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Another dozen paces, and the cottage came into view. Somehow, it seemed farther away than when they had come through not long ago. Still, she picked up her pace, ignoring the numbness creeping up her feet. Smoke billowed from a fire, and fire meant heat and safety. And hopefully someone who would help her and keep the cold from claiming her limbs.
Her shaking was uncontrollable as she tumbled down a hill. One minute, her feet had been underneath her, and the next, she was crashing through the snow. If she hadn’t already been loud enough for the predator to find her, she certainly was now. She winced when she finally landed only a dozen paces from the edge of the cottage. Her arms and legs were ripped up from the roots and rocks under the snow. Blood dotted the snow red. One particular cut on her arm flowed freely enough to leave a trail under her battered body.
“Gods,” she groaned. She gripped her arm to try to stanch the blood and rose unsteadily to her feet.
She was nearly to the cottage, dragging one leg behind her, when she glanced back. Then, she saw it.
A beast.
A wolf three times the size of normal with golden eyes and fangs down to its chin. She cried out in horror. She had never seen such a creature before. And now, it had seen her.
She couldn’t fight it. If she succumbed to this thing, it would be as the defenseless, vulnerable, magicless creature she was currently. Not the person she had been, the person she had always believed herself to be. The strong, fierce, talented magical protector who had fought for the oppressed and stood up to evil in all forms.
It was just her.
Just her against all of that evil in the world.
And she had been found lacking.
Her mother had left her. Her father had left her. Everyone in her life who had ever gotten close had seen that she wasn’t worth the hassle.
This was who she was.
Just a girl. Up against a beast.
Was this surrender?
The beast stalked forward, and Kerrigan didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She was so close to escaping, and she could do nothing. There was no outrunning it.
The beast stopped in front of her, dropping its snout to her arm and scenting the air. Drool slobbered down from its fangs. It dripped onto the snow at her feet. Then, it met her gaze. There was something intelligent behind those golden eyes. A deep knowledge that she could hardly fathom.
She shook violently from the cold. But she had released her fear. This beast could have her if that was what it came down to. She was done fighting. Just done.
A door creaked open behind her, and still, she refused to move. Not when it was within distance of ripping her throat out.
“Ahlvie, that’s enough,” a voice called. “I told you to find her. Not terrify her.”
The beast growled softly in the back of its throat before sitting back on its haunches and regarding her with a disinterested look.
“Kerrigan,” the voice said.
And Kerrigan recognized the voice. Even though it made no sense. None at all.
She slowly turned in place and burst into tears. “Cyrene?”
45
The Restoration
Cyrene looked exactly as she had the day Kerrigan had left her. Her dark hair long to her waist and curled effortlessly. She wore a red dress of sturdy Byern wool that accentuated her slim waist and strong build. The Tendrille forged steel, Shadowbreaker, hung in a sheath at her side. Beauty, brains, and brawn, all rolled into one impeccable package. Her mentor and the person she looked up to more than anyone else in the entire world.
And somehow, she was here.
“Don’t cry,” Cyrene said with a laugh. She stepped through the snow. It melted upon contact with her, leaving her untouched as she came to Kerrigan’s side and bundled Kerrigan into her arms. “No crying.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Cyrene said gently. “Can we get you warm first?”
“Yes,” she croaked. “I can’t feel my feet.”
Cyrene laughed. “We’ll work on that.”
They linked arms, and Cyrene helped her into Vera’s cottage. Kerrigan was instantly warmed by the change in temperature. A fire blazed hot in the fireplace, of which had been empty earlier that day.
“Let me get you a change of clothes and some blankets. I can look at your feet, but I’ve never been much of a healer,” she said with an unconcerned shrug.
Cyrene returned with men’s clothing that was a few sizes too big for either of them. Cyrene helped Kerrigan strip out of her frozen attire to reveal the blue-tint of her skin beneath, then wrapped her up in warm wool pants, a shirt, and a jacket before forcing her to sit before the fire with a heap of blankets atop her. Cyrene even left for the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with warm tea.
