On Thin Ice (Prequel to Guild)

Chapter Twelve: Destiny Entwined

                 Woodsmoke curled in the stuffy air of Baba Yuaatani's little yurt, and her granddaughter could have sworn she saw faces dancing in the flames.

When the princess stirred the pot, she scared them all away. Kept them from devouring the meaty stew that had just started to bubble. That made her mouth water and belly grumble and moan.

They were pesky, these spirits, and only stirring would keep them from gobbling up dinner before Yuaa got the chance. So she stirred, and she stirred, and she stirred. Even though the steam made sweat bead up on her brow.

That was the job for little girls in Baba Yuaatani's home. They had to stir the pot.

Whether they were in trouble or not.

Brushing her sopping hair from her eyes, Yuaa peered at her baba, who took her deel from the drying rack and neatly folded it so it was small and flat. She didn't look at her granddaughter after she finished.

The bubbles grew bigger, the babbling louder.

Yuaa's heart clenched. She glanced at her baba again.

Nothing.

Breath hitching in her throat, Yuaa murmured the old woman's name too quietly to be heard.

Bubbles slithered down the pot, hissing like the monsters of her dreams, screaming against the embers below. Her baba crouched down beside her and shook her head in disapproval- but her eyes still brimmed with love.

"They should have called you Kobyla," she said, making sparks dance in the smoky sky as she took the pot away and poked at the coals, feeding the ravenous flames precious wood instead of priceless stew and meat.

"Like the Mare," Yuaa whispered, the words burning away to nothing before they entered the her baba's ears.

"You are wild, miizhair."

Too wild? she wondered, sitting back on her stool, squinting because the smoke hurt her eyes and tickled her nose. She looked away. Looked down at tiny feet wrapped in furs, Od Anchin snoozing atop them and his brother, Odny Khaigch snoring at his side, beating the floor with his furry tail.

"Never let them take that away from you," Baba Yuaatani said after a while. Long after the spirits had returned to the smoke and the flames. "Not with words or knives or spears or leather. Promise me this, little one."

Snow swirled outside, a cold, icy rival to the sparks skipping and dancing before her. She watched them as her baba held her close. Watched them as the world she knew melted away.

She managed a nod as heat filled the room. Heat that was not warmth, not yet. But light that was hope nonetheless.... and getting ever brighter.

Yuina remembered what she'd done, and this long forgotten world slipped away.

She opened her eyes, and awoke to the sound of rain and tears.

              Nuân's thick black hair fell in tangles past her waist, obscuring black eyes rimmed with red and shot through with a yet more alarming shade. Ribbons dangled loose over her skirts and her sleeves were sliding further and further down her shoulders with every laboured heave of her chest.

"Good morning," Yuina peeped, pushing away her nest of pillows so she could sit up. Sit up... so that Nuân could knock her down again with a well- aimed towel.

Warmth and the tangy scent of lemon blanketed her face. Sputtering, Yuina cursed in Shirub. The towel landed in her lap.

"Bless you, you insane monkey-child!" Nuân shouted, and three servants came running to prevent the dresser from hitting her again. They took the second hot towel from Nuân's hand and sat her down. Made her stop demanding answers at the same rate that Amidrakh Tengerüüd stars shot through the sky. They convinced Nuân Lâm to breathe, giving Yuina Mongonai a chance to as well.