Bri had never known such a bitter winter. The numbing cold spread from the soles of her feet to the very tips of her fingers. The world seemed devoid of colour, and even the faint yellow glow of the sun had retreated into a dense expanse of cloud. The snowfall from the previous night lay soft and thick outside their dwelling. Bri and her sister threw powdery handfuls of it at each other in their glee, giggling uncontrollably together.

‘I got you, Irys!’ Bri grinned.

‘Got you first!’

‘Did not!’

Bri froze. Out of the corner of her eye she had seen the all too familiar horses and their straight-backed riders.

Thump. Bri jolted as snow collided with the back of her head.

‘I win!’ Irys exclaimed excitedly.

‘The soldiers are coming!’ Bri cried.

The door to the house burst open as Bri's father, followed by her mother, made their way across the snow.

‘Get inside!’ He told the two girls.

‘But father!’ Irys whined.

‘Do as you’re told!’ He bellowed.

Bri flinched under his harsh words, and the glare that accompanied them. She stood still in shock, having never seen him like this before. Grabbing Irys by the hand, she muttered, ‘You heard father, let’s go inside. We’ll go find Mariebell.’

She caught her mother’s murmured words to her father before they retreated back into their home. ‘Please tell me we have enough coin.’

Bri, still holding tightly to her sister’s hand, led her to a spot on the floor, as far from the window as possible, only letting go to pass Irys her rag-doll. Blissfully unaware, Irys sat cross-legged on the floor, humming to it happily.

‘Stay here and play with Mariebell, okay?’ Bri instructed, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

‘Will you come and play too?’

‘Not now, but soon,’ Bri soothed.

She let go of Irys’ hand and peered out the window, seeing her Father’s head bowed, as though in despair. Not once had she known him to be so desolate.

The collector, and the soldiers he commanded, went around the houses, banging on doors, shouting and bullying all of the locals, rudely snatching the silvers out of their hands.

Then, they reached her family’s house.

‘Taxes,’ the collector said in a bored tone.

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‘Where’s Quentin?’ her father replied.

‘Pah! That old man? He’s been… replaced. Now, silvers! We don’t have all day. It's cold enough to freeze an elk’s hide out here. Hìryn, I long for summer.’

Bri spotted a glint of copper as her father held out coins.

‘What’s that supposed to be, man?’

‘Taxes.’

‘Taxes are two silvers, it's been so for four Winters.’

‘Please…’ Bri’s mother interjected.

‘You know the consequences. You have two girls, according to the records, correct?’

‘No!’ she cried, ‘I won’t let you take them.’

‘My predecessor was soft. He let you people off with just a few coppers several times, and the King didn’t like that,’ he sneered. ‘I’m sure you can guess what happened next.’

‘Too long you people have gotten away with this.’ His voice rose to a shout. ‘Too long you’ve been in debt to our benevolent King. His patience has run out, and so has ours,’ he continued.

‘No! Please! Have some mercy, Goodman, they are too young.’ Bri watched helpless as her parents begged, and her father fell to his knees before the man, who would not be moved. She couldn’t remember ever being as afraid as she now felt. Bri’s heart raced, her breath uneven and ragged.

‘You should see it as an honour, to have one of your children serve the King. Which one of them will it be? We don’t have all day.’

Bri’s eyes widened in horror.

‘Bri, why are they shouting?’ Irys’ lower lip trembled. ‘W- what’s going on?’

‘It’s going to be okay, Irys, there’s nothing to worry about. Stay here with Mariebell,’ Bri directed, her voice quivering.

I will not let them take my sister. She squared her shoulders and pushed open the door.

‘Me,’ Bri said to the collector, much more bravely than she felt. ‘Don’t hurt Irys.’

‘No, Bri!’ her Father rose from the floor and pushed her away from a soldier’s outstretched arms.‘We need you here, we won’t see another Winter without you!’

‘You can’t do this, you’re not taking any of our girls!’ Her Mother gave the collector such a glare as could wilt any other man.

‘Dawna!’ Bri’s father gave his wife an agonised look, his face seeming to age many years as he spoke. He had no fight left in him.

The collector motioned to one of the soldiers, who stormed into their house, roughly scooping Irys up from the floor. She screamed and hit out at the man. ‘What are you doing? Get off me! Mother, mother!’

‘Let her go, leave her alone!’ Bri and her parents' voices overlapped each other as they protested.

Spurred into action, in one desperate motion, her father attempted to wrench Irys out of the soldier’s arms, only to be pushed backwards onto the ground. The soldier drew his sword.

‘Stay where you are!’ he barked, pointing the weapon directly under his chin.

‘Mother! Father!’ Irys screamed.

‘Irys!’ Bri tried to shout, but it came out as a whimper. She and her family could do nothing more. The soldier grabbed her sister, lifting her up from the ground whilst she continued to struggle.

‘Let me go! Let me go!’ Irys cried, tears streaming down her face. ‘Leave me alone!’

‘No more of that! Stop struggling or you’ll be horsewhipped!’

‘I want my mother!’

‘Silence!’

Roughly he shoved her into the arms of a waiting soldier on horseback, who held her there firmly.

The soldiers ignored the shouts and continued pleas of Bri and her parents, and, with one last contemptuous glance behind him, the collector snatched the rag-doll from Irys, slowly and deliberately dropping it on the snow behind him.

Her sister was leaving her behind, to suffer a life of darkness, deep in the mines under the Iron Mountains.

Bri sank to her knees, clutching the doll to her chest. ‘I’ll find you Irys!’ She murmured. ‘I promise.’