The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 63 [Final]

Every bone in my body aches. My shoulders hang, arms close to dragging on the ground, and my knees can hardly carry me from one place to the next without protesting. To make matters worse, the heavy block of cheese in my satchel weighs me down, but at least the farmer said I'm coming along. I should be stronger, he says. If only he knew that we can't eat anything in the cottage without having to defrost it first.

After another long day of work, it's time to head home. I shift the satchel's weight to my other shoulder and rub at my burning eyes, trying to keep them open so I don't collapse on the street in a frozen puddle and deem that my final resting place. The docks took strength out of me today, but mucking the stables after one of the farmer's cattle became sick was another chore I could hardly bear to endure.

Next to the block of cheese is a slab of meat that he rewarded me after I wiped blood off the walls. He butchered the sick cow, figuring she wouldn't make it, anyway. Although I feel strange about eating her gruesome meat, it's a meal Theoden will be happy to cook up. Something fruitful for our decaying bodies.

I'm careful around corners and across the frozen streets. I can't afford to slip and injure myself if we wish to make enough money to pay for Castiel's medicine. In winter, prices are higher. Despite our begging and pleading that we'll pay more at a different point in the year, the merchant doesn't care. The potion helps him make ends meet, apparently.

Near the barn, I heard someone say we are expected to receive more snow tonight. The dark clouds rolling in prove to tell the truth, and a quiet wind that burns more than others forces me to believe that the meaningless gossip I heard may be right. On the bright side, I'll shovel the streets for not nearly enough pay so the merchants can get through to a northern village. The few that bother to come this way are lessening their wares, driving some of our people into a panic.

I drag a hand down the middle of my face, grimacing as the remnants of scales scrape against my skin. That's not the worst of it. I attempted to pick through some of the frozen knots in my hair but left myself reeking of saltwater and fish guts. We can't afford soap.

Practically dreaming of the soaps in Gustus's chambers, a warm bath accompanied by a towel's soft embrace, I smile to myself. I miss him. His letters have stopped coming, but I blame that on the sudden rush of storms that have hit the capital in recent days. Another shred of gossip I managed to pick up at the tavern. Nothing about the royal family or the princes, just the terrible weather slamming into Rivian these past few weeks.

My stomach rumbles, screaming a protest, and I reach for the block of cheese in my satchel. Frozen fingers trembling, I remove the cloth and string, rounding the corner that blocks Theoden's house off from the rest of the street. A gush of heat slams into my face and a low rumble sounds too close to my body. I lurch, dropping the cheese, and stumble.

A patch of ice takes my footing and I'm airborne, falling onto...a dragon's tail? I grip onto the leathery hide and open my eyes, finding one of Theo's dragons blinking at me curiously. "Hello?" I question, tilting my head to the side. He sniffs me once, blowing that hot air onto my body, and deems me a safe traveler by placing me gently back on the ground. At least he remembers me.

But what is he doing here? I crane my neck around his large body, past the dark scales that flicker black, fading to blue, and frown at Theoden's cottage. Someone is on the inside. I consider running in the opposite direction, but curiosity takes hold of the reins and I pick up the cheese, brushing off a layer of dirt and ice. What Theoden doesn't know, won't hurt him.

The dragon releases a pleasant purr as I scratch under his chin in passing, my heart hammering in my chest. Is Gustus here, asking about my failure to respond to his letters? Could it be Theo, coming to deliver terrible news? None of these questions prepare me for Cloak sitting on Theoden's sofa, his elbows resting on his knees and hands folded together.