~Hope

The taverns walls are aged and worn from generations of use and everyday habitation. Stains have discoloured older stains. The newer wood of the walls and floorboards are from trees that were felled by the great grandsons of the planks beside them. Though the relatively new planks of wood are few, most are so old that it wouldn’t be a surprise if they’d fossilised over the many years.

The tables and chairs are similarly abused, more than a few creaking from the weight of the villagers gathering here in the tavern. Much more of the furniture is fresh compared to aged, but I suppose that makes sense. Furniture suffers the worse wear over time.

Just like the wood that makes up the room, the people that make up the town are clearly split by age. The older members are still gathered around in their own corner by the fire, joking about, their laughter crackling louder than the fireplace.

The younger folk are confused, anxious, and even angry, wanting to know what happened to the old lady frozen in her home. After some time, they’d decided to leave her as they found her, the frost isn’t leaving her and she’s frozen stiff to her chair.

What’s more, apparently the weather isn’t conductive to digging a grave.

“There was someone sitting in that chair beside Missus Rorkson.” Jake says, standing tall by the bench, near the kitchen. “Someone who froze her stiff with some awful magic, but who?”

More than a few glances turn our way, and I freeze up, resting my hand on my short-sword. In such tight quarters, I can’t hope to survive against them.

“They were with me and Missy.” Jake says, shaking his head.

“Miss Fate did see meet some stranger out in the storm.” Missy says, standing up energetically. “It could’ve been the killer!”

“I’m not sure about that.” Fate says, a difficult expression on her face. “She was strange, didn’t seem to be wearing that much, in the middle of the storm. But she didn’t sound dangerous, a bit nervous actually.”

“Nervous because you caught her in the act!” A middle aged man shouts.

“But no normal person could do that to Missus Rorkson.” A young lady says. “Magic. They used magic to kill her, there’s no doubt about it.”

“You youngens keep it down, would you. Stop fussing about it already.” Freddy says, standing from among his group of elders.

“Fussing?” Jake asks, taken aback. “Missus Rorkson is dead.”

“Yeah, and we’ll all be joining her soon enough.” Freddy harrumphs, “Might as well get back to making those lists. Those were fun at least.”

“But what if it comes back?” Missy asks nervously, a hand lowered to her stomach. “The storm is still floating around, just up the mountain, what if it comes back tonight?”

“Then she’ll do as she wants.” Freddy grunts. “She’s a spirit of the mountains, probably knows the end is coming like the rest of us. I doubt she’s coming down here to kill us all, so stop running about like headless chooks and get back to enjoying yourselves.”

“A spirit of the mountain?” Fate asks, just as the rest of the tavern explodes with the same curious question.

“A sprit of ice and blizzards, they live on the peaks of mountains.” Fate explains. “Not many have seen them.”

“They’re dangerous?” I ask.

“They aren’t, not intentionally at least, not from any accounts I’ve read. They live on the peaks of mountains, it’s said that they can’t come down to where humans live. Up there the weather and footing is so incredibly dangerous, and the spirits themselves exude a freezing cold that prevents anyone from being in their presence for long.”

“So one of them has come down from the mountain?” I ask.

“Did anyone do anything to irritate the spirit of the mountain?” Another young man asks, standing up. “Someone had to have done something to anger her.”

“None of us has done anything,” Jake says, “We’d know, no one’s even been up to the mountains since last year.”

“Then the strangers in town?” The young man turns his eyes to us.

“Then the spirit would’ve attacked Fate when they met in the street.” Jake explains, shaking his head.

As the younger men and women grumble in the room, the older folk seem to be growing excited about something, laughing raucously as they chit-chat. I can’t quite make out their discussion from here, it sounds like a conversation the rest of us aren’t welcome to.

“Let’s get back to the lists, as Freddy suggested.” The waitress says, standing up by the tables. “I won’t let no murderer steal our fun from us, spirit, human, or beast.”

“I agree.” Missy says, standing back up again. “We should get back to it. I’ll start, I’ve found something that I want to add to my list.”

She pauses, looking around the room, her hand resting on her belly as she works herself up, then… she pauses, and let’s out a long sigh instead. Her shining eyes turn away as she bites her lip and lets go of what she was going to say.

“I want to… learn how to make clothes.” She says looking down at her feet, the words coming out slowly. “I patch clothes and fix them, but I’ve not ever made anything from scratch. Even if it’s something small, I’d like to make something all by myself.”

“That sounds like a good goal. If you need help I can get some cloth together for you.” The waitress says, smiling happily. “Is there anyone else with something they want to do, or something they’ve done?”

The rest of the town turn away from their dark thoughts of the storm still hovering on the horizon, making jokes and pretending that everything is still fine. Pretending to find happiness in the small things they do to distract themselves.

~Fate

Jake moves aside from the group, taking Missy’s hand and hugging her close as the rest of the town erupts into discussions for their own lists. The affection between the two is shining bright, even through the hesitation. Jealousy rises in my own heart, but I turn away from it.

The township discusses the many things that they want to do, and the things that they’ve done. Most are satisfied and happily cheering and boasting about their small victories, celebrating every small thing. Sometimes, it’s a more bittersweet topic that catches the towns attention.

“I want to be a grown up.” A young boy says standing up as tall as his little legs will allow. “No one respects us kids, so I want to be a grown up for a day.”

The other town members laugh at his expression, and more than a few raise their drinks cheering the boy on, but the waitress waves them quiet.

“Then for today, Jimmy can be an adult, does everyone agree?” She asks, looking around the room, seeing the many approving nods.

“Then so it is.” The waitress says, looking down at the boy. “Do you want to sit up here with the adults and have a proper adult drink then, Mr. Jim?”

The boy eagerly jumps at the chance, tasting the ale set out on the table before him. He can’t hide his sour expression as he gets his first taste of it.

Everyone struggles to suppress their laughter watching the boy try his best to hide his disgust, sitting tall and wearing an uppity expression. Somewhat like he’s pretending to be a noble, the sort that have to shit around the sticks permanently stuck up their asses.

Now that’s something my parent’s would scold me over if I ever said it aloud where they can hear it. I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.

The geriatric corner of the room has slowly returned their attention to the town meeting and a few are even joining in on the discussion.

“This morning I beat little Jimmy, I mean to say, Mr. Jim in a snowball fight.” Freddy says proudly.

“I was still in bed sleeping!” Mr. Jim shouts to correct the old man.

“A lesson to you then, young man. If you want to win a fight, take your enemy by surprise!” Freddy cackles, leaning on his chair as he smiles wide, showing all his remaining teeth, quite a few are left surprisingly.

“That finished my list, but I’ve come up with something else I want to add to it.” He says, still smiling. “I want to meet this mountain spirit when she comes back. I haven’t ever met a woman I couldn’t charm, and it’s rough being into the older ladies at my age.”

“Don’t say it old man.” One of the younger men in the room shouts at him. “You know if you say that, the spirit will come for you.”

“I don’t mind if it makes for a perfect meeting.” Freddy says, his smile easing but deepening. “It’ll be the end of my list, I think it’s unfair that Missus Rorkson got the chance to meet her first and from what I seen she had a fine time of it.”

“Sit back down you crazy old coot, before Sanguine and Cerulean take notice of your madness.” The same young man says, no longer laughing. “You know it’s just a saying, just cause she died, doesn’t mean it was some ‘perfect’ meeting or something.”

“You should learn to respect your elders more.” Freddy shakes his head. “Well I’ve said my piece.”

As the rest of the elderly men and women talk, I find that most of them have finished with their lists, some express a desire to see or meet the spirit of the mountain, while others are just happy to see their children rush about having fun of their own.

When the town meeting comes to an end, we’re gifted a wonderful lunch of warm soup and… biscuit. I think this town is crazy. I swear I’ve never had to eat so much biscuit in my life, but the roads haven’t been kind. I’ll be trading for firewood and real food when I leave this town.

“What do you think about the spirit?” I ask Hope as we return to the inn. The snow has already started to melt under the warmth of the sun; even with the storm raging a little further up the mountain, this is spring not winter.

“I don’t know.” Hope replies, looking around at the empty streets around us. Most of the others are still enjoying themselves at the tavern. “You were the one who met her, right?”

“I guess.” I say, thinking back to that shadow in the midst of the storm. She looked so human that I couldn’t really tell that she was something magical.

“When I met her she seemed a bit strange, I’ll give you that, but she didn’t seem murderous or anything.” I say, stomping in the thin snow where she’d been standing. “I don’t get it, what happened with the old lady? Why did she kill someone?”

“Careful.” Hope says, stepping up to my side as I stomp through the snow, looking for where the spirit had been standing last night.

“She was right here.” I say finding the spot. My foot slides under me as I step where she was standing.

“Wah!”

I fall backwards, my foot sliding from under me. Hope reaches out to catch me but she’s a moment slow, and her footing is too poor. Her arms wrap around me as we tumble back into the snow.

“You okay?” I ask Hope, struggling to get back up, but she just groans quietly.

“Hope?” I ask, pulling myself from her grasp and turning around to face her. She’s lying on an awkward angle, protecting that bag that she’s always so precious about, and landing on the side of her hip.

She doesn’t reply, staring into the snow as she twitches.

“I’m… okay.” She replies, the words coming out a bit weak.

“Nothing is broken, is it?” I ask, walking around her. Trying to find something I can do to make things better. “I’m so sorry, it’s my fault. Can I do something? Can you walk?”

“I’m fine.” She says, shaking the snow from herself as she tries to stand and stumbles. “It’s just a bruise, I’ve had worse.”

Her eyes watering as she turns to head back into the inn, she hesitates at the first step and so she can’t stop me when I sneak in under her arm.

“Lean on me.” I say. “We’ll go inside to the fireside and take a look at it.”

She grunts her acceptance, pressing her weight on me as we make our way into the inn. Squeezing awkwardly through the door, we stumble about taking off our boots and jackets before heading to the fire. The flames aren’t completely dead but they do need more fuel.

I throw some more blocks of wood into the blackened remains and stir it up with the fire poker until we have a big fire burning.

“Can I take a look?” I ask Hope as I sit next to her, careful of where she got hurt.

“It’s just bruised.” Hope says, shifting around, “There’s nothing to see, but go for it.”

There’s plenty that could be wrong, but I’m not a doctor. At the very least, I’m not going to be happy until I see that she’s fine.

Pulling at her shirt and her pants, I see her hip. It’s a bit red, but that’s it. I carefully run my hands along her just to feel at the bone, but nothing is snapped or anything. She’d probably be screaming in pain by now if it was.

“Ah, should I give you two some space?” Missy asks, standing by the side of the lounge with a few things in hand.

“No, no.” I say, fixing Hopes clothes back to normal. “We’re not doing anything like that out here. I’m just checking on her, we took a fall outside and she fell on her hip.”

“I’m fine.” Hope insists, pulling her clothes around until she’s comfortable again.

“Ah, well you are a trader right?” Missy asks, standing stiffly, “Do you have any nice cloth?”

“Nice cloth?” I ask. “I have something that might work.”

“Okay, what do you want as trade? I don’t really have anything special.”

“Some food that’s not biscuits. Enough to see us to the next town when we leave.” I say, excited that this opportunity has come to me.

“Deal.” She nods firmly. “Can you show it to me? I want to make sure it looks nice for what I’m after.”

“Alright.” I say, standing up and turning back towards Hope.

“I’m fine.” She sighs, “Go. I’ll be alright here.”

I nod, turning to head out with Missy.

~Hope

How did I get myself into this situation? Am I weak to women like her?

If I’d broken my leg, I wouldn’t be able to walk, perhaps I could get around on Fate’s wagon, but there would be places that I can’t go anymore.

I can’t risk failing in my quest. It’s the last thing I want to do in this world.

Yet, the warmth and excitement I feel with Fate reminds me of everything that I’m giving up on. New experiences and exciting developments.

Life itself.

I know it’s all meaningless but she somehow makes it seem so temptingly sweet and warm regardless. Is this what the old people call the folly of youth?

Becoming so enchanted by that fleeting happiness that you forget everything else? It’s almost frightening.

Fate comes back a little later, and we watch Missy work hard on her little sewing task as the blizzard starts moving back in over the town. The snow and winds ravage the walls outside, but we’ve locked every window and every door.

The wolf won’t get in tonight.

The spirit? We’ll have to wait and see.