The monastery complex loomed atop a hill long before they reached its doors, demanding to be looked at even before Lana could tell what it was. It stood out like a grey stone scar against the white of the ground. The layer of fallen snow that had begun to melt during the day was once again replenished as swirls of tiny flakes became more substantive. Sparse flurries, like those that came to Maerin in winter. Jormand and the others hardly seemed to notice at all. Lana could not ignore them.

Those little flurries had always foretold a deadly night in Maerin. Water and blood would freeze. The bodies of countless dead beggars would be rounded up and disposed of, but not before they were picked clean of clothes and valuables by those who remained. The cold killed better than any knife and it did so without remorse. First it came for children, then young men and women who could not stay warm throughout the night. People like Lana. Then the others too.

She tightened her coat and hugged it around herself tightly. It was thick and warm, lined with fur and excellent at keeping off the chill. When she had made her intention to follow Jormand on his hunt clear, he had wasted no time in making sure that she had the proper equipment provided for her. The coat she wore was the warmer of two he had procured for her. The other was lighter and lacked the fur, and neither fit particularly well, but she was grateful for the warmth they did provide, even if it was hard to move sometimes.

The sun descended further, framing the monastery in an orange halo as that fiercest of light faded. As the sun disappeared, so too did any semblance of warmth. Lana trudged the remaining painful steps to the monastery gates with the wind’s icy teeth biting at her exposed face.

Jormand knocked on the gates three times before any answer came. A window opened in the gate and a pair of suspicious eyes peered out, accompanied by the warm glow of lantern light that made Lana’s bones ache to be inside where the smothering blanket of cold night did not press on her so.

“Who are you?” The voice was just as suspicious as the eyes and cut like a knife, as cold as the night wind.

“Hunters, on our way back to Derranhall.” Jormand replied simply. “We only seek a place to sleep, and maybe a bite to eat.” He added when all he received in return was silence.

“We promise we will be gone before daylight.” Gisela added from over Jormand’s shoulder.

The eyes flicked about, taking everyone in. They rested on Allur for a moment longer than the rest. “If hunters you be, then you ought to be prepared to sleep in the cold.”

“It is not safe out here,” Jormand shot back, miraculously managing to sound pleading for once, rather than commanding. “Please good master monk, we have a child with us and we will get no further tonight.”

The monk did not reply, but he did not close his little window either. Lana did her best to appear pitiable and it was not a difficult thing. Now that they had stopped moving, she was beginning to shiver as the cold deepened without the sun to combat it.

“Very well.”

The little window closed with a click, leaving them alone once more but they did not need to wait for long. Lana heard the sound of a key turning in a lock and then a small door she had not noticed before, hidden among the boards of the gate, swung outward on well-oiled hinges.

Behind it was the monk, dressed in cream colored robes decorated with geometric patterns in blue along a hem that nearly reached to the floor. His face was pinched and wrinkled with the same suspicious look in his dark eyes and his hair was greasy and black. Old blood to be sure, strange as it seemed this far north. It did not match with his aged face. He held a lantern aloft even though the interior was well lit with lanterns and even a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Lana scuttled in behind Jormand, Gisela, Lyra, and Allur and found herself in a sort of antechamber, although it was a large room in its own right. The walls on either side were shadowed by columns that obscured much of what lay beyond.

Lana could not help but gawk at the room. It looked like the inside of a Maerinen manor, not at all like the tiny ministries she had seen before, certainly not what she expected from something dubbed ‘monastery’. The columns were carved with fanciful scenes of hunts or battles and the chandelier was entirely golden! She had not expected to find so much finery in a monastery, much less in one so remote.

The monk stood aside to let them enter, his sandals slapping on the floor.

Lana threw back her hood to look around, amazed by the splendor on show. She caught a similar look of surprise on Lyra’s face, but Jormand and Gisela seemed to know what to expect, and neither looked particularly happy about it. Allur did not take any notice, his blank expression remained unchanged, although he did stop shivering.

For that matter, Lana’s coat was beginning to feel a little too warm.

The monk kept his distance, suspicious of the five strangers that came stumbling to his door in the dark of night.

“We have no beds for you, nor food.” He said, bare suspicion in his reedy voice. “But you may stay here for the night.”

Jormand and Gisela thanked the monk and he took it in with a paper thin smile. After he passed through a pair of sturdy, iron-bound doors deeper into the monastery, Lana could not miss the click of a lock turning. Despite what the monk said, they were far from welcome.

Nobody wanted to speak much as each unpacked a bedroll. Jormand passed around a small waxed pouch of venison jerky in place of dinner. Lana picked at her piece but did not feel in a mood to eat really. Especially venison. As she lay herself down, images of the bleeding stag wormed their way into her tired mind. The lion was nowhere to be seen, but she felt its seething malevolence from behind each imagined tree and each real pillar.

She did not rest soundly that night but her eyes were grateful to open in the morning regardless. The dark of sleep was no respite. Better to be moving.

When she awoke, the others were still curled up in their blankets. Everyone except for Gisela, whose bedroll was already neatly packed away with her other belongings at the base of one of the pillars. The woman herself was nowhere to be seen, but her bow leaned against her pack. She would not go far without it.

Careful not to make a sound, Lana slipped out from her blankets and through the doors into the frigid morning air. The monastery had cooled substantially overnight, but it was leagues better than the freezing wind outside. Even bundled up in her coat, the night-chilled air had her shivering a few steps outside. It bit at her nose and cheeks and rushed in to chill her lungs until they burned within moments.

Yet another snowfall had come in the night, covering their footsteps, but a new set carved little troughs in the pristine white.

Lana followed Gisela’s path as it wound around the monastery complex. It hugged the cold stone wall closely for a time, but soon it turned sharply to the left where it entered a small grove of spruce trees. Thick with needles, they blocked any view within with a solid wall of green and white.

Unperturbed, Lana pushed her way in, still following the path. The grove was not large, but it was thickly planted. As she passed snow-laden branches, they flung little flakes into her face, chilling her even further, but she did not let them turn her aside. They smelled so strongly of sap she could practically taste it and soon the sticky substance had needles sticking to her coat like she was a tree herself.

Following Gisela’s footprints, she eventually pushed into a small clearing in the center of the grove. There, in a mostly undisturbed patch of snow, Gisela sat on a log, her arms wrapped around her knees. She wore her thick coat too, her hood raised to give a little more protection from the cold. Her back faced Lana and she softly hummed a familiar turn, although Lana could not place it. As cold as the grove was, Gisela did not wear gloves and her hands were pink with the frostiness where they clutched her knees.

A smattering of tiny white flakes fell from her hood as she turned her head to look at who disturbed her clearing. A soft bestial snarl emanated from her pale lips as she spun. In the space between two breaths, she was crouched in a defensive stance, a thin dagger grasped tightly in her hand. A few dark strands of hair escaped from the hood and waved in the wind, making Gisela look even more wild.

The dagger disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared with the briefest flash of bronze. A smile flashed across her face and she beckoned Lana over with a crooked finger.

“You ought to know better than to surprise me by now.” Gisela said as she settled back onto her log, already looking entirely relaxed again.

“Sorry.” Lana mumbled, shuffling over to take a seat on the log as well. She had not meant to startle Gisela. People just did not seem to notice her was all, even if she was making a racket scrambling through trees. “What are you doing out here anyway?” She asked, looking around the clearing.

There wasn’t anything of particular interest, although Lana did have to admit it was a pleasantly serene place to sit. The trees blocked out the view of the monastery, or anything else for that matter, and the snow looked almost innocent, gathered in tiny piles on the needles.

Gisela shrugged. She seemed hesitant to meet Lana’s eyes. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.” She said. Whether or not that was true, Lana thought there was something else she was not saying. Regardless, she did not offer any other explanation.

“We’ll probably be leaving soon.” Lana spoke into the silence. Gisela nodded, her eyes still fixated on the ground.

“Good.” She said. She looked up to meet Lana’s gaze. Her red-rimmed eyes betrayed a simmering rage beneath that shocked Lana. She seemed so calm. “I would just as soon leave now.” Her voice was almost a growl through clenched teeth.

“Why?” Lana asked. “What is this place anyway?”

Gisela’s anger receded, replaced by confusion. “It’s an affront to our people is what it is.” She grumbled and looked back towards where the monastery wall was blocked by the green wall of trees. She turned back to Lana with a sniff that said she had no respect for the hidden stone structure.

“They built up those walls just to keep us out. Only let us in once a year, and even then we cannot see the stone. They just sell us chips for everything we’re worth.” Her lips twisted into an unpleasant frown as she spoke and she couldn’t keep her eyes from tracing the hidden walls of the monastery. That smoldering anger bled into her voice. “They seek to keep us contained and they think this will do it.” She finally tore her gaze away and looked back at Lana with a fanatical spark in her eyes. “I would tear those walls down stone by stone if I could. We will, one day.” She grinned but it was an ugly thing, all teeth and blood red gums.

All Lana could manage in reply was a nod. She had seen Gisela kill without hesitation but never before had she felt fear when looking at this woman. A woman she considered a friend. She was afraid now. And shocked. Her hand rested on the hilt of her knife where it sat on her belt although she did not remember moving it. It took a great deal of control and several deep breaths to move her desperate fingers away.

Gisela turned back once again to where the monastery was obscured by trees and Lana was suffused with relief to have that violent gaze leave her. It was like a weight lifted from where it sat on her chest, letting her breathe comfortably again, even as the cold air stung her nose and throat.

Over the minutes, Gisela visibly calmed. Her shoulders untensed and lowered like the hackles of a threatened dog returned to safety. Eventually that savage glint faded from her eye and the cruel scowl melted.

She turned to Lana with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.” She said, shaking her head. Shadowed eyes glinted with moisture from under the shade of her hood.

“It’s alright.”

“It is good that we’ll be leaving soon.”

Lana nodded, unsure of what to say. It was good that they were leaving, she did not know what Gisela would do otherwise, but she was reasonably sure that it would not be good. Whatever caused Gisela’s fury was still a mystery but the intensity could not be mistaken.

“Will you come back to Maerin with us, Lana?”

Lana was caught off guard by the question. Her mind was fully in the throes of speculation about this monastery.

“I-I’m not sure.” She said. Of course she knew that Jormand and Gisela intended to head back to Maerin soon, just as soon as they captured Vilde. She had never thought about her place in those plans, though. She was no soldier, not by any stretch of the imagination, but she’d always assumed that she would follow her new friends. She had never meant to stay in Derranhall at any rate. It was an uninviting place without her friends there. At least if she returned to Maerin, she would not be alone.

“I’d like you to.” Gisela’s tone was uncharacteristically warm. Her smile was new to her face, lacking the bloodthirsty twist that usually made its home there. “You soften his edges, you know? Makes it easier. For all of us.”

Lana responded with a half-hearted smile. Travelling with Gisela and the others had never been enjoyable. Every step they took was on hot coals. Running from Maerin and now chasing down Vilde. It did not leave very much time for rest. But those very few times, those moments of peace between labours, were like safe havens in a storm and as good as the other times were bad. Better by far than anything she’d had in Maerin before.

Lana treasured those moments. Eating meals around the fire with Gisela playing her lute. Laying with Jormand in the courtyard at Derranhall to admire the paintings. Even the best day in Maerin was pale and wretched by comparison. Much of her time now was spent worrying about life and death, but that was nothing new for someone like her. Her smile was genuine, only it ached with the weight of everything else.

She had watched dozens of caravanners be slaughtered for the sin of protecting her and her compatriots. She had seen the blow that killed Elyas crush his skull like an eggshell. Those memories mingled with the pleasant ones and could never be separated, not entirely. Perhaps she had been liberated from Maerin, but what she had been given could hardly be called freedom.

The smile was enough for Gisela, though. She nodded, knowing that the matter was settled. Lana had nowhere else to run to, her only home was whatever could be woven between these few people now. She would follow until she could no longer.

“We should get back to the others.” Gisela said, standing and dusting a few flakes of snow from her legs. “Lord Derran will blame our disappearance on the monks.”

She left the implications unsaid, but Lana remembered seeing Jormand’s hammer resting next to his bedroll within arm’s reach. His retribution would be swift and bloody. They did not waste any time in returning.