Chapter 1 #2
After checking the fence, Cerise stored the fresh cut wood in their woodshed, then knelt at the stream that cut through their haven.
She wouldn’t pretend to know how Zyrdriel’s magic worked—she never cared for the Celestials or their blessings—but somehow the protective barrier Eirwen erected in his name served as a greenhouse, keeping their property several degrees warmer than the surrounding forest.
The stream wasn’t entirely frozen through and Cerise punched the thin, icy layer.
It crackled under her fist, revealing a slow trickle of cold, fresh water.
The amount they had remained low, since it was dependent on the flow of water outside their home through the Merathel Mountain Range.
But it was a gift not having to cut large chunks of ice and melt it slowly over a fire every time they wanted a drink.
Cerise cupped an ungloved fist in the frigid creek, the chill soothing the strain caused by hours of clutching her woodcutting axes, of holding her staff with one hand and bracing the pack on her back with the other.
Cracked lips and dry throat moistened, Cerise stretched to her full, tall and muscular height, knee crackling like Azkanix’s fallen bones splintering in the distance.
Smoke billowed from the chimney in delicate, gray puffs.
Only a few more minutes and she’d be nestled beside the fire, Eirwen pulling the cold from her aching body while she held a warm bowl of dinner in her hand.
Maybe Eirwen made a bone broth from the remnants of venison hunted and carved last week.
Cerise could almost feel the warm liquid sliding down her throat into her belly, heating her from the inside out.
She kicked snow from her boots on the edge of the cabin before entering, a flush of heat sweeping over her cheeks from the fire as she stepped inside.
The fire flickered dimmer than usual. The slats of wood used to burn bright yellow and red with flames.
Now, the walls shimmered a muted orange, no pops of bursting wood to be heard.
Perhaps Eirwen was saving the wood they had.
Cerise leaned Beloved against the wood and hung the woodcutting axes from hooks on the wall. One of the hooks shifted and she grunted low in her throat. She’d have to fix that. Tomorrow, maybe.
“Eirwen, I’m home,” she called, flipping back the thick, furred hood of her coat and running a hand through her deep red hair, sweeping back the long strands that hung over one side.
Turning to the main living space of the cabin, she froze.
A large, round, lumbering creature lay in front of the fire. Eirwen hadn’t been saving the wood. Something was blocking the light.
It breathed, a deep, gravelly sound rumbling through its massive shape, bristly fur ringing the silhouette in orange firelight.
A bear.
There was a fucking bear in her house.
And Eirwen hadn’t responded. Maybe the beast had eaten her.
It could be cursed and brought the blight into her home.
Cerise, keeping her focus on the creature, reached her hand backward to grasp Beloved, wondering how the bear hadn’t woken up when she arrived and shouted for her sister.
Hand finding Beloved, she held it dagger out as she stalked toward the bear.
Before she spilled the animal’s blood, she needed to know if it carried the curse.
If so, she’d try to lure it outside beyond the boundaries of Zyrdriel’s blessing, where it was less likely to spread into their home and infect her life.
Her old instincts flared, focusing on the bear that rested in her home as if it was its own.
A hot, searing rage gripped Cerise’s chest, fingers clenching tighter on Beloved’s shaft.
There’d been little peace in her life, and once she finally had it, as strained as it was, this beast dared threaten it.
With the gleaming metal tip pointed at the bear’s throat, she peered over the side to look at its slumbering face. No bile-like green crust rimmed its eyes, no black liquid foamed from its mouth.
Good. She could kill it here and now. She’d skin the damned thing, wear its thick, glistening golden-brown hide.
Perhaps craft a new lining for her boots.
Eirwen could sew new gloves. A wrap for her shoulders.
It was meatier than most creatures they found in the forests these days, and they could eat the meat for weeks. Boil its bones for hearty soups.
Licking her lips, Cerise lifted Beloved, aiming to slice through the neck.
Good thing she sharpened it every day. It might take a few hacks to get through the flesh and bone, but Beloved could handle it.
She held the weapon high, the fire’s flame flickering on the metal and the slumbering bear’s thick fur that she couldn’t wait to crawl inside.
“Wait!” Eirwen shouted as she ran from her bedroom.
But her shouts were nothing to Cerise’s hunger, to the fighter’s focus drilled in her since they made that foolish decision to join Zyrdriel’s Order and the templars honed her berserker instincts.
Cold blasted Cerise’s arm right before she swung Beloved downward, the frost shocking her swing mid-thrust.
The bear’s eyes shot open, a startling, unnatural yet somehow familiar pale pink.
They widened at the blade above its neck, and as it rolled to its stomach, Cerise’s heart pounded in her ears.
If it got to its feet, to its senses, it would maul and maim them.
It’d eat their corpses, and whatever it couldn’t stomach would remain to rot into the floorboards.
No one would ever find them. No one would ever know.
They’d be forever lost to this cursed wood.
Cerise thrust the blade at the end of Beloved out, aiming to drive the spike through those horrid, pink eyes.
Ice so cold it burned shuddered through Cerise’s arm, freezing her movement once more and evaporating the red in her vision.
Eirwen planted herself in front of the bear, arms spread out and fingers tipped with frost, ready to cripple Cerise again.
“I said wait, Cerise. It won’t hurt us.”
Cerise stared at her sister, Eirwen’s thin and pale form blocking the bear from Beloved’s point. She could be a bit airheaded sometimes, and yes, she was a little too tender to animals, but even this was a stretch. “That’s a bear, Eirwen.”
“I know what it is. I let it in.”
“You…what?”
“I let it in. It’s hurt.”
“Has Nydaemiel addled your mind? That’s even more reason to not let it in.”
“Please, Cerise, wait. Listen to me.” Eirwen straightened, stepping to the side of the bear, the snow at her fingertips dripping to the floor as it melted. She ran a hand over the bear’s pelt, from its head down its hunched shoulders, and she crouched to pick up a paw.
The bear simply sat there. It didn’t attack. Growl. Bare its teeth.
When it met Cerise’s gaze, it whined, a high-pitched, pathetic sound, and it lowered its head further, at once slouching and submitting. Cerise’s nose and lip curled. This creature, despite how it had somehow survived four years in this wintry nightmare, seemed afraid of Cerise.
“See, look,” Eirwen said, spreading out the bear’s toes. “It doesn’t have claws.”
Cerise glanced at the bear’s paw which was as big as her face. Where there should have been sharp claws that could shear her flesh clean off, there were only sad, flat stubs.
“Great, no claws. Just teeth as long as our fingers and hundreds of pounds that could crush us to death.”
“You wouldn’t bite us, would you?” Eirwen asked.
The bear folded to the ground and placed its clawless front paws over its snout, as if agreeing with Eirwen.
“See, I’m telling you, Cerise, it’s smart. This isn’t just any bear. What if it’s one of the Celestials come to help us?”
The bear stared at her with uncanny pink eyes, its gaze too intent, too focused. Unease dripped through her. Whatever it was, she wanted to stab it with Beloved more than ever.
“It could be Merathel,” Eirwen added. “Legends say he’d take the form of a bear when visiting from his mountain throne.”
“What purpose would he have for visiting now, after all this time?”
“An offering of hope?”
Cerise scoffed. “The Celestials don’t care for our survival. Why would they bother providing us with such a meager thing as hope?”
“It is not for us to question Celestial Will.”