

Torrance looks from me to Eric, chuckling. "Alright!" He shakes his head as his chuckling ebbs, dragging Wessel's abandoned chair to the foot of the bed and sitting down on it.

"I'll meet you three at the stable," Wessel says and leaves down the hall, his footsteps receding with the occasional creaking of the floorboards. Relief fills me more and more with each receding step of his. Guilt hits me. I don't want my relief to feel wrong…but it does.

"Now that he's gone, I'll start with this foot," Torrance says as he finds the tucked end of the linen about my left foot. Wait, Eric—I turn my chin up to him. He stands there towering over me, his eyes fixed on my feet. His face is glum. My stomach knots all over again.

"Eric—" His eyes move to mine at the call of his name, stealing my words. I don't want him in here...yet I urged Torrance to go ahead with removing my toes just so Eric wouldn't see my three missing toes.

"Ye want me to leave?" Eric asks me, disappointment tainting his voice.

The gentle tugging about my left foot halts. Torrance has stopped unwrapping my foot. I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to chase Eric out. "He's only here to measure your feet, my dear. You want him to leave too?" Torrance asks me.

My brows furrow and I look at Torrance. "He's going to measure my feet? For what?"

Torrance glances up at Eric. His gaze drops back to me. "For more bandages…so I know how much more linen I need to get ahold of before we leave. I asked him to help me. Do you want him to leave?"

Guilt wrings my heart. The very reason I had Torrance remove my toes was so Eric could see my feet, but the thought of him seeing my disfigured feet...I cannot chase him out again, especially after all that happened last night.

I slowly shake my head. I cannot bring myself to look up at Eric. "I don't want him to go again. He can stay – that is if he wants to."

"He wants to," Eric says above me, sending a chill down my spine.

Torrance merely nods and resumes unwrapping my foot. A bear-sized hand drops on my good shoulder, jolting me. My eyes lift to Eric before I can stop them.

"Can I sit?" he asks me softly, nodding down at the bed. I swallow. Why is he asking me for permission to sit down on the bed? Was it not last night that I had gotten him between my legs, begging him to take me like some whore?

I swallow again and nod. "Of course."

He takes his hand from my shoulder and sits down on the edge of the bed beside me. "Ye should put yer arm back in yer sling." He gestures to my right arm.

I frown at him. "My shoulder feels fine. Great, in fact! Eric, I want both of my hands back."

He returns my frown while Torrance speaks up. "As your healer, I would recommend keeping your arm in the sling to let your shoulder heal properly and to reduce your risk of injuring it again."

I feel the last of the scratchy, sweat-soaked bandage fall from my foot. Eric looks down at my foot and stiffens. My stomach flips. The gentle tugging starts about my right foot as Torrance unwraps it. No matter how much I want to, I cannot take my eyes from Eric. He keeps looking at my left foot, his blue eyes as still as his body. He blinks once, jolting me. He stiffens again, staring at my disfigurement. My eyes burn with another urge to weep. I scrub the old tears from my eyes and sniffle back the water trying to drain from my left nostril. What is he thinking? Is he horrified at my feet? Disgusted? Angry? Despite his gawking, his face is blank! Something stirs in his otherwise still eyes, rending what's left of my heart. The last of the wrapping falls from my right foot. Eric's eyes shift to my right foot and still. He blinks once, jolting me again, until he becomes transfixed on my feet.

God, I cannot take this anymore! "Eric?" I choke out his name.

He looks at me suddenly, blinking once more. He still wears his blank expression, but something churns in his eyes like raging waters.

Something clatters on the floor, making me jump. Eric and I both look at the disturbance. "Shit!" Torrance curses under his breath as he stoops over in his chair to pick up something from the floor. He sits up and scoots in his chair to face me, his mortar and pestle in his hands. "I'm sorry, I thought I dropped my salve on the floor, but," he shows Eric and me his mortar that is full of a pinkish jelly-like substance, "I saved it!"

"Good," Eric quips. I peek at him. "Those lamia bones dinnae come cheap!"

"Tsk!" Torrance scoffs and sets his pestle aside in the mortar. He dips his fingers into the jelly mixture and spreads it carefully across my sutures—the sutures that are holding my left foot together!

I turn my face to Eric. He gives me a small smile and takes my left hand in his, threading his fingers with mine. There's yearning in his eyes and tension in his lips. He wants to tell me something, but he keeps silent because Torrance is here. My stomach tightens. The sooner Torrance finishes, the sooner Eric can say whatever it is he wants to utter.

Eric looks between my feet, Torrance, and me while he speaks. "If it's alright with ye both, I can dress her feet and bring her downstairs when we're done."

My eyes widen while Torrance says, "It's fine with me. My dear?"

I glance at Torrance. He waits patiently for me to answer, holding the fresh linen wraps in his hands. I peek at my feet. The sutures holding my feet together glisten with a generous layer of that jelly-like salve, the pinkish tint of the salve a stark contrast to my pale skin. If Eric dresses my feet, then that means Torrance will leave, and that means Eric will say what he's holding back.

I nod at Torrance and turn my face to Eric. "So long as you wrap my feet as good as he does," I incline my head to Torrance, a small smile turning up my mouth, "then I see no reason to refuse you."

Eric raises his brows at me while Torrance laughs. "I'm sure Eric can wrap a foot...or two."

Eric glances at Torrance, smirking. "Arse," he quips.

Torrance laughs harder and hands Eric the fresh bundles of linen. He stands up from his seat as his laughter ebbs and looks down at me. "If he's doing a bad job, all you have to do is shout for me and I'll come running in to save you."

I giggle, my cheeks tingling from the smile pushing into them. "Sounds like a plan."

Torrance and Eric both laugh as Torrance heads out, clapping Eric's shoulder along the way. He steps out into the hall and pulls the door shut behind him, leaving Eric and me alone.

My giggling dies. I tear my eyes from the shut door to catch Eric's fading smile. That same storm still rages in his eyes.

"Thank ye, lass." The last of his smile falls. He breathes out through his nose, flaring his nostrils. "I—" he sucks in a sudden, deep breath "—thank ye." He grips my hand tighter as he closes the distance and presses a gentle, lingering kiss to my healing cheekbone. My eyes fall shut and I lean into his kiss. The warm tip of his nose brushes across my brow as the bristles of his beard press into my cheek. A pang enters my heart, constricting it. If you keep up this lie with Eric, he will end up loving a lie. His lips leave my cheekbone and press against my cheek. He starts trailing kisses across my cheek, drawing closer to my mouth. Tingling starts in my loins. My mouth quivers in anticipation. I force my heavy eyes open just as he kisses the corner of my mouth. God, he cannot love a lie! I cannot do that to him! He grazes his lips across mine.

"Eric, I—" I pull back from that sweet mouth of his, dying inside to press my lips to his. He forces his eyes open, looking half drunk. Just tell him your true name now. There's no better time. No other opportunity! Tell him, you coward! If you love him, tell him!

He blinks a few times, clearing the drunkenness from his eyes. "What is it?" Concern fills his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Tears scorch my eyes. "I'm...I'm…" He tightens his hand about mine, taking such care to not squeeze my healing fingers too much. As soon as I utter my true name, that's it. I will lose his hand about mine. He will abandon me here. His care for me will turn to visceral hate. I'll never see him again.

"Lass?" he asks, the sound of suspicion disfiguring that beautiful word of his. Fear strikes my heart.

It tears me up inside as I slowly shake my head, a few tears escaping my eyes. I clench my eyes shut and kiss him. He returns my kiss without pause, taking my bottom lip between his. I don't love him. That much is clear. I enjoy his mouth too much. My loins throb and burn, desperate to have him inside me.

He breaks our kiss and pulls back. He groans, exasperated. "I could spend all day in here, but I've gotta measure yer feet and wrap them up."

I force my eyes open, meeting his dark, reluctant ones. I frown. "Then we have to leave here."

"Aye." He tears his eyes from mine and pulls his hand out of mine to focus on my feet. He reaches into his bear satchel at his hip and pulls out a long leather strip. Small, even markings run along the strip's length. My eyes widen. It's a measuring strip!

My brows furrow as Eric winds the measuring strip about the second and third fingers of both his hands and carefully measures the length of my sutured wounds. "Torrance never measured my feet to wrap them," I say. Something is...off about this. Nothing bad, but just off.

Eric shrugs nonchalantly and moves the strip to my other foot to measure it, not sparing me a glance. "Like he said before, he asked me to measure yer feet so he knows how much more linen to get ahold of before we leave."

My brows furrow more, my stomach stirring with suspicion. I open my mouth, ready to press him further. Words leave me when he takes the measuring strip from my foot and winds it up. He stows the measuring strip in his satchel and picks up one of the linen wraps off the bed. "If you say so," I settle with saying.

He glances back at me and smirks. "Trust me," he says. He looks at my feet as he unwinds the linen and starts wrapping my left foot. I lift my foot for him so that he can wrap the linen about my ankle and heel. Thankfully he turned his head from me to miss my frown. All he's ever asked of me is to not cut off my heart from him...and to trust him. He asked for my trust before he asked for my heart. It was easy to give him most of my heart, but my trust...My eyes fall to his bear satchel. God, talking about that will be a welcome change even if it will bring up the fact that I lost his mother's compass.

I swallow. "You got your satchel back. I'm glad."

Eric peeks back at me, giving me a glimpse of his soft smile. "Aye, I'm glad too." He tucks the end of the linen into the folds of the wrapping and grabs the other linen wrap from the bed.

My eyes sting with tears. "I'm sorry I lost your hatchets, your old coat…" he stops unfolding the linen and looks back at me, his smile gone "...and your mother's compass," I say, my words growing hoarse with the threatening tears.

His eyes drift down to my chest, dimming with sadness. I sniffle back the water trying to drain from my stinging nose. No doubt it hurts him to have lost something that his mother gave him so shortly after he entrusted it to me.

A tear escapes down my cheek! I am so sick of crying! I swipe the tear away. "I should have given it back to you. You'd have it then." My voice is so damn shaky!

He looks up at me suddenly, his eyes wide with worry. "I gave that to ye!" He takes my hand in his, minding my raw fingers. "I didnae want it back, I still dinnae!" His hand tightens about mine, his strength palpable, yet restrained. He sets the linen down on the bed and reaches beneath his shirt collar with his free hand. My brows furrow. What is he doing?—He pulls out Sara's ring. The world slows. My heart grows quiet. It's been ages since I've seen that precious tarnished silver. How I miss it.

"Remember what ye told me about this back at Jerome's farm?" Eric asks me, pulling my unwilling eyes to his.

What I told him about it? My brows furrow more. Where is he going with this? "I…" I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. "That seems so long ago, my memory is...I don't recall."

He frowns. "This is just silver, ye told me." He glances at Sara's ring, his gaze soft. What is he thinking? What memories of Sara are haunting him? "Just ole, tarnished silver." He looks at me without struggling to tear his eyes from the old ring—the fulfilled favor that Sara asked of me two years ago. He tucks her ring back under his shirt collar and takes my other hand in his free one. "Ye told me nothin' could take away the hope she gave ye, the smile she brought to yer pretty face, yer first laugh in twelve years, and yer happiness." He slowly shakes his head at me. "Ye dinnae remember tellin' me all that?"

I rack my mind for any recollection. I recall begging him to take her ring back after he had given it to me, but the words that spilled from my mouth...I find myself shaking my head. "I really don't remember saying such things. They're all true, yes, but I don't remember telling you that."

His frown lessens. "Ye may no' remember, but I do. Lass, nothin' can take away the good memories my mother gave me jus' like nothin' can take away the hope Sara gave ye and yer…" he swallows hard "...yer will to live again." My eyes widen. My will to live again? I...I never thought of it like that. "The compass, the ring—they're jus' gold and silver." He shrugs. "They're no' us...They're no' ye." He lifts my left hand to his mouth and presses a lingering kiss to the back of it, his bristly beard poking and scratching me. Desire tingles between my thighs while joy swells my heart to the point of it bursting, yet it also constricts painfully. If you keep up this lie with Eric, he will end up loving a lie. God, how can I keep doing this to him!?

He lowers my hand from his mouth and leans towards me, his intent to kiss me clear.

"We really must leave as soon as possible," I say, though it is so difficult to do. My words stop him just short of my mouth. His lips are tantalizingly close. All I have to do is lean forward an inch to feel his mouth—

"Aye, yer right," he says, reluctant. He slowly drags his hands from mine and scoots back to face my feet, my right foot still bare. He picks up the forgotten linen and carefully bandages my right foot, applying the same pressure to my foot with the dressing as Torrance has done. No doubt the pressure is to help stem bleeding. I have not been bleeding profusely thankfully, but there are still spots of crimson and burgundy.

As he continues wrapping my foot, I cannot keep my mind from replaying Wessel's warning. If you keep up this lie with Eric, he will end up loving a lie. I may be inexperienced with all this, but if outsiders can see Eric falling more into this trap I have unwittingly set for him...perhaps wittingly to some degree—Eric said himself that I am growing fast on him! With his every kiss, every word, every touch, every look he gives me—they are stronger than the last. I don't want all that to end. I dread the day that they all will end. To go from torture and hell these last fourteen years to now have freedom and happiness within my reach, both growing more sure with every glance Eric gives me…

"There," Eric breathes, tucking the last of the linen into my dressing. He turns to me, beaming proudly. "How's that? Did I wrap 'em as good as Torrance?"

My heart softens for him. God forbid my somber mood should dampen his joy. I force a smile for him, though it is not the heaviest smile I've had to lift. "They're perfect," I say. My smile grows lighter and truer as that bubbly feeling grows in my stomach. I lean towards him and hold my hand beside my mouth as if to tell him a secret. "You did a better job than Torrance in fact, but don't tell him that."

Eric's smile turns into something impish. His blue eyes got a certain sparkle in them. "It's our secret." He steals a kiss from me! I can't help jolting from the surprise, but I succumb to the warmth of his mouth. Just as my eyes start to drift shut, he steals his mouth from me!

"Eric!" I groan, frustration nipping at me.

He laughs as he stands from the bed and grabs my arms. "Let's see if ye can get on yer feet and take a few steps."

My heart picks up, chasing away all my frustration. "Oh yes please!" I grab hold of his arms. My stomach flips at the feel of his muscles tightening beneath my fingers as he slowly helps me brace one wrapped foot on the floor. "God, I miss being on my feet!" I gently place my other foot on the floor.

"Aye," he agrees, sounding as if he understands…personally.

"You speak as if you were not on your feet at one point." I glance up at him.

His face softens. "When I was about fifteen, I went huntin' for elk with Stigr and my brother. Now try to stand. Dinnae put more weight on yer feet than ye can handle."

"Alright." I grip his arms tighter as he tightens his hold of me and helps me to slowly rise from the bed, steadily putting more pressure on my feet—upon the tightening stitches holding my feet together. The dull ache in my feet starts to intensify, but it is tolerable.

"A storm was rollin' in jus' when we were closin' in on the elk," he says. What a pleasant surprise and a welcome distraction from the pain in my feet. "The herd had split and went two ways. We were only after the bull, no' the cows. To find the bull before the storm hit, Luke and Stigr went down one path and I went down the other. How're yer feet?" he asks suddenly, interrupting his story.

I try to not shiver from the icy chill going down my spine. I never heard him say his brother's name before. And who is Stigr? "I'll tell you when I'm at my limit. You can loosen your hold of me. Please tell me more!"

He raises his brows at me and loosens his tight grip on my arms. "Well, I was young and stupid then. I was so focused on trackin' the elk that I failed to notice the other signs around me." Ever so slowly, he releases my arms, keeping his watchful eyes on my face. No doubt he is watching for the slightest wince.

"What other signs?" As slowly as he released me, I drag my hands down his arms, his leather coat sleeves cool and soothing to my burning fingers. The ache in my feet is now warm and steadily growing hotter. Soon, they will be on fire. I must take a few steps before the pain twists my face.

"The signs of a mother bear in the area. Before I knew it, I came across one of her cubs."

"What!?" I gape at him while I take a step forward, teetering horribly on my stump. I drag my hands down the last of his arms, reaching his hands.

He takes my hands in his. "Aye. I heard branches breakin'. That's when I saw her chargin' at me." He takes a step back, giving me room to take another fledgling step.

My heart speeds up. Fear churns my stomach. I'm caught in a strange limbo of Eric's past and now. I'm here with him now, feeling as though I am walking on a damn tight rope with the pain cutting through my seven toes, but I'm also standing beside him on that elk's trail bracing for the mother bear's charge.

"Before I could turn my spear on her, she knocked me to the ground." He takes another step back. I draw in a slow breath, trying to soothe my buzzing nerves and racing heart. "Then she knocked the spear from my hands. I tried to roll over so I could protect my stomach, but that's when she bit down on my side."

My eyes widen, the old memory quickly coming to surface. "The old bite mark on your side!" I nod down at his left flank. "Is that from her!?" I take another teetering, aching step towards him, trying in vain to find my balance.

He nods, his smile gone. "Aye. I dinnae really feel the pain at the time, jus' the," he shrugs, "pressure on my ribs. I heard them crack, but I was so driven by the fight. I wasnae really thinkin'. I only fought back. I pulled my knife and stabbed her six times to the hilt. That got her to let me go and back off. I thought I had time to grab my axe, but she was quicker than me and grabbed my leg."

"Oh my God," I murmur, my eyes so wide that I surely must look comical. My hands twitch in his, wanting to see if the healed bumps of his broken ribs are palpable beneath his skin, but I keep my hands in his for the sake of balance.

He shakes his head in reprove of himself. "I swung my axe into her head over and over until I cracked open her skull. She fell on me, dead. I managed to push her off me. I was a bloody mess, but I dinnae realize how bad my injuries were at first. I thought my troubles were over then. All I had to do was get up, gather my weapons and head back down the mountain, the elk be damned! When I tried to stand, my right leg crippled under me and brought me back down." My heart goes to the edge as my hands tighten about his. What did the bear do to him!? "That's when I looked down at my leg and – uh…ha!" He shakes his head. "I'll spare ye the grisly details."

I groan. "Eric, I've se—" God forbid I mention Sara. God forbid. "I'm not too squeamish about such things. I may shudder because such horrific injuries were inflicted on you! Besides, you told me that you'd been," I shudder while my heart hurts for him, "almost disemboweled in some tavern fight! I doubt this will make me shudder any more than that! Please tell me."

He sighs. "Aye, yer right," he says slowly, reluctant to continue. "I...I looked down at my leg. The whole front of my thigh was hangin' over my knee like a big slab of meat. I could see my bone and my artery pulsing in the—" he nods down to his right leg "—the hole!" He shrugs.

A horrifying chill shoots down my spine. I resist the urge to shudder and shrug my shoulders too. "What better word is there?" I ask.

He nods slowly. "Aye...so, it hurt like hell, but I picked up my – slab of meat, heh...and I put it back in the hole. I took off my coat and tied it around my thigh. Then, I grabbed my spear and used it as a crutch to hobble back down the mountain, draggin' my leg behind me. Tsk!" he scoffs, shaking his head. "The bear had stripped my muscle from my bone. I couldnae move my leg, it was useless!"

"God," I say, my feet burning now. I'm...God, his tale seems almost too fantastical to be true. "Is all what you just told me – true!?"

He frowns, his eyes dimming. "Aye. Every word." He smirks suddenly. "I could show ye the scars if ye need proof, but I'd have to take off my clothes for that."

"Eric!" I try scold him, but I end up laughing. He, too, laughs with me. My cheeks and my loins burn with his tease, but the burning ache in my feet touches my limit, making me wince through my laughter. "I'm sorry." My laughter ebbs with his. "I did not mean to question you." The ache burns hotter, tensing my face into a grimace.

His face softens. "It's alright. Ye should sit down."

I nod slowly. My heart sinks. I am to be bedridden once more. He grabs hold of my arms again, taking almost all my weight off my feet, and guides me back until the backs of my knees press against the bed.

"I just...You're a son of Ursus!" I say as he helps me to sit down on the bed. "The bear god! You seem so much like a bear, I…," words leave me as he sits down beside me, his eyes not straying from me. Somehow, I find my voice again. "I just thought you got along with bears."

He bursts out laughing, his eyes brightening. "Aye, I am a son of Ursus, but I'm also a man and bears are animals." His laughter ebbs. "Dinnae misunderstand me, bears deserve to be respected. I still hunt 'em sometimes, but yer right about them bein' alive," he says as he gestures to me and grips his knee. "Every animal I kill...that's a life snuffed out."

I frown at him. This took a detour I did not expect. He recalls my qualms about our ice fishing at the black lake. Yet does he recall my qualms about slaughtering the lamia at the bridge? Not just the lamia, but the tavern keeper in Hymark as well? God, that all seems so long ago. "Then why do you hunt? Why do you kill? You said death is unnatural."

He nods slowly. "I hunt and kill to survive. Jus' like the bear, the wolf, the oulinder—we all take life to survive…and to provide for and protect those that we—care for. Aye, death is unnatural. The first god made a good world and filled it with life. He never meant for us to die. It was our sin that twisted us. It made us sick with disease and pestilence and it made us age."

My frown deepens. Death is unnatural? He has such conviction that it is. Perhaps to a man who has two and a half centuries to live, death is so far off that it seems unnatural. Yet he has still experienced much death. His brother, his mother, his wife...God only knows who else. Perhaps he finds solace in his religious beliefs? I seem to see reality better than him. Death is reality. Perhaps if he understood this, he might better accept my life cut short.

I look down at my lap and stare at my tingling hands, my fingertips raw and red. The flaps of skin from my burst blisters are now translucent and egg-white, thin and crinkled. I do not want to look at him for this. No doubt this will be painful for him. "I...when you killed the tavern keeper, you told me that's the way of the world."

"He was!—I had to kill him to save ye." He grabs my clasped hands.

I swallow. "And the lamia? She did not intend to kill us, but only drive us away. You did not have to kill her to save our lives."

He sighs. "I could give ye all sorts of excuses, but the truth…" He takes his hands from mine. "I saw a way to die."

My heart twists suddenly. My eyes dart up to him. "What!?" I croak, my throat tightening as tears well in my eyes. I recall him saying he wanted the black glass knights to end him when he was brought before Ravenna, but hearing him still say it...it threatens to tear me apart.

He carefully pulls my hands apart and squeezes them with such gentle strength that only he has. "Either she killed me in the fight or I could sell her bones for enough ale to drown myself in. That was my plan, either way it played out...but ye put yerself between me and the dyin' lamia. Then ye put yerself between me and that tavern keeper. I didnae care if I died then and there in the mud with my breeches down and my arse hangin' out—"

"Eric!" My cheeks heat up.

He chuckles, but his smile quickly falls. "...But seein' ye put yer wee self between him and me – between me and death…" He falls silent. He still holds my hands in his and just…looks at me. To think that about three weeks ago, perhaps even as little as two weeks, he wanted to die. The tears build up so much. God, two years ago, I wanted to die, too. I had nothing and no one left to live for...just as he must have felt, too. I recall him telling me that all he had to live for was his next drink—that is until me. Now I see that his next drink was the one he had hoped would end him.

I fight to keep my tears back. "Do you—" I swallow hard "—do you remember the night we were entombed in that snow cave? What I…," My God, telling him these words...it's hard, "...what I admitted to you?" Not admitted, but confessed. I cannot bring myself to utter the latter word.

His chest rises and falls quicker, his breaths harsher. I feel him stiffen despite the space between us. His hands tighten about mine to the point of pain, but I raise no objection.

He nods once, stiffly. "Ye—" his words hitch in his throat. He swallows. Tense silence comes between us. Does he remember? For him to be so choked up like me...does he? "I remember," he spits out, his throat tight. He nods three more times, still just as stiff. "Sara tried to take her life, too."

The memory comes back, harsh and cruel. I see her standing across the hall gripping her rusted iron bars. The sharp, cold edges of the rust cut into my cheeks as I press my face between my bars, weary of life and of her. I nod slowly. "She told me," I say, my voice hoarse with the desperate need to cry.

He nods slowly. "Aye, I thought she might've...Lass..." He loosens his painful grip of my hands, his gentle strength returning, and takes one of his hands from me. He reaches beneath his shirt collar and pulls out her ring again. My heart grows quiet and my stomach ceases churning. Time slows, though I know it's still racing. My teary eyes are drawn to the ring suspended in the space between us, slowly turning back and forth. I barely see his fingers wiggle and tighten about the frayed linen. To see her ring for the second time this day...

"I'm nae poet," he says, drawing my teary eyes to him, "but even though this is jus' old, tarnished silver, if we lost it, it widnae be a loss to us. Still, it's a reminder of why we're both here together...jus' as it was when Sara and I got married. I dinnae want to hide this anymore."

My brows furrow as he lets go of my other hand and draws his knife from his belt with a soft ring. "What are you doing?" I ask him. He doesn't look at me nor speak as he pulls the frayed loop over his head, pulling his long hair with it. My skin prickles. Is he purposely ignoring me? He folds up the frayed linen and slips his blade between the folds. My eyes widen. He's going to!—He cuts the linen in half, the tearing of the old linen quick and clean.

"Why did you do that!?" I gape at him. He looks up at me and frowns. For two years, that linen has kept Sara's ring safe about my neck, and then around Eric's! Now I have to string it up with something else to protect it!

He sheathes his knife and pulls the linen from Sara's ring, leaving the tarnished silver between his thumb and fingers. "I told ye I dinnae want to hide this anymore." He tosses the cut linen aside and holds his hand out to me. "Give me yer hand."

My brows furrow more, my eyes darting between his outstretched hand and his blue eyes. Nagging suspicion stirs my gut. "Why?" I keep my hands in my lap.

His face falls. "Do ye trust me?" he asks me softly, his words pained.

Guilt lashes my heart. Do I trust him? I...God, my hesitancy, all my doubts of him...In my mind, I think I can trust him, but in my heart...the fear in it has gotten me here. This fear...it's necessary. Hell, I told Wessel as much! Eric's hand is only extended to me because he wants Greta's hand in his. When he learned of Ravenna and Finn's deception in that dark forest, I remember how he threw me into the brambles and thorns. It hurt. I had gotten scratches and cuts all over me. Before he threw me aside, he tugged on my arm twice. That hurt, too. He hurt me, yet I was not the target of his wrath. He hacked and slashed at Finn and the black glass knights with such brutal violence just like he did to those delvir wolves. God forbid I ever become the target of his wrath.

Yet I promised him I was done with this back and forth. His shoulders slowly drop as he lowers his hands. My eyes burn with tears. Pain twists his handsome face.

"I'm sorry, I'm just confused," I stretch out my right hand and grab his empty hand, being sure to keep my left hand to myself, "and I was a little leery, to be honest."

"Leery?" he asks, both confused and hurt.

Guilt leaves a second stinging stripe across the breadth of my heart. I sigh. "You're just...Sara's ring is...I miss it." My heart pushes closer to my sternum, wanting so dearly to be nearer to that tarnished silver. "I know it's just silver, but I strung the linen through it and tied it to keep it safe! You're going to lose it now!"

He frowns at me and shakes his head. "We're no' gonna lose it."

"Wh…," words leave me as he looks down at our joined hands and pulls his hand from mine. He takes my right fourth finger between his, steadying it, and brings Sara's ring to my fingertip!

"I know ye gave me back her ring after I gave it back to ye, but it never sat right with me keepin' it." With all his care and tenderness, he slips her ring over my healing finger, only grazing my dead flaps of skin with the tarnished silver. The warmed silver touches my skin and fits almost perfectly as he pushes the ring to the bottom of my finger. I take in a shuddering breath. My God, Sara's ring...Tears well in my eyes. I have it back.

"How can we lose it if ye wear it?" he asks me, the sound of his small smile touching my ears and my heart.

I gasp out a sob and lift my teary eyes to him. The tears spill down my cheeks. He gave me her ring back! This tarnished silver...to have him entrust it to me even after I lost his mother's compass, his hatchets...my heart swells so much. "Thank you!" I weep and throw my arms about him, pulling his chin onto my shoulder. He wraps his arms about me in a strong embrace. I bury my face into his neck, savoring his warm skin, cherishing that he is letting me soak him with my tears. "Thank you!" I weep against him.

He holds me tighter. "Yer welcome."

I cling to him tighter. Feeling Sara's ring encircling my finger, I am...I have it back. Yes, this precious piece of silver was only a symbol of hope in those last two years of hell, but Eric...he is the realization of that hope—someone knocks at the door! I startle against Eric. He grumbles and pulls back from our embrace, though he keeps his arms about me. I glance back at the closed door.

"Who is it!?" Eric snaps. I turn my head to him and frown. He looks down at me. Seeing my frown, he raises his brows at me. "What?" he asks softly.

"It's Gus," the knocker says from the other side of the closed door, his voice shaking with nerves. "May I – I heard you were preparing to leave and I wanted...may I come in to say goodbye?"

My heart softens and stings for the poor dwarf. He doesn't deserve Eric's churlish attitude. I shake my head at Eric. "Be kind," I scold him quietly and take my arms from him.

His eyes start widening, but they halt. A suppressed chuckle shakes his shoulders as he shakes his head. "I'll try," he whispers, "but nae promises. I'm a jealous lad."

I cannot help my eyes widening as he stands up from the bed. He steps back and leans back against the bedside table, stretching out his long legs and crossing his arms, still wearing that knowing smirk of his. My heart quickens while the moths stir in my stomach. I try to resist the urge to look down his body, but the way he reclines against the table...his coat has fallen back from his hips and legs, draped over the small table. My eyes travel down the lean tapering of his waist to his hips, spying the tied laces of his trousers. Heat comes up my throat and face. Beneath his laces and trousers is a subtle...bulge. That's his—I suck in a sharp breath. That tingling desire swells between my legs.

"Lass," he calls me softly, almost whispering the pet name. That snaps my eyes up to him, my face flaming. The look on his face makes me burn more with embarrassment, but also with excitement. He grins impishly. God, it's devilish. The slight glint in his dark eyes...he's promising me something. Something fun. Perhaps something a bit indecent to whet my appetite.

"Yer gonna keep him waitin'?" Eric unfolds his arms and holds his hands up in surrender. "No' that I'm opposed to it."

Oh God, poor Gus! "Please come in, Gus!" I call. The door clicks and slowly opens. Eric folds his arms again and looks down at the stout redhead as he takes waddling steps into the room.

My eyes meet Gus' big green ones. "Hello Gus. I'm glad I can see you before we leave. How are you this morning?"

Gus stops beside Eric and shrugs his shoulders, his hands hidden behind his back. "I'm as well as can be, milady...though I am sad to hear that you're leaving." He frowns.

I return his frown and glance up at Eric, worry stirring my stomach. I don't want any passerbys or the people in the room across the hall to hear me say something that would give Eric and me away. As if Eric sees my worry, he gives me a slight nod, pulls his arms apart, and shuts the door behind Gus.

"Thank you," I tell Eric.

He looks at me and nods, crossing his arms once more. "Yer welcome."

My heart aches for the hunter. He knew what I wanted with just a worried look. God, here I am gawking at Eric while Gus is standing next to him, waiting patiently! I tear my eyes from Eric and look down at Gus. "I would stay if I could, but Eric and I," I lean towards Gus and lower my voice, "we're fugitives from the Queen and she wants me more than him." I nod to Eric. "Me being here puts the people of Vilgard at risk. We were in Hymark when it was attacked and burned to the ground. God forbid that same fate should fall upon my people here." My heart almost stills. My people...I called them my people without thought.

Gus' frown deepens. "It's no small secret that the Queen is hunting for a Taboran woman in the company of a…" he tips his chin all the way back to glance up at Eric "...a very, very tall fair haired foreigner."

"Fair haired!?" Eric raises his brows.

I glance up at Eric. "You stick out a bit with your unusual height," I say. He looks down at me, raising his brows even higher. I shrug. A smile threatens to spread my mouth. "And without your hood up, you stick out even more with your sunkissed hair."

"Sunkissed!?" Eric laughs and slowly shakes his head, making it even harder to suppress my grin. "Ye know, sometimes standin' out from the crowd isnae a bad thin'..." his smile shrinks some "...though I guess in our shoes it is."

That reminder is enough to steal the urge to smile. I sigh and look down at Gus, his hands still behind his back. "What about you, Gus? Will you be staying here for much longer?"

Gus nods slowly. "Muir and I will be staying behind for a while longer. Hopefully for no more than a few days. Beith and the others are out scouting another possible job."

"Already?" Eric asks, drawing our eyes to him.

I see Gus' head of red hair nod in the bottom of my sight. "On one of the Queen's caravans."

Eric's eyes widen briefly in surprise before they relax. He shakes his head in disapproval. "No' that I care—" he stops himself. "Does Beith have some death wish? Raidin' the Queen's caravans isnae what it used to be." My heart softens for the hunter. He is trying to be kind to the dwarves. That is all I can ask for.

Gus tilts his head, his brows furrowing. "Have you not heard the rumors going around?"

My brows furrow as Eric scoffs. "It's hard to pick up rumors when yer two fugitives on the run."

"What rumors?" I ask, my eyes intent on Gus.

Gus looks down at me, his eyes wide and bright with something. "There has been talk of the Queen's caravans being guarded and escorted by men and not by her phantom soldiers anymore! That's something we haven't seen since the very beginning of her reign. Also, her tax collectors haven't visited some settlements this month. That's," he snorts, "unprecedented! Now this part is truly hearsay," he leans closer to me, "but there's talk that House Augustus' loyalty to the Raven Queen is wavering."

My heart sinks.

Eric scoffs and laughs while bitter, buried memories come back to haunt me. "Those bastards are no' loyal to themselves! I've seen them use each other only to shat each other out later." He laughs cruelly—mockingly, disdainfully. Never has his laughter struck my heart so hard nor his words cut me so deeply. A dark, stirring heat wells in my chest, growing hotter and bubbling more as it pushes against my restraint. That is my family he is laughing at!

"I'm sure they weren't all bad," Gus says, frowning.

Eric's laughter quickly dies. His mouth presses into a thin line. "There were enough who were bad."

My heart beats faster while my stomach tightens. I see it behind his stiff, scowling face; the pain of his brother's murder—at the hands of my father. But God, my father...he was deceived. I believe Eric's brother was innocent of treason. I also believe my father would never cut down a man if he knew that man was innocent.

"What family doesn't have its squabbles?" I ask softly, shattering the silence that had fallen between the three of us. Eric and Gus both look at me, that scowl still distorting Eric's face into the same face that threatened to snap my neck back in the dark forest.

Eric scrunches his face suddenly as if he smelt something rotten. "Squabbles!?" he spits out. That stings my heart. Those were poor words. His face relaxes as he says, "I'd be grateful if all they ever did was squabble." He shakes his head. "Lass, that is a house of backstabbers, murderers, and traitors!" My heart misses a beat. That sounds like me. Is that how he will see me if he ever learns my true name? Eric laughs scornfully and holds his arms out. "They tried to drown their own princess!"

That hand crushes the back of my neck. The water pounds against my ears. The saltwater stings my eyes, fills my lungs—Don't think of it, Snow. Don't think of it! "I—" God, dare I tell him that House of backstabbers, murderers, and traitors is my house? My family? Surely he knows that the common folk are made up of the three houses, too!? Surely he knows that there are many children of scullery maids from House Augustus. "Eric, there are many common folk, poor folk—good folk from House Augustus...including myself."

His eyes open up and soften, almost widening with surprise.

Oh God, what I just said—I called myself good wrongfully so. "I mean I am from House Augustus as was my mother. We were servants to the King and to his true Queen..." Eric's face twitches, but he pushes away whatever was about to twist him. No doubt he blames my father for letting Ravenna into the castle, for marrying her, for putting her in the perfect spot to steal the kingdom and damn us all. Not that he should really care anyway. He is a foreigner. He himself said he does not feel at home here in this dying land! In my home. "And then we were servants to Ravenna." My mind connects this lie to how I grew close enough to her that she shared the knowledge of her power with me. Eric frowns as I press on. "There are many good people in my House, Eric. Yes, there were traitors driven by lust, envy, and greed to do heinous things like murder, but they were the few. It—" Another pang strikes my heart. He has no idea how right he is about me—but he is wrong about many others of my House. My eyes prickle with tears.

"Ah, I'm sorry, lass. The common folk of House Augustus are good people. Especially ye." I stiffen. If he knew— "I, ah…" He folds his arms and swallows. "I had a bad experience with the Augustans durin' the Phantom War." My blood runs cold. His brother's murder, he means. He casts his eyes down to his weathered boots. I grip the stiff edge of the bed with both hands. Is he going to tell me about his brother's murder? "Ha!" He laughs suddenly and shakes his head. "What am I sayin'? I had a bad experience with all three houses!" He sneers to himself. "It has made me bitter." He forces his sneer from his face and lifts his eyes to me, frowning. "I'm sorry. Can ye forgive me?"

"Of course," I answer with my next breath. A soft smile lightens Eric's mouth. No matter how much my heart begs me to return his smile, I cannot lift it against the dark cloud which looms over me. What the Houses did to him and his brother, what my father did to them, what all of Tabor did to them...how we repaid their sacrifices. This Phantom War was not Eric and his brother's to fight, yet they left their home to aid a foreign people. With the power Eric possesses to put such great space between Maacthis' evil and my heart, I see now how we were so close to winning the war. The evidence that was brought forward of Luke's treason—it must have been a way to remove him and Eric, and thus allow Ravenna and Finn to win the war. I can only assume Ravenna or Finn, or both of them, orchestrated Luke's downfall. Does Eric know?

"There is something else I've been hearing, too," Gus says, hesitant to break the silence once more. I force my gaze down to the dwarf, my tears drying some.

"What?" Eric asks, sounding somewhat peeved.

My eyes go to Eric despite my best efforts not to look at him, and I frown at him.

"I'm sure it's probably just a bunch of talk, but a little over a week ago, we were all staying overnight at Juniper Inn on Horseshoe plateau. Are you familiar with it?" Gus asks, looking from Eric to me.

"Aye," Eric says, "at the western end of the valley. We almost passed by it on the way here."

"Right!" Gus nods eagerly. "Well, I heard—again, this is just talk from an elderly blind man, but this man claimed he was saved from being trampled to death at the castle by the Princess!"

My breath hitches. My heart skips a beat. My blood runs impossibly cold.

"What!?" Eric gapes. He bursts out laughing. His laughter grows harsher and louder, shaking his shoulders. He throws his head back and laughs until he is wheezing. "Ah, now that's a good one!" he wheezes out amidst his laughter. He almost keels over with his guffawing, but he grips the table behind him, catching himself. I cannot help the pang in my heart. Put aside the fact that I did save an elderly blind man from being trampled by the crowds and he has somehow surfaced to tell the tale, but for Eric to laugh so boisterously at that, to mock it so...it hurts. God forbid I utter anything though lest Eric learns my true name now.

"I've heard some outlandish shite before, but that," his laughter ebbs as he looks down at Gus and shakes his head, "that takes the prize. Right, lass?" The instant his eyes meet mine, his laughter drops dead. "What's wrong?" he asks me.

Horror shoots through me. I force my back straight and shake my head. "This–this may not be your home, but it is mine and my people are desperate!" I hold my hand to my heart, feeling as though it is about to burst with all the guilt, the pain. "Yes, that's – outlandish—" God, how it hurts to say that "—but did you not believe—" Gus has no need to know why Eric agreed to hunt me down.

Eric grows still, his eyes filling with pain and God only knows what else. Another uneasy silence settles between us. He draws in a slow, deep breath and shakes his head. "Again, I'm the fool. I'm so sorry. I'm no' gonna waste yer time with my excuses now."

His sincere words soothe my hurting heart some. "It's alright," I force out. He does not want to hurt me—or is it Greta he wishes to not hurt? He is so full of disdain for my people and my land...God, to think of the hatred he must have for my father. I pine for a man who hates my father—and most likely takes joy in papa's downfall. Regardless of all these complicated feelings, I cannot help but savor the relief. Eric seems to have forgotten the elderly blind man and his story. My stomach churns right on the heels of the relief, making me queasy. How wrong it is to savor this relief. I press my hand into my belly and rub it, trying to soothe the new ache.

Eric's eyes drop to my stomach, watching me rub it. I stop rubbing it and grasp the bed's edge. I tear my eyes from Eric and focus on Gus. "Let's stop all this! It's not a pleasant topic for any of us."

Gus' eyes widen with horror. "I'm so sorry, milady, I did not mean to cause any distress or trouble!" He shrinks like a wilting flower. "I was only hoping to make small conversation, share the day's gossip."

"Oh Gus, I'm sorry! Please don't feel as if you did anything wrong!" My heart hurts for the poor dwarf. There must be something else to discuss, something to brighten his day before Eric and I leave. "You've had your hands behind your back this whole time," I say.

A small, hesitant smile lightens Gus' mouth. "I know your birthday is six days from now, but since I won't be around then, I thought uh...well…" My eyes drop to Gus' waist as he pulls his hands out from behind his back, holding his rosewood lute! My eyes widen as he approaches me, saying, "I know you want to learn how to play the lute. I figured if you remember the chords I showed you yesterday, you can practice with this when your fingers are better."

"Oh!" I say, my heart both hurting and soaring. What a generous thought, a wonderful gift! "Oh Gus, that's so sweet of you," I shake my head, feeling wrong inside, "but I cannot accept it." His face falls. "It's your lute!"

"Yes, it's my lute, and I'd love to let you borrow it so you can practice with it! Will you borrow it and practice with it?" he asks me, hope in his eyes.

A tender smile pushes into my cheeks. I did not know that was the case. "Since I'm just borrowing it, I'd love to practice with it when my fingers are better," I reiterate to him in case he is lying to get me to take his gift. I hold my hands out.

"Oh good!" Gus beams so wide that it feels like the sun is shining through the window. He carefully places his lute in my waiting hands.

My smile pushes harder into my face to the point of pain. "Thank you, Gus. This means so much to me."

His smile softens. "Of course." He throws his arms out suddenly, bouncing on his feet. "Hug?" he asks, hopeful. Almost just like he did yesterday.

I giggle, my heart swelling. He's so innocent, so sweet. I carefully set his lute aside on the bed and wrap my arms around him, pulling him close. "Hug," I say into his ear, unable to wipe the silly grin from my face. Eric's low grumble tickles my ears. I glance up at him, catching him quietly chuckling at me and Gus. My grin and my heart soften. There is that lighthearted spirit I have missed so. That I love so.

"You're next!" I mouth silently to Eric. His smile grows, though it doesn't grow all the way. It is dampened by...something. My smile lessens. What is troubling him?

Eric clears his throat and tries to suppress his smile. "Alright, that's enough," he teases. I raise my brows at Eric as Gus and I pull apart reluctantly. Eric only raises his brows at me. Perhaps it's just me, but I could have sworn there was a little jealousy in his voice. He comes to my side and grabs my brown oxen coat off the table—the one Eliza gave me in Hymark. I've lost so much, but at least I have that.

The hunter holds his hand out to me. I swallow and glance down at my wrapped feet. This will hurt, but the pain is worth it to stand again. I grab his hand tightly and push myself off the bed slowly with my other hand, steadily putting more weight on my sutured feet. My skin pulls more against the stitches. My stomach churns. I can see my skin ripping apart, my blood spilling out of my butchered feet, my ivory bits of bone poking out from the red gore. The pain that would assail me...Somehow, I end up standing almost entirely on my feet. I wobble terribly, but Eric keeps a constant steadying hand on me as he helps me to push my arms into my coat sleeves and fasten it shut.

Gus turns around to the table and grabs the faded red scarf and fur gloves Torrance had gotten for me. He turns back to Eric and me, offering me my new scarf and gloves. "You better put these on, milady. God forbid you get sick from the cold."

I'd hate to lose my voice again. "Thank you, Gus." I smile graciously to him and accept my scarf and gloves. I lean back to sit back down on the bed. Eric helps lower me to the bed and I pull my hand from his. I set my gloves aside and wrap my scarf around my head and neck. I grab one glove and gingerly push my left hand into it. My eyes drift to the tarnished silver ring about my finger as I grab the right glove. I curl my fingers slowly. The feel of her ring pressing into my finger...I uncurl my fingers and pull my glove onto my hand, hiding her ring from sight. Though I cannot see it, I feel it about me. Though the warm silver is only a symbol, it feels as though goodness and hope are beside me never to abandon me.

"Alright, let's go," Eric says and scoops me up in his arms.

"Oh, his lute!" I say and squirm in Eric's arms to catch sight of the forgotten lute lying on the bed. He stoops low to the bed, allowing me to grab the neck of Gus' lute. I turn over in Eric's arms to look at him and drape my left arm around his shoulders. "Thank you."

He gives me a small smile as he turns and carries me out of the bedroom. "Yer welcome."

He carries me down the hall, Gus following close behind us with his quick, waddling steps. We reach the stairs and start descending down them. The soft chatter of the Inn's guests reaches my ears. As we reach the bottom of the stairs and start for the door that leads outside, I tuck Gus' lute against my stomach and look about at all the people dining. Men sit with their wives and children at many of the tables eating and drinking their breakfast, dressed in layers of wool and furs for traveling. Relief wants to fill me, but I keep it at bay. Only once we have ridden far enough that Vilgard is out of sight will I know that they are safe from me being here.

God, the way everyone is dressed in all those furs and wool..."Where are all these people planning to go?" I say only for Eric's ears and look up at him.

He casts me a brief glance and looks ahead, shaking his head. "I'm no' sure. I've heard some whisper about Hammond's, but that's nothin' new."

"Hmm," I hum. His eyes...they are so blue and vibrant in this world of browns and greys. So beautiful, so foreign, yet so familiar. A smirk tugs at my mouth. The shape of his jaw is sadly hidden beneath his thicker stubble, but I have come to enjoy its bristly feel against my skin. His long hair is pulled back in its usual half tie, a few of the shorter strands having escaped the tie to hang down his temples. I cannot help but giggle to myself.

Those blue eyes dart down to me before tearing themselves away to look ahead again. "What are ye gigglin' at?" he whispers, trying to suppress his grin but failing.

"Hood up, remember?" I grab his hood and pull it over his head, "We already look odd enough with you carrying me. No need for everyone to see your sunkissed hair."

His eyes snap down to me, still trying and failing to keep his grin away. A snort escapes him.

"Are you leaving without saying goodbye!?"

My heart jumps. Muir! Eric stops and turns to face the blind dwarf, a flash of his grey hair and balding head in the bottom of my sight! I cannot look at him! I almost hide my face in Eric's chest, but I stop halfway.

"I may've been plannin' on it," Eric quips. Surely my refusal to look at Muir will raise Eric's suspicions!

Muir laughs good humoredly. "You are a cruel jest, huntsman!" His laughter ebbs. "How is she?" I stiffen like stone in Eric's arms. Why must he talk about me!?

"Better," Eric says softly and pulls me tighter against him. "She'll be on her feet soon." I dare not look up at him. I dare not look at anyone. God, I feel his eyes weighing on my head. "Lass, ye alright?" he asks me, worried. I must tread carefully. Already there were several close calls with Gus' silly attempts to share the day's gossip! I cannot look at Muir lest I break down in front of everyone, nor can I completely avoid looking at him.

I swallow and try to relax in Eric's arms. I force my eyes up to him and eke out a smile. "I'm fine. I'm just ready to leave."

Eric keeps his eyes on me, his worry still there. He doesn't buy my lie. "Yer no' gonna say goodbye to Muir? He gave up his room for ye."

"It's alright, Eric. She already thanked me," Muir says. Eric lifts his eyes to the elder dwarf and frowns. Muir...I appreciate his words, though Eric is right. Even though I thanked the dwarf for his room, it wasn't the kindest thanks. And if I don't at least look at part of Muir, Eric will be even more suspicious than he surely is now.

I shift in Eric's arms as discreetly as I can so that I can keep my eyes on the floor, though no matter how slowly I move, he can feel me squirming. I catch sight of the dark wood floor and slowly lift my eyes higher. I find a small pair of weathered black boots and follow those up to a stout pair of legs wearing grey trousers. I stop my eyes at Muir's thick belt and focus on the small glint of the gold square buckle.

"Muir, I…" My heart swells and beats harder. The pain I caused him, the life that I had carved from my heart and pushed into him…I nibble the inside of my lip and tighten my grip about Gus' lute. "Thank you for giving up your room for me. I...from my heart, I thank you." There's so much more I could say. Did Gus ever tell Muir that I am so sorry? Would Muir understand what I mean? Does he even know who I am?

Muir chuckles. "It wasn't a bother at all. You needed a private place to rest."

"Aye," Eric says.

I let go of my shuddering breath. My nose and eyes burn with the growing need to weep. I suck in a fast breath. How I want to kneel before him and weep. How I want to beg him for forgiveness. I took his sight from him. God, if I knew how to give him my sight, I would gladly do so right now. Even in front of Eric, my fear and distrust of him be damned!

"Child," Muir calls me amidst the soft chattering of the Inn. I grow still in Eric's arms. The dwarf takes a step towards me! Panic grips me—I freeze as the dwarf steps into my sight, his head bowed—hiding his eyes from me. He reaches up and rests his small, wrinkled hand on the bend of my arm. How he found my arm with such ease despite his blindness, I do not know. I gawk down at the bald spot of his head, my jaw losing strength to uphold itself.

"You possess a rare and beautiful heart. You have kept it during these last fourteen years. If you have the strength to manage that, I believe that you will keep it to the end." He squeezes my arm. "You are here for a reason, child. You are being called. Heed it." Muir takes his hand from me and steps back, keeping his eyes downcast.

I can only look down at his head and cling to Gus' lute. I...what?

"Hey!" Torrance's voice carries across the space. I manage to lift my eyes to see Torrance standing in the doorway with Wessel standing beside him, both men anxious to go. Torrance strides across the space and comes up to us. "We should leave now! The day is not getting younger," he says.

"Aye, let's go," Eric says too quickly. He turns and starts to follow Torrance to the door.

My heart leaps into my throat. "Goodbye Muir! Goodbye Gus!" I wave to both dwarves as Eric carries me further from them.

Muir and Gus both wave to me. Muir lifts his face to me, his eyes closed. "It's only farewell, child! Our paths will cross again!"

My hand slows its wave and drops as Eric carries me out into the bitter cold. Our paths will cross again? How? When? God, why!?

"What took you two so long!?" Torrance complains as soon as the door shuts. "Was it those two!?" He jabs his thumb in the direction of the two dwarves.

Eric groans as he strides down the road with Torrance and Wessel, the snow crunching beneath their boots. "Mostly them, aye," he admits.

I glance at Wessel. He catches my eyes and merely shakes his head while Torrance goes on. "Mostly them," Torrance says, a small quip in there somewhere for Eric and me dawdling. "And what was all that cryptic bull about? Our paths will cross again? Tsk! They caused us enough trouble!"

"Maybe no' so cryptic," Eric grumbles. "Keep an eye out. They might show up again. Soon."

Torrance groans in exasperation. I frown at the two men. It is not long before we reach Vilgard's outskirts and turn left on the matted down path leading to the stables. The chilly weather seems to cool Torrance's temper.

"I'm sorry about all that, my dear." Torrance turns his gaze at me. "Were you able to stand on your feet yet?"

I perk up in Eric's arms and nod eagerly. "Yes!" Disappointment comes over me like a dark cloud, pushing me back down. "Though it's so difficult to find my balance."

Torrance nods, understanding in his eyes. "You'll find your balance as you heal. Just give yourself time."

My frown deepens, my heart sinking further. "How much time must I give myself?"

Torrance shrugs. "Two months, maybe three."

My heart rushes its next beat. "Three months!?"

Torrance frowns while Eric squeezes me, his fingers pressing into the side of my right breast. "Maybe sooner than that, lass," he says, sounding hopeful. Excitement lights a tingling trail down my spine. I look up at him, a small smile lifting his mouth. I cannot help the heat stirring between my legs and the addling of my mind. I clench my thighs together. I hate how my body reacts to him while my heart remains confused and skeptical of him. I want to appreciate his hopeful attitude, but I...why is he hopeful that it maybe sooner? Is Torrance not the healer? Surely he would know better than the hunter.

His smile starts to fall. Damn me! Here I am draining his hope once more. Say something, Snow! "Will you help me to stand and to walk on my own again?" I ask him and force a small smile for his sake.

"Aye, of course," he answers without hesitation, his smile growing bigger than before.

The air becomes warmer when the four of us enter the stables.

"Ah, you found them!" another man says with a grin, his deep voice resonating against the stable walls. I turn my head to Locke as we near him, his white teeth so bright against his dark mouth. He pushes himself off one of the stall's doors and strides to us.

"It took me long enough to drag them here," Torrance mutters as all of us stop. Locke's dark eyes shift to me and my wrapped feet.

"We all made it here," Locke says and looks at Torrance, his smile lessening to a small, pleased one. "That is what matters in the end, is it not?"

"It's not the end yet, last I checked," Wessel quips. Locke laughs from his chest. I turn my head as far as I can, looking over my shoulder at Wessel who merely shakes his head at the overly exuberant dark man.

"Aye, no' yet, so let's get outta here," Eric says and walks with me to four saddled horses that are tethered side by side outside of the stalls. There is Torrance's tan horse with the black stripe going down his back, a red chestnut, a grey horse, and a familiar ebony steed at the end that is taller than the others. Ylva turns her head to Eric as he walks behind her and comes to her side.

"Hey lass," Eric greets his mare. Ylva nickers, almost as if she is saying hello to him. "I'm afraid yer horse dinnae make it here."

"What?" I look up at Eric. My heart grows heavy and sinks. That poor old boy. He already seemed to be near the end of his life, but to hear that he didn't make it here after Locke said we all made it here...

Eric frowns down at me. "Sorry, lass. It's a miracle Ylva made it here with how deep the snow got." He carefully sets me down on my feet before he grabs my waist and lifts me onto his horse, seating me in front of the saddle and on Ylva's shoulders. I clutch Gus' lute tighter and grip a handful of Ylva's shaggy mane, taking care to not pull hard on her neck. I need something to hold onto, but I do not wish to hurt the mare. Eric climbs up onto Ylva behind me and grabs her reins.

"I suppose I'll be riding with you," I say for Eric's ears only and look back at him out of the corners of my eyes. "For now," I add. We already look like we are attached at the hip with how he keeps carrying me around everywhere, granted I have almost no use of my feet right now.

"For now," he says. "Ye'll be on yer feet sooner than ye think."

My brows furrow as he turns his horse left and spurs her on to follow after Torrance, Locke, and Wessel. We follow the three men on their horses out into the cold and start away from Vilgard. I pray I'll be on my feet sooner than two or three months. Eric cannot carry me everywhere, especially if Finn, some bounty hunters, or thieves, or only God knows who else find us.

As we move along, the men spur the horses into a strong trot despite the snowfall covering the valley floor. I lean forward to peer past Eric's arm. I keep my eyes on Vilgard, the collection of buildings growing smaller the farther we move from the settlement. Ylva continues trotting, bouncing us in a steady rhythm. Vilgard grows smaller and smaller until the settlement is swallowed up in the white valley. The relief that I kept at bay floods me at last. I let go of my breath and draw in a slow, chilled one. It feels good to be on the move again. We are getting somewhere, at least.

"I figure Wessel will join us on our way to Hammond's," I say and drop my head against Eric's chest, taking note of our spot at the end of our little group. It gives us some privacy, at least.

"Aye," Eric grumbles, sounding displeased.

I chuckle with my mouth closed. I'm not surprised by his displeasure of the added company, but part of me is more than eager to have my long lost brother along. Though he is not my blood, he is still someone dear from my past. I open my mouth, almost spilling all this to Eric, but I stop myself. He must already be aware that I knew Wessel from long before, but I must be careful with what I share. Already there were too many hints dropped when Gus was trying to share the day's gossip. "I'm glad Wessel is coming with us. He's a dear friend from before I was imprisoned. He's like...it's like I haven't lost all my family when I thought I had before," I say, carefully choosing my words. They are vague, but they are the most honest I have ever shared with Eric.

"Good," he says above me with a small smile, his earnest word rumbling in his chest. Feeling the rumble of his chest as he speaks such earnesty, to have someone who is happy for a good fortune of mine...I haven't had that since before I was imprisoned…since before papa was still alive.

"What about Torrance and Locke? Will they be joining us as well?" I ask.

"That's the plan for now. It could change, but we'll see. As of right now, we'll be stoppin' at their cabin for a night to give the horses a rest and to resupply. It's about nine days' journey to get there. After that, we'll head for Hammond's fortress so ye can get him to save yer friend and fulfill yer promise to her."

My heart grows heavy. We spent too long at Vilgard, got lost in the snow for nearly a week, squandered too much time at Jerome and Annabelle's farm...we have lost two weeks' travel at best! If Greta is still alive...is she? Last I saw her, Ravenna had drained so much of her life that she left her a withered old woman. What is to stop Ravenna from draining the last of her life? Why did she leave Greta as an old woman? Why did she not kill her then?

"Do you...do you think she is still alive?" I ask Eric. As if he will know the answer, but perhaps he can give me some peace of mind? He has before.

"I cannae say for sure, but if she is anythin' like ye, then I'd wager my life she still is and she will be when ye get Hammond's men to rescue her."

Despite his uncertainty, his honesty and his certainty in me—his certainty in a lie, but there is the truth in the lie that I did survive fourteen years of imprisonment. I ran away and escaped with an arrowhead lodged in my back. "She's nothing like me," I say and swallow hard. I pray this doesn't tip him off, but how I want to be honest with him—at least to some degree. "She's better than me."

Eric sighs. He lets go of the reins in his right hand and wraps his arm about me. "That's one lass' opinion."

My stomach churns, but a breathy laugh escapes me, making me smile. I let go of Ylva's mane and grab his free hand. "I suppose you're right. You can't argue away opinion."

He chuckles above me and rests his chin on my head. "I dinnae want to argue. Anyway," he lifts his chin from me and sits taller, "Gus said yer birthday is six days away! That true?"

"Oh!" I laugh against him and shake my head. "If the New Year is six days away, then yes, but it's just my birthday." I shrug my shoulders, my smile growing heavier. He stiffens against me. I know what he's thinking. By next New Year's Eve, I will be dead. I shake my head again. I do not want to drain him of his joy again. I force my smile bigger and try to focus on my hopes for the coming New Year. "Eric, I'm determined to celebrate this coming New Year to the fullest. I want to sing, dance, get drunk, play some game, and laugh at someone standing up and farting—and I want it to smell!"

He bursts out laughing, his chest shaking against my head with his laughter. His hearty laughter infects me and brings barely contained laughter out of me.

He squeezes me to him in a half embrace as his laughter starts to ease. "Ye'll have all that!"

My laughter dies, but my smile remains. I tilt my chin back to look up at him. "But how will I dance with my feet?"

The last of his laughter dies as he looks down at me, leaving behind a sincere grin. "Ye will dance for as long as ye want to. Ye have my word."

I open my mouth, words at the tip of my tongue to refute him—he gave me his word that I will dance on New Year's Eve. That just hit me. Did I not hear him when he said it? I close my mouth and smile up at him. Can he really keep such an impossible promise? It's impossible, really!

"Those are lovely words, but I don't see how it's possible." Despite my best efforts, my doubt of him grows too heavy on my mouth and lessens my smile.

His grin lessens too. "Trust me, lass. Please. Trust me and trust yerself. Ye will dance on New Year's Eve."

My smile leaves me. Trust myself? I trust myself more than I should, but why is he pleading with me to trust him? I drop my eyes to Ylva and watch her black ears twitch and flick back towards me...as if she can sense my unease. I lean towards her and stroke the bare side of her neck. I told him before that I trust him. I promised him I was done with the back and forth. Is my distrust of him so obvious? God forbid he even thinks I do not trust him as much as he wants me to for that would be yet another hint to my dark truths.

"Eric, you need not plead with me to trust you. I trust you with my life already! I promised you I was done with the back and forth! And believe me, I trust myself more than I should." I barely touch the wispy hairs of Ylva's mane between her ears. Guilt wrings my heart. How easy it is to lie.

Eric sighs and presses his fingers into my sunken stomach. "Alright," he says.

Silence comes between us. The chilled breeze winds through the valley, faintly whistling against the mountains as they grow taller on either side of us. Ylva nickers and huffs as she continues her trotting through the knee-deep snow. I lose myself in the rhythm of her trotting, barely hearing Torrance and Locke carrying on their conversation up ahead.

"Have ye e'er been out this way?" Eric asks, breaking the silence in two.

"Hmm...no." I shake my head and lean back against his chest. Ylva's trotting is so steady and smooth, I'm barely being bounced. "I've only been as far as Kalobarrow."

"Ah…That's no' far at all," he says, his voice soft and sad.

"Mmm." I shake my head against him, the back of my head rolling over one of the hard buckles of his coat repeatedly. With every small drop of Ylva's trot, my body grows a little heavier.

"I like it here…," he says. "This valley reminds me of home."

Home? His home, he means. Not here in my home. "Do you miss your home?" I tilt my chin all the way back to see him.

He slowly looks about the whole land, from mountaintop to valley floor to mountaintop and to the grey sky above. He lets his breath go slowly in a swirling white mist, his chest sinking beneath me. The mist of his exhale dissipates as he draws in a breath, filling his chest. "Aye," he finally answers me and looks down at me, his eyes full of longing—longing for his homeland. My heart twists.

I swallow. "You said that you're a willful exile of Stigr's clan. Could you ever return home if you wanted to?"

He breathes in deep through his nose and lets it go, his eyes stirring like the waters of the Gastean Sea. "I dinnae know. If I went back, it'd all depend on who'd first greet me at the shore. If it was the Chief, he'd probably kill me where I stand." My eyes widen. "If it was Stigr…," he grows quiet. So much stirs in his eyes I cannot tell the good from the bad—if there is any good feeling in there somewhere.

"Who is Stigr? I assume he's not the Chief?" I question softly, boldly. I've been hearing that name for a while now and never asked him who the man is.

"He's no' the chief, last I checked." Eric swallows and lifts his chin to look ahead. "He's my father."

My jaw grows heavy, pulling my mouth apart. His father...the way he speaks of his father, Stigr...God, he makes it sound as if Stigr could still be alive! Not just that, but never did he call Stigr his father until now. It's almost as if he is trying to forget that Stigr's blood flows through his veins. A profound sadness fills my chest. Is this dissociation from his father from his guilt of leaving Stigr's clan? Or is it something else? Perhaps it was something Stigr did that caused Eric to become estranged from him?

I open my mouth, so many questions at the tip of my tongue. Is Stigr still alive? How would he greet Eric on the shore of his homeland? If Eric misses his home as he does, if he never felt at home here, then why has he not tried to return? He has nothing left here for him aside from Torrance, Wessel, Locke, and perhaps Jerome, but he hasn't seen three of them for some time. When we came to Jerome's doorstep, it seemed the two men hadn't seen each other for years nor did either of them care to.

Eric could easily take Ylva and return home. So what is keeping him here? Sara is dead. Surely he might find some family if he returned home. Why would he not seek them out? Why was he trying to drown himself in ale?

I try to speak, but no word leaves me. Just seeing him looking ahead at the horizon as if searching for the shore of his home...if he wanted me to know more about his father, he would have told me so already. I close my mouth and look at the journey ahead. It's a seemingly straight path through the snow covered valley with a slight bend some miles ahead.

"Ye see that mountaintop there!?" Eric asks me suddenly, excitement in his voice. He stretches his arm out before me and points up at the tallest snow capped mountain peak to my left. I have to tilt my chin back just to take in its immense height and jagged tops, almost looking like three ivory spear heads.

"Yes. What about it?"

"That's Three Spears Mountain, the most dangerous mountain to climb in the whole peninsula. It has fifty-two known caves buried deep in it and still more that cannae be reached without proper climbin' gear. One of the caves leads deep into the mountain to an old dwarven mine." He lowers his arm and grabs the reins. "The few dwarven texts that survived the purging talk of a city which slumbers so deep in the mountain that it's warmed by the center of our world."

His words scramble my mind, stretching my imagination beyond what I can fathom. "The center of our world!? How is that possible!? How can a city sleep!?" God, this is all so...astounding, if not too fantastical to be true!

He merely laughs. "Try to think of the city as a bear who sleeps through the winter. That is how the city sleeps."

I laugh once. "I understand how a bear slumbers through the winter, but how can a city sleep? The bear is living, and the living need sleep. A city is not alive, therefore it cannot sleep."

He chuckles. "Those who built the city would beg to differ."

"Alright," I look up at him, "I'll humor you for the sake of what you're telling me. Now tell me about the center of our world. That is…" I find myself at a loss for words. It's...unfathomable.

He nods, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "My mother told me that the center of our world burns hotter than any blacksmith's forge. The dwarves knew this and they knew how to mine close enough to the center of our world to use its heat to forge all their tools, weapons, and machinations. In the depths of the city is what the dwarves call their heart. It's a forge that burns with the center of our world. The forge is said to burn so hot that it can melt the strongest ore into air."

"Wow!" I laugh while I shake my head and look ahead at the valley. "I'm not sure whether to believe that or not! That's…" I...have no words.

"Aye, I can see that. Nae one has been down to see such a sight let alone the city, so I guess it's all a myth…," he trails off, disappointed. I let go of my breath, my shoulders dropping. He wants all this to be true. God, for how much he dislikes the dwarves, he sure is fascinated with their history. I find myself laughing at this.

"What are ye laughin' at?" he asks with a smile.

I try to stifle my laughter. "I just find it…," I shrug my shoulders, "...you don't seem to like the dwarves very much, yet the myths and legends they have left behind fascinate you so."

He chuckles along with me. "There's a lot to be fascinated by."

"Most definitely," I say and press my ear to his heart. It beats strong and steady, full of his life. After all that struggle, the cold, the pain...he made it. My eyes grow heavier with each blink. "Tell me more about them."

His heart quickens. I can almost feel his smile pushing into his chilled cheeks.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The men keep their horses walking throughout the day. About Midday, Eric stops Ylva briefly to dismount her and lifts me over the horn of his saddle to sit in his saddle. I frown briefly at the new seating arrangement…though it is nice to sit in a warm spot and to not have the horn of the saddle pressing into my hip.

"I'm givin' Ylva a break from me," Eric says when he sees my frown.

I nod and smile down at him, my heart softening for him. "That's kind of you."

He smiles back smugly and starts Ylva walking again as he trudges through the snow. "I know," he says. All the while Wessel, Torrance, and Locke get caught up in their own conversations, almost seeming to forget about Eric and me trailing behind them. Wessel looks back at us from time to time to make sure we are safe, but also to keep an eye on us. I find myself not really caring and instead savor every word of Eric's as he shares his knowledge of the dwarves' history with me. Much of it may be myth and legend, but it is still impressive the mark they have left upon my home. Then again, legends are often born out of some facet of truth.

As the sky dims with the coming night, we find an outcrop of stone from the mountainside that gives us a shallow cave to make camp in. Wessel, Torrance, and Locke climb down from their horses and start making camp.

"Once we set up a spot for ye, I'll get ye down from Ylva," Eric says. He untethers his bedroll and other effects from his saddle.

"Alright," I say and watch helplessly from Ylva's back as the men set up camp. I wish I could help, but it's not as if my feet will allow me to now. Wessel grabs some of the spare kindling from his horse and arranges it in the center of the cave while Locke and Torrance work on spreading out the bedrolls and spare furs. My eyes wander to Eric. He picks up a mallet and three wood stakes from the pile of belongings Locke had laid down by the kindling and starts toward me. Our eyes meet as he stops a short distance from me and drops down to one knee. He sets one of the stakes against the ground and pounds it in with the mallet until it is secure. Standing up, he takes a few steps and kneels on one knee to pound another stake into the ground. The stakes must be so we can hitch the horses to them, but there are only three. Perhaps Ylva does not need to be tethered? She did get the men to save Eric and me, after all.

Just as Eric finishes pounding the third stake into the ground, Wessel gets the fire going. Torrance and Locke settle down around the fire. Eric returns the mallet to Locke's pile and strides back to me.

"Aye then," he extends his hands to me, "let's see if ye can walk to the fire."

I perk up and nod. "Please!"

He smiles at me as he grabs my waist and lifts me down off Ylva. I wrap my arm about her neck as he carefully sets me down on my wrapped feet. As my weight comes more on my feet, the stinging intensifies. I grit my teeth in an effort to keep quiet. I will walk to that fire. I will sit myself down on my bedroll! Whichever one is mine.

"Ready?" he asks me.

"Let go of me please." I look down at my wrapped feet, already teetering every which way despite his hold of my waist.

"Ye sure!?"

I nod twice, my neck muscles tightening and straining as I struggle to find my balance. I pat along Ylva's back until I find the horn of the saddle and grip that tightly with my gloved hand. A dull ache appears in my right shoulder. I clench my teeth more. My injured shoulder is not going to stop me from walking to that fire!

"Alright," Eric finally says, sounding unsure.

I look up at him, his hands still clutching my waist. "I have to try. Please. You're still going to help me walk, but I need to do it myself."

He gives me a concerned look. "Aye, but if ye start fallin', I'm carryin' ye to yer bedroll."

I nod. "That's fair."

His brows only furrow with growing worry as he slowly loosens his hold of my waist. The more he lets go of me, the more my weight comes on my feet. My skin tightens, pulling more and more at my sutures. The stinging in my feet intensifies until it burns, especially along my sutures. Just as his hands leave my waist, I wobble all over! I try to lean left to balance myself, but I end up teetering backwards. I grit my teeth more and lean forward and instead end up going right! More than the ache in my shoulder and the fire consuming my feet, my chest tightens and my skin prickles.

"Damn it!" I say between my clenched teeth.

"Lass!—" Just as Eric moves to catch me, I push off the horn of his saddle and grab a tight hold of his arm. He stops himself, letting me cling to his arm and wobble terribly. God, there must be some way to balance myself!

Eric shakes his head at me. "I'm helpin' ye."

"Eric, no!—" I stop short when he grabs Gus' lute from my grasp and holds his arm out to me. Rushing footsteps halt close by, drawing my eyes to a worried Torrance and Wessel.

"Let her try," Eric tells the two men. My heart twists and aches for the hunter as I look at him, meeting his gentle eyes. "Grab my arm with both hands, see if that helps."

I grab hold of his arm with my left hand and cling to him. I lean back on my heels and try to balance there. Wait. I'm not wobbling as much! My heart picks up as a grin spreads my mouth despite the fiery pain engulfing my feet. Tears spring to my eyes. "Let's walk!" I say.

Eric nods. I take a wobbly step forward. He, too, takes a small step with me. I take another wobbly step, balancing on my heels, and he takes that step with me. I take another wobbly step, and another. He takes them with me, letting me cling to him for sure footing.

"That's it!" Eric says with a big grin.

"Keep going!" Torrance says.

"Don't push yourself too hard," Wessel says.

I would wave off Wessel if I could, but I cannot take a hand from Eric's strong arm. He takes each teetering, painstaking step with me to the fire, an empty bedroll with several thick pelts and blankets looking more and more to be my spot as we draw closer to it.

"This is yer spot. Closest to the fire," Eric says as we finally reach the bedroll.

"I do like being close to the fire," I say. Locke springs up from his bedroll and takes Gus' lute from Eric.

"Here." Eric offers me his now empty hand. I take it gladly and he helps me to slowly lower my rump onto the bedroll.

"Wonderful!" Torrance claps for me as he approaches. He crouches before me wearing a handsome grin. "And that was all without taking any herbs for the pain! How is your pain?" His smile starts to fall.

I nod, my feet still throbbing and burning. "The pain is tolerable. I'm just happy I walked this far!"

Torrance nods, looking pleased with himself. "That lamia balm works miracles."

"Aye," Eric says, drawing our gazes up to him. "Now I know we're all hungry. None of us have eaten since this morn, so let's eat."

My stomach grumbles at the mere mention of food.

"Yes, let's!" Torrance says, springing to his feet.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

After a filling meal of dried deer meat, bread, and Wessel's seasoned milk, the yawns start coming from around the fire. As Locke and Torrance start reclining on their bedrolls, Eric stops sharpening his new hatchet and stows his whetstone in his satchel. "I'll take first watch," he says as he gets up from his spot beside me!

My eyes dart up to him, my stomach knotting. "How long will you be on watch? You need sleep just like the rest of us."

He looks down at me and gives me a small smile. "Jus' for the first part of the night, lass."

"Then I'll take over," Wessel says. I look to my right where the redhead is sitting on his bedroll. Wessel nods to me and glances up at Eric. "Wake me when it's my turn."

"Aye," Eric says. I turn my chin up to the hunter. He looks down at me, the corners of his eyes wrinkling some with his smile. "Try to sleep, lass."

I frown at him. He knows he's asking the impossible of me right now, but for his sake I can at least try. "I'll try."

His eyes soften as his smile shrinks. "That's all I'm askin'." For a slow breath, his eyes linger in mine and drift down to my mouth. My hands tingle and my fingers twitch, wanting so dearly to entangle themselves in his hair, to feel the warmth of his scalp, to press his mouth to mine—but that's out of the question given the present company.

He tears his eyes from me to look at Wessel. "Night Weasel." He starts to walk away, though his eyes drift back to me. "Night lass," he says.

"Good night," I say. I turn my head and look over my shoulder to keep him in my sight as he walks farther from the fire's glow. The night casts more and more of itself over him the further he treads. Step after step he takes, his form grows darker until he takes the final step into the darkness. I swallow hard. My heart goes to the edge. God only knows what is in that darkness. Wolves with delvir souls. Oulinders. Finn.

"He'll be back," Wessel says.

I force my eyes from the darkness and meet Wessel's gaze. "I know," I say, my heart softening for my brother. "Will you get enough sleep tonight with having to keep watch?"

A small smile spreads his mouth. "Don't worry about me. You just try to rest so that you can heal."

I nod and force myself to lie down on my bedroll. I grab the thick deer pelt and pull it over myself, tucking it securely around my neck and shoulders. The pelt goes down to my thighs, but with the crackling fire near my feet, I soon become cocooned in warmth. Only my cheeks and forehead are exposed to the chilly night air.

I try to close my eyes, but the thought of Eric out there alone in the darkness...My eyes drift from the grey stone above me to the inky blackness surrounding us. God, I want to try to sleep for Eric, but I need to see him step out of that darkness.