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Chapter 30

When all the feasting and celebration was over, and Rossa was free to venture into the forest again, she still hadn't decided what to give Snow…or Boris…for his Yule gift. He'd given her fish, so food seemed fitting, but she brought provisions from the castle every day. What she should get him was fresh meat.

A deer, like the one she'd shot that first day she saw him, or a brace of those pilfering pigeons that had managed to elude her.

Though she'd love to bring him venison, once she'd remembered the pigeons, her ire rekindled at justice not yet served. Those pigeons needed to die.

Therefore, she resolved to go hunting first, so she might bring her kill to Boris in the afternoon. She checked the roost where she'd first found them, but the birds had not returned, likely frightened away by the beggar boy. So, she ventured deeper into the forest, sending her magic out before her, seeking them out.

After a couple of hours of searching and finding nothing, she began to suspect they'd been preyed upon by some of the mountain eagles and hawks that circled high above, looking for their next meal. Time to head back by a different route, and hope she encountered something that would make a better Yule gift than those pestilential pigeons.

But it seemed her new path was cursed, too, for she had not gone halfway before she began to hear loud cursing, which had clearly driven away the wildlife for miles around. What manner of idiot was out in the woods today? She definitely intended to give them a stern talking-to when she found them. Why, she wasn't even sure what some of those curse words meant…

The swearing seemed to come from the centre of a snow-covered bramble bush which alternated between shaking violently and staying unnaturally still. Someone had evidently become trapped inside the brambles and couldn't get out.

"Hello, do you need some help there?" Rossa asked.

"No!" came the angry response, followed by a few seconds where the bush moved as though caught in a high wind, before the swearing resumed, louder and more vociferous than before.

She longed to leave whoever it was to their fate, but her mother would have waded in with an axe to cut them free, before lecturing them on their use of foul language, and Rossa would do no less.

Sighing, she didn't need an axe, for she used magic to gently part the branches of the bramble bush until she'd formed a path to the centre of the patch so that the bush's captive might walk free.

Of course, it couldn't be that simple. The parted branches revealed a familiar snarling face over the same stained tunic – it was the beggar boy, whose matted hair was now hopelessly entangled in the brambles. Several bloody hanks of hair had already been claimed by the bush as trophies of their battle, and it didn't look like the beggar boy would win, even with her holding the branches back.

She'd have to go in after him.

Rossa drew her dagger and waded into the bush.

The boy didn't even seem to notice her until she started hacking at his hair, freeing him from the bush. He flailed at her, hitting her once more out of luck than any skill, and she saw red.

"Be still, idiot, or I'll leave you here for the carrion birds!" she hissed, then bit down on her lip and spelled him into stillness, rather than risk being hit again for helping this wretch.

Finally, she'd freed his hair from the brambles, though she'd shorn off a considerable amount in the process. She backed out of the bush, then a few yards more, before she released the spell paralysing him in place.

"You horrible, butchering witch! Look what you've done to my hair! Now I look like a fever victim, or a monk! How dare you lay hands on me, and cut my hair! Why, I should have you whipped for assaulting me so!" he howled.

Rossa folded her arms across her chest. "This horrible witch has just about had enough of you. I saved you from those brambles, and in about three heartbeats, I'm going to let go of the branches my magic is holding back, and you'll be trapped again, just like before, but I won't help you again, you ungrateful wretch!"

The boy's mouth dropped open in horror, silent for a long moment, before he spotted something on the ground that had his eyes widening with greed. Whatever it was, he snatched it up, then bolted out of the bushes and away, faster than Rossa cared to follow him.

Not a word of thanks, or an apology for his insults.

Next time, she told herself, she'd leave the boy in the bushes, and to blazes with him.