Chapter 6: A Cloudless Trek
Asher's eyes fluttered open, and this time, there was no panic, no terror. His body felt lighter, more rested, the dull ache now a faint hum in the background of morning clarity.
He stretched under the blankets, enjoying the warmth from the crackling fire. The pain was gone, replaced by an unfamiliar vitality.
A rhythmic thump from outside caught his attention, drawing him towards the front window. Each impact, heavy and deliberate, was followed by a brief pause before another powerful strike.
Curiosity piqued, Asher pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He moved carefully through the cabin, avoiding the clutter of weapons, traps, and hunting gear. The space felt like a battlefield, with sharp edges and snares scattered across the floor.
He clung to the walls as he moved, careful not to disturb the tangled ropes or the set of daggers on the table. Every step was calculated, his hand brushing against the rough wood for balance.
Reaching the window, he peered outside and saw Samantha Grubs, her weathered hands gripping an axe. With each swing, she split logs with a sharp, decisive thud. Her movements were strong, fluid—surprisingly spry for her age.
Asher stared, amazed. "How does she do that?" he murmured. "She's… spryer than I feel."
His gaze lingered on her a moment longer before a thought struck him.
That strength reminds me of that stick from the cave.
Did I end up dropping it when caught in that trap?
His eyes were drawn to the foot of the bed, where the stick lay waiting, perfectly placed.
"Ah, my beloved," he muttered, a mix of joy and longing in his voice. "How I've missed you."
Just then, the door by the window creaked open, and Asher jolted in surprise. In his fluster, he nudged a rope, setting off a loud clink as a bear trap snapped shut in the middle of the room.
His heart raced as he froze, realising his mistake.
"Oh…"
Samantha, unfazed, raised an eyebrow. "Nice reaction time," she quipped. "Now, go grab a set of clothes by the fire. We're heading into Krymsk. And do yourself a favor—get out of that mismatched disaster you've been wearing for two days."
Feeling a mildly annoyed stare, Asher scrambled toward the fireplace, narrowly avoiding more traps. He snatched the clothes from where they hung, his movements awkward and clumsy. Samantha watched him, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"You'd better hurry, I've got things to do and better places to be. Don't make me regret saving you back there." she said, closing the door.
After changing into the clothes by the fire, Asher glanced into the small, cracked mirror on the mantle, momentarily impressed with how dapper he looked—at least, compared to his previous mismatched outfit.
Not forgetting the amazing stick, he used it as leverage to navigate around the traps scattered across the floor.
Finally making it past the maze of hazards, he glanced back at the large pile of discarded clothing near the door, mildly disgusted by the sight. He had no intention of staying in this mess much longer.
Stepping outside, he squinted against the daylight, and his eyes immediately fell on Samantha.
She was kneeling beside a massive, pitch-black dog, petting its thick, absurdly fluffy fur with a contented expression. The dog's fur was so voluminous that it was hard to make out its features—its eyes were completely covered, and it was slobbering incessantly, leaving a trail of drool across its owner's hand.
The dog resembled a Newfoundland, but its fur was so thick and exaggerated that it looked less like a dog and more like a massive, furry puffball. Asher blinked in surprise.
"Is that a dog, or a living storm cloud?" he asked, eyeing the creature.
"He's Nimbus, and he's your senior," Samantha replied, grinning.
"My senior?"
Samantha chuckled as she scratched Nimbus behind the ears. The dog rolled onto his back, exposing his belly in a display of both affection and laziness. His fur fluffed out even more, making him resemble a cloud drifting in the breeze.
"Yeah, senior," she said with a smirk, glancing up at Asher. "Nimbus is about ten years old. He's seen more than his fair share of hunts, and don't let that fluffy exterior fool you—he's as tough as they come. More than a few wolves have met an unfortunate end because of him."
She gave him a knowing look. "He's already one-upped you on surviving wildlife. Plus, there's some surprising wisdom in that furry head of his. You, on the other hand…"
Asher sighed, raising a dismissive gesture. "I get it already. Let's just get going."
Asher's sigh was barely out before Nimbus gave a loud, drawn-out whine, looking up at Samantha with what could almost be described as a reproachful gaze.
The dog's thick, drooping fur barely shifted, but his eyes—well, despite being hidden behind the mass of fluff—seemed to follow Samantha with a deeper intensity than Asher expected from any animal. It was as though Nimbus was silently pleading with her to stay, his gaze sharp, almost human-like, beneath the layers of fur.
Samantha gave a small chuckle, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all mopey on me, old guy. We'll be back soon enough."
With one last pet on his thick head, she stood up, brushing off her knees, and motioned for Asher to follow. Nimbus let out one final soft whine before rolling back onto his belly, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be accompanying them.
(three asterisks)
The journey to Krymsk was a brisk one. The air was crisp and cold, the kind that nipped at the skin but didn't quite bite, characteristic of the lingering chill before the thaw of spring.
Asher adjusted to his formal shoes with each step, careful not to trip on uneven ground, while Samantha moved ahead with ease, her boots crunching lightly over the glistening snow.
The landscape around them was dominated by the dense, towering conifers of the northern wilderness. Tall pine trees stretched toward the sky, their branches heavy with the remnants of melting snow, leaving pockets of slush around their bases.
The occasional low-hanging branch scraped against Asher's shoulder as he kept pace with Samantha, his attention split between the path ahead and the wilderness that surrounded them.
The light filtering through the trees was soft, casting long shadows on the ground. Despite the frozen ground, there was a palpable sense of life waiting just beneath the surface—tiny buds on the trees, the smell of wet earth, the occasional scurry of unseen creatures.
As they walked, Asher noticed how effortlessly Samantha moved through the terrain, navigating the uneven path like she'd done it a thousand times before.
He, on the other hand, was still adjusting to the feeling of his formal shoes, the stiff soles making each step feel awkward. His grip on the strength-enhancing stick was firm, the only reason he could keep up with the irregularly fit granny.
"This is the easy part," Samantha said with a sideways glance. "You get used to walking in this kind of cold. And trust me, you'll learn to appreciate the warmth more once we're in town."
Asher nodded but didn't respond, focused on not falling above all else.
As they walked the last few paces toward the town's edge, the outlines of the buildings became clearer. They were tall, well made structures, built to withstand the harsh northern winters, with few windows yet large doorways—practical, not comfortable nor pretty.
It wasn't the kind of place that prided itself on aesthetics, but it exuded a quiet strength, much like Samantha.
By the time they reached the outskirts, Asher's legs were starting to ache. The unfamiliar shoes weren't making it easy to push forward, but he tried not to show it.
He glanced at Samantha, who seemed unaffected by the long trek, her breath visible in the cold air.
Asher tightened his grip on the stick, using it again to push through the discomfort in his legs. He wasn't sure how he could've made it this far without its assistance.
"Almost there," Samantha said, her voice softer now as the town loomed closer.
The sun hung high in the sky, its rays bright and unfiltered, casting long, sharp shadows over the snow.
The sky above was an uninterrupted expanse of pure blue, not a cloud in sight, creating a crisp, almost surreal stillness in the air.
It was the peak of the day—when the sun held its highest position, offering warmth but not yet enough to melt the stubborn frost clinging to the ground.
Asher squinted against the sunlight, feeling the full weight of the cold and the effort it had taken to get this far.
While the sky stretched above them, a vast, unblemished expanse, the town ahead grew closer, its promise of warmth drawing him ever closer.