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Story: Snow Bound

Gytha swallowed. “If you help us go to the palace, I will try to free the bear prince who has been captive for many years. It is unjust that he has been imprisoned for the queen’s pride, and she means to either marry him by force or murder him. Prince Eshkeshken will be a much better ruler than Queen Javethai.”

“I know all that, foolish child. Tell me something interesting that Idon’tknow.” The wind tugged playfully at the golden tendrils that had escaped her hood.

She took a deep breath. “I didn’t know ice goblins existed outside of stories until just this last year, and I think they are quite interesting. I think it will be a grand story to tell my children someday, that I helped the rightful king take his place on the ice goblin throne, and it will be wonderful to say that he is my friend.” She glanced at Eshkeshken as she said this; it felt bold somehow, even though he had already claimed her as a friend. As if she had been any help to him.

His eyes flickered, but he did not contradict her.

When the wind did not answer, she continued carefully, “I also did not know there was such a thing as magic strong enough to turn a human into an animal, so that is interesting to me. But it will be even more interesting to unmagic him, if we can do it, and then to know the bear prince as a man. He was kind to my family and me, and it would be good and honorable to help him in return.”

The silence drew out, and the wind was so calm that Gytha wondered whether it had gone away entirely.

But at last it murmured, “You are very dutiful, human child. Tell me something selfish about your quest. Humans fascinate me; so few of you ever come so far north. I understand the ice goblins already.”

Gytha frowned, considering and discarding answers one after the other. Finally she said, “The bear prince has a kind voice,and I wish to see him with his natural face. I wish to see him seeing me, so that I can know if he thinks I am lovely and kind, as I want to be. I think he is a good man, and I would like to know if he might admire me, as I already admire him.”

The wind chuckled softly. “Thatisan amusing thought. Thank you, human child.”

Then there was silence for several minutes. Eshkeshken swayed and gave a soft, painful cough once, but he remained upright.

“Is the wind gone?” Gytha whispered at last. “Is it not going to help us?”

“I believe it is thinking,” the prince said.

Then, without any warning, the wind was back, swirling merrily around their faces. A long pole dropped into the snow in front of Eshkeshken. “My sisters have given you gifts already, but I will give you a greater one, goblin prince. Stand firm.”

A moment later, Eshkeshken cried out in sudden pain and doubled over with his hand pressed to his heart. He gasped and gritted his teeth, his eyes closed tight against some unknown agony. “Thank you, North Wind,” he managed. “Your generosity will be remembered.” He groaned and tried to straighten but fell to his knees with his face to the ground.

Dakjudr and Gytha reached for him, but the wind said, “Don’t forget the lance,” and Gytha caught it up in one hand as they were whirled into the sky.

The air was colder than ice and as still as death. Gytha’s breath trembled in her lungs, and her face and eyes felt like they were freezing.

She clambered to her feet, disoriented and exhausted nearly beyond thought. By some miracle, she had kept hold ofthe lance through their wild tumbling, and she leaned on it for a moment before she straightened.

Dakjudr lay some distance away on her back, breathing heavily but apparently no worse for wear. The ice goblin woman rose slowly, and the two of them looked for Eshkeshken.

In all directions, the world gleamed softly under the shifting lights of the aurora and the silver starlight. A thin layer of snow lay over ice as hard as stone, and every part of Gytha’s body felt bruised by the landing, though she could not pinpoint any serious injury.

Dakjudr called out in the ice goblin language, but there was no response. Her gray eyebrows drew downward in worry, and she listened carefully. Still there was no sound. They searched for Eshkeshken, calling at intervals.

At last they found him not far away but separated from them by a low ridge of ice. They had landed and stood on a slightly higher plane, while he lay in the shadow below them and out of sight until they finally found the edge in the dim light.

They slid down to him, for he was not moving at all.

Dakjudr fell to her knees beside Eshkeshken. “Your Highness.” She took one of his hands in hers and then felt at his throat for his pulse. “He is alive.” She examined him carefully without moving him. “I see no injury.”

Wanting to help, but not knowing how, Gytha knelt beside the goblin prince. She pulled off one mitten and touched his forehead; both the air and his skin were cold enough to be exquisitely painful. The contrast of her warm hand against his frigid skin made him flinch and blink into a muzzy awareness.

He gripped her wrist with one cold hand and stared at her, his eyes wide and confused. “Gytha,” he said, as if reminding himself who she was.

“Yes.” She nodded. “And Dakjudr. I have the lance from the North Wind, too.”

He grimaced and clutched at his chest with his other hand, letting her go. “Thank you.” He struggled to his feet, not protesting when Gytha and Dakjudr helped him.

When he was more or less upright, Gytha offered him the lance.

He leaned on it and closed his eyes.

Gytha wondered whether he was going to faint. His normally impassive face was strangely pinched. “What are the winds doing to you?” Gytha whispered.