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Winter came, and the change was welcome despite the hardship it would bring. The golden red trees were bare now. The fields were under a sparkling layer of snow. The farmer's wife had gifted Val with several things, as Val had none to prepare her for the chill.

She always wore a scarf around her neck and head, she had a number of them - some plain and some more special ones had flowers. She chose one for Val - it was long, so you could wrap it around your neck twice over and around your hair to hide it. Red flowers sprinkled the bleached wool, with small blue stars hiding among them. She gave her a thick leather coat with goose feathers stuffed between its layers. The collar and the cuff were lined with soft, white rabbit fur. Its hem was adorned with that of a black one. And in the middle of the back, the farmer's wife had stitched with bright red thread a chickadee.

It was one of the most beautiful things Val had ever laid eyes on.

Marat had now worn the smoky, oiled leather coat he’d kept in his pack. He still walked his paths despite the snow, but his boots no longer matched - they left two different footprints in the snow. One rather wide from the snowboot, the other deeper and more defined from the old leather one on his wooden leg.

The time came for the winter solstice. The first that Val had seen since… that vile night.

The farmer's wife baked many pies - some stuffed with pork, others with beef. Some had potatoes and other goat cheese. To Val’s surprise, this mixed family had many traditions. They built a snow maiden in the yard and colored her cheeks and dress with snow soaked in beet juice.

They laid dry flowers at her feet, symbolizing the winter snow keeping the flowers and the grasses alive beneath. Then, they singled out Val and Marat - encouraging and pushing them to stand in the middle as they gathered around. Everyone came forward one by one gifting each honeyed sweets, hard melted sugar roosters, and sweet buttered buns. Once this ceremony was done, all would sit down to eat at the table together - the best of what their winter cellars had to offer set all across the table.

Amir would later explain to Val that this was a welcoming tradition where strangers became friends, and friends became family. Val wondered, was she the stranger or the friend? She felt the scarf now concealing her hair - it was so soft, and she thought maybe she had been a friend after all.

The conversation was loud and lively at dinner. Wine flowed freely; they never set it out prior to the celebration. In fact, Val could not remember having it ever before.

Her eye caught Marat’s from across the table. Stunned, she realized he had been… smiling. He looked happy. He was genuinely happy, without the normal shadows of pessimism and sarcasm reflecting on his face. She didn’t think she’d seen him smile that widely or joke so loudly. When their eyes met, he did not look away, but instead, he very slightly nodded.

After everyone had settled for the night after the heavy feasting and drink, Val lay awake. They had been here just over half a year.

She was afraid that any day now, they’d be asked to leave or maybe that Marat would knock on her door, saying it was time to go. She felt a tie to him, formed of shared sorrow and pain. This made Val entirely unsure if she could part ways with him now.

Yet, seeing his face that evening, she felt his happiness there. It was a very new notion that Marat had grown to love this place too. She felt those thoughts tug at her heart. Everything was going to be alright.

She could never return to her family, but she found a new one where she felt accepted, wanted, and, one day, perhaps even loved.

Stolen story; please report.

She got up quietly and put on her layers of clothes. She’d go, and she would ask. Beyond the shadow of a doubt, if she heard him tell her they could stay, she would be so at peace. Her cheeks warmed by the wine, enthusiasm in every step, she nearly ran to the barn.

Stopping outside, Val suddenly became very aware she was showing up to his quarters in the night.

Still, she very softly knocked.

No answer.

She knocked more confidently now.

No answer, still.

Flustered, a bit too brave for her normal self, she banged on the door.

Surely, he could not sleep through that; he’d been a hunter, and no amount of drink would make him oblivious as that.

She pushed the door a bit too hard and nearly fell inside, bringing in white and muddy snow behind her. The room was empty. It was cold. He had not come back after the celebration.

She took a few steps forward. She had not been inside the barn since she moved to the main house. It was so… organized. It looked like a home.

Where the farm equipment had been was now hung a heavy sheet. The low roof, she was sure he could not stand to his full height inside, was lined with old hides. What was previously a pile of blankets was now a cot. Next to it was a crudely made table. On top of it sat a mostly melted candle and the hand-bound journal the brothers had written to keep accounts of the Nothing-touched. Beside it laid Erlan’s compass. Its metal looked recently polished, and the glass wiped down.

She stepped toward it, accidentally stepping on a coal from the little fire pit in the middle of the room. It was cold and had not been used all day.

Curiously, she looked at every detail of the room. Here were his clothes, washed and hung up on what had been the rope used to trap beasts. Here was his hunting knife and his blade, neatly wrapped and stashed away. She could not help but move a few things around to get a closer look.

There was his pillow. It was clearly brought in from the main house, as bits of goose feathers could be seen poking through the seams. Marat did not own anything like this.

She sat down on the cot.

Where was he?

Why was he not here?

Why was she here?

Val laid down against her better judgment. It was so very comfortable there. Turning on her side and pulling the blanket up, she slid her arm under the pillow. To her surprise, her hand touched something soft and damp. She lifted her head and pulled out a single blue iris flower. It was still fresh.

She smelled it. There was a woody, almost powdery, buttery aroma to it. Its scent seemed to evolve the longer she admired it, and it began to make her head swim. She placed it back under the pillow.

But, right before she fell asleep, Val wondered where Marat had gotten a fresh flower in the midst of winter.

She did not see the sunrise. She slept heavily, and when she finally woke up, she had forgotten where she was for half a heartbeat. Then, everything rushed back.

What was she thinking, coming to Marat’s room? How would this look?

Except… he wasn’t there. Still.

Her cheeks burned from embarrassment as she hurried to slip on her boots. Would they notice in the main house? She opened the door and looked to see if anyone was outside. Thankfully, it had not snowed, and the festivities the night before had left the courtyard trampled. No one would be able to tell she was here.

Her eyes landed on a single set of footsteps leading through the narrow brush-filled area between the barn and the farmhand’s home. The footprints were uneven. One wide, the other deeper and defined.

Val looked closer - they were not old. His step would have been partially melted if it was from more than a night ago. She could not tell how far they had continued on, the snow was too bright in the morning sun.

Against her rational judgment, she felt in her gut that she needed to follow them. Her absence would already be known. And this gave her a feeling of dread she could not shake off. Val knew that his business was his own, but her feet did not as they carried her through the alley and past the homes.

From across the courtyard, at the door of the leather shop, Amir had watched her leave the barn where the hunter lived and disappear between the buildings as if trying to avoid scrying eyes.

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