The dusk, then the night came fast at Twin Oaks. With it, the first of the season’s snowflakes arrived, first timidly, but with each minute, they got bolder and bolder, and before long, the snow was falling heavily.

By the time Trim walked to Holgar’s Place, an old tavern in the middle of the village that served as the gathering place of the whole area, he had to shake a thick coat of ice powder that accumulated on top of his messy black hair.

Holgar was his closest friend ever since they served four years in Forthman’s army, and to miss a day without visiting him was just unthinkable. Especially now that the cold had started to sip in and a huge fireplace in his lounge would offer him the quickest way to warm his back. Four from the village went to that war. Only two returned. With heavy chips on their shoulders and vows to help the families of their fallen brothers.

With Elma and their two kids staying at her parent's farm for the next two nights, maybe he’ll just have a few shots of brandy and doze off in one of the comfortable benches Holgar kept around that big fireplace of his.

Before entering the place, when the door was already opened, something pulled him to turn around and look toward the mountains to the North. His nostrils filled with the sharp, snow-smelling air, and the scent of cold that got so embedded inside his memories during those four years of hell dizzied him.

Memories made him sigh with pain. Four from the village went to that war. To fight goblins, wild men, wolverines, and all sorts of other monsters. Four left. Only two came back. With heavy chips on their shoulders and promises to keep the families of their fallen brothers looked after. Holgar gave Chisel, a younger brother of one of them a job, gave him a good horse and a wagon so he could haul the firewood and chop planks, enough for the whole village if needs be.

Trim married the sister of the other one. But then, that was not out of duty. It was out of love. Out of the need to be saved, for Trim had long accepted that without Elma and the kids, his life would be worth next to nothing, If not less.

His eyes filled with pain, he turned to look at the inside of the Holgar’s main room and stepped inside, closing the heavy door behind him to the delight of the people sitting inside.

The place was less than half full with about two dozen people in there already, and Trim recognized almost everyone in one glance. Except for two people who set in the middle. Well-dressed folks, just finishing their stew dinner with their own steel spoons.

Trim looked at them only once. Middle-aged men. Good boots. No weapons. Stuffed leather bags lying next to their feet. Salesmen. Their eyes examined Trim in detail, gouging if he was a potential client or not.

But, whatever they were selling, Trim could afford it not. Not with the winter coming up and his food reserves way below where they should have been. Junior was growing fast at twelve and almost ate as much as Trim did, something he did not expect to happen so fast and so soon. So, that meant Trim was already contemplating when it would be the best time to go hunting as getting a wild boar or a deer would help a lot. If nothing else, a few rabbits and a few birds would need to do. The forest would provide.

There was another person in there Trim did not know. Sitting alone in the far corner, a thick cotton hood covering his face. No matter how hard Trim peered at him and tried to see his face, the man did not return his stare.

The man wants to be left alone. And no reason why I should not oblige. Have enough demons of my own, Trim thought as he made it across the room, nodded his head a few times to people who saluted him and chose to sit at his favorite table, pressing his back against the wall that separated the room from the kitchen and the wood-burning oven in there.

The smell of another round of bread being baked that escaped the kitchen made him realize he had not eaten anything that day.

Holgar found him fast, bringing in a bottle of brandy and two glasses. He took a seat that gave him a view of the front door and poured two drinks.

“Bread and baked chicken should be out soon,” he said. “We’re out of stew. Sorry.”

The time flew slowly till they, in silence, did not empty a few shots. Then the bread and chicken with carrots and onions came at the table, Dora, Holgar’s wife joining them together with Elsa, their sixteen-years old daughter, who only set for a second as she was hustling all the time bringing pitches of house-made ale to anyone who raised their empty cups into the air. And then, time flew.

Warmed from the inside and out, his belly full, Trim relaxed.

Till the front door suddenly opened and two hunters came in, carrying a big slaughtered wild boar on a wooden pole between two of them. Holgar knew them well, folks from a homestead ten miles down the river, and let them to the kitchen.

Troy got up to offer a helping hand, walking behind Holgar while regretting all the time for not going to hunt already.

I guess I’m not the only one with the hunting idea. I guess I’m not the only one missing winter supplies, he thought as he examined the hunters.

Skillful. The kill was made with a single arrow shot through the eye of the beast. Probably waited for the animal to attack, kneeling down, and then shooting the draft straight into its brain.

But, that was not all Trim could see. The hunters somehow looked spooked, their eyes moving nervously around, their fingers fidgeting.

Maybe... not. They seem experienced. Certainly, not the first time they have dealt with wild boars, or Holgar. So, maybe it is just the wolves who might have picked the scent of them and their kill, Trim thought at first and just brushed it off.

Still, a nagging sense would not give him a rest, so as they hung the hog on the hook, his head toward the floor, and put a bucket under its head where the blood could drain, Trim asked them, “Had any wolves trouble out there in the mountains?”

“No,” the older of the two answered swiftly and then realized why Trim was asking him. “We would normally just camp out, but, Holgar makes such good sausages.

And we need them to last us. So, if you can just cut the hog and… and make hams and sausages. Take your cut, but we need the meet for our families, to last us when days are not cold and freezing. If you can help us with that, we would be much obliged,” they told Holgar, their hats in their hands and their heads bowing to him.

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“When did you make the kill?” Holgar asked, seeing that the hog was ice cold, the blood not even dripping down even after he opened its neck

“About ten hours ago.”

Holgar frowned. They might not know it, but he knew it was going to be a tough job cleaning the intestines, cooking them up with herbs while he sliced the meat, cut up its belly fat, grind it all up, and mix it with salt and spices. With the hog that size, it would take him and his wife half a night, if not longer.

“Maybe you can help me,” he said looking suddenly at Trim. “Chisel is out, delivering a load of firewood to Old Tresha’s homestead."

“Sure. I’m home alone tonight.”

“Yeah, and you’re good with a knife. And it needs to be done tonight. Can’t leave intestines for tomorrow.”

“Sure. You feed me brandy and I’ll slice whatever you want,” Trim said and knew that Holgar would probably even compensate him for the trouble with some of the meat he received.

“Yeah,” Holgar finally said as he finished calculating in his head. “I’ll take one-fifth of that hog though. Can’t do it for less. Not with the amount of salt it will take to make the meat last.”

Two men looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

Maybe they expected less.

“I can also smoke the sausages and hams. That will be then good through the spring, good for your families till the summer arrives. Nobody will die starving.”

“Yes, we were hoping for that. You do a really good job with preserving meet. I guess we agree then.”

Holgar sighed.

More likely they did not even have salt in their homes to preserve the meat properly. And Holgar knows it, just does not want to take advantage of them. They would have taken much less if he demanded. But then, Holgar would not be Holgar.

“Why don’t you wash yourself up and go and get a table? Ale and food is on the house. Also, I have one more empty room with two clean beds. You can rest there tonight.”

Knowing what he knew, Trim wondered if Holgar would ever feel as if he gave enough and stopped feeling guilty over things that he had done in the war.

Probably not, he concluded then sighed and took his blade from the scabbard that was tied to his back and in three powerful strikes had chopped the whole hog’s head off.

Holgar examined it and was not pleased at all.

“This would take at least two hours for the blood to defrost and drain,” he said, but then shrugged his shoulders and smiled at Trim. “I guess we’ll have us some brandy then, wait for everyone to leave and then we can get down on it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Trim said and tapped his friend on the shoulder.

The hunters picked the table next to Trim’s and Trim set there and waited. It proved that it took three cups of lager to loosen their tongue, and then they started to talk.

“We got lucky today. We had already given up on hunting,” the older one said.

“Really? How come?” Trim asked, not ready for them to go all solemn and quiet again. “That was a really good kill. Damn, I wish I went hunting myself.”

“Yeah, and it almost did not happen. We were returning home.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. We did not want to be there. Not after what we saw last night… in the mountains.”

That made Troy and everyone around eager to hear it.

The old hunter did not wait to be asked what they saw in the mountains, so, as he took a big sip out of his cup, he said, “The sky… up in the mountains burned green last night.”

“What?” a farmer two tables down jumped and asked as if he did not hear it right.

“Yes. Burned green.”

“That can’t be!” someone else added.

“You did not see it right!” one of the salespeople added.

The room suddenly filled with questions and remarks, but the hunter would not bulge, just looked at his boots and said, “I know what we saw. You can ask Gok here. We are speaking the truth.”

Everyone turned to a younger man called Gok, some coming to look him in the eyes, some pulling on his coat, looking for their question to be answered first.

Trim watched it all, even watched the man who was left alone in the far left corner, and watched him raise his head up, revealing his chin and a nasty cut that stretched over it.

The loud knocking against the front door silenced the argument instantly.

Every eye turned to the heavy oak door and not a voice was uttered as Holgar got up and walked to the gate to open it.

Trim knew it was someone who did not know Holgar did not lock his doors while there were people inside. He saw the hunters reach for their weapons, and saw the man in the back turn toward the door.

A moment later, Hogar opened the door, then took a step back revealing two dark shapes standing in the doorway, one a head taller than the other. The light of the candles showed them both wearing the same kind of dark brown rope that ran from their heads all the way to the ground.

“Who are you?” Holgar asked instantly.

The hood of the taller one came off, revealing a man in his late thirties with a smoothly-shaved bold head, deep facial lines, and bright and sharp eyes.

“My name is El. This here is Alice,” the man said in a calm voice as he pointed his chin to the person next to him. “We are hoping to find some food and lodging for the night here.”

Everyone waited in silence to see what Holgar would say when the one called Alice took her hood off, shook the snow from her shoulders, and pulled her long, chestnut hair back, revealing a young face with perfect skin, dark yet shining eyes, and round cheeks reddened by the chill of the winter’s night. They all instantly stared at her, some with their mouth gaping wide, and Trim for a second was not sure if he was looking at an angel, such was her stunning looks, her fine complexion, her tenderness, her big eyes.

The quiet moment of blatant staring lasted way longer than it should have, and finally, Holgar was there to put an end to it, “Where do you come from??” he asked.

El sighed. “From far away,” the man answered slowly, stretching his words to indicate it was really 'far from here' while his eyes were still carefully examining the room. Trim noticed it was not unlike what he usually did.

“And we’re weary. And hungry,” El added.

Holgar stood there watching them, the whole room stood there watching them, obviously realizing these were foreigners even as they spoke their language with only a slight accent.

“I hope you’re thirsty too,” Trim added from behind, breaking the silence, after he swiftly concluded they looked friendly enough and meant no harm to them, not just because the taller man opened up his rope to reveal the woolen shirt and pants with no visible weapons anywhere. There was something in his face, his eyes, a gentleness and warmth that reminded Trim of his father, especially when he was making his last breath. “I hope you’re thirsty because Holgar has the best ale in the whole area here.”

Holgar, hearing Trim’s friendly voice decided to step aside and extend his hand, inviting them in. “You will find warmth here. But we are out of chicken and stew. Came a bit too late for that. Could offer you some potatoes though.”

“Oh, that would be lovely.”

Maybe they came to see about the green lights too, Trim thought, hoping to have a word with them as soon as possible, inviting them with a smile to come and join him at his table.

But then, he had a better idea. “Kata ku te qi?” he asked them in the language of Lelka, far away land, as they came to sit down.

The man looked at him straight in the eyes. And gave him a warm smile, nodding his head. “You speak Lelka,” he said. “We are travelers. But we are not from Lelka. And to answer your question, the trip was… not pleasant at all.”

Trim nodded his head, appreciating the answer, yet feeling like he was being outwitted somehow.

“Did you come from the direction of the mountain, or…” somebody asked.

“Did you also see the green clouds lightning the night sky?” the old hunter swiftly added.

“No. No, we did not,” El answered calmly.

“You must have,” the old hunter insisted, reaching to pull the man’s big sleeve.

But the man moved with grace and speed out of his reach that did not go unnoticed by Trim. Then he looked the old hunter in the eyes, warmth sipping out of them as he said, “No. We have not. I do not lie. But… I do believe you. If you say you saw the green lights, it must be true.”

“Damn! If it’s true,” one of the villagers said. “That means that the Prophecy of Neisas is to happen. The Green Fire has returned.”

“And what does that prophecy say?” El asked him innocently.

“Everyone here knows it. Even kids that can’t speak yet know of the Prophecy of True Gods, Neisas.”

“Well, not everyone, since… I do not know,” the man added.

“It says when the Green Fire lights up the night skies,” the man said, looking at him with eyes wide open, swallowing a big ball of saliva, “The world is bound… to end.”