As she entered the village, she noticed that most of the houses were decked out with green boughs around the windows and clusters of red berries on the doors. Of course, it was the holiday season. A mixture of heritages from the original ship and generations of isolation had resulted in a hodgepodge of holiday traditions centered around the winter solstice. Good spirits, evil spirits, and the birth of the new year came together in the weeks leading up to the Longest Night celebration.
The marketplace stalls also sported the holiday decorations, and a sense of suppressed excitement filled the air as people laughed and chatted. Fragrant spices perfumed the air from the hot punch being sold by a dozen vendors. She gave it a longing glance as she passed, but her small reserve of coins was needed for supplies, not frivolity.
Business was brisk after she assumed her usual position in the corner behind the tavern. Perhaps emboldened by the festive season, several of her customers even lingered to chat. But as the afternoon wore on, the conversations ceased. Instead, they cast frequent glances at the heavy clouds looming over the town and hurried about their business.
“Snow’s a-comin’,” old Christoph muttered to her when he stopped by to pick up some cream to help with his rheumatism.
“Looks like it,” she agreed. “Do you have enough firewood to keep you warm if you get snowed in?”
“Aye, don’t you worry about me.” He peered at her through rheumy eyes. “What about you? I worry about you up on that mountain by yourself.”
“I’m fine. I have everything I need up there.”
“You should be living here in town.”
It was a familiar argument and she smiled at him. “You know you’re the only one who thinks that.”
“Nonsense. You got a lot of friends here.”
Even though he’d said it many times before, it always made her heart ache a little. She knew it wasn’t true. The most she could hope for from the villagers was to be tolerated. But this was the path that her family had chosen and there was no point feeling sorry for herself. She forced a smile.
“I like my mountain. Besides, I have a new friend up there.” She pointed at Robin who was perched on the overhanging eave of the tavern. “He’s been keeping me company lately.”
Christoph frowned up at the bird. “Thought they were all gone for the season.”
“He seems to have decided to stick around. And I’ve seen a few others as well. Maybe they don’t migrate as much as we thought, or maybe it’s going to be a mild winter.”
As if in rebuttal to her words, an icy wind swirled around them.
“Doesn’t feel that mild to me.” Christoph shook his head. “But if you insist on staying by yourself, you better get going before the storm hits.”
“I will, I promise.” She smiled at him, for once not hiding her true smile, and he very reluctantly smiled back before he hobbled off. Her search of the records had revealed that he was her grandfather, and while she could never tell him, she liked the fact that they had become friends.
Despite her agreement with his warning to be on her way, it took her longer than she had expected to purchase her supplies. It didn’t help that she spent a few extra minutes searching in vain for the two orphaned children she had befriended, and the early winter sunlight was already fading as she headed for the edge of the village.
“Hey, you old witch.”
The rough voice accosting her made her look around and her heart sank. It was Knut and from the way he was staggering towards her, he had spent the afternoon drinking.
“What is it, Knut?” she asked, keeping her voice cool.
“It’s your fault, isn’t it?”
“What’s my fault?”
“The reason that no good wife of mine can’t get pregnant.”
The belligerence in his voice set off warning bells and she took a quick look around. Her pulse raced when she realized that they were alone. The combination of the early darkness and increasing cold had sent people scurrying home. Knut took a step closer, looming over her as the fumes of stale beer assaulted her senses. She shifted her grip on her cane.
“It hasn’t even been a year since she had little Hans,” she said soothingly. “Sometimes it just takes a while.”
“Shouldn’t take this long. It’s your fault,” he repeated stubbornly. “You stay away from her.”
“Just give her time-”
“She’s had time. I want another son.”
“More than you want a healthy wife?” She couldn’t keep the sharp note out of her voice and his heavy brows lowered.
“Ain’t none of your business. She’s my wife and I want her bred.”
A flare of anger overruled her common sense and she stepped closer. “She’s not a farm animal. Let her decide when she’s ready.”
He swore and raised a meaty fist. She lifted her cane to intercept the blow but although she managed to stop it from landing, he moved more quickly than she had expected given his drunken condition and grabbed hold of the cane.
“Don’t you raise your hand to me, woman. About time somebody taught you a lesson.”
He tried to pull the cane away from her and she clung to it desperately, afraid of what he would do if he managed to seize control. Her grip started to slip and he grinned triumphantly. But before he could pull it away completely, there was an outraged squawk and then Robin flew at his face. Knut swore and let go of the cane in his haste to bat him away.
“Don’t hurt him!” she cried as a big hand came dangerously close to the small bird.
Knut paid no attention to her as he tried again to grab Robin. Determined to stop him, she swung the cane, striking him behind the knee and throwing him off balance. His leg gave out and he fell to the ground. He roared again and reached for her but she danced back away from him. Maintaining her disguise was less important than escaping.
Before he could struggle to his feet, she grabbed her discarded basket and took off at a run, Robin flying ahead of her. Two other birds joined them as she dashed out of the village and raced for the tree line. She didn’t hear any sound of pursuit but she didn’t stop running until she was out of breath. As she bent over, gasping, she noticed the new birds circling, almost as if they were checking the path behind her. She cast an anxious look back over her shoulder but the woods were silent and no one appeared on the trail.
As she resumed the trip up the mountains, she realized her hands were shaking. The villagers might treat her with suspicion, but no one had ever physically threatened her before. She had promised her grandmother that she would continue to help them, but what would be the cost?
Chapter Three
Krampasarian roared with frustration. His fingertips tingled as his claws emerged and this time he didn’t feel shame. He only wished that he was in the village so that he could slash them across the neck of the imbecilic primitive male who had attempted to lay his hands on Krampasarian’s female.
His female?
The thought interrupted his rage. When had he developed such a possessive instinct towards her? Yes, he watched her each day but that was only because he was conducting a scientific inquiry into the life forms on this planet. But that excuse rang hollow in his own ears.