Chapter 3

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It was growing even colder tonight, Gretchen absently noticed as she strolled across the small foot bridge dividing the farm from the main road. Still, it was later in the season, so such weather wasn’t entirely unusual. When the central counties of the kingdom began experiencing Father Winter’s cool breath, all knew to expect his snowy appearance ere long after.

Pulling her coat a little tighter, her steps quickened as she covered the remaining distance to the house, shoving open the door and embracing the wave of warmth that washed over and around her. Salvie jerked up from the fireplace, one hand holding a ladle dripping with stew, the other brushing aside her long ebony bangs.

“My goodness Gretchen, couldn’t you be a bit more careful when entering a door? Has that slab of wood given you cause for such hate, or is this some ongoing feud you have with building entrances?”

Her eyes twinkled in humor, even as she knelt to once again replace the lid hanging to the side of the heavy cast iron pot.

“If you must be disruptive, at the very least find your father and drag him inside first. It’s growing late and dinner will be ready soon. If I have to wait for him to finish yet another “task”, I will be sorely vexed.”

She smiled over her shoulder, continuing in her preparations of setting the table for the evening meal. Gretchen nodded and after carefully closing the door, made her way towards the stables, noting several lamps were lit inside, evidence enough that someone was working beyond the normal hour.

Her father was easy to find, bent over the dismantled pieces of a wagon axle, his calloused hands elegantly smoothing a freshly cut section of wood. Roger von Glaus might not have been born a craftsman, but he had approached it like everything in his life, with steadfast determination and limitless patience.

Of course, in those early days, with food stretched thin and few coins to buy new equipment, they had been forced to reuse and rebuild anything that might have broken, a habit continued long past the successful harvest of the past few years.

Pausing a moment, Gretchen leaned against the workhorse’s stall, pulling a few cubes of savas out for the large animal. After carefully relieving the gift from her palm, he whinnied his thanks, accepting a few brush strokes across his mane with a rolling of the head.

“The direwolf is dead.” Gretchen glanced at her father, judging his reaction while continuing to brush the thick coat.

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“Hmm.” He continued to shape the edges, barely pausing to respond. “Took long enough. Who was the hunter that collected the bounty?”

Gretchen frowned, even as she answered.

“Doric. He brought in the pelt this eve, showed it off to half the town.”

Softly blowing off the wood curls, her father leaned down to inspect his work.

“Doric is a capable man. I’m not surprised he managed to accomplish such a feat, even if any help he received will go long unmentioned.”

“I don’t think he actually killed the beast, father. There were no gaping wounds in the pelt an axe like his might cause. And…”, here she paused, thinking carefully over the recent encounter.

Her father finally glanced in her direction, noting the unsaid words. “I am well aware of your dislike for Doric, but that does not give cause to doubt a man’s integrity. If he truly did not defeat the creature, then Lord Asheton will not give him the bounty. Now, help me clean up. I’ve no doubt your mother sent you out to retrieve me, and it wouldn’t be wise to keep her waiting. She does get rather irritable at such things.”

Both fell into a comfortable silence as they worked together, the two swiftly setting aside the tools and cleaning out the remnants of the days labors, before a final check of the barn was had. Only once their feet began treading towards the house, did Gretchen speak again.

“I do not wish to marry Doric father. You know this, right?”

“I am aware of your desires Gretchen. Or rather, the lack of them. But this is something that has gone long overdue.” He stopped, turning to face her completely. “You have reached the age where most young men in the area are already married, or have decided you are no longer worth the trouble. If you do not choose soon, then eventually there will only be a few that even bother to try.”

Rough fingers brushed her cheek, her father gazing down with a soft smile.

“Know this my daughter. I will not push you into a decision. If you wish nothing more than to remain here with your family, I will be not but pleasantly surprised. Though truth be told, I have expected you to follow your brother into the city for a long time now.”

Gretchen shifted away in embarrassment, lowering her head from his gaze.

“I wasn’t just going to leave you. Besides, the boys weren’t old enough to help as much…”

“But now they are. If you truly desire to travel beyond the edges of Bluthown and see more of this world, I only ask that you be wise about it. I do not wish to see you gone forever.”

He sighed then, looking older than his forty-eight years should allow.

“Go on and head inside, I still need to check the north pasture. The direwolf might have been killed, but I have no doubt his smaller brethren are still slinking around the edges of our land. I’ll be along soon.”

Catching his arm, Gretchen stepped forward to give her father a deep hug, feeling the solid strength and earthy smell that had never changed since her earliest memories.

Stepping back then and giving him a bright smile, she began to walk past while giving him a push towards the brightly lit interior, saying as she continued, “Don’t worry, I’ll check the fence. You go give Salvie a kiss before she begins to plan our demise for missing dinner again. Besides, I bet I can finish twice as fast as you would have been.”

Chuckling, her father shook his head and tromped up the steps, opening the door with bang as the cool air wafted into the rooms beyond.

Behind her, Gretchen grinned as she could just make out the fading shout of Salvie, demanding an explanation for their family’s absurd hate of doors and entrance ways.