The Bitter Cold

Chapter One: The Frozen Girl

The bitter cold tugged at her skin. She began to wish that she had brought something warmer, for her brown shawl wasn’t enough. Her hair was speckled with melting snow, and her face grew pale and lifeless. She found herself aching for fire, for warmth and shelter. Longing for a place to rest her weak and tired bones. Wanting something to eat and drink, for everything was frozen solid. It was too late for her to go back to her old life. She was too far away, and had wanted to stay away until this moment.
      When people found her, her lips were tinted blue and she was covered in a sheet of ice.
      “She’s as good as dead,” a man said while he brewed some tea. 
      The woman walked into the room, her long black hair tied up, her cold gray eyes scanning the room.
      “Well, well, well. Look what we have here,” the woman said with a sneer. 
      The whole building shook with fear. 
      “What have I told you about bringing in strangers?” The woman said as she traced her finger on the top of her black throne, feeling the carvings of the crow that had its wings outstretched and ready for flight.
      Even the crow looked scared. 
      “Well? What are you waiting for? Bow!”
      The woman took a seat on the throne. With a flick of her finger, the whole room bowed down in submission.
      She snapped her fingers and watched as the man came up.
      “Fetch the girl. And make it quick.”
      The man scooped up the girl and bowed down to the woman, his arms outstretched. 
      She sneered.
      “You.”
      “Is there something wrong?” the man asked.
      She waved her hand at the man, and watched as he struggled to speak. The woman laughed at his misery. 
      “What should we do to this horrible excuse for a human?” The woman grinned as she pet the crow she held on her arms. 
      The crow gave no reply.
      The woman glared at him, her unforgiving eyes as cold as her heart.
      The crow opened its beak to reply, when a crash outside interrupted him.
      The woman forgot about the crow, and ordered the man to place the girl by the fire. 
      The door was hit with a pounding knock.
      “Lady Raven has been summoned for her execution. We have reason to believe that she has been hiding here. Open the door or all shall face the same fate,” a voice said, muffled by the door.
      The people moved around the halls in a frenzy, not wanting to be caught. She placed her hand on the walls, watching as the illusion took place. Raven crossed her way to where the girl lay, placed her hand on her forehead, and muttered an enchantment. 
      When she opened the door, Raven’s face was that of the frozen girl. 
      The man outside the door opened his mouth in shock, for he was expecting Lady Raven, the ruthless tyrant, not a girl the same age.
      “Where are you hiding Lady Raven?” The man demanded, acting unfazed by the girl’s beauty, although it was clear that he was.
      Raven took this to her advantage. She batted the girl’s eyelashes, smiled sweetly at the man, and said, “I don't know. I have no idea who Lady Raven is.”
      Bewitched by the girl’s charm, the man said, “I am so sorry for bothering you this evening. I will be heading to the castle now. It was a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Miss…?”
      What was that girl’s name again? Raven thought. Oh, yes, now I remember!
      “Fenella.”
      “What a nice name for a nice girl,” the man said creepily.
     “I must get back to my chores,” Raven lied, “Goodbye, sir.”
      “Goodbye, Miss Fenella.”
      Raven got rid of the illusion as quickly as she could. Exasperated, she headed to her chamber and collapsed, freeing the people in the small castle from her hold of them. They found out, as they always did, that they could not be freed from the castle. 
      When Fenella awoke in the servants quarters, everyone, except for her, was dead. And written on the wall in fresh blood was, “YOU'RE NEXT.”