In Huck's Hands

Bonus Chapter: Yana Sankov

Yana's breath formed small clouds in the frigid air as she gazed at the unending icefields and tundra. The wagon creaked, navigating through the dense pine forest, its vivid design a stark contrast to the monotonous white landscape. "What is father like?" she asked, avoiding her mother's eyes.

Her mother, a tall, striking woman with delicate features framed by straight jet-black hair, sat rigidly in the swaying wagon. Her dark skin seemed to absorb the scant sunlight filtering through the pines. Finding a vertical slash scar on her forearm, she replied, "I've seen news that he is an important figure to the king."

Yana noticed her mother's slender fingers twisting nervously in her lap, betraying the fear she tried to hide behind a stoic expression. The sight made Yana's own anxiety spike, her green eyes cresting with small tears.

In the distance, a bull elk's bugle echoed, reminding Yana of the life she was leaving behind. Years of boarding school, wasted. The dreams she'd harbored - standing tall in Svetlan's government buildings, her voice echoing through chambers as she advocated for change. Now crumbled like ice beneath the wagon's heavy rubber tires.

"Mama... why can't we stay in Svetlan?" Yana's voice quavered. "The frost elections have finally lifted their restrictions on non-Svet contenders. Things were changing!"

"I tire of your voice, my love," her mother sighed in Svetish, reaching out to caress Yana's face. "We have a very long journey ahead. Soon, these cooling winds will give way to Buriti's searing heat."

As if on cue, a warm breeze snuck through the wagon's billowing covered entrance, carrying the promise of the scorching south. Their Tahuli slave, Granor, whipped the large ox into a better cadence.

Yana's mother turned her gaze to Granor, then back to her daughter. "If you have the chance to return... Take it. The world does not offer much to people like us in Buriti. Pray that you marry well and do not pair yourself with a monster."

Her mother's traditionally styled nails, tapering into sharp triangles, accidentally sliced Yana's cheek as she wiped away a tear. Small flecks of gold mixed with the crimson stain of blood.

Yana didn't flinch. Instead, she held her mother's hand against her facade, despite the sting. "I don't want to get married, Mama. I wanted to make change, to have a voice. But there..." She trailed off, thinking of the Vascan, Buritian, and Tahul cultures where women held little rights, where they were merely wedded gifts between clans.

The wagon bumped along, each jolt a reminder of the inexorable journey toward a future where Yana's ambitions would be crushed under the weight of Vascan traditions. The best she could hope for was an advantageous marriage, while the specter of becoming a powerless concubine loomed ominously in her mind.

The wagon pressed on, its wheels grinding through the receding ice of Svetlan's southern reaches. Weeks stretched into months as Yana watched the world transform around her. The dense, towering pines with their blue-tinged needles gave way to twisted, silver-barked trees with leaves that chimed like bells in the warming breeze. Herds of elk with jagged red antlers became rarer, replaced by lithe, scaled creatures that bounded across the increasingly barren landscape.

As they journeyed further south, the very air seemed to change. The crisp, mint-scented winds of Svetlan faded, replaced by gusts carrying the acrid tang of sand and ancient stone. The ground beneath them shifted from permafrost to rocky outcroppings streaked with veins of mud-brown minerals. Yana marveled at night-blooming flowers that pulsed with bioluminescence, their petals unfurling to reveal miniature galaxies within that rivaled the night sky.

Months bled into seasons as the wagon rolled inexorably towards Buriti-Vasca. The transition was gradual yet stark - verdant tundra withered into rust-colored wastelands. Dunes rose like colossal waves frozen in time, their surfaces rippling with patterns that seemed to move when Yana looked away. The sun, once a distant, pale disc, now dominated the sky - a searing orb of white-hot fury that bleached color from the world and baked the very air they breathed.