Ice-Bound Promise [Wattys 2023 Shortlister]

4

4

After laying her kinsman to rest, the girl had shown no more interest in him. She had stalked back to the rendering hut and stood, expecting Únik to follow orders like some vassal, or slave. Únik was neither, to anyone. She decided, then and there, that she would pretend to head towards Uriok, but, in secret, take a roundabout route to the hunter, old man Gislarik, instead.

Leading the girl to her home, Únik set about preparing the sled for the journey, feeding the dogs and attaching them to their positions on the reins, Barsa at the forefront. The lead dog and the strongest. During all the preparations, the girl sat upon the sled as though awaiting a carriage ride through a city of adoring minions. Head held high, back straight. Neither spoke a word to each other.

It took almost two hours before Únik changed the direction of her hounds, a subtle turn that Únik hoped the girl, a Northerner, would not notice. Soon, she would be Gislarik's problem. The old man willing to do many things for the promise of coin, he would snap the girl's hand off for the chance to earn money for the inconvenience of taking her to Uriok.

Gislarik was a good man, hard natured, prone to loud, boisterous singing at any opportunity. He largely left Únik alone, after he had taught her how to survive the wastes, so long as she didn't hunt on his patch. That was the only thing that could draw the man to anger. He hunted his area like he owned the place, though Únik doubted even King Vraniik claimed the wastes this far south.

It was only as Únik navigated around a small cluster of snow capped hills, that she saw the sight of smoke rising ahead. She brought the dogs to a halt, staring at the thick, black trail of smoke that reached to the sky, upright, free from the usual winds that ravaged the area. It was too big, too thick for the smoke of a chimney and a welcoming fire. With a crack of her whip above the dogs' heads, she urged them on at a far slower pace.

Gislarik's small hut was a smoking ruin by the time they reached it. Blackened, cracked timbers falling in upon themselves, sending fire faeries dancing into the air. Únik drew the dogs to a stop, leaping from the sled, grabbing her whale hook as she moved. She unhooked Barsa, holding the dog by the collar for a second.

"Seek." Releasing Barsa's collar, she watched him race away, sniffing the ground every so often.

"What is happening?" From the bed of the sled, Hatyara leaned forward, trying to catch a look, but unwilling to leave the furs she sat upon.

"Gislarik's hut. It's been fired." Únik watched as Barsa disappeared behind the smoking ruins of the hut and then, out of sight, began barking. Without turning around, Únik addressed the girl. "Stay here."

Following the trail left by Barsa's heavy paws, Únik turned the corner of the burnt out hut to find a scene of horror. Barsa stood, head lowered, growling at the area. Blood covered the snow, bootprints had flattened the entire area and, there, in the centre of the bloodied snow, she saw the blackened remains of someone. She recognised what remained of the grey, knotted hair. Gislarik. Her old mentor. Only burnt bones remained of his face.

"Oh! Patrons!" Hatyara stood beside Únik, hand held to her mouth in horror, though Únik thought it more a sign of her covering her nose from the smell of burnt flesh. "How horrible! Did you know them?"

"Yes. He was the hunter." Barsa had moved, now, sniffing the ground, moving this way and that, and Únik followed him with her eyes. The dog smelled something else. "I told you to stay."

"The hunter? You were going to hand me over to him, weren't you?" Stepping in front of Únik, Hatyara glared up at her, little ice-blue hands balled into fists. "I ordered you to take me to Uriok! You!"