A blizzard was coming. Normally in Saffarox, the winters weren’t so bad, but for some reason, the past few had been harsh. It didn’t look like that trend was going to end this year, either. Inside, there was a tension sprouting. A quiet anxiety that was growing. The past few winters had not only been harsh, but they had also been getting worse every year. They couldn’t even leave the horse in her stable, for fear that she would freeze to death. The inside of the house smelled terrible at this point because of that, and that wasn’t helping the mood inside, either.

They had the hearth fire going, and they already had their thickest coats and gloves at the ready. The stores of food were also looking good, so starvation shouldn’t be an issue. The only issue was, because their hut was so small, they had to store their food in the shed outside. They were working on making a cellar, but that wouldn’t be done until next winter.

When Lark asked his father why they didn’t have one in the first place, he said that the winters hadn’t been this bad in decades, and never this many years in a row. Most people didn’t see a need. He really couldn’t stress how strange this was for the area. But, nonetheless, they were getting one just in case. The guys that his father had working on it in the summer months had even joked that by the time it was finished, it would already be useless. They just couldn’t see this happening for another year. Both Henry and Lark hoped they were right, and that they were just being paranoid. Their biggest fear was that they weren’t.

The hut that they had lived in for the past nine-and-a-half years was moderately well insulated for the time, with a straw and mud composite that was supposed to help with cold weather. To say that it was shit compared to modern standards would be putting it lightly, and that’s not even mentioning the windows. Speaking of, the windows were a bit of a challenge, with the lack of glass and all, but they had nailed a sheepskin cover on the inside, filled the window with mud-straw composite, and nailed more sheepskin on the outside. It wasn’t perfect, but it would work for now.

“So we’ve got everything ready, right?”

“Devon, I promise you that we do. I know that this is scary, but we’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Pssh, I’m not scared. Me, scared? Never. The fact that you would even insinuate-”

“I get it. You don’t need to mask your fear with humor, just trust me, okay?”

“Yeah, I trust you. But if I die, I’m going to haunt your ass for the rest of your life, and that’s a promise!”

“Well, I suppose I would deserve that. Tell you what, if we don’t make it, I’ll let you get the first hit on me in the afterlife.”

“I’ll hold you to your word on that, pops” Lark finished, his mood already better.

The wind had picked up again after their conversation. Even through the exceptionally thick wooden walls of their hut, they could hear the piercing howl of the chill winds outside.

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“Do you know who that is?”

“Who?”

“That is Kirsyne herself, the Goddess of the Hunt, Nature, and Honor. It is said that the winds that howl on nights like these are her wolves.”

“Wolves? Not hounds?”

“Good question, the answer to that is from one of her oldest tales. Long ago, when Kirsyne was still but a fledgling deity, it is said that there was a terrible winter, much like this one. She was out hunting on a particularly cold day, when, out of nowhere, she was attacked.”

“Was it by the wolves?”

“No, it was by a winter wraith, they are an amalgamation of corrupted souls. It is said that they are wrought by Wakon himself from the spirits of those who died from the winter’s icy touch.”

“Wakon? You’ve never mentioned him to me.”

“Oh, yeah. I haven’t. He is an evil god, directly at odds with Lycilia herself-”

“Lycilia?” Lark interrupted with a question

“Damn it, I knew I should have had Melissa teach you this. She was ordained as a priestess, so she would be able to tell you better than I. Look, here’s the gist, Wakon is an evil god that likes to craft abominations, and Lycilia is the goddess of Life, Motherhood, and Kindness. She also has aspects that are less wholesome, but I am already sidetracked.”

Continuing, Henry said, “The winter wraith catches her off guard, and its corrupted essence allows it to cut her divine flesh, which is resistant to mortal weapons. She kills it before it can attack again, but the damage is already done. She is deeply wounded, and the corruption from the wraith had weakened her to the point that even a man could have killed her.”

“She was not scared, though, quite the contrary. She was accepting. In nature, the weak die, and the strong survive. If she were to die, it would simply mean she was not up to snuff.”

“Wait, so she just laid down and accepted death?”

“No, accepting death and not being frightened by it is not the same as giving in against the tide. She was cunning and would not go down without a fight, and fight she did. Sensing her weakness, Wakon sent tens more of his abominations, the equivalent of hundreds of years of work, just to try and kill her.”

“How did she survive?”

“Through traps, stealth, and tenacity. But alas, just as she had finished off the last of His creations and collapsed to the ground, a pack of starving wolves came upon her. She had no recourse and no way of stopping them. In this terrible winter they had not eaten once, and here was a divine meal set before them. Kirsyne accepted, truly accepted, death. She truly did not think she would make it out alive.”

“Then, something extraordinary happened. Whether it be out of gratitude for cleansing their forest, or something else, the wolves decided to save her. They dragged her back to their den, and nursed her back to health. When she returned to full strength, she offered the wolves a partnership. They would help her track her prey more effectively and guide her through the coldest nights, and she would grant them divinity as her eternal helpers.”

“I like that story. Is Kirsyne the Goddess you pray to all the time?”

“Most of the time, yeah. It is always best to pray to the god that shares a domain with your problem, though. If you are having trouble conceiving, you’re better off praying to Lycilia than to Kor, even if you are a warrior.”

“Huh?”

“I really need to teach you about the gods. Well, we don’t have anything better to do tonight.”

“Kor is the god of War, Exploration, and Honor. The patron god of our Kingdom, Saffarox, and the father of all warriors. It is said that when a man dies in battle, it is Kor that will guide them to the afterlife.”

“Kor and Lycillia may seem like unlikely friends, as one gives life and the other takes, but they quickly came to fall for one another. The combination of Kor’s aspects of Honor, Exploration, Battle, and Lycillia’s aspects of, Life, Reaping, and Survival, led to Kirsyne as their offspring.”

Henry extolled the Virtues of the Gods long into the morning. This cold winter night became one of Lark’s fondest memories, and one that he would have to hold onto for the days to come.