The sound of birdsong woke me. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I saw that the sun had risen a little while ago, sunlight streaming through the trees and dappling the snow of the clearing with shadows. The forest was much less foreboding in the daylight, I happily noted. My fire had burned down to ashes at some point, unfortunately. Crawling out of the shelter, I stood and stretched deeply. I did feel a little better with the rest, but I was upset at myself for falling asleep in the first place. I had been trying to… What? Look at the fire and think?

Maybe it was for the best that I'd had some sleep.

Luckily, nothing bothered me while I was out. My mouth was dry and my throat parched, and I eyed the snow speculatively. I think I could remember reading that eating snow was bad for survival, something about the body spending precious calories warming it up. I still needed water, though.

Thinking it through, I could probably rig something up. If I put together a tripod and suspended a pine bough from it, I could put it over the fire and add snow atop the needles.

Did I have anything to collect the water? It might take a while to make a simple wooden bowl, seeing as I didn't have any carving tools handy. I doubted I could maneuver the sword well enough to use that for anything more delicate than chopping apart wood.

My clothes might work, come to think. My uncovered hands had survived the night with no signs of frostbite, as did my ears and nose. My lips weren't even chapped. I could probably go without some of the layers for a little while, and I could use them to catch water from snowmelt.

Shrugging out of the fur covering, some sort of parka, my back immediately felt better. It was like muscles that had been constrained too long were finally free to stretch, and it was a pure and blissful feeling.

As I stretched, enjoying the feeling of freedom, a constellation passed by in that other space; I missed grabbing any lights this time.

I didn't have any layers underneath the parka, and I was only a little surprised to see that my body was different than I remembered. My breasts were slightly larger and a little firmer than I thought they used to be, my figure was slimmer in general, and I was slowly realizing that I wasn't feeling any of the familiar aches or pains. My appendectomy scar was gone, I noticed. Odd. I had very little definition to my muscles, and I felt a moment of disappointment, as though I'd expected something more. I must have slipped with my routine at some point.

Ah, that must mean I used to work out. Another thing to add to my list of things I know. As soon as I was somewhere safe, I'd get back to that.

Overall, everything seemed to be an improvement. I was in good shape and physically unharmed, though the lack of scars was peculiar. Reaching over my shoulders to rub at a sore spot, I froze as my fingers touched something soft, warm, and sensitive. Gently, I felt it out. Feathers, I thought. I felt out the length of the thing, starting between my shoulder blades and extending about a foot long, parallel to my back, and angled up a little bit. Some sort of wing? There was another, facing the other way.

Why did I have wings? I did not remember having wings.

The wings were very sensitive, enough that I could feel my fingers passing through each feather, sending tingles across my scalp and down my spine. The feathers themselves must be packed with nerves, but that wasn't how feathers worked. I stilled my fingers and the closest feathers began to wrap around them. I had no control over the movement. For some reason, I wasn't freaking out about it. I knew I probably should, but it just felt normal, like it was natural that I had them. I didn't know how to feel about that. Accepting and moving on seemed prudent.

Examining the parka, I considered how I could use it to collect water. Woodworking wasn't helping me figure out what to do with it, animal hides being outside its purview. Maybe I could cut a patch out of the rear? I could let my wings free (and wasn't that a peculiar thought!) and use the hide to catch water. If I messed up, I probably wouldn't be able to fix it. Then again, I was getting pretty thirsty, and the cold didn't bother me anyway.

Might as well try. Laying the parka in the snow, I drew my sword and cut an uneven patch out of the rear. Trying it on, I carefully pulled the tips of my wings out of the large hole and was immediately satisfied by the lack of pressure holding them in place. Cool air brushed my back where my skin was exposed, but it was more than bearable.

The hide patch was more than large enough to bend into a bowl shape. Collecting everything else I needed, I assembled the tripod to test it out. It was ugly and rickety without bindings, and I'd have to hold the simple bowl myself, but I thought it would work with some patience and effort.

Collecting a bit of firewood, I lit a new fire and put up the tripod assembly above it, then set some clean-looking snow atop the pine bough. Before too long, the melt began and water began to drip from the needles.

I was absurdly satisfied with the first drops I could see, and I held out the bowl to catch the rest. It was the first time I'd ever done something like this, and I was proud that it worked at all. I held it long enough that most of the snow had melted and filled it a quarter of the way with clean, clear water. Drinking the little bit I'd collected, the water soothed my throat. I hadn't realized before, but now that I'd had some, it was as though I was parched. I melted more snow, repeating the process until I was quenched.

Settling back on the ground, I considered my next move. I didn't know where I was, nor did I know whether or not there would be any rescue coming. What did I have on me? My clothes and sword for sure. Checking my pockets, I was disappointed but unsurprised to find my phone and wallet missing. In a small pocket, I found an old-fashioned iron key, several inches long and with two large teeth. It was hefty, and I felt the same sort of possessiveness over it that the sword had inspired in me. What did it do? Why was a key so important?

The answer was probably somewhere in the lights I'd collected. With a lack of signs of where to travel, I would probably be best served by trying to figure that side of things out a little better before moving out and becoming more lost.

I had been lucky not to somehow injure myself in the darkness last night, and I was more aware of the possibility now than I had been.

I stretched out, getting comfortable and taking a few relaxing breaths. I closed my eyes, and after a moment of effort, I found it relatively easy to focus on the other space. It was as though it had been waiting for me to pay attention to it.

Somehow, I had been taking lights that passed closely enough from passing constellations, that much I knew for sure. That odd mechanism felt as much mine as my hands did, and with a little focus, I found that it felt very like a muscle. I could extend and retract something ephemeral from the point where my perception sat, though I couldn't see whatever it was. I had to fully rely on my proprioception to gauge where the strange limb was. At its furthest extent, it reached fairly far beyond the lights I had taken for my own, and I could feel the range of it growing ever so slightly. Was that my conscious effort at work, or some other mechanism I was unaware of?

Answers were not forthcoming.

Aiming it was an issue. My sense of direction was all but nonexistent there, and I was astounded by how I had managed to snag fast-traveling lights at all. Maybe it was the difference between unconscious and conscious control? Perhaps some instinct handled that for me. If so, maybe I wouldn't have to worry about wrangling the invisible limb manually. I worked at directing it towards some of the lights orbiting me; after a while, my efforts paid off, nudging one of the smaller lights slightly to the side. It had a peculiar flavor, an odd synesthetic feeling that gave me a headache trying to parse into familiar terms. It was like tasting chocolate and vinegar while squeezing a nearly empty balloon. It was a distinctly unsettling sensation.

Grabbing onto the little light, I dragged it closer, staring into it and hoping that I might divine its secrets. Slowly, I received a vague feeling from it, one that became clearer as I continued examining it. It represented the key I'd found, and it had more properties than I'd expected.

I could insert it into a door, any door, and open it to… Somewhere? I didn't have the information for that in the small light. It wasn't indestructible, but it would always restore itself within a minute, as well if I ever lost it or it was stolen. It would appear on my person somewhere, in a pocket if available, and I couldn't be permanently separated from it. Oddly, I could loan it to someone else if I wanted or needed to and recall it at any point.

Movement in the starry distance tugged my attention away, and I released the light, letting it bob back to its place. A constellation was heading my way, and I relaxed my conscious control over the grasping limb. I tried to focus on one particular light, hoping it might trigger the limb to go after that specific one. Unfortunately, it decided to lash out at one just out of reach. The constellation zoomed away before I could try again, and I returned to my examination of my lights with some frustration.

Some had formed into a small cluster, sticking closely together. Five of them in total, three of the smallest size and two larger. They were all revolving around one of the larger lights, and I was able to grab it with some effort. Bringing it closer brought the others along, as I'd hoped, and I delved into it.

It was magic. Rather, it was the ability to use a particular form that I was well familiar with. It was called Channeling, and I was shocked at the implications. The feelings it provoked drew up memories, books I'd spent quiet afternoons reading through. I had read the Wheel of Time many times, I knew now, and it had been one of my favorite fantasy series. This power, the ability to channel the One Power, seemed straight from the books. Were the lights pulling from fiction, somehow? If so, what were the limitations? Was it genuine, or a simulacrum? Did it matter?

No, focus, it's real enough to count. The light gave me the ability, but not the training or knowledge. I could supplement that with what I remembered from the books, as the process had been described repeatedly and from varying perspectives. Finally, as I drew on the thread of memory, I pulled up more and more in an unbroken chain. Overjoyed, I relished the recollections.

There was another possibility, I realized after a moment. What if these memories weren't mine, but given by the lights? I knew so little about myself, and I'd credulously accepted what I remembered as something I'd genuinely experienced. Was I any different now than I had been minutes ago? The uncertainty brought my headache back to the fore and I groaned. What was wrong with me?

I had to keep going. I had to know what the other lights held. Once I knew, maybe I could separate what was me from what wasn't.

The other large light in the cluster was odd, and I needed to walk myself through the basics I could remember to understand. As a woman, I would channel the female half of the One Power. This would take the form of ephemeral threads superimposed over reality, each composed of one of five lesser powers, that would appear around me. I would be able to manipulate them into weaves that could do almost anything, once I'd puzzled those weaves out. Those lesser powers had been named in the text after the energies they manipulated. They were Air, Water, Fire, Earth, and Spirit.

Every channeler had an affinity for each power in varying amounts. Generally, women were stronger in Air and Water, while men were stronger in Fire and Earth. Both sexes were on average the same strength concerning Spirit. Rarely, men could have a strong affinity for Air or Water or both, and likewise, women could be strong in Fire and Earth.

This light gave me that, enhancing my affinity with both Fire and Earth. That would have quite a few advantages if I survived long enough to train myself to channel properly and puzzle out a few basic weaves.

Moving onto the small lights, two held what the books had called Talents. They were natural skills geared towards a few particular weaves. Normally it took time for someone who could channel to discover the Talents, if any, they had. Some Talents could be taught, but others couldn't, not that that mattered at the moment.

These smaller lights represented the Talents for Delving, Traveling, Earth Singing, and Earth Delving. Delving, if my memories were accurate, was the process by which a healer could determine injuries or illnesses. Earth Singing was a natural ability to easily work soil, stone, and metals with the One Power; I could summarize it as working with anything solid and inorganic. Earth Delving was almost a combination of mass geological survey and mining, as it contained the ability to discern ores and minerals over a wide area and extract them without harming the environment.

Traveling was different from the others, the Talent geared towards transportation between two points. The process involved opening a doorway between the two locations and stepping through. There were a few caveats, such as needing to learn the ground I'd Travel from before a gateway could be formed, but there were workarounds. If I survived the learning process, I'd be able to go anywhere in the world on a whim.

Much of me seemed to crave that freedom. Had I been imprisoned in the past? I didn't think so, but then there was that dim memory of a dark room… I'd have to cultivate that Talent for sure. Just in case.

Oh, the things I could do! With Woodworking, I could easily leave modern civilization behind and comfortably live out in the wilderness. There was a momentary schism in my thoughts as I rejected that notion as soon as it came.

Why would I want to be alone? I was beginning to loathe this constant confusion.

The final light was astounding; it boosted the minor ability the Channeling light had granted me by a massive margin. I had no idea why it was so small, as it took my end potential from middling strength in the Power to someone who could match the strongest male channeler unaided. That was significant, as female channeling capped out in raw strength much earlier than male channeling did. Try as I might, though, I couldn't find an easy way to quantify that. It was just more, I supposed.

I released the cluster, I moved on. I'd collected a larger light at some point, one that was about the size of the entire Channeling cluster in volume. It was becoming easier to pull them toward me, and the information they held was flowing more readily. This larger light conferred immunity to temperature, pressure, radiation, and exotic energy. I didn't need to breathe if I didn't want to and could walk along the bottom of the ocean or hang out in space unprotected without any ill effects. Hell, I could be buried in radioactive slag and be completely fine.

It was fascinating, and I think I understood why it was so large. It was certainly an incredible ability!

I released it, moving onto one of the slightly smaller ones. This was similar to the key but would let me open a portal to the same somewhere on any flat surface that was large enough. It had a minimum size of eight square meters and a max of eighty, would open at the smallest size instantly, and take ten seconds to expand to the largest. I could modify the size of an open portal at will, and while it would close over thirty seconds naturally, I could keep it open as long as I wished.

I was quite curious to see what was so important that I had received two methods of accessing it. Releasing the light, I was about to grab another before another approaching constellation distracted me. I wished I knew why their timing was so inconsistent.

My reach had almost tripled in the short span I'd been focused on here, and I snagged a large star as it strayed too close to me.

This one was as simple as it was incredible. Anything I made from this point on would be produced at least at a masterwork level. The kind of quality that took dedicated people decades of experience to reach, and that was the bare minimum I could do. It would apply to literally anything I created and would even affect the output of machinery if I had initiated the process.

I wasn't much of a craftswoman, but I was thinking now that at the very least I could make a good living off of odd jobs.

Continuing my examination of the lights, I took up another. This was what had granted my sword and had the same flavor to it as the Channeling cluster. I assumed that meant they were related. The sword had been infused with particular weaves of the One Power during its creation. It was unbreakable, would remain eternally sharp, and a similar recall effect to the key bound it to me. I thought there was more to it, but despite my prodding, it remained stubbornly closed off.

Some of the lights had some agency to them. I wasn't sure how to feel about that, so I moved on.

The next light was just as peculiar as the rest. It was far more abstract than the others, granting me an almost superhuman leadership ability. It wasn't a compulsion that would affect others, but it made my bearing more… Regal, for lack of a better word. I'd hold myself like a leader whether I want to or not. There was more relating to administrative skills, but that was harder to quantify. I wasn't sure how useful it would be, and I was a little uneasy at the prospect that it had fundamentally altered me. It was outright confirmation that the lights could do that, and I wasn't too happy about it.

Maybe I'd catch a light that would make me less uncomfortable with changing; I shivered at the prospect. I wanted to be whoever I was, not whoever these lights made me.

Finally, the last two lights. One granted immunity to corruptive effects affecting my soul. I hadn't even been convinced I had one, but I could roll with it. The other light conferred unageing immortality. As long as I didn't die by malice or accident, I'd live until I consciously chose to age and die. Deep down, for a moment, that struck a chord with me. I followed the resonance, finding a faded memory of a doctor speaking to me in a sterile examination room; no words reached my ears, but I saw his lips play the word inoperable over and over again. Shocked, I fled, the memory clinging to me like molasses.

I was at a loss for words. Certainly, I was confused and grateful, but also worried about the cost of these gifts. This was entirely unprecedented, far beyond the bounds of my experience. What price did I have to pay for this? Somehow, I knew there must have been a payment made. Maybe that was why I was having so much difficulty with my memory.

Opening my eyes, I was surprised to see that the sun had climbed to its zenith. I'd spent hours focusing on my lights, much longer than the minutes it had felt. Good to know that it took time, I supposed. Rising to my feet, I stretched the stiffness out of my body. As curious as I was to see what the key and portal led to, I didn't have any convenient doors or flat surfaces at hand. Considering the situation, I figured I'd be best served by picking a direction to start walking.

I collected my hide-bowl-patch-thing and set out through the snow, pushing past small shrubs and other undergrowth. I was much more careful where I stepped now, doing my best to avoid a twisted ankle.

Hopefully, I'd find a road if I kept walking in one direction. Then, I'd try hitchhiking, or just follow the road to whatever town it led to.

My brain itched at that thought. I was fairly certain that there was something wrong with it, but I couldn't figure out what.

While I walked, I stopped to pick up any edibles I passed. The analysis component of Woodworking was coming in handy, granting me extensive knowledge about plants and fungi at a glance. Before too long, I'd filled my belt pouches to the brim. I wouldn't be starving, thankfully.

After what felt like hours of walking, I stumbled across a trail that cut a path through the underbrush, though I couldn't tell if it was a deer trail or man-made. It was heading in the same general direction I'd been walking. I set off down it. It was more or less a straight path through the forest, and before long I began to hear the sound of moving water. The trees were thin enough that I could see a broad river through them. Ahead, the trail ran up to the banks at an angle, joining another trail running parallel to the river.

The river itself was wide, easily a hundred meters across. It was surprisingly free of ice, but I'd not spent much time around rivers to know if that was normal in weather like this or not. There were bound to be fish, and I could put together a simple fishing rod in no time if I needed to. As a child, I'd gone to a camp for a few summers, and I'd learned how to catch smaller fish by hand. If I could nab a few minnows, bait shouldn't be a problem.

I decided to continue following the trail instead of getting sidetracked. It would take me less than twenty minutes to make the fishing rod, time spent weaving natural fibers into a line included. It wasn't a pressing issue and something I could take care of once I set up camp this evening.

After a while, the wind shifted, blowing against my face. I could smell faint woodsmoke and that gave me hope that I might find people soon. I felt surprisingly eager at the prospect.

It didn't take too long before I found the source of the scent. It was another village on the banks of the river, very similar to the one I'd woken up near last night. Another of those pale-barked trees was the centerpiece and this was twice as large as the first. The red-leaved canopy hung over most of the village, only the furthest few huts and sheds exposed fully to the sky beyond its extent. Vaguely, it resembled an elm, if an elm had leaves that looked like hands grasping in the wind.

The trees had been cleared away a fair distance, leaving a wide and clear space between the tree line and the village proper. I could see several people moving about between the small buildings, hanging out outside, and working. As I got closer, I could make out their clothing. It was very similar to my own, hide and fur parkas, trousers, and boots. Some had hoods, some didn't, but otherwise, I couldn't tell them apart from this distance. I counted fifteen from here, including a couple of kids.

Peculiarly, a few of the people were walking around with spears slung on their backs. Looking more carefully over the scene, I realized I couldn't see anything that looked like modern technology. No electric lights or plastics and I couldn't hear any generators. No electric poles or wires connecting buildings. As far as I knew, everyone outside of a few uncontacted tribal groups in the global south had access to electricity and modern products to some degree. I could see absolutely no signs of anything like that, and that unsettled me.

Canada doesn't have zombies, I realized. I was somewhere else entirely and it felt as though the world had just dropped out from under me. Where was I?

In the village, someone had spotted me. They called and waved to a few others, and they armed themselves as I watched. I'd never seen someone string a bow before, but they did so quickly and easily in smooth motions. Others unslung their spears, and most of them oriented themselves toward me. The rest fanned out and scanned the forest.

Holding both hands in the air to demonstrate how nonthreatening I was, I slowly walked forward, out of the trees. I stumbled as I missed a light flashing past in the other space, falling to the snow. Grumbling to myself, I picked myself up off the ground and brushed off the powder. I waved at the people with more excitement than I'd intended, and a couple of them looked at each other askance.

So far, they hadn't loosed any arrows at me, and that was a good sign. I wasn't sure if this was standard behavior with most folks, but I had lived in places where strangers were greeted at gunpoint. Granted, I'd not been subject to that, so this was a novel experience. I'd been threatened before, though. I knew that, but I couldn't recall the incident.

I made out the group facing me more clearly as I got closer. A tall woman with broad shoulders held a bow at the ready, arrow-nocked and ready to draw. Her wary eyes were a deep forest green and her angular face was framed by tresses of wavy auburn hair. A shorter girl stood near her with her bow, flicking glances between me and the woman; her hair shone like burnished copper in the sunlight and her eyes were the most startling blue I'd ever seen. They didn't shine like the dead girls had, but they seemed almost carved from sapphires. Three hard-worn men held spears, the tallest of which was poised and ready to throw at a moment's notice. I paid them less mind.

As I neared, the woman spoke loudly and clearly. "That's close enough, stranger. What's your business here?"

Stopping, I kept my hands up. "I'm looking for directions to town, maybe shelter for the night. I mean you and yours no harm."

I was surprised again at the differences in my voice from what I thought I remembered; it was much lighter and softer than I was used to.

The woman studied me for a long, uncomfortable moment before relaxing marginally.

"There aren't any towns up here. Don't cause trouble and you can share our fires this night."

I blinked, the first part of that statement not clicking. The second was fine, and I nodded hurriedly.

"I won't cause trouble."

The woman nodded in return, lowering her bow and putting a hand on the copper-haired girl's shoulder, speaking into her ear. She studied me with her blue eyes, then sniffed derisively. The men relaxed and sauntered away, returning to their business, slinging their spears behind their backs and joking with one another.

"Name's Grenwin," the green-eyed woman, Grenwin, said. She gave the redhead's shoulder a pat, "This is Ygdis."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Maia," I said warmly, my name sounding odd in my new voice.

They were both taller than I and I suddenly felt small. In my thoughts, I figured myself as taller than I was, but here, this Ygdis overtopped me by a head, and Grenwin was even taller still. It was an incredibly strange sensation.

Ygdis smirked, eyeing the sword belted at my waist. "Not many carry things like that. You a kneeler or something?"

I blinked, "What's a kneeler?"

She grinned, opening her mouth before a small shove from Grenwin silenced her.

"Don't matter." Grenwin said, "So who'd you take that from?"

I frowned, "I didn't take it from anyone. It's mine."

"You look strange," Ygdis noted. "Doesn't she look strange, Grenwin? You ever see eyes like that?"

"No," Grenwin answered her without taking her eyes from me. I felt as though she were judging me on something, but I didn't know what.

Ygdis chuckled, saying "Wyck's not gonna believe this," before turning and wandering away. Grenwin scowled after her before turning her attention back to me, gesturing at my sword.

"As long as you can keep it, keep it. Doesn't matter to me. You got any news from upriver?"

News? I shrugged, "Last night I passed through an empty village. There was a thing there; It looked like the dead walking, with these intense blue eyes."

Her eyes widened, "What?" She pointed in the direction I'd come from, "Han's Ford is up that way, half a day's walk. Was it there?"

I considered before nodding. The distance seemed right, even with my wandering course.

"Yeah, I think so," I told her.

She cursed under her breath and shook her head, then demanded, "Come with me, Taegj needs to know about this." She strode over, and I realized just how much taller she was as she put a hand on my shoulder.

"The fuck?" She leaped back, drawing a belt knife before I could react and brandishing it at me. It looked to be copper, not iron or steel. "What are you?!"

"A person? What are you?!" I replied, confused by the suddenness of her reaction.

She pointed at me with her knife, "What's on your back?!"

I felt my eyes widen in realization; she must have seen my wings, and I supposed this reaction meant it wasn't as normal as it felt. I turned my back to her, showing her.

"Dunno, what do they look like?"

The sarcastic words left my mouth before I could stop them. Fortunately, she seemed too shocked to take any insult.

She took her time processing, eyeing my wings with concern that turned to confusion. Eventually, she lowered the knife, stepping closer. She pulled off a glove and poked at my feathers and I flinched away from the contact. Instead of pulling away, she grabbed one of my wings in a rough hold, leaning closer to inspect it. My heart was beating a staccato in my chest and I was unable to move, overwhelmed by the sensation. My whole body felt like it froze up, and my knees wanted to buckle, but I kept steady, having the feeling that falling would just cause her to yank on it; After this, I knew that would be extremely painful. Her inspection felt like it took eons, though it was only a few moments.

"Fine. Fucking wings? Why not? Alright, come on, we need to go talk to Taegj. Don't do anything strange or I'll pluck your feathers. Got it?"

I nodded. She raised an eyebrow.

"I got it," I mumbled at her, hoping she'd release me.

She nodded, letting me go and gesturing with the knife, and I started walking. My wing felt bent out of shape, and I had to reach over my shoulder to adjust it before the strange sensations emanating from it faded. So much for normal. I had never felt anything like that in my life, I was dead certain of it.

The village wasn't small, having a fair number more buildings and more advanced construction besides. Here, they were built of logs stacked atop each other, sloped to a peak. The sloped roofs were covered over by grassy earth and I could make out a few goats grazing top some of them. They varied in size, from small huts to a few long, wide buildings set deep into the winding roots of the pale-barked tree overlooking the settlement.

I only saw maybe twenty people in total. A young boy ran past us with a grin on his face, chased by a larger and older kid. A few people were butchering a couple of deer, hanging the skins on a wooden rack. A large fire burned in the center of the village a short distance from the tree. Like the other, a face had been carved into it, a weeping man who seemed to be drooling a thick sap that was red as blood.

Grenwin pushed me towards a medium-sized hut, compared to the rest of the village, nestled within the roots of the tree. The door was rough and heavy and appeared to have been hewn out of a tree's trunk all in one piece. It was shut, and Grenwin banged on it loudly a few times before shouting, "Teagj, it's me. I'm coming in," and opening it.

The interior was small and simple, a room at the front with another doorway against the far wall. Several fur pelts had been laid out on the earthen floor, surrounding a small fire burning in a shallow pit. A well-muscled man sat on a chair at the far end of the room, carving a large bone with a small knife; this blade looked to be iron, I thought. He looked up, dark eyes flicking to Grenwin and then to me. He scowled.

"The fuck you want now, Grenwin? I told you, we need you here and not goin' out looking for Hacken. And who's this? You find yourself a pretty thing?"

She roughly pushed me into the room, closing the door behind us. "This ain't about Hacken. This is worse." Turning to me, her green eyes bored into mine. "Tell him what you told me."

I nodded at her, then met the man's, Teagj's, eyes. He was an ugly fellow, maybe in his mid-thirties, with thick braided dark hair and wearing what seemed a permanent scowl. His nose was bent like it had been broken and healed wrong.

"My name's Maia, I passed through Han's Ford last night, it was empty except for a… It looked like a girl with her belly cut open, had intense blue eyes that seemed to glow, and she was coming at me until I knocked her down and ran." I explained all in a rush.

The man's scowl deepened. He stood, towering over me and fixing Grenwin with a hard stare, "We can't wait any longer. Get everyone ready to move. We're going to try to meet up with Mance." Turning to me, "I hope you ain't lying, girl."

Grenwin scowled at him, eyes glittering in anger. "Six moons of arguing, and now you say we should leave when the Others are already close. You'll be the death of us, Teagj." She spat the words at him before sheathing her knife and leaving the shack in a rush.

The two of them must have history, I reckoned. It didn't seem romantic; it sounded more like an ongoing power struggle.

I stared back at him, meeting his eyes without blinking. "I know what I saw. You know what that thing I saw was?"

Almost grudgingly, he nodded. "We call them wights around here. The dead serve the Others, and the only thing that kills them for good is fire or dragon glass. Or so the stories say."

A constellation passed by, and I ignored it after failing to grab a light. I crossed my arms across my chest, tapping my boot against the fur rugs.

"I see. So, the wights took the people from that village?"

He shook his head, moving to unlatch a simple wood chest. "Nah, it'd be the Others that took 'em. Bastards look like pale shadows in the shape of men and supposedly move fast enough to kill before you can blink. I've not seen one myself, but sometimes people come down from the north talkin' bout empty camps and the dead rising from the snow. Our very own she-bear was one of 'em."

She-bear? Odd title for someone. It immediately made me think of Grenwin.

"You mean Grenwin?" I asked him.

"Her, yea."

I enjoyed a little thrill at having guessed correctly.

He pulled out a bundle of hide, unfurling it into a pack that he began filling with other items.

"Han's Ford is too close, and if they've been taken, we need to move."

"I can help," I found myself saying, "I can work with wood and I can build sleds to carry, uh, whatever you put on sleds around here."

He spared me a glance before shaking his head, "Go and try, then."

It was a clear dismissal. I shrugged at him and turned to leave. I ignored the noise of startlement from behind as I left the shack. Outside, people were rushing about, carrying bundles and wearing fearful expressions. Some were slaughtering chickens, and others working to gather goats. None of them bothered to look at me, too wrapped up in their worries.

A man in a black cloak pushed his way out of a nearby hut's door. His hair was jet black and he sported a roughly trimmed beard of the same shade. He was missing a foot, his right leg ending mid-shin, and he leaned heavily on a wooden crutch. He looked around, confused at the activity, before noticing me and waving me over.

I approached, and he gave me a considering look.

"I've not seen you around before. You know why everyone's in such a rush?"

I nodded, "Taegj wants everyone moving to meet up with someone named Mance."

He frowned, "Why now? We've been trying to convince him for moons now, but he's been a stubborn bastard."

Words spilled from me in a torrent, "I came from Han's Ford, there was something Teagj called a wight there. I killed it. Killed it again, I mean."

He stroked his beard, eyes going wide. "Aye, that'd make sense. Easy to call rumors from further out lies, but Han's Ford? No, that's much too close to ignore." He nodded at me, "What's your name, girl?"

"Maia." I offered.

He nodded again, "Symon. Would you mind helping an old man gather his things?"

I blinked in surprise; he looked younger than Taegj by at least a decade, and Teagj couldn't have been more than forty.

"Ah, yeah. I'll help. What do you need?"

Symon turned, waving me into the building. It was smaller than Taegj's hut and less furnished, with only a simple cot lying against one wall and a large chest at the foot of it. He moved over to the bed, grabbing the pelt bedding and rolling it into a bundle. Nodding at the chest, "There's a pack in there. Grab it for me, if you would."

Opening the chest, I found it full of hide-wrapped rectangular bundles. The pack was bundled up to the side, and I pulled it out.

"What's all in this, anyway?" I asked, curious. The bundles seemed the right size and shape to be large books.

I could hear the grin in his voice, "Most valuable thing I own. Knowledge. Bet you've not seen so many books in one place before, eh? Can you read, by any chance?"

Stepping over to him, I handed the bag over. "Yeah, I can read. It used to be one of my favorite hobbies." I felt it best to be polite, so I added, "This is an impressive collection."

He stuffed the rolled bundle in the bag. "I'm glad to meet someone else who can appreciate it. You know-" He was cut off by shouting from outside. "By the gods, what now!?"

Symon stumped his way out of the hut, and I followed. The shouting was coming from a few men, pointing at something in the sky in the distance, back in the direction I'd come.

Squinting, I saw a silver-black storm front, lightning crackling across the breadth of it occasionally. The air under it was thick and dark with falling snow, and it looked to be moving in this direction. I'd never seen a storm like that before, and the longer I looked at it, the more my blood seemed to chill. It still seemed a few hours away, thankfully, and we might be gone before it struck.

I frowned, thinking that something didn't seem right about that thought. Shouldn't we shelter from storms? Was it normal to try and run from them?

Symon stomped away with his crutch, waving and yelling at someone else to find someone named Wint.

Breaking myself from my reverie, I looked around and stopped a young woman as she rushed past.

"Hey, do you know where any woodworking tools are?" I asked in a rush.

She nodded, pointing at another hut on the edge of town. "In there." She continued her rush, leaving me behind without a second glance.

I made my way over to the hut, finding a few men laying tools on hide and wrapping them. Walking up to them, I asked loudly, "Hey, are there any sleds that need to be repaired? I can fix one up in no time."

The men looked at me, confused. "Ain't got any here."

Frowning, I examined the building and studied the tools they had out. My Woodworking was informing me that I could tear it down and build more than a few good-size sleds from it in an hour.

"Then if you don't mind, I can put a few together."

One of the men scratched his head, looking at his companions, "You think? Well, we could use some if we're gonna move. You need any help?"

Considering that shifted my mental checklists to account for their assistance, and it would speed things up enough to fit a fourth sled into the mix. I grinned widely at them, nodding.

"Yes. Just follow my directions and we'll get this done in no time."

They proved to be amenable, though they were stunned by the speed I was working at first. Once they recovered, I leveraged their strength to pull down the building a little faster, hold the logs as I worked them, and then hammer the joints together. The tools I'd been handed were substandard for the task, made of old weathered iron that had seen much use in the past and had been lovingly cared for. I spared a few moments to consider the kind of people who cared for their tools instead of just tossing them out and buying new ones, before realizing that these people probably couldn't just wander down to the local hardware store when they needed new tools. What they had would be precious to them.

The first sled went up, and then a second. A third was halfway assembled when more shouting began, interrupting the work.

The storm was much closer now and a creeping snowfall was blowing in from it. A burst of snowflakes rode the chill wind, some landing on my face. I rubbed at my cheek, feeling the moisture left behind.

The man who'd volunteered first, Herrick, eyed the storm with some concern. "We won't be able to move out in that. We'll have to shelter 'till it passes." He pointed at the largest building in the village, "Grab what you need and head to the hall," he told me, his companions already moving.

I nodded, and the men gathered their tools and hurried over to the building. They joined the others who were making their way inside; I watched as the goatherds pulled their animals into the building, and still others were carrying baskets in. A thought came to mind and I blinked, wondering if the place my key led to could be helpful. Jogging over to the building, I eyed the door, noting a lack of keyhole, then examined the wall next to it. It might be flat enough for a portal. The only way to be sure was to try.

I tapped the wall, willing a portal to appear. Between one moment and the next, the wood split and folded inward to form a square opening into a neutrally lit cubic room five meters to a side. In one corner was a small pile of wooden crates and a couple of barrels. Beyond that, it was empty, but it looked more than spacious enough to shelter everyone.

There was a commotion behind me as people noticed the opening, and I turned to see fearful expressions. Why were they looking at me like that? I was trying to help, not cause more problems! Couldn't they see that?

"Everybody!" I called, "This is a doorway to a safe space where the cold won't touch you! The wights won't be able to break in, swear on my life!"

"What are you?!" The woman I'd stopped earlier shouted at me, eyebrows drawn and face grim. Her shout was joined by more, a torrent of accusations and questions. It was overwhelming, and I could only pick out the occasional word. Sorcery was one of the common ones, as was witch, and more besides. I blinked at them, trying to figure out what to say. Movement among the trees drew my eye. Were those people stumbling through the underbrush? There were dozens of them, more, maybe. I couldn't get a firm count, there was too much noise to think properly.

Squinting, I caught glimpses of cold blue eyes among those figures. Cold fear crawled down my spine and took up residence in my gut; I pointed at them and shouted, "Wights! In the trees! They're coming!"

The temperature was dropping quickly, far too quickly to be anything natural. The people were still shouting things at me; some quieted as Ygdis stepped forward from the crowd, staring at me with an unreadable expression, sapphire eyes flicking over me. She walked up to the portal, looked inside, looked at the edges, and then gave me an odd look that was half curiosity and half fear before walking through. She stomped around in the room for a moment, walked up to a wall, poked it, and then slapped it, seeming satisfied with whatever she got from that. She turned back to the portal and called out, "It's safe enough! Get in here!"

That broke the tension, and people shoved past me, crowding into the space. Some went back into the hall, bringing more people out with them, the children, and the animals. Within a minute, most people were standing in the room, looking through the portal with trepidation as the final few filed through.

By now, the air was cold enough that I could see the humidity precipitate, tiny beads of ice forming and falling onto the snow. I'd never seen that before, either. I was experiencing all sorts of new things today; the thought felt out of place, but I left it be. I took a brief moment to check the portal's light again, feeling strange as I found I couldn't close it fully if I was in there with them. I'd have to stay out here. With the wights, and maybe worse. By myself.

The wights charged out of the tree line, leaving me no more time to think. Some looked like ancient, desiccated corpses, others seemed as fresh as the day they'd died, but each sprinted at a ridiculous pace. The girl I'd cut down had been an anomaly; these were not the slow, tottering foes I had thought they were. Beyond them, I saw five tall figures, slender and seeming made of cold blue ice. I could feel them looking at me and stark terror stole my breath for a moment.

Turning back to the people inside, I told them in a rush, "I'm going to close the door for a few minutes. You'll be safe! I promise!"

Taegj stepped forward, angrily opening his mouth. "Wai-"

The portal snapped closed, leaving no trace it had ever existed.

Now it was just me. I certainly wasn't going to play the hero and try to fight all of them. I didn't know what to do, though, my feet felt rooted to the earth. I knew that room was completely safe, and if I collected those tools, I could build another door anywhere. I just had to make sure I was alive to do that. The thought brought a clarity of purpose that I embraced wholeheartedly. The problem was getting away from the wights, and who knew how fast those icy shadows behind them could move? Those five were striding through the snow as though it wasn't even there, and the air repeatedly twanged with the sound of snapping ice.

Whatever instinct had possessed me to put a bunch of people in a pocket reality was looking at the situation and shrugging its shoulders.

These wights weren't like the slow zombies of fiction. They were fast and still looked to possess some intelligence, and I could count at least fifty of them. That was too many to fight. Only one foggy prospect for survival came to mind. I didn't need to breathe, didn't need to worry about hypothermia, and there was a wide river right there.

A quiet knocking came from above me. Looking up, I saw a raven there; it stood on a low branch, eyeing me in just the same way as the one at Han's Ford had.

"Run!" It vocalized at me, hopping back and forth along the branch. "Run! Run!"

I took off running, the sound of cracking ice like cruel, mocking laughter behind me. It made me angry; I've suffered enough laughter from others and wasn't about to let the Others get to me. I ran to the edge of the water, hesitated for a moment, then waded in. It was cold, beyond freezing, but it didn't faze me. Once I was deep enough, I dove into the rushing waters and swam down to cling to the riverbed, the weight of my clothes helping weigh me down as I pulled myself deeper into the water. I kept my eyes closed; the water was far too murky to see properly.

It was dark, I was alone, and terror was all that kept me moving.