Quill wrapped another scarf around his neck and pulled on the gloves Haley had sewn for him. Stepping between the loose floorboards, Quill held his breath as he inched open the door to his room. Nobody else seemed to be awake. The crisp air of the early morning filled his lungs, bringing the faint smell of woodsmoke and unwashed bodies. Easing the door shut, Quill crept towards the stairs. Haley’s room was right next to the stairway, and waking her would delay him.

Ignoring the first stair, he made his way down. The banister was old, and prone to giving splinters, so he stuck close to the wall. Across the room was the fireplace, cold ash lying dormant. Next to the fireplace sat the table, a patchwork of repaired wood and mismatched chairs. Sitting in one of those chairs was Haley, glaring at him. “You said you was gonna wait for me today.”

Quill grimaced. “And I was, but we need the food. Deer are out most at dawn and dusk, and I didn’t want to waste any time. I promise I would have brought you out this evening.”

“That’s no fair! You know there’s gonna be a storm tonight!”

“We can hunt after it passes.”

“No we can’t! It’ll be dark by then. If ya don’t want to take me hunting just say it.”

“Look, Haley, you’re only 14. You’re too young to hunt. I’ll teach you in a year or two.”

Haley turned to face the fire pit. “Jus’ come back safe.”

Quill walked out the door with a sigh. Of all the other children to see him go out, it had to be her. The intense cold snapped his thoughts back on track. Spring would be coming soon. The grass outside crunched with each step. The eastern sky showed the first hints of gray as Quill followed the path towards town. To his left was a small frozen creek, undisturbed by his passing. A small hare darted from a snowbank, landing on the other bank in a single leap.

Quill left the path, climbing a small boulder. He slid down the other side and walked to the fourth tree in front of him. Ten steps to the left of the tree, he bent down. Hooking his fingers underneath a rock, he pulled upwards. A trapdoor opened up, revealing a small storage space. Quill picked up his bow and a quiver with five arrows. The shafts weren’t the straightest, and the fletching was slightly off, but they were some of his most prized possessions. Months of training under Master Erikson had paid off.

After pulling one of the bowstrings out of the quiver and checking it for damage, Quill closed the lid. After strapping the quiver to his hip, Quill checked his time. The gray sky had started to lighten, so he set off. There was more haste in his steps now, and he reached the village shortly. Darting between the inn and granary, Quill sped up as the woods came into view.

Choosing a path he knew well, Quill broke into a jog. The first rays of dawn began to clutch at the clouds above. While stringing his bow, his eyes drifted to a nearby tree. Claw marks he had never seen before stretched across the trunk. Bears didn’t usually come out this early, and the marks were too deep to be a mountain lion. Twigs snapped behind him. Quill spun around, his hand searching for an arrow in his quiver.

A fox darted back into the overgrowth, seeming more afraid than he was. Quill took many deep breaths. As his nerves settled down, he began to search the area for signs of deer. A little bit away from him, the undergrowth was dull from a lack of frost. Sending a silent thanks to the gods, Quill began to follow the barely visible trail. The local herd had changed their beds recently, and he hoped this would lead him to the new ones.

Along the path was more certain evidence. Stones out of place, twigs snapped, grass pushed down in transit beds. The sun scraped the edge of the mountains, starting to drive off the predawn gray. Quill saw an area of tall grass that was being pushed down by something. He silently slid an arrow from his quiver and placed it on his bowstring. He crept closer, drawing the string so his thumb rested at the corner of his mouth.

He froze. Something was wrong. Why hadn’t he noticed it before. Specks of dark red stained some of the upright stalks of grass. Taking a deep breath, he took another step forward. The light brown of a deer’s coat peeked out from the top of the grass, the rest still hidden from view.

A monstrous black head rose from the grass. Thick, coarse fur wrapped around a grotesque dog-like skull. Blood dripped from its scaled mouth as it swallowed its last bite. The lips peeled back to reveal bloodstained teeth as a low growl rattled through the air. Quill turned and ran. Hearing the creature give chase, he pushed himself harder. Branches whipped past his face and briars tore at his clothes, but nothing slowed his pace.

The Keld River is nearby. Maybe I can lure it onto the ice? It didn’t appear to have any traction, and I have my boots.

Ahead of him the forest opened, exposing the banks of the frozen Keld river. The beginnings of an idea pieced themselves together inside Quill’s head. He paused for a moment to pick up a heavy looking stone, and ran onto the ice. Once he was halfway out, he turned around. The beast stood on the bank, pacing back and forth. It took a hesitant step onto the ice. Then another.

I need it on the ice.

“Come on! I’m right here!” Quill yelled, waving his free hand. A long growl was the only response. Two more steps. Three. The creature’s cold eyes stared at the rock in his hands. It hesitated for a moment longer before launching itself at him. Fear seized his body.

It’s moving faster than before. I don’t have time to-

Quill brought the stone up with both hands. He brought it down with all his might, catching the top of the beast’s head. The stone kept going, smashing through into the ice. Cracks spread through the ice like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

With a deafening crack, Quill plunged into the dark waters. The stone slipped away from his numb fingers. The river’s current tugged at his body, clawing at loose clothes and flailing limbs. Quill knew his only hope was to make it back to the hole. He kicked backwards with all his strength, his hands seeking the edge. A flash of movement in the dark was his only warning as the beast’s claws tore into his leg. His silent scream did nothing but let the freezing water in. His lungs began to burn.

The faint red cloud around his leg was swept away in the current. He could barely make out the snake-like muzzle of the creature. His hand found the edge. Ice was beginning to cover the hole, but his hand broke through. Now he just needed to pull. With the last of his strength, his head finally broke through to the surface. He dragged in as much air as he could, ignoring the icy claws that tore at his lungs. He hauled himself onto the ice, wincing as his leg hit the ground too hard. He was shivering. He needed to get back to the village immediately. Carefully he crawled across the ice to the bank, keeping his weight spread out.

Clenching his jaw shut to keep his teeth from chattering, he pushed himself to his feet. The only benefit of the cold was that his wound was numb. A brisk breeze cut through the morning air, slicing into his skin as effectively as knives. Each step grew heavier than the last. Clutching his cloak in quivering hands, Quill kept moving. He leaned against a tree for support. He blinked, and saw the ground rushing up to meet him.

It was too hot. Quill rolled over. Sitting high in the sky was a bright sun, heating his face. This was wrong. He sat up, surprised by how light his limbs felt. A bird started singing nearby, and he jumped. The grass around him was too green, and leaves filled out the branches of trees nearby. Quill got to his feet, amazed at the sudden transformation around him. It was supposed to be winter. Something tugged his arm, and he was in the middle of the village. All around him people went about their daily business, from mothers dragging water from the well to craftsmen whittling away at blocks of wood.

Quill's confusion grew as everything around him darkened. A little girl pointed up and screamed. His head followed her finger, and his heart stopped. The sky was being consumed by black. The last to disappear was the sun. It shone brightly, as if giving the last of its strength before fading into nothingness. As soon as the sun disappeared a pillar of fire erupted from underneath the well. Those closest were incinerated. More screams began to tear themselves from the throats of the townspeople. Another pillar tore through the center of the tavern. Another through the center of the street. The explosion knocked Quill off his feet. All around him a chorus of screaming and wailing cut into his soul. His arm was tugged again and he was floating in the sky, looking down on the flaming world below.

A gentle breeze drifted past his face, bringing a whispering voice he didn't recognize.

"This is the price for failure my son. Don't let them kill me."

Darkness swallowed what little he could see, and sleep was a welcomed respite.