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“Then I guess I’ll be the first,” I said.

She and one of the armed men glanced at each other, and she shrugged again. They lifted the heavy beam from the doors and I pushed them cautiously open, just enough to slip outside. I gripped my bow tightly in one hand.

The ground in front of the inn was deep red. The entire street was bathed in blood, and the corpses of the blade monsters were strewn about the cobbles, dismembered in various ways, the chaotic aftermath of a macabre party. I stepped out carefully, my boots splashing in coagulating blood and entrails. The stenchwas horrid, but familiar. I had smelled something similar the day I faced the nuckelavee.

I moved slowly, scanning the creatures for any movement, any sign of life. But the road was a still, silent image of the horror of the night. I skirted around most of the gore and quickened my pace toward the stable, to retrieve Anam.

We were trotting down the empty street, heading for Eilith’s, when a dark shadow passed in an alley to our right. I turned in the saddle and raised my bow, arrow nocked and ready.

“Easy, kid, easy. It’s just me.”

Byrgir trotted up on his black Friesian. Her hooves were blood-spattered and sticky up to her fetters, a dark stain of sweat visible around her saddle blanket. I lowered my bow.

“Glad to see you’re alright,” he said. That easy, genuine smile again.

“You too. Where did you go?” I asked. He wore a long cloak now that covered most of his clothing, but I thought I saw blood on his hands. It was difficult to tell amidst the dark tattoos.

“Back to the bonfire to help, then around town.”

“You were fighting the shadowfiends?” I asked.

“Yes, and helping get people back to town and safely indoors,” he said. “I was coming to make sure you made it through the night. I stopped by the inn and they said you’d just left. I also noticed a shadowfiend hanging off the side of the inn with an arrow in it. That your artistry?”

“I might’ve gotten one or two last night,” I said. “What were those things?”

“Some sort of corrupted ghoul, I think,” he said. “I don’t know. Let me ride home with you.”

Maybe I should have pressed him for more answers then, made him explain why he had been fighting, not hiding with the rest of the village. Maybe it would have been polite to tell him to stay, to get some rest. But I didn’t have the energy to argue and,truthfully, I didn’t want to ride through those woods alone. And I hadn’t wanted last night with him to end.

So I gladly accepted his offer. We rode out of town into the green shadowed woods, leaving the stench of death and gore behind us.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Long days became quick months. Between my chores, my training in Sourcery, and my practice with the bow, the rest of Seonaid’s short summer flew by. We harvested the last of the fall crops and winterized the steading. We stuffed the cold storage and cottage full of provisions, and piled hay in the little barn loft. The first frost came early, and the first winter storm made landfall shortly after. We were plunged into the dark reverence of winter once again.

Visitors were few after the events of Litha, and people stopped visiting all together when the snow got deep. Except for Byrgir, who brought a sledge full of firewood early in the winter. We talked and bantered, but he didn’t stay long. The days were short and the nights were cold, and he needed to return to Skeioholm.

Eilith and I celebrated Yule with just the two of us, safe and cozy in the cottage. I loved the stillness of the woods, the quiet peacefulness of a world cloaked in cold white. Where spring and summer were growth, work, and rush, winter was rest, reflection, and integration. There was comfort in the frozen slumber of the earth.

But as the months stretched on, quiet and lonely, I began to grow impatient for spring. I tried to think of excuses to go into town, but I was afraid to ride in the woods in winter’s darkness alone. After Litha, no reason felt worth the risk.

I was milking the goats when I heard the rhythmic thudding of hooves coming down the road. Many sets of hooves, and coming fast. I reached out toward the approaching riders with my awareness and was met instantly with aggression, apprehension, and determination. I dropped the milk pail and ran across the yard toward the house.

“Eilith!” I called.

She was already opening the door as the riders thundered closer, and Rose appeared at her side, growling. Two of her pups, now nearly fully grown and massive, stood alert in front of the cottage, ears up.

Eilith swore under her breath, then called to me, “Get inside, now!”

I ran into the cottage and she pulled the door shut behind me. She began shoving things into a bag: Bread, jars of herbs, a bag of medicines, a needle and treated thread for sewing wounds.

“Pack your things! Quickly! Clothes, money, only what you need.” She tossed me another bag and I fumbled about, shoving a few shirts and pants into it, rolling a blanket around them, and then strapping it tightly together.

“Ride to the village and find Byrgir. And Halja, no matter what you hear, no matter what you see, do not stop. Do not come back for me.” She pulled me to her tightly and kissed my head.

“No, I won’t leave you here!” I said. My hands were shaking.

She grabbed a coin purse and shoved it into my bag.