Ice-Bound Promise [Wattys 2023 Shortlister]

14

14

Once they had passed far enough from the village of Icktharid, Hatyara threw aside the sheet, a scowl on her face, as she always seemed to have. The cart wended along the lazy road as it twisted and turned around copses of trees, hills and dips in the terrain. Arthid kept an almost constant chatter along the way and Únik began to relax.

This part of the world bordered upon the icy cold of the wastes and Hagragng, and with the more vibrant, life-filled lands of Uriok. Trees were far more plentiful. Birds wheeled and sang in the skies above them and animals of all kinds appeared and disappeared as the cart approached. Únik had forgotten how beautiful Uriok was and, now, she almost felt an ache of nostalgia in her heart.

The cart stopped, as night fell, and they sat around a blazing fire, started by Shihiri. The Fae had also flitted away, during the day, returning with a plump rabbit that she skinned and gutted as the fire burned and danced. Even Hatyara appeared to mellow, a little, eating the rabbit meat after Shihiri had skewered it upon a stick, cooking it over the flames. Únik kept the pelt, rubbing the inside with rough grass to clean away viscera.

Barsa had taken to running beside the cart, galloping out further and further from the cart as he became used to the new area. It almost seemed as though the hound had embraced a new found freedom, delivered from the cold and the snow of the wastes into an exciting, vibrant new world.

By mid-day on the second day, they began to see signs of habitation. Farms began to appear. Livestock to the one side and arable to the other, as though the road itself bisected the two lifestyles. A little further on, they found windmills, their vanes travelling in slow circles, catching the slightest breeze.

A lumber mill passed to their left, against the side of the great river that the road veered towards. Long rows of felled trees, sat atop shallow keeled barges, hugged the river bank, awaiting transfer to the large, serrated saws held between, big, sweaty men. Once again, the road meandered, taking them further from the river, passing over a line of low hills until Únik caught sight of the town for the first time.

Her heart caught as the rooftops appeared, followed by the buildings. In all her years, she had never seen its like. She had considered her village, the one she ran from, as large, with almost twenty buildings stretching over the area. Upon reaching the wastes, she had visited the town closest to Tracis' Midden several times. That place, she had thought, was large.

This town, Shalbruk, boggled Únik's mind and she stared, open-mouthed at the sight. She couldn't count the number of house that appeared to stretch for miles. Houses of two, even three stories, pushed up towards the skies, as though attempting to leave the confines of the land. And people! Even from this distance, Únik could see more people than she had ever seen in her life.

"Barsa! Up!" Clicking her fingers, she indicated towards the bed of the cart and Barsa jumped aboard, laying down as though disappointed his freedom had become lost.

"It's small, isn't it?" Standing, her gloved hands upon Únik's shoulders, Hatyara grimaced at the sight of Shalbruk. "Patrons! I miss cities!"

"This is small?" Not caring that she stared like some kind of country bumpkin, Únik's eyes never stopped moving as she saw something new almost every second.

The cart trundled along, reaching the outer buildings of the town. So many people entered and left the town in ragged lines, carrying goods upon their backs or upon carts like Arthid's, or handcarts pulled behind tired folk. The clothing seemed different here, also. With more varied colours decorating clothing that appeared made of lighter weaves than Únik's own, thick woollens.

All the women wore long dresses, lifting skirts in clutched fingers to keep hems from the dirt. Wide, drooping cuffs thinned to tight sleeves. Necklines dipped down, revealing the curves of breasts and the bases of necks. Hair, came in different styles, from free, dangling hair cascading about shoulders, to tight, intricate constructions, allowing single ringlets to fall about ears.