Kindra woke the morning of the Festival with loneliness lodged in her stomach. Today they would celebrate the return of Aleda, the Mother, but Kindra’s mother would never return. She didn’t want to give thanks for surviving the winter, because everything had fallen apart this winter. And she couldn’t celebrate the coming spring because it would bring only Obsidians and death. She was reminded of her vision and the storm in the north. She’d been falling all winter, and so far Eoin hadn’t caught her.

Kindra left the tent to stand at the bottom of the cliff with the rest of the tribe as the priestesses sang up the sun. The ground was slushy with mid-winter thaw, but spirits were high. Today the tribes would celebrate with feasts and music. Without Deer Valley everyone was perpetually hungry by this time of the winter, but Fie Deorsa slaughtered all except the pregnant ewes and the smell of roasting lamb permeated the valley. Kindra’s stomach growled.

The priestess song rose to a crescendo as the sun broke over the cliff and the people cheered. Aleda was born into the world again. Kindra could only pray that Kaye would also be born back into her world soon.

The ground shivered beneath her as Kindra walked back to the tent. There was a distant noise like thunder and she looked up. No clouds. It must be an avalanche in the passes. It wasn’t uncommon—that’s why she knew Kaye wouldn’t be back until after the spring thaw.

Dread expanded in the pit of her stomach and put her on edge. There was snow in the passes when Kaye left—what if she didn’t make it across the mountain? The thought made Kindra panic until she remembered what the High Priestess said; Kaye was where Aleda planned for her to be.

Kindra hunted under her bed for the ceremony dress that she hated, but it wasn’t there. It took her a moment to remember her mother traded it for the warrior outfit Kindra wore to the Warrior’s Ceremony. She was no longer a warrior and couldn’t show her scars, but she wasn’t going to wear one of her sister’s priestess dresses. She dug the warrior outfit out from under her cot.

The last time the outfit had been laid out like this, Kaye was worrying at the beads as she fretted over her own ceremony. The last time Kindra wore it, Loria had finally looked proud, and Gar had been Kindra’s best friend. How could things change so much between the last feast and this one?

She pulled the shirt on. It felt strange wearing an open-backed shirt again, and she ran her hand over the beaded horse, remembering her mother’s corpse. Kindra dropped her shaking hand and donned the pants, then wrapped her plain cloak around her shoulders so her mark wouldn’t be visible. It was past time to break her fast, but she couldn’t make herself open the door. How was she supposed to sit with the Conals and Prestons and pretend she was grateful for the changing seasons?

She sank onto the cot and put her head in her hands. She could hear voices—happy voices—of the rest of the tribe outside, but she couldn’t make herself join them. She curled up around Kaye’s blanket, which no longer smelled of priestess herbs, and decided to go hungry for the day. It wasn’t likely anyone would care if she came out to celebrate anyways.

A knock on the doorframe proved otherwise. Kindra sat and pushed the hair off her face. “Come in.”

Thankfully it wasn’t Gar or Monk, but her cousin, Cassie, a little bundle wrapped against her chest.

“You had your baby.” Kindra stood as the dread began to drain away.

Cassie smiled and let the door flap close behind her. She looked tired, but happy. “The day after Yule. I thought you might like to meet him, but didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” Kindra peered over as Cassie uncovered the tiny head. “It’s a boy?”

“Michael Baylor. My little kitten.”

One small fist broke free of the blanket and waved in the air and Kindra couldn’t help but smile. “He’s going to be a warrior. Look at that, already punching the air.”

Cassie chuckled and bounced him a few times. “He was quite the kicker too. Would you like to hold him?”

Kindra took a step back. “No. I’d drop him, or hold him too tight. I have no motherly instincts.”

Cassie laughed again. “Even a warrior can hold a baby without hurting him. Pretend he’s a weapon. Just don’t try to stab me with him.”

Kindra froze as Cassie handed him over. She didn’t know how to hold him, was terrified of hurting him, but as the small weight made itself known her arms cradled him as naturally as if she was a mother herself.

“See?” Cassie said. “Not nearly as scary as a battle.”

To that Kindra couldn’t say, as she’d never been in a battle, but she was more comfortable in the midst of fighting than she was holding Michael. Still, it was nice to see something good come from the winter. It melted the ice that had grown around her heart.

Michael swung his fist again and hit her in the chest and Kindra smiled. “Thank Aleda for something good,” she whispered.

“Thank Her indeed,” Cassie said. “Do you think you’re ready to join us now?”

Kindra handed the little boy back. “Yes. I think I could eat something now.”