CHAPTER III - Frozen Lake

The winter air had a distinct smell. Like wet grass and wrinkled, tree bark - or fresh, snowy clouds that melded in with smoky, white skies. Aurae inhaled, and exhaled, and she watched as wisps of cold air left her chapped lips like dragon's breath. She loved the snow, how it glistened against the earth like a blanket of silk... and it would have been a perfectly formed, smooth blanket, if Vilja had not left her footprints indented upon it.

Aurae followed in her steps as the snow crunched beneath her heavy, fur boots. The trees brushed against her thick, fur coat, occasionally catching onto one of the hairs with their thin and bony branches. Whenever Vilja went out hunting, she was always astoundingly difficult to find, whether she was knelt beneath a cluster of bushes, or silently observing atop a high, pine branch. Aurae of all people knew how she was quick on her feet, how her movements were fast and constantly shifting, like the momentum of a hawk chasing a mouse. If Aurae were to have any chance of finding her, she'd have to match her pace... or, she could simply remain in the area, and listen.

And listen she did. Aurae stopped in her tracks, and allowed the hood of her coat to slip from her head. The winter air was cold against her ears. She became still, and awaited the sound of Vilja's bow. It was difficult of a sound to miss, for it was a sort of strange, vibrational twang, that could be heard from miles away. Vilja had mastered the art of archery, truly. Her strong arms could fire off several arrows within a matter of seconds... but she hardly needed to, for she never missed.

In the stillness of the forest, noises became enhanced. If you listened closely enough, you could hear the music of the earth. The swishing of branches and the clicking beetles. The running rivers and wails of jay birds. Together, these sounds formed what Aurae liked to call the heartbeat of nature. It was her favourite song.

For a moment, she became distracted, but the familiar whistle of an arrow tore through the momentary peacefulness, to tug her back into the present. Sharply, she turned towards the noise, her eyes wide.

Vilja.

Without further ado, Aurae hurried towards the sound. She scanned left and right, up and down, in desperate hope that she would spot a red-haired figure amidst the foliage.

"Vilja?!" she cupped her hands around her mouth, and called out to her. Yet despite this, there was no reply. Her calls disappeared into the vast depths of the woodland, where even the sleeping bears could not hear her. How strange, she thought, for she could've sworn she had heard her here...

"Oye, Vilja-!"

"Shh!"

Aurae felt a downward tug at her arm, and before she knew it, she was hidden besides a tall rock that lay beneath the shade of a thousand leaves.

"Be silent. It's hard for me to focus when you're prancing around like you own this place," Vilja spoke in a firm voice as she stared at something up ahead, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Upon following her gaze, Aurae noticed a grey-tailed deer beyond the rock, only a couple of metres away from their current position. It was an elegant creature that stood with a kingly posture, its antlers meandering up and over its head like a finely-set crown. Snow was sprinkled upon its grey, fur coat like icing sugar, and its eyes were like the cedar trees: deep, dark and soulful.

For a moment, Aurae could do nothing more than stare, as if her eyes had become incapable of moving. She admired the white dots that were sprinkled across the beast's coat, how they seemed to resemble the stars and planets in the night sky. They reminded her of the freckles that were painted across Vilja's cheeks, too. She turned to look at her with a smile.

"I'm not prancing around, I am looking for you," she whispered as she nudged up a little closer. From her pockets, Aurae gently pulled out a murrey-stained cloth and held it softly. Her cold fingers untied the fabric to reveal a collection of rashly-picked berries, "Will these do?"

"Ah, so you've already picked them? Let me see," carefully, Vilja plucked one of the berries from the pile. She held it beneath the light that seeped through the cracks of the shading leaves, only to observe how its colour was dim, and desaturated, like over-washed cloth.

"Where did you pick these?" she questioned as she popped the berry into her mouth. Her expression twisted.

"By the frozen lake, just like we do every winter."

They called them sahafrut, they were berries unlike any other. Instead of blooming during spring like other harvest, they came during winter months, when it is said that the earth’s spirit is at its strongest.

But as of lately, the sahafrut seemed different. Aurae had noticed it, too. Usually, the berries were bright and plump with juice, but now they were not, and they tasted odd, sour and colourless. At first, Aurae assumed she may have been overthinking: perhaps she had unknowingly caught a cold that had altered her sense of taste… but the look on Vilja’s face confirmed her suspicions.

“They are not meant to be like this,” the red-haired witch spoke the words that were written in Aurae’s mind, too, “And these were the best you could find?”

“Only the best,” Aurae rolled one of the berries between her fingers. The lack of juice made it feel deflated, “The rest were even worse. I don’t know why… you don’t think the berry bushes have been cursed, do you?”

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Vilja scoffed, “Oh, come on,” she looked amused, but for a moment did consider the thought herself, “Why would someone place a curse on berry bushes?”

“Maybe they really, really hate berries,” Aurae shrugged.

A twig snapped. It seemed the stag had caught onto the sound of their whispers, and was now moving further into the trees. Vilja’s focused face quickly returned.

“I don’t know. Just keep checking the area, try the other side of the lake,” she waved Aurae off dismissively, “Remember to be back home before sunset.” And with that, she was gone again, swift as the wind.

Aurae groaned and stood, brushing the snow off her kneecaps. She had a feeling there’d be no berries, she could’ve sworn she already checked around the whole lake! Though it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do. She shoved the bunch of sahafrut back into her pockets and made a beeline towards the frozen waters.

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Well, this was odd. Last time Aurae searched here, there was no doubt she was heavily disappointed by the quality of the sahafrut… but now, the quantity also shocked her. There was nothing here! It was as if the berries had just disappeared, despite there being handfuls of them only minutes ago.

“Venyot…” she cursed under her breath, and knelt down to run her hand through the empty berry shrubs. Still, nothing. It didn’t make sense.

Around the frozen lakes, it was very quiet. Unnaturally so. There were no bird calls, no whistles of breeze or rustling of branches. Even the water was silent, for it had been entrapped by thick sheets of ice that stretched far out.

Amidst the silence, Aurae caught onto the faint sound of footsteps in the snow.

She immediately knew these were no steps of a beast – but the steps of a human.

It was not Vilja. The tall huntswoman never walked with a rhythm like that.

Then… who?

She set herself into motion, moving behind a cluster of bushes and lowering herself to the ground. Aurae hushed her breathing; she listened as the steps grew louder. Her hand hovered over the hilt of her dagger; her eyes were left wide and unblinking like a deer in headlights.

There was a sweet sound in the air. A quiet, melodic humming - the voice of a man. Aurae peaked through a gap between two shrubs, her eyes landed on a dark shadow. It was dangerously close to her current position, all tall and slender. The figure wore crow feathers at his shoulders and had the longest, blackest hair she had ever seen. It was like a stream of ink running down his back, the locks sharp and wispy. Perhaps she would have stared in awe for a while longer, if a certain detail hadn’t caught her eye.

In the man’s arm was a basket – one full of sahafrut, fresh and round and colourful. Aurae pursed her lips tightly together, her face scrunched up. Why weren’t his odd looking? Had he snatched all the good ones? Thief!

And that wasn’t even the end of it. Aurae continued to watch while squinting hard. The man not only had one basket of sahafrut - but several, all filled to the brim. They floated around him like a flock of birds, all being carried by a constant flow of air. It seemed he, too, could control the elements... and gracefully so.

“You!” abruptly, she stood from her hiding spot (which, quite frankly, hadn’t been all that stealthy in the first place) and looked towards the tall man with a stern set of eyes, “Where are you finding all these berries?”

The stranger turned his head, and his immediate response was silence. He was pale as the snow itself, a pair of spectacles rested atop the sharp bridge of his nose. Though he looked to be the same age as Vilja, there was something about him that was ever so ancient… as though he knew all things, as though he had lived many lives and told many tales.

A smile appeared at his lips, an amused one at that. “A fellow vefaria?” he mused. With a gesture of his hand, the baskets around him lowered onto the ground, the snow cushioning their landing, “Is something wrong? You don’t sound so happy.”

Aurae didn’t know why, but him asking just bothered her further. Perhaps it was that nonchalant tone of his. She hated it.

“Those baskets,” she said, rather sadly, “They are full of sahafrut. I need them, yet every berry I find looks rotten and smells rancid.”

“It is so,” the stranger looked to the trees, “The earth’s spirit is growing weak. That is why the berries do not grow as you’d like them to.” His voice was breathy and comforting, like the coo of a mother bird. It was dangerously soft, as though it threatened to lull you to sleep if you listened for too long. Unfortunately, his words did not carry that same comfort, and caused Aurae to tilt her head forward.

“Weak?”

“Indeed,” he took one of the baskets from the ground, “But that isn’t for you to worry about, vefaria. You said you needed sahafrut, yes?” Delicately, the stranger placed the basket in Aurae’s arms. He smiled down at her with those same, gentle eyes, warm as the winter sun. “Take these for your Stenmaya... and do head on home. It’s getting late.”

Aurae seemed uncertain, “But you still haven’t told me where you picked these berries.”

“From the same place as yourself,” the stranger held out his hand, “Would you mind showing me the ones you found?”

This man confused her. Nevertheless, Aurae took the pouch of sahafrut she had tucked away in her pockets, and handed it to the stranger. They were a pathetic excuse for a fruit, for they were void of any freshness and held the colour of stone. But with a gentle touch of his fingers, they were quickly fattened with colour and looked as sweet as strawberries in spring. Somehow, the man had revived the fruits from their decaying state, and Aurae was left speechless.

“But how?” She took back the berries with eager hands. Aurae popped one into her mouth, then another, then another. They tasted like forest honey. “This is impossible. You can’t undo death and decay.” It was something Vilja had always told her. Illness could be cured, but what was already gone was never meant to be brought back... and these berries had looked to be well past their expiry date.

“Let’s just say I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve,” he chuckled, and turned away. The stranger spoke some words of magic, and his baskets lifted into the air in a satisfyingly synchronised motion, “Take care now. I must be off.”

Aurae had only been distracted for a couple of seconds, but when she looked up, the man was gone. He had disappeared into the tall trees, his baskets vanished with him. Apart from the one he had given her, of course... she looked down at it, the sahafrut were beautiful. They shone like pearls, if pearls were crimson, and she knew it would be difficult not to eat them all herself on the way home.

She felt as though she had been blessed by the hands of a god; that thought alone made her stop in her tracks and look back at where the man had been standing only moments ago.

What a strange, strange encounter.