Hail cascaded from the night sky, while the roars of distant lightning strikes drowned out the sound of the burly man’s footsteps crushing the snow beneath his feet.

The exile carried a child, no older than six. He had wrapped the young boy in a blanket and hunched over it, trying to protect him from the icy onslaught lashing their faces. 

From underneath the woolen wrap, two piercing blue eyes studied the man’s weathered face. The child was quiet, unusually so. The exile had done many wrongs in his life, but he’d be damned if he’d let this child come to harm under his watch. His small lantern swayed in the rhythm of his large strides, save for when the harsh winter winds interrupted its steady rocking.

He’d found the boy in the woods, sitting against a pine tree. Untouched, and seemingly as indifferent to his predicament as nature would surely be to a lone child in a freezing forest. 

The man shivered, and clutched his cloak and the child closer. In the distance, ominous clouds were getting ever closer. He knew he had to find shelter soon, the true storm would soon be upon them. Just as he was starting to give up hope of finding any safe haven, he saw a glimmer in the distance, heavily obscured by the weather. He paused for a moment, turning his gaze to the bundle of warmth he held in his muscular arms, and continued with renewed vigour towards his new destination.

A small log cabin came into view, and the man sighed a breath of relief. 

Fuck, he thought, What are the odds of finding a god damned house in this godforsaken frozen wasteland. 

He grinned at the child.

You must bring good luck, boy. 

He set down his lantern, and knocked the heavy wooden door three times. After waiting a while, he knocked once more.

The door opened, but stopped after a few inches. He was met by the barrel of a rifle sliding through the narrow opening. The blinding light of the fireplace inside prevented him from seeing the owner’s face.

“What brings you here, exile?” A gravelly voice asked. 

“Why do you assume I am one?”

“If you aren’t, then you’re here to hunt them. Now speak, what brings you here?” 

The exile pondered the question. “I’m an exile as you say, I had to flee to these lands for the wrongs I’ve done.” He looked where he thought the other man’s eyes would be. “You’d be right, sending me away. But the boy... The boy’s done no harm.” 

The exile kept the man's gaze. “Please, take him in at least.” 

The door shut, and the exile sighed and pulled the child closer. He heard the muffled sounds of a discussion from inside, until the door finally opened again. 

“Come in, wipe your feet.” The man growled.

The exile sighed with relief. As he entered the house, the man who had greeted him with the rifle shuffled backwards, keeping the barrel firmly pointed at his head. 

The interior proved to be as spartan as he’d expected. An unwieldy oaken table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by four simple chairs. Beneath it, they’d placed a moth-eaten rug as some sort of crude decoration. Surprisingly, they’d hung a very nice painting of a sailing ship above the fireplace. It would have looked nice in any other home, but here it just seemed to mock the rest of the house with its obvious superiority. The smell of two people living in too small a space came over him, and the warmth of the fire felt like the embrace of a long lost friend.

The man gestured the rifle towards the exile. “Take off your-” he coughed. “-take off your coat.” 

The exile slowly set the child down in front of the fire, and began taking off his fur coat. 

“Katya, hold this.” The man said. 

A young woman with silvery hair adorned with a single stroke of red, strode out of the shadows and towards the man. She took the weapon and kept it aimed at the exile. 

The man stepped towards him. “Face the wall, hands where I can see them.”

Well, I can’t blame them for being careful.

The man coughed again. “I’m a man of few words, so I’m going to ask you this only once. Am I going to find anything on you that might harm us?”

“You’ll find a dagger hidden behind my belt, and another in my right boot.” The threat of the rifle turned an honest man out of him.

The man patted him down and found the two daggers. The flickering light of the fireplace reflected off the well-kept metal as the man admired the delicate craftsmanship that went into these twin blades. 

“Well maintained.” 

A clattering sound filled the room as the two daggers were thrown in front of the young woman’s feet. 

The man grabbed two chairs and set them down in front of the comfortable warmth of the hearth. 

“Sit by the fire and introduce yourself.” He gestured to one of the chairs, and turned his head towards the woman. “Katya, get the child a new blanket. This one’s soaked.” 

Katya obeyed and gently, but confidently unwrapped the boy.

“Now, my name is Aleksei.” The man sat, not letting the exile out of his sight. He waved his hand in Katya’s direction. “You know her name. What’s—” He coughed again. “—what’s yours?” 

The exile sat on the other chair and warmed his hands. They were too cold to immediately feel the heat, and it would take a little while still for the chill to seep out of his bones. 

“My name is Mikhail.” He paused, and rubbed his hands together. “Thank you for taking us in, we would’ve died out there if we stayed much longer.” 

Aleksei squinted his eyes at him. “Mikhail, huh? He who is like god. Though a man who’s been banished to these lands is most likely the farthest thing from the image of god as one can get.” The corners of Aleksei's mouth curled up. 

This was the first time Mikhail got a good look at him. He seemed younger than he initially thought. 

Probably not much older than thirty-five.

His eyes betrayed the experience of a man who’d lived through more hardships than you would expect of someone his age. They weren’t cold, though. There seemed to be a shimmer of kindness and humour behind his inquisitive gaze. Wariness too. Mostly wariness, for now. 

Mikhail smiled. “I suppose you’re right in saying that I haven’t exactly lived up to my god fearing name. Though I suspect you’re not a beacon of proper conduct yourself, if I’m not mistaken.” 

A flash of lightning lit up the room, and the deafening roar of thunder followed shortly after. It seems Mikhail came inside just in time, the storm had intensified significantly. 

The man shrugged. “As I’ve said, I’m not a man of many words, so I won’t be going into detail. But yes, you would be right. We’re both exiles, just like you.” Aleksei rubbed his chin and continued. “The church wasn’t very fond of us, although the christian God hasn’t seen fit to write us a letter of admonishment as of yet.” 

Katya smiled at her man’s jesting while humming a tune to the boy in her lap. It was a kind smile and a comforting tune.

Aleksei turned around and looked at her, his face softening. Then he turned back to Mikhail.

“Listen,” He said, in a serious tone. “I don’t care what you’ve done. If you’d told me you were an exile-hunter I would’ve shot you where you stood before you could’ve gotten the words out of your mouth. That doesn’t mean I automatically trust a fellow exile though.” He paused for a moment. “Having said that, you can-” He coughed again. “You can stay this one night to shelter from the storm, but tomorrow when the weather clears, you’ll have to leave. Do you understand?” 

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Mikhail wasn’t sure if the cough was a sign of a disease or if he just did it as a nervous habit. 

He nodded. “Of course. As soon as the storm passes, I’ll take the boy and be on my way.”

“Good.” Aleksei clapped. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now with that out of the way, let’s have some vodka to warm our bones.” He rubbed his hands excitedly.

Aleksei walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the room, and took out a bottle covered in dust. “I won't have it said that I’m a lousy host.” He grabbed two cups, and sat next to Mikhail in front of the fire again. “So,” he said while pouring the drinks. “What’s the little runt’s name?” 

Mikhail thought for a moment. There wasn’t any note with the child when he’d found him, so he’d just called him boy for now. 

“His name, huh?” The boy’s piercing blue eyes sprang to mind, and he came up with a name that he thought would fit him just fine, if a little strange. “His name is Nebo.”

They toasted, and the two men drank the night away in relative silence.

The following morning Mikhail woke up with a tongue like leather and a splitting headache. 

Must have been cheap vodka. 

He saw Katya sleeping in the rickety chair holding Nebo closely in her arms. Aleksei was sprawled out in front of the still smoldering fireplace, covered by a woolen blanket that Katya most likely draped over him sometime during the night. 

Mikhail smiled. 

I guess all the caution they showed last night has been thrown out the window for now. 

He chuckled. Listening for signs of a storm outside, he started towards the door and opened it. Sunlight reflecting off the pure white snow blinded him, and intensified his headache substantially. The storm had subsided. 

"My damned head.” He grumbled.

 His eyes adjusted to the bright morning sunlight, and for the first time he saw the snowy environment of Aleksei and Katya’s house clearly. A small well was situated a short distance from the house, most likely frozen solid. Tall pine trees surrounded the house, and if there normally were scrubs and shrubbery they weren’t visible right now.

There was nearly no sound, save for the creaking of frozen branches swaying gently in the wind. Some would call it eerie, but Mikhail found it peaceful.

His near trance was broken by the grunts of Aleksei waking up. Mikhail caught himself feeling slightly annoyed, but quickly recovered and turned around to greet Aleksei.

“‘Morning friend, I hope the vodka treated your head better than mine.” He grinned at Aleksei.

He got a one-eyed look and a painful groan in return. 

“I guess not, then.” 

Aleksei stumbled towards him, and pushed him aside. He took off his shirt, took a deep breath, and dove head first into the snow. 

Mikhail stood there, dumbfounded. 

For a moment Aleksei just laid there, but suddenly jumped up and shouted at the sky. “HAAAH!” He slapped his own head twice. “Nothing like a face full of fresh snow to wake a man up.” 

He shook his head from side to side like a dog drying its fur. “Get out of my way, it's freezing out here.” Aleksei pushed past Mikhail with relative ease. 

Mikhail shrugged, and followed him back inside where Aleksei began relighting the fire.

“Did you sleep well?” Aleksei asked without turning to Mikhail. “I’ve never had a bad night's rest ever since I came here with her.” He nodded towards Katya. “Which is strange, since before I came here I’d only ever known nightmares.”

He stopped handling the fireplace, and turned to Mikhail. “So, did you sleep well?” 

Mikhail sat on one of the chairs and nodded. 

“I’ve had worse nights. Though the vodka might have helped with that a little too.” He scratched his scruffy beard, and looked at the fledgeling fire. “Thank you again for offering me and the little one a place to shelter.” 

Another grunt. “You do remember our deal?” 

Mikhail nodded. He knew he would have to go out into the wilderness again soon. 

A rustling in the corner caught Mikhail's attention. She held little Nebo’s hand and sauntered over to the fireplace. 

“What a special little boy this is.” Her silky voice surprised Mikhail, who hadn't heard her speak up until now. Her gaze was firmly fixed on the boy's eyes. 

“You don't talk much, do you?” Mikhail asked. 

“Words have more power for some than others, I tend to be careful with them.” She almost whispered. Her slender fingers gently caressed Nebo's hair, as if she were afraid of damaging him.

A glimpse of calculative curiosity seemed to shine through her affectionate gaze, but it disappeared almost as soon as Mikhail noticed it. His brow furrowed a little. 

Katya turned her eyes to him, and he noticed they were a bright, almost golden hazel. His shoulders tightened. He’d have found them beautiful if they didn't make him feel slightly uncomfortable.

“He’s not yours, is he Mikhail? How did you find him?” her voice flowed like a gentle stream, yet somehow felt dark and commanding. 

Mikhail’s eyes turned foggy, and a low thrum seemed to enter his brain. 

He spoke before he even processed the question. “No, I found him in the woods by chance. He hasn't made a sound since, and I’m not sure if he’s ever made one before.” 

Her mesmerizing eyes were still fixed on Mikhail’s despite his best attempts at pulling away. After what felt like forever, a warm smile appeared on Katya's face and she turned to little Nebo once more. “By chance, you say? I believe nothing happens by chance.”

As soon as she broke eye contact, Mikhail's shoulders relaxed and his sight came back into focus. 

What the hell was that?

“Dear, we should let them stay for one more night to make sure the storm doesn't return.” Her voice sounded like a normal young woman's again. 

Aleksei shrugged, apparently unperturbed by whatever it was that just took place between Mikhail and Katya. 

“Fine, one more night won't hurt.” He turned to Mikhail. “But I’ll have you help me hunt today, hangover or no. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a snow sheep.” 

Mikhail nodded. “Of course.” He felt a little uncomfortable leaving Nebo alone with Katya, but she'd shown no clear signs of hostility to the boy. He decided Nebo would be safer with her for now than coming with him into the cold.

After they’d eaten a modest breakfast of pickled vegetables and dried meat, the two men had gone out to hunt. Mikhail’s face burned from the punishing cold assaulting his senses. The storm might have subsided, but staying out in the forest was still a challenge even without a storm. 

Aleksei squatted in front of him, rifle in hand. For the past hour they had ventured into the pine forest together to look for any signs of prey they could hunt, but so far all they found was snow and trees, and trees and snow. There was no sign of tracks anywhere. Mikhail had learned how to hunt when he was younger, but never in such extreme conditions. He tried to keep his eyes and ears open as best he could, but he had trouble concentrating on anything save keeping himself warm.

“Mikhail,” Aleksei whispered. “I’ve found something.” He beckoned for Mikhail to take a look. 

Mikhail crouched beside him and saw what he meant. A tuft of fur got stuck to one of the lower branches of a tree, and there was a very vague outline of hoofprints in the snow leading away from them. 

Aleksei punched him in the shoulder and smiled. “It seems Devana blessed us today!” 

They continued following the vague hoofprints, looking for signs of fur, droppings, and broken twigs for what seemed like an eternity,until they finally saw the majestic beast standing in a clearing. They were hiding downwind from it, so luckily it couldn't smell them. 

Mikhail admired the grand animal. It reminded him of the tales of old, of fae and giants and magical woodland beasts. He felt it would be a sin to kill such an animal, but the need for food soon overturned those notions. He grinned and lightly patted Aleksei’s back. They’d found a moose. “Hell of a catch.”

Aleksei shouldered his rifle and steadied his breathing, waiting for the perfect time to take the shot. 

The moose lifted its head. Mikhail heard Aleksei take a deep breath, and saw his finger tighten on the trigger before slowly exhaling. 

Mikhail saw a flock of birds fly up from the pine trees on the far side of the clearing. A second after, he heard a sickening crunch and felt something warm cover his face. Fresh blood. A loud bang resounded throughout the forest, and Aleksei slumped to the ground, curling up a little and then remaining still. 

“FUCK!” Mikhail dropped to the ground and looked at Aleksei's face to see where the bullet entered his skull to decide its trajectory. “From over there. Those sons of whores!” He spat.

He snatched Aleksei's rifle and hid behind a tree. The blood kept spreading in the snow below his feet, like a glass of wine on a white carpet. “God damn it Aleksei they got you. The bastards got you.”

Mikhail closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. It was no use panicking right now. 

One breath... two breaths… three breaths…

He started counting his breaths to clear his head and refocus his mind.

Alright, how the hell am I getting out of this one?

He managed to calm himself a little, but he was in no less danger now than he was before. He had been in lots of hairy situations in his time, but this one was particularly messy. He knew the shooter's general direction, but his hands shook from the cold and the blood on his face was frozen solid already. 

He wouldn't be able to pinpoint the shooter's location, nor would he be able to return fire accurately. His shoulders slumped. He’d have a bigger chance of survival if he threw himself off a cliff. 

He laughed coldly and shook his head. Was this how he would die? Well, might as well make a mad dash between the trees and hope for the best, it's not like I've got much of a choice.

He slowly stood up, taking care not to lean out of cover. 

He took one last look at Aleksei and solemnly nodded, as if doing so might convince Aleksei's ghost to grant him some protection. 

One breath… two breaths… three breaths…

He ran from cover and almost instantly he felt as if someone punched him hard on the back of his shoulder. Another loud bang shook the pine trees. Wet warmth spread all over his upper arm and chest, along with searing pain. 

He instinctively ignored it for now and kept sprinting further into the forest. The bullets whizzed past his ears, narrowly missing time after time. 

Keep running, screw the wound. Keep running, screw the wound. He kept repeating it in his head like a mantra. 

The forest around him became a blur as he ran, and a murky darkness crept up on him. The cold lessened with every step he took, and he couldn't hear the bullets whizzing past his head or the gunshots anymore. 

I guess this is it, I’m hallucinating. Probably lost too much blood.

But that would be strange, why would he still be able to run this fast if he’d lost too much blood? And why did the forest go completely quiet? 

The rustling of branches was gone, and he couldn't hear the wind anymore either. The atmosphere felt oppressive. As he ran, even the sounds of his feet hitting the ground grew almost silent. An ominous low and rumbling whisper that he couldn't understand penetrated his mind. It kept going until he could finally understand what it said.

Mikhail.

A soft but firm voice startled him. Katya.

Follow my voice, don't be scared, I’ll keep you safe.

The entire forest around him seemed covered in a veil, and he slowed his pace. Was he truly hallucinating? 

He pulled himself together and continued his path. It didn't matter right now if he was seeing things, he just needed to get to the house. 

Keep running, screw the wound. Keep running, screw the wound.

He renewed his mantra and put one foot in front of the other, over and over.