Chapter Six
The weather turned, burying her darlings’ tracks in new snow. Whipping winds cut through Astrid’s coat, buffeting her again and again. While her Winter Hexe training made her resistant to the cold, until she came into her full power as a hag, she wouldn’t be immune. It could still kill her.
A harsh shiver stole over her body. She tightened a scarf around her nose and mouth, mumbling a spell into the threads. Toasty warmth chased away icy sting, and she nuzzled into the fabric, sighing with temporary relief.
It would stave off frostbite for now. Magic lasted only as long as the strength to cast it, and it was late, and she was tired. Trudging through thick snowdrifts, she crawled along, making forward progress at a snail’s pace. Her lungs and legs burned from the effort.
Tracking magic wasn’t doing much good either. The spell Astrid knew relied on a visual component—a disadvantage when she struggled to see two meters in front of her, let alone the muddled collection of latent heat signatures on the ground. As the blizzard raged around her, it was getting harder to parse out whether the fading heat signatures belonged to her goats or other forest critters.
The crushing weight of futility bore down hard.
But she couldn’t give up on her darlings. She had to keep pushing forward.
Fritz and Liesel were out here all alone. Scared and cold. Mutter Holle, she hoped they were at least sticking together.
A faint tinny sound snagged her attention. Both her goats wore bells on their collars, and it was her only hope of finding them on this vast frozen mountain. She paused, straining to hear.
Hope flared, then died. If she had heard bells, she couldn’t anymore. All sound was swallowed by the howling, swirling wind.
Something shifted in the corner of her eye.
She whirled around too fast, nearly tripping over her own snowshoes.
A dark shape coalesced amid the sweeping snow. Visible one moment, blurry the next, except for a pair of piercing red eyes. Those she saw perfectly well.
That chilling, unblinking stare began at thigh level but rose above her as Altes Geweih stood from all fours to two, a seamless movement that was menacing in its grace.
Primal dread speared through her, making her whole body shudder.
Long, agonizing seconds ticked by. Astrid held perfectly still, not even daring to blink. He moved too swiftly, too silently. One blink and it was all over.
Slinking back onto all fours, Altes Geweih prowled toward her, eating up precious distance. For a creature as large as him, he moved with effortless fluidity, black ink spilling onto snow. He had thousands of years to perfect the art of the hunt. And it showed.
She took a shaky step backward, a scream lodged in her throat.
He matched her step for step.
Back, back, back, until she collided with a tree trunk. She sucked in a ragged breath, heart threatening to beat straight out of her chest. What a foolish hope to think the hikers might distract him long enough for her to locate Fritz and Liesel.
“Looking for me, witchling?” He rose to eye level, bracing a clawed hand above her head. Trapping her in. “So soon?”
Every dripping syllable of his cavernous growl spooled around her body. A dark decadence that made her belly flutter and clench despite its harshness. It soothed. It challenged. Linger, it said. If you dare.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Astrid lifted her chin. Tempting fate. It exposed her throat to the mouthful of sharp teeth hovering just centimeters away, and yet, she lingered. She dared.
His gaze bored into her with a smoldering watchfulness that teetered on smug. Such a vibrant shade of red, those eyes. The perfect contrast to the bleached-white bone of his face. His body blocked out most of the raging wind and radiated a heat that created an unexpected reprieve from the elements. What was just minutes ago a cage was now a welcome shelter.
Fear melted into something softer. Something...complicated. The last time she was backed up against a tree like this, a very particular set of events followed. Hoisted. Pinned. Fucked.
Claws clacked against bark as he drummed them lazily above her head. Waiting for her answer.
Astrid finally found her voice. It had a teasing quality she hadn’t intended. “Did you want to be found?”
A deep rumble emanated from the back of his throat. “By you, I might.”
Warmth pooled in her belly. This was so, so bad for self-preservation. If he demanded her soul in the next breath, she would be hard-pressed to deny him.
“Little witch, little witch,” he drawled. Sweet Mutter Holle, he needed to stop speaking to her like that. “Did you want something?”
She lifted a hand. Did she...
She came out here for a reason. Risked her life for a dear cause.
Fritz. Liesel.
Schei?e. What was she doing?
She inhaled deeply. Focus . “My goats. They’re lost.” Her hand fell to her side.
“I see.” He eased back, his sigh a harsh rasp. Was he disappointed? “I’ll fetch them.”
The offer dumbfounded her. Shocked her into silence.
“Go home, witch. Warm yourself and sleep. They’ll be there tomorrow when you wake.”
“But they’re my responsibility...”
“And you’re chilled to the bone.” Though he didn’t stand as close as before, he still bracketed her. It hit her then with the sudden realization that he was sheltering her. “These conditions won’t let up until morning, and you’re no good to them dead.”
Astrid smarted at the jab to her vulnerability, but it was swiftly eclipsed by the thoughtfulness and practicality of the offer. If anyone could find her goats, and quickly, it was him. “You promise you’ll bring them home?”
“I promise.”
She ducked under his arm and into a glacial gust, immediately missing the pocket of warmth he created. “You’re not going to eat them?”
“No. And nothing will tempt me to.”
“Fine, fine.” She waved a hand, backing away. But she only made it a few steps before raising a finger. “If you’re lying to me...”
Amusement glittered in his eyes as he pushed off the tree. “You’ll what?”
“Frostbite.” She laced her words with ice, letting her gaze drop. “Somewhere mean.”
He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want that.”
“Good.” A few more steps. “How do I know I can trust you?”
The beast tipped his antlered head toward the sky as if searching it for patience. “Witch, if you don’t go, I’ll drag you back there myself.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” She slapped a mitten over her mouth. Why, oh, why did she say that?
Hunger flashed in his eyes. And he dropped to all fours.
They were back to this. Her backing away and him prowling forward.
Her heel slammed into something hard, and she tumbled backward. Snow made a soft fall, but she never hit the ground. Clawed hands enveloped her, one cradling her waist, the other splayed across her back.
“Careful, little witch,” he growled into her ear. “Or I may want a taste.”
Before she could say a word in response, he set her on her feet and disappeared once more into the night.