If I shut my eyes, I was almost warm. The snow falling around me could have been mistaken for a nice, thick blanket. I was cradled, almost cuddled by the snow around me, melted by my lost body heat into a small little bed. A small part of me wanted to get up. I had heard stories about other children freezing to death after running away, and how they should always come inside before dark in the winter. That was easier to do, and easier to say when those children had an inside to go to. A home. A nice warm house, with a roaring fire in a proper fireplace, glass on the windows, and a door that closed properly.

A sudden cough shook snow into my mouth. I slowly ran my chilled tongue over my cracked and dry lips. They felt better for a moment, but then chilled once more. I thought idly of bringing my hands up to my face, covering my mouth at least. I half moved my hand, and gave up. The effort seemed too great, and all I wanted to do was rest.

I could almost see the flicker of fire. I saw home. A small little one room shack in the middle of the city, protected from the wind by other little shacks. Tattered rags were tacked against the window, keeping some of the snow out. I was in the corner of the shack, sitting on the edge of the pile of hay I called a bed, while mother slept in the old, beaten up chair she'd had since before I could remember. In a dented metal pot on the floor, a small fire burned, illuminating the bare room around us. The fire was warm, and the sound of his mother breathing slowly was some comfort at least.

I smiled. I couldn't sleep then, or we both would have frozen. But now I could sleep. I snuggled into the snow. I could sleep now.

Faraway, I heard voices. I moaned and ignored them. I didn't have to worry. I didn't have to get up. The realization that I probably wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again dawned on me suddenly. I smiled.

“It's a kid.” A female voice said. I half rose my head, but my neck was stiff, and it seemed like too great an effort.

“Probably dead.” another voice said. A male voice, gruff and cold. A guard? Who was the woman?

I felt a hand on my cheek, the touch feeling like flame. I tried to cry out, but even that took too much energy. Spirits? Demons? Would I burn to death without being unable to move? Was I already dead?

“I don't think so.” The female said. “He will be If we leave him here.”

There was a long pause. Had they left me?

“Fine.” The male said, “Take him. We'll drop him at the next city or something.”

“I felt myself gently lifted from the snow. A blanket was wrapped around me, and sudden warmth let me realize just how cold I really was. I felt warm breath on my face, smelling like wine and honey. Mustering up what strength I could, I opened my eyes, blinking as tiny flakes of ice broke away from my frozen eyelashes. I could scarcely make out the image of a woman with long blonde hair. She leaned in close to me.

“shh.” she whispered, “It's ok.. we're going to take good care of you.” She shook me gently. Then again, and again and again and-

I was shaken awake. I was back in the study where I had fallen asleep. An old dented tin pot that we had found in the castle hung over the fire in the large fireplace. The smell of cooking rabbit filled the room. I cleared my throat to ask where where the simmering soup had come from so quickly, but it felt like I was trying to swallow a hot coal. I gasped in surprise and pain.

“You're alright?”

“No.” I croaked. The effort it took to try to speak was great. I lowered by voice as low as I could, “I'll be fine.” I breathed.

“What?” Christen leaned forward to listen. I tried to speak again, but realized I was doing little more thank moving my lips and breathing quietly. I frowned and sat up. A warm woolen blanket fell from my shoulders. I picked it up and rubbed the fabric between to fingers. It wasn't one of mine.

“Found it.” Christen said. I guess I looked confused. “All your blankets were rough and thin. We found this one and thought it might be a little better.”

I shrugged and dropped the blanket to the floor next to the chair. Where before I had felt overheated, I now felt sudden chills run though me.

A bowl of broth was thrust into my hands.

“Rico's making you something that he claims will make you better-”

“It will!” Rico called out. I turned slightly to see him with his hands on a metal bowl, boiling something in it with flames from his hands.

“Anyway. You should eat first before you have whatever he's going to make.”

I didn't want the watery, broth soup that she had given me. I wanted to be shut up somewhere, drinking enough wine to knock me out until I felt better. However, I had no idea where my flask was, and my wine was in the caravan. Meanwhile, this nice, warm soup was right in my hands.

I took the spoon out of the bowl and dropped it to the flood. Rising the bowl, I took a sip of the soup. It was hot, but didn't burn, and for an instant, my throat felt better. As the burning pain came back, I lifted the bowl and quickly drank the rest, sucking down what the soup. When there was none left, I let my arms drop to my lap. My shoulders hurt just from the effort of keeping the bowl up. I'd been worse, of course. I had been just as sick, but without the sleep, and having to guide the caravan.

Still. Everything was stiff and sore.

I glanced down into the bowl. All that was left was scraps of meat and bits of what was likely some kind of wild root. Maybe they found a stash in the castle.

I turned slightly and dropped the bowl to the floor. I let my hand hang down, trying to reach the blanket that lay on the floor. My fingertips brushed the blanket, but it lay just beyond my grasp. The warm soup had done little to warm me up. If anything, my skin felt colder by comparison. I tired once more to grasp the blanket in my fingertips, giving up as the blanket fell the the weak grip of two outstretched fingers. I bent over and leaned my head on my arm, letting my mouth hang open behind my forearm.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A moment later, the blanket was pulled off the floor and draped over me. I rose my head a little, then dropped back into my arm.

It felt like only moments later when I was awoken once more. I hadn't moved, but the blanket was suddenly pulled off, and I felt someone puling my other arm. I lifted my head.

“Come on.” Christen said. She was trying to get me up. “You're sleeping on the sofa today.”

“No.” I muttered. I didn't need the little sofa; Rico and I had been fine sleeping on blankets on the floor. Christen had the sofa, as Rico had claimed she should, since she was a women. “What time...”

“It's late.” Christen said, “Middle of the night.”

“I can stay in the chair.” I rasped. “I'm fine.”

“You're not.” Christen said. “Can you even stand?”

I nodded idly as she pulled me from the chair. She stood still for a moment. I stood, wavered on the spot, and collapsed back into the chair. She pulled me back up and wrapped one arm behind my back, leading me towards the chair.

“The sooner you let me help you, the sooner you can go back to sleep.”

That was reasonable, I guessed. I humor her, and she lets me sleep again? That I could deal with nicely.

As we neared the sofa, I lurched forward and fell heavily onto it. I leaned back and rested. Before I could close my eyes, Christen had a mug of something held out to me.

“Lies” I whispered. “You said I could sleep.“

“You'll like this.” She said. “It's got alcohol in it.”

I reached out for the cup, and missed it. Christen put the cup into my hand. “You have to-” I didn't wait for her to finish. I drank the whole thing at once. It was indeed some form of alcohol, but it was watered down, hot, and sweet.

“- Drink it all at once.” Christen took the mug from me. I let my hands fall to my side and felt myself slipping into sleep.

***

A blanket was thrown over a bed of pine branches. Several warm blankets were thrown over me, and a fire roared nearby. A man and a woman sat across the fire from me, watching me, and talking quietly. An old, wooden plate with dry bread and dried meat lay in the snow before me. I shivered, and clutched the blanket tightly over my nose.

“What we gonna do with him?” the woman whispered. She was bent over a plate, scooping food into her mouth with her hands. She looked a little like all the other women, prettier perhaps, with dazzling light blonde hair and bright green eyes. all the other people that I had grown up with. Tattered and worn, but generally well repaired clothes, hair tied up with string, smudges of dirt, calloused hands. But there was something about here that was different. I had been used to only children having the spark, the vitality in their eyes that she had, and even then only the children who were wealthy. Chrildren Who wore nice, warm clothes, and who never had to worry about what they were going to eat next, or if the guards would catch them and throw them away to rot somewhere.

“Bring him to the city, I guess.” The man said. I let my eyes flicker from the pretty blonde woman to him. He was a startling, thin figure, with thin brown hair that draped over his shoulders, dressed im all black clothes. Dark brown eyes looked even darker around his pale skin. Dark stubble on his chin seemed to shine red in the firelight.

“Is that a good idea,” The woman muttered. “I mean, what's there for him in the city.”

“Dunno. Warmer than here-”

“You sure about that? You and I both know how many kids freeze to death in the doorway of a nice warm house.”

The man gave a sigh and let and empty plate to the ground. “what are we supposed to do then.” He muttered. “Find him a nice loving home?” He shook his head slowly. “You and I both know this kid is gonna live and die on the streets.”

The woman sighed. “We can't just abandon him. Besides, maybe his parents are looking for him, or-”

“Look at him. Do you really think a kid that skinny and mangy has caring parents?”

“We can't just abandon him.”

“And we can't pick up every kid we find.”

I realized they thought I was still asleep. I closed my eyes again and lay silent and still, listening to them discuss me.

“We can take him to Artis, maybe?”

“Maybe.” The man muttered. “Won't have a chance to get there for a while though. I have a few jobs in Teans, we have to go to the forest-”

“We can take him,” She said. “He's small, he won't eat a lot.”

“He will eat though.”

“Well.. I could put him to work.” She said. “Get him to clean stuff or cook stuff.. I'm sure we can find something for him to do. If anything, he can at least keep me company when you're out working.”

There was a sigh, followed by a long silence. I waited, listening for something. I began to feel too warm, like there was fire under my skin.

Something cold was put on my forehead. I woke up. Christen was sitting on the edge of the couch, holding a cold, wet cloth against my head. A single candle illuminated the room. I turned my head, and saw Rico sleeping before the dying embers of the fire.

“Don't move.” Christen whispered. She moved her hand to place the cloth back on my head.

“What are you-”

“You were muttering in your sleep,” she said, “And when I checked on you, you were flushed and hot... I was worried. Sorry I woke you.”

“No...” I lifted my hand and pressed the cloth against my forehead, covering her hand. “I'm alright.”

“You're not.”

I gave a rough little laugh, the sound scraping through my throat. “Fine,” I said. “I'm not.” I wasn't in a mood to argue. The cloth on my head felt good, the little streams ran down my face in little rivers. The rest of my face felt to dry, to warm. With my other hand, I rubbed some of the water over my face.

Christen took the cloth from my forehead and quickly wiped it over my face. I let my hands fall to my sides and leaned back.

“Better?” She asked.

“Much.”

There was a long moment of silence. I cracked my eyes opened. She was looking at me, her expression dazed and pensive as she idly folded the cloth back up.

“wha?” I muttered.

“Nothing.” She said. “Just worried.”

“About?”

Christen laughed. “I think I have a lot to worry about...” She yawned. “I've just become a murderer, I'm stuck here with a mage and an assassin – no offense- , and... well.”

“Well?”

Christen set the cloth back on my head and sighed. I thought for a moment she was going to tell me to forget it.

“I don't know.. what am I supposed to do now? I have no home, I... well, I guess I've 'avenged' my father's death... Now what?” She sighed. “It sounds terrible when I say that. I mean.. I killed a person, what I do-”

I sighed. “Do you have any idea how many people I've killed?” I asked. “I've killed a lot of people. I haven't had the luxury of moping over it-” I gasped. My throat burned. I gave up on my little rant and closed my eyes.

“Did you want to?”

I moaned slightly. My mind was being dragged back down into unconscious. I tried to talk, but my tongue felt heavy. What was I supposed to say to that. Of course I wanted to. Any person would want to. I did not have the opportunity to worry, to mope, to be depressed. That all made you distracted, disoriented, careless. It made you dead.

When I opened my eyes again, a bright and burning fire burned in the fireplace. Rico wasn't anywhere to be seen. Christen sat in the chair near the fire, fixing Rico's torn shirt from the other day.

I sat up, and pulled off my sweat-soaked blanket and threw it to the floor. My clothes were folded nearby, and looked like they had been washed.

“You slept most of the day.” Christen said without looking up.

“I did?”

“It's just about evening.” She said. “ your fever broke a little while ago, but you were soaked with sweat-”

I grunted and sat up to get dressed, “I guess whatever Rico mixed me worked.” I said. I still felt sick, but I felt like I did when I had just been sick for a few days, and knew I was better. I had taken jobs feeling worse than this.

I lifted the tunic from the floor. My flask was under it. I lifted it and realized that it had been filled while I slept.

I allowed myself a small smile as I pulled the cork on the flask and took a long drink.

I had a feeling that it would be a nice night.