Search for the Extinct [Last of Elves book 2]

Twenty: Kuraĝon

Kuraĝon

The snow settled in, clearly come to stay. Kuraĝon leant on the windowsill, staring out as the huge white flakes drifted to the ground. She hated being stuck inside, but it was far too cold to do anything outside. She was glad that they’d stocked up over the autumn, at least. They would be fed.

With another sigh, she felt Vakt’s nose pushed her hip, and he rubbed his head on her side, a rumble deep in his throat. She smiled, and draped her arm over his neck, leaning on him as well as the windowsill.

“You want to go out too, don’t you?” she murmured. “I know how you feel.”

A thought struck her, and she turned around, searching for her brother. “Ali!”

“What?” He sounded irritable, as usual when it snowed. The cold always made him grumpy. She knew that his scars ached in the cold, and made it even harder for him to get work done.

“Ali, it’s not snowing that hard. I’m going out with Vakt.”

“Fine. Make sure you come back. I’m not going to look for you.” He glared at her as he came out from another room, and she nodded, used to his temper. The girl was in for a surprise on this snowy day.

With a grunt, Kuraĝon heaved the door open, letting in a rush of cold air and snow, and hurried out, slamming it behind her. Vakt bounded in front of her, already getting covered in snow, and she grinned, pulling her cloak closer around her shoulders.

“Vakt, come on,” she called. “We’ll check the snares.”

As they walked, she stretched her arms out, twirling and turning. She had always loved the snow, ever since she could remember, and had taken any and every opportunity that she could to dance in it.

Throwing her head back, she laughed when the cold flakes drifted into her eyes and mouth, and shut them tight, her nose getting tickled. When she opened them again, she automatically looked for the sun, so she could gauge the time, but it wasn’t there. Instead, cold grey clouds covered the sky, letting their burden of snow fall before they moved on.

Vakt bounded back to her, sending fresh snow flying, and she laughed, following him to check the snares. As she’d expected, there was very little. They were covered in snow, too deep to be of any use, and she collected the pieces of rope up, slinging them over her shoulder as she walked.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed out, but she soon noticed that darkness was falling. Calling the young beastkin, now white with snow, to her side, she began to make her way home, letting him take the lead. He knew the way much better than she did.

At the doorway, she stamped, trying to get most of the loose snow off her clothes, and made Vakt shake. She had to stamp again after that, for he managed to cover her once more.

She only laughed, and pushed the door open.

The welcome warmth hit her, and she closed the door, keeping the heat in as Vakt shot to the fire. He threw himself on the rug in front of it with a grunt, and she pulled her cloak off to hang it up. The fabric was steaming as the heat dried it out, a small pool of water appearing under it. She tugged her boots off, leaving them at the doorway as well, and made her way further into the room to sit in her chair, sighing in contentment.

“Found the snow, little sister?”

She glared at him, but a smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth, and she soon gave into it. “Just a little. It’s so pretty out there.”

“I’m sure it is,” he muttered, sinking into his own chair. As silence fell between them, the child wandered over, almost shyly. Before she could touch Ailill’s arm, he looked at her.

“Yes, Stjärna?”

She went red with embarrassment, and Kuraĝon grinned. She leant back, nudging Vakt with her toe. The beastkin grunted, and rolled over, exposing his furry belly for her to scratch absently. She watched the girl, concentrating on the signs she was making with her flying fingers.

Do you know any stories? she was asking. Please? I like stories.

Kuraĝon waited, secretly hoping that he would say yes. He was a born storyteller, always succeeding in keeping his audience’s attention and she had always loved it when he told their legends. It had been a long time.

At length, he nodded, sitting back.

“Take a seat, little one. It’s a lengthy story.”

She obeyed, curling up with Hunaja, who seemed to have taken a liking to the young human girl. Kuraĝon tipped her head back, closing her eyes, and waited.

She loved stories.