Winterskin (Book One of Wrath & Winter)

To Endure: Part Two

Hagen paced, hands behind her back. Her eyes widened upon seeing me return to the guardhouse. Hesitating in her sure steps, I waited for her to tell me I was no longer wanted or needed there. To turn in my uniform and my issued shield and ax. A bevy of glares fell on me and I flinched but refused to move. I dug my heels into the stone and dirt.

Hagen looked me up and down, assessing me with her griffin-like eyes. Then, nodded her head. Even smiled a bit.

Though her tongue was as cutting as any sword: "You're late." She spat.

And I suppose that that was that.

We'd try again, she decided. We'd hike in five days time, though we were getting closer and closer to our final trial, a crucible that would involve us disappearing into the Black and reappearing come the morning. She wouldn't give us any more details on our crucible but that tidbit. And it was enough to make some of us question why we joined the Guard instead of some scholar association in the Rose.

The morning of our next hike came without much trepidation. I trekked out to the outskirts alone this time. Met up with the other younglings and prepared to set out until—

"Wait!" cried a silhouette running down the trenches, "Wait for me!"

Noel was worse for wear. Far from dead, but looking close to it.

Hagen made a decision, then. Instead of turning Noel—with his strangely cut-up face and pallid gray tone—away, she looked from left to right. Surveying us, then turning her gaze toward Eastpost.

"Ceadda and Doro, partner up." She went down the line, partnering us up. Lingering finally on me, "Maeva, you'll be with Noel." Her eyes narrowed, "Don't let him die."

I nodded, promising I wouldn't.

We followed Hagen in twos, the thick brush of the forest hewing us in. Forcing us to space our formation further out to avoid tripping over each other.

Noel wavered. Winding from side to side beneath the weight of his pack. When I was sure we wouldn't get lost if we stopped for a breath, I called him over. Opened his pack.

"What are you doing?" he huffed.

"Taking some of the weight."

"I can carry it my—"

"No." I snapped. "You can't."

"What gives you the right?"

Bloodshot eyes stared back into mine, "I'm your shieldsister. That's right enough."

He grumbled, looking down at his boots. Water is usually the heaviest thing in a rucksack, so I took two canteens and an extra ax he had somehow managed to pack in there.

"Try standing now."

"I...," he struggled. Shook beneath the weight of his pack, "I don't think I can." He slumped down, hands on the forest floor. Pushed himself up, "I...," his face fell. Straight into a pile of dead leaves and branches.

Shit.

All around me, it seemed like the forest was closing in. Sneaking closer and closer, branches moaning in the distance. Thicket crackling.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

There was no use calling out to the others, it would only alert fiends to our presence. People that didn't die right and refused to remain dead.

It was too early for them to come out though.

I sat. Unclipped my pack and armored up. Snapping Noel back, I freed him of his pack but kept his weapons and slipped my shoulder under his armpit.

"Come, Noel. Stand up."

A gurgle split his lips. His skin had gone even paler than before. His eyes barely had white between the veins of red threading behind his irises.

Still, he stood. Slowly.

And we walked. Trudging through the forest, carefully stepping over gnarled tree roots and through thorny bushes.

"You had a brother, right?"

My eyebrows quirked, but I couldn't say anything. Had to concentrate on finding the rest of the group and getting out of here. But there were no solid tracks to follow. Just disturbed underbrush and broken branches.

"Horace?"

"Yes." I snapped, "Concentrate, Noel."

"He's one of the ones that died." He kept going, "On the crucible?"

I'm not going to think about this. I'm not going to think about this. I'm not going to—

We had to be getting closer. Hushed voices brushed their way through the thicket. A tumble of frightened laughter.

"Keep up." I managed.

"How did you get his—"

"I'm not doing this." I snapped, "Not with you. Keep. Up."

We were close enough to see silhouettes. People climbing through bushes and hacking away gray overgrowth.

"Over here!" I shouted, uncaring if some sleeping fiend heard us, "Hey! Over here!"

"Over there." Noel pointed to my right. Cutting off my field of vision. "That's why. I've seen that headstone before."

Headstone?

I pressed forward, ignoring his fever-fueled rantings.

"Maeva," he said, voice hoarse, "Don't you want to pay your respects?"

I waved my free arm frantically. A silhouette's head turned. Something erupted before us and more heads were turning. Bodies were marching toward us.

All the rigidity sank from my body. I let Noel's weight sag to my left.

"Katell?"

"I told you—I'm not—"

The sheet. Godsdammit—the sheet...!

"Why don't you pay your respects more often? Perhaps once...in this lifetime?"

Footsteps pounded through the debris. Voices were calling out to me, but I couldn't pay attention. Slowly, my hearing was going.

Noel's mouth moved, but it was the curtain that talked—the sheet.

Hawk's eyes came to life in that thinly veiled black. A face molded itself from the black curtain. Barely, though. Barely enough for me to make out a human face. A woman's.

It met my eyes. Shivers radiated down my spine. Noel's arm picked itself up. Pointed squarely over my shoulder. My gaze followed it.

"Maeva!"

"Maeva—Noel, are you two alright?"

Noel wasn't lying. Wasn't seeing things.

Or, maybe, it had been me all along.

"When will you visit me, Katell? Will you...ever?"

I spun to face her. But Noel blinked. Hagen opened her arms and Noel slumped into them, babbling about feverish nonsense.

And the sheet—the wisp.

Gone.

Swept away by winter's fetid winds.