The Weaver's Source

Chapter 98

We saw Astor's smoke before the town. After a day and a half of trekking through snow and climbing up the sloping rocky road, we saw trails of thin smoke of burning hearths littering the grey sky. I watched the smoke curiously as we continued onwards, climbing higher and deeper into a growing pine woodland.

"Not long now." Grigore muttered as he glanced back at me, eyeing my cold face possessively. "But stay close. Mountains wood are often filled with trolls and goblins."

I shuffled closer to him, not wanting to upset him. Now he know I was his, he was more uptight than ever about my safety, his instincts to keep me safe as both my Weaver and my lover merging into one. Thankfully he only became overbearing when he sensed danger nearby, his body growing tense and his magic growling darkly, while most of the time he just grew reluctant to part from my side, only finding he could when I encouraged him and promised I'd stay safe.

Hours went by and the trees grew in numbers. They were huge with thick long trunks that grew tall and firm with hundreds of green pinned branches far above. Soon their heights and numbers blotted out what little sunlight there was, keeping us in a grey light. Beneath the trees' canopy the earth was still covered in snow with footprints were littered everywhere, some deer, rabbit or the occasional human. I did see some massive prints, similar to that of the troll Grigore hunted a few days ago. His mood darkened at the sight and his body grew dangerously tense, even when I reassured him I couldn't sense anything that would eat me nearby.

We didn't stop, even when darkness was slowly coming. Just as dusk was taking hold and casting an orange light in the sky, we came to the edge of the forest. The road, mostly marked by wooden posts, trailed away up a craggy hill littered with rocks. It was a large sparse area, surrounded by the growing snowy peaks of the mountain we were climbing, and Astor was suddenly in view.

I kept close to Grigore as we made our way closer to the cluster of thick wooden houses, moving past the large paddock of woolly cows that peered at us with small black eyes. I felt an eerie feeling take over me a little as we drew closer. I glanced up at Grigore, seeking out his eyes beneath his hair and fur but I saw no alarm, no spark of interest. He was calm. I swallowed the feeling and followed.

The town was small, no more than fifty buildings, and the houses were close to one another, and the road we followed to us straight to the heart of Astor. In the centre was a bell held on a stone platform surrounded by small stands as a handful of people sold their food and furs. The snow was churned into the cold mud, turning it into awful brown slurry. Horses snorted in the stables nearby, swishing their tails and shaking their heads and dogs barked and yipped. But, despite the cries of animals and the hollers of humans, the unsettled feeling remained.

Grigore made his way to one of the stands, swiftly wheedling out information he wanted. I stayed by his side, peering at the seller curiously. He was a plump man, his full face covered in hair, and his apron was stained with black blood from the animals he carved. He smiled but I didn't like his eyes.

"There's a bar just down there. Small but it does have room for a pair for travellers." He said.

Grigore nodded and took my hand, tugging me after him through the cold roads. The sun was going down and the orange was turning into black.

"We'll rest here for the night." Grigore said as he strode swiftly passed the slanted houses. "But no longer."

I didn't argue. This place left a bad taste in my mouth and I didn't trust how calm my magic was.

We came across a larger building. Just as slanted as the others with some windows boarded up, the pub looked almost abandoned. We would've turned away if it wasn't for the man who barged outside, hurling up on the floor.