A Story of Blood and Thorns

Chapter 3

The snow crunches under our feet as we head deeper into the woods. Sharp blades and wires begin to protrude from the ground the farther away from the cabin we get, entering the area of Isadora's defenses. Black blood dries on nearly all the blades, and drops of it sprinkle the surrounding trees. Buried under the snow are limbs, frozen stiff from the harsh cold. I step carefully around them.

The last thing I need is to accidentally stomp on a head.

Isadora walks ahead, forging a path for us to follow. Wildlife scoots out of our way as we pass, diving into burrows or running up trees. The sun shines high above us. It shines down on the snow, making the small water crystals gleam like millions of diamonds.

"Where are we going, exactly?" I call out to Isadora. She pauses to toss a branch to the side, the sticks clawing at the empty air.

"Ferncombe," she says. "It's a small village near the capital. We'll camp there for a few days while I trade, then head to the capital. But there's a small encampment about halfway to the village where we'll rest."

"So first an encampment, then a village, then the capital?" I scramble to keep up with her as she keeps moving. "What comes after?" Clouds of frozen air billow out of my mouth as I talk. "And how long do we stay in the capital? We should explore for a bit."

Isadora doesn't say anything for a minute as she pushes ahead. My legs burn as I speed up. I skirt around another blade emerging from the ground, then pause to catch my breath.

"We'll stay in the capital for a month," Isadora says. I hadn't noticed her backtrack to where I sit. "You can explore while I trade."

I nod, sucking down the cold air. My lungs fill the max, but shriek as the air forces its way down. "Right."

Isadora studies me, her fingers twitching toward her pack. "We can rest if you need to."

"No, no." I wave her off. The other last thing I need is to slow her down and look like an idiot. "I'm okay. Let's keep going."

By the time the sun begins to set, we've made it to the first hut where Isadora settles for the night. We're a couple of hours behind schedule, but at least we got here before night fell.

The hut itself is made of sticks and leaves bunched together to form a circle at the bottom and a sharp point at the top. It's a couple of inches taller than me, though snow adds an extra layer. As I watch, Isadora takes apart the sticks and bends the tops, making the cone into a square. She forces the bases to line up with the top and unlatches a small door.

"After you," she says.

I set down my pack outside, and Isadora grabs it. As she dumps our packs in a small pile, I climb inside.

It's surprisingly cozy. The dying sun infiltrated the hut through the small gaps between sticks, casting a fiery glow around me. I can easily stand up, and extend my arms out. The tips of my fingers brush the sides of the hut.

I settle on the matted leaves on the ground as Isadora slides in. She rolls out a blanket across the leaves, large enough for both of us to lay on. Next to me, she places a lantern already flickering with a candle.

"How did you get all this stuff?" I ask her. She tosses a bundle of fabric at me. It's a pillow. Stitched together from different fabrics, just like the cover of the bed at the cabin. There's no possible way she fit all this into her packs.

"I store it in a tree trunk," she says. She closes the door and lays back, staring at the ceiling. "So that the animals and the Forsaken won't find it."

"What about other hunters?"

She turns to look at me. Her braid has come undone, and wisps of dark hair float over her face. I have an overwhelming desire to brush them behind her ear.