The Veil of Danu

Whispers in the Wind (5)

The village of Winlow was quieter as the day slipped into dusk, a quiet that pressed against my ears as I made my way toward the barracks near the village gate. My mind restless, and sleep escaped me. The wilds felt closer now, the air colder and heavier with every passing hour. The wind that had once been crisp and refreshing had turned into a biting chill, and the trees at the edge of the village seemed to sag under the weight of the coming season.

I wrapped my cloak tighter around myself, the fabric no longer a comfort but a thin shield against the creeping cold. I could see it in the villagers' eyes too—the anxiety that winter was coming. Food was already scarce, and the stores would not last long into the season. There were whispers in the markets of raids from wild animals, and the hunters had already returned empty-handed a few times in the last week.

The barracks were a short walk from the village proper, set up against the edge of the road leading into the woods. The high, wooden walls and watchtowers stood like silent sentinels over the village, a reminder of the ever-present danger outside their borders. The Night Guard, as they were called, were responsible for keeping the village safe after sundown. At least, that's what I'd heard.

As I approached the heavy gate, I saw a few soldiers moving around, preparing for the night shift. The chill in the air seemed to make them even more standoffish than usual. They didn't even glance my way as I passed. They were all business, all vigilance, with the sharp, tense energy of people constantly on edge. The Night Guard had a reputation for being as hard and cold as the dark woods they watched over. Even the villagers gave them space, fearing their silent, unapproachable nature.

But there was one soldier who broke that pattern.

I caught sight of him leaning against one of the stone posts near the entrance, his posture relaxed in a way that made him stand out from the others. His dark hair was tousled, his armor well-worn but well-kept, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—held a glimmer of something much more inviting than the cold, dead stares of the rest of the men.

"Oi, lass," he called out as I passed, his voice smooth but with a hint of mischief. "You look like you're on a long walk for someone with nowhere to go. Need some company?"

I stopped, startled by his sudden approach. He was tall, with a broad build that seemed more built for comfort than for battle, though the long sword at his side clearly told a different story. His smile was lopsided but genuine, and something in his expression—an easy confidence—made me hesitate.

"I'm fine," I said, instinctively pulling my cloak tighter around me, trying to shield myself from the cold that wasn't just physical. "Just passing by."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he didn't push. Instead, he straightened up, offering a slight bow that made me roll my eyes. "The name's Eddric. I'm not usually one for keeping to the shadows. What brings you around the barracks at this time of night?"

His casual tone put me at ease, though I couldn't shake the unease that the barracks itself gave me. Something about the way the men moved, so silently, like shadows in the dark. They were more than soldiers—they were watchers of the night. But Eddric... he was different. There was warmth in him, or at least, it seemed that way.

"I just came to take a look," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I heard the Night Guard watch over the village at night."

"You heard right," he said with a grin, "but I don't think that's all you're curious about, is it?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I wasn't entirely sure why I was standing here talking to him in the first place. Maybe I was looking for answers. Or maybe, on some level, I was simply trying to get away from the silence of the village and the ever-present tension in the air. But he made me feel like there was something normal left in this world.