Page 42 of Red

Twenty-Three

Arie was certain that winter was never going to end. Two lunar cycles completed while they observed the Withering Days, and she was certain that she was about to go out of mind if she didn’t get out of the cave soon. Not that some aspects weren’t fun. Frequent bouts of making love had rated high on her list of ways to pass the winter.

She just needed to get out of the cave, even if only for a little while.

Perhaps she would have felt differently if they’d been in her triad’s den rather than the cave. She had never felt desperation to get outside when she spent the winters in her cozy cottage with her mother. It must have been symptomatic of living in the tiny, dark cave specifically. She’d been doing all kinds of busy work to keep herself entertained, but it was increasingly hard to focus on anything.

She was restless.

She paced the length of the cave in front of the door in an attempt to work off the excess energy. On her fifth pass before the entrance, as she watched the wind scatter some granules of snow, an idea occurred to her. She would ask Rager if they could walk through the woods. He would never let her go far from the safety of the cave, but surely a short walk wouldn’t hurt anything. The guys had taken her for walks at different times over the course of the winter, so she couldn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t agree. She turned around to say something to him but halted and smiled fondly at the sight in front of her.

Rager was sound asleep on the pile of furs at the back of the cave, his huge chest rising and falling with the even gusts of his breath. She hated to wake him. She didn’t think he ever got enough sleep. The one and only time she’d fussed at him over it he firmly replied that it was his duty to protect his family and he would be able to rest once they returned to their den. His tone had forbidden further discussion on the matter. Still, if he was taking the opportunity to sleep, she needed to let him.

There really wasn’t a need to wake him up just to slip outside for a moment for a bit of fresh air. She didn’t intend to go far—certainly no farther than their usual routes near the den—and the wind still had a cutting chill that discouraged more lengthy walks. Due to her familiarity of the immediately area, she wasn’t afraid to venture away from the den when she’d already done so multiple times to gather firewood and new growth of spring herbs cutting through the snow under the watchful eye of one of her mates standing guard at a distance. In reality even that had not been needed since there had been no sign of danger for many weeks now—not since Warol’s confrontation with the rogue Ragoru. Rogues, from her understanding, were rare, and she was as unlikely to cross paths with one as she was to meet one of the numerous predators that seemed to avoid Ragoru territories.

Even more importantly, there hadn’t been a single sign of a huntsman in the woods since they arrived. The one on their trail had disappeared since they entered the Northern Forest just before the winter storms moved in. There was no reason to suspect that there would be any remaining danger from the corner. If the huntsman had escaped the storms, there was little doubt that he would have long since abandoned his hunt after so much time.

Without the threat of dangers making themselves known withing the immediate area, Arie felt confident to take a brief stroll and possibly replace more of her supplies while she was at it. Fifteen, twenty minutes at most, and she would be back and warming herself once more at Rager’s side while the male caught up on his much-needed rest.

She carefully slipped a leather belt over her shoulder and sheathed her bone knife in it. She’d been caught in the bramble a few times while walking with Warol and had to patiently wait while he cut her free. She didn’t want to be stuck in a similar position without one of her males nearby to help her. Because it was still chilly, despite the melting snow, she covered herself with several of her warmest furs as well as a fur-lined hooded cape and her mittens. Only then did she slip out of the entrance.

The first blast of cool air on her face was invigorating. It was clean the way that only winter air could be, and it held a lingering edge of moisture from the snow, or as if it were perhaps going to rain. Arie took a deep breath, savoring it as she stood in front of the cave and took in her surroundings as a small flock of vividly red songbirds burst from the trees just overhead. Arie watched them stream across the sky, a smile lighting her face and as they reminded her of just why she needed the excursion. She hummed as she passed under them and through the trees, vaguely following in the direction of the cardinals as they drifted from tree to tree. It was hard walking as the snow was largely undisturbed except where her mate’s trail had broken through. Their strides were far lengthier than those of her own legs, but Arie took to the exercise cheerfully as she followed it, and a profound sense of pleasure stole over her.

Everything from buds on the trees to the blades of plants beginning to poke through the snow made her ridiculously happy. As much as she’d enjoyed the closeness of denning with her mates through the winter, the promise of spring was a happy thing. It not only promised relief from the bitter cold of winter but of new things that awaited them once it became warm enough for them to travel—something her triad had begun to speak more of recently. The signs of animal activity were certainly encouraging as the forest came alive with birds and small animals darting among the trees.

A movement caught her eye and Arie spotted a brown rabbit with blotches of white fur sitting on a mound of snow, its long velvety ears shifting as it looked for food. She spent several moments entertained, watching the little creature before it became wary of her presence and disappeared into the skeletal limbs of a nearby bush.

“It’s for the best,” she called out to the rabbit, “and a good idea to make yourself scarce. You never know when one of my mates will catch the wind and decide you will make a good meal.”

Laughing to herself, she moved on until she eventually came to a narrow clearing. She paused and looked around in confusion. She didn’t recognize this place. Had she lost track of her surroundings while watching the rabbit? A glimmer of color caught her attention and made her pause. Poking through the snow, tiny blue flowers were sprinkled along the clearing in merry clumps.

Snowdrops!

She had run out of her supply of snowdrops earlier in the summer. They were useful to have on hand for a few different medical issues, but she never gathered enough in spring to last her even half the year.

Pulling off one glove with her teeth, she turned it upside down and filled it with the flowers. She’d never seen so many in one place before. Near the village, few could be found other than a handful of small clusters. She expertly pinched off one flower after another and set them into her glove, careful not to bruise or crush the bloom. One glove filled and then the other.

Once they were full, she set them down on the snow in front of her and pulled the leather ties off the ends of the braids that framed her face. One at a time, she used a cord to tie the end of the glove closed.

Now to find her way home. She put her hands on her hips. There was nothing to do for it but try to backtrack. She must have gotten turned around. She was about to head back to the forest’s edge when a tinkling sound of metal and leather made her jerk her head around in surprise.

Pulling into view just ahead, a ramshackle merchant’s wagon made its way toward her. An elderly nag was hitched to it, and the man driving it seemed almost as grizzled. She paused, puzzled. Merchants often traveled with their families. She couldn’t recall ever seeing a lone merchant in her village, though she supposed that, like any vocation, it could have its share of solitary peddlers. That didn’t mean she was foolish enough to automatically trust the stranger, even if, at a distance, he appeared quite harmless.

Since she was too far in the open to disappear unnoticed into the trees, she opted to crouch lower in the snowbank and watch. She clung to a thread of hope that her furs would help her blend into her surroundings and the cart would pass by without anyone seeing her. That hope was crushed when the stranger half-stood on his footrest and pulled back on the leather reins.

“Whoa, Maggy,” he called in a smoke-roughened voice, and he squinted in the direction where Arie was crouched. A baffled expression crossed his face as he continued to scan the clearing before returning his narrow gaze to her. “Either my imagination is playing tricks on me or there is someone there in the snow. Come on out now. Show yourself!” He reached down and rested a hand on the butt of his rifle.

The man was clearly on edge, and Arie had no doubt that if she didn’t show herself, he would resort to firing at anything he perceived as a potential threat. Biting her lip nervously, she stood with her hands turned upward to show that they were empty.

“I am unarmed,” she announced calmly as she forced herself to step closer to the wagon.

The man’s brow wrinkled, and she noticed he wasn’t quite as old as she’d originally assumed. His clothing had seen better days, and he had several days of scruff on his face peppered with gray, but his hair was dark except where gray threaded through it at the temples. She also noticed that, though he was leaning forward over the footrest to look down at her, his body was broad with obvious muscles. She took a step back, struck with unease.

His brow pulled down further into a scowl.

“What is a woman doing out here alone in the woods?”

Did he expect her to answer or was that a rhetorical question?

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