Crisp morning air rustled the evergreen trees heavy with snow. Laniakea’s boots made a soft crunch with each step she took through the icy landscape. The child in her arms shifted slightly, and she pulled Aerith closer. The cloudless sky was filled with light from a cold star. To her, it was only another star. It deserved no special name.

“Aerith, is everything okay?”

“It’s cold,” the little girl whined.

“Hang in there. I’ll find somewhere warm soon.” Where she would find warmth, she did not know. It was all she could bring herself to say to the girl.

Laniakea could feel the warmth from the earrings Aerith held close to her bosom. For all she knew, that warmth could be the only thing keeping the child alive. It had been deeply unfortunate for her to find a Stellapuer this far north, yet there were worse ways for a child from the stars to begin their short, miserable lives. Landing in Obsidius was a tragedy for any Stellapuer.

She wished she could forget the atrocities she had seen in that country. Laniakea frowned at the thought. The time she spent there was necessary. A cold imprint from the ring on her finger reminded her of that. I stood by idly for too long. Now, I shall atone for it. She had told herself those words numerous times, but only action would satisfy the empty void she felt.

Yet, not all was lost in that terrible country. There was a young prince who seemed different from all who preceded him. No one else knew his true thoughts. But she had been there since the beginning; nothing in that kingdom was hidden from her. She knew what his grand ambitions were. Perhaps it was his ambition that drove her to leave, or maybe she had just had enough. Reflecting on the past would do nothing to save this child. Right now, all she needed to do was focus and find shelter.

Aireth’s shivering had slowed, and her breathing was becoming more shallow. The constant death was enough. This child would not die.

The tips of Laniakea’s fingers were beginning to sting, and her breath froze in an icy mist in front of her. Every time she inhaled air, her nostrils burned. Her legs demanded to slow down, but she forced them forward. It was strange. The morning was so peaceful, yet in its peace nature held no mercy. Often, she had learned through experience that the calmest phenomena held the deadliest secrets. She shuddered at the memories that thought brought back.

The smell of burning wood suddenly hit her nose. It was a welcomed change from the frigid scents she had grown accustomed to in the past few weeks. A quaint cabin nestled itself among the fir trees and glistening snow. A plume of smoke drifted from the stone chimney and dissipated into the blue sky. The sound of wood cracking reverberated through the sparse forest until the noise was absorbed into the snow. As she got closer, the crack came again. It was swift, hard, and efficient.

After seeing so few people in this country, she didn’t know what to expect from them. Holding onto Aerith tightly, she wearily approached the cabin. A bearded man in a fur coat swung an axe down and split a log in two as if he cut through freshly fallen snow. He glanced up at the brown-haired woman who approached. With wide eyes, he quickly noticed she was not the only one.

“Embla, quickly now.”

A tall woman threw open the door. “What is it,” the annoyance in her voice was apparent.

Before the man could say another word, Embla gasped and shuffled to put on her boots. She lifted her thick skirt and ran out to Laniakea. Before she could speak, Embla had a forceful yet considerate hand on her back and was guiding her to the cabin.

“Oh, you look dreadful. Just dreadful. Let's get you inside to warm you up.”

“I have a child with me,” Laniakea revealed Aeirth from beneath her cloak.

“Let us hurry. She looks even worse than you. Oh, poor child.” She reached for Aerith, but Laniakea pulled back. She looked at Laniakea as if she considered picking her up instead. It seemed she decided not to and increased the urgency, which she ushered the two of them inside.

The house split into two rooms with a fireplace on the rightmost wall. Embla guided her past a busy kitchen. Dried meat hung on a wall, and various bowls and wooden utensils were scattered on a table to prepare more food for preservation. The second room they entered was much cozier than the first. A white rug that seemed to be some sort of bear covered the floor in the center. Laniakea knelt in front of the fire and lowered Aerith from her arms. The little girl murmured at the sudden temperature change. From one of the two beds at the edge of the room, Embla took a blanket and covered the child.

“It hurts.” Aerith whimpered feebly as she scrunched her face in pain.

“Move her away from the fire!” Laniakea paused at the request from the woman. “Quickly, hurry now. You're warming her too fast.”

On the second request, she obeyed and pulled Aerith further from the heat. Laniakea felt blood rushing back to her extremities and cringed at the sudden assault of pain. Taking slow and deep breaths, she let the pain become secondary in her mind. She reached out upon seeing Aerith writhing in discomfort.

“Don’t touch her.” Laniakea recoiled and shot the woman a distrustful look. There must be something she could do for this child. “She’s in a sensitive state right now. Let her body adapt. I will brew some tea. Stay with her, but do not touch her.” Embla sighed and left to the other room.

Moments later, she returned with an iron kettle. She put the handle of the kettle on a hook, presumably within the chimney. A tired expression covered her face as she sat down on the bed to the left of Laniakea.

They both sat in silence. The fire crackled, and the faint sound of a man chopping wood continued outside. Laniakea rubbed her fingers as more heat seeped beneath her skin. Noticing she still had her hood up, she flung it off her shoulders.

“What would you like in return,” she spoke in a level voice as if she were doing business with a merchant. “I have coin weighted to Alavira standards and Obsidian standards. While I’m not familiar with the Skanadi currency, I’m sure either would suffice. Gold is gold, after all.”

Embla shook her head and put her hands up to stop Laniakea. “I ask nothing from you other than to recover.”

This woman must have other plans. Laniakea’s eyes darted around the room, wondering if some hidden person was ready to attack. The door in the kitchen swung open, and a gust of wind blew in. Laniakea instinctually reached for the knife hidden on her hip. Embla put a firm hand on her shoulder and stopped her halfway up from the floor.

“It is only my son Njal.”

Laniakea glared at Embla before she realized the harsh look on her face. Resheathing the knife, she bit her lip and frowned. “It’s been too long. I have forgotten myself. Excuse me.”

“You're safe here,” Embla told her, hoping to ease the tension in the woman’s face.

Aerith’s groans ceased, and her breathing became even. Color was beginning to return to her pale face. Her white hair that accentuated her ghostly complexion now stood in contrast to her warming cheeks. Laniakea gazed lovingly upon her as she settled the unease within her heart.

“Is she your daughter?”

Laniakea was taken aback by the question. She wondered the proper way to answer as she judged whether this woman would take favorably to Stellapuer. “Not quite,” she said slowly, stretching the words with a tinge of regret. “I am her guardian, but we are not biologically related. It’s a bit complicated. I can’t say much more.”

“I am sure however you two are related; she is lucky to have you.” A trill of steam sang from the iron kettle. Embla smoothed her skirts and leaped from the bed with surprising speed. “Najal, fetch the cups!” Several hurried sounds of wood knocking against wood came from the kitchen. Moments later, a young boy balanced three cups of various sizes in his arms. Messy chestnut hair nearly covered his eyes, and freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. He dropped the cups near Embla’s feet, and she put a hand on his arm. “Go help your father finish up. We will have lunch soon.” The boy nodded and sniffled as he rubbed the bottom of his nose with his sleeve. As Embla took the kettle from the hidden hook, Njal was already out the door.

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“My boy is likely about her age,” she said, pouring hot opaque water into each cup.

“Oh, he seems nice.” Her voice was rigid, made all the more stiff by the juxtaposition of Embla’s relaxed demeanor.

“You're not around children much, are you.” Warm laughter filled her words, inviting Laniakea to smile.

“I have not had the opportunity. I know it is unusual for a woman my age.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry dear. We all take different paths in life. Perhaps you just haven’t found the right man.” She handed Laniakea one of the steaming cups. “Finding Bjornik was mear luck.”

Laniakea tightened her grip on the beverage as the smile left her face. “Long ago, I did find ‘the one’ as most put it. But he has been gone for a long time. One day, I hope to find him, and on that day, I can only wish he still holds love in his heart.”

“For one so lucky to have captured your heart, I’m sure that love would last for a thousand years.”

“And if it's been longer?” The words came out before she had time to think. Her face became flushed as she realized what she said.

“Then that love will burn for a thousand more.”

The smile that appeared on Laniakea's face seemed to wash away the strains of travel. For a second she could have been a woman of younger days. One who did not know the harshness of life. Her few wrinkles softened, and through her parted lips she uttered, “Thank you.”

“Where are we?” Aerith’s soft and feeble voice came from the ground.

Laniakea shuffled over on her knees; not a moment was spared to fully get up from the floor. The little girl sat up and began to look around the room, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Laniakea reached out and hovered her hands over Aerith’s shoulders. “Are you alright? How are you feeling? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said still absorbing her surroundings.

“Are you sure everything is fine?” Laniakea threw off the blanket to check Aerith’s arms, and Embla got up from the bed to stop the eager woman.

But she paused. Her breath was as still as her body. Aerith’s arms and even her fingers had returned to their natural color. Laniakea took Aerith’s left arm in her hands and felt the girl’s warm skin pulsating with life.

“Oh my.” Embla finally let her captive air exit with her words. “I’ve never seen anything like this. For a child to heal so fast and so completely. It's nothing short of a miracle.”

Laniakea began to massage the joints of Aerith’s fingers, checking again and again that blood was flowing. The resiliency of the Stellapuer always amazed her. She wondered if such tough bodies were a blessing or a curse.

“Where are we,” she asked again.

Laniakea pointed to Embla as she put a hand behind Aerith’s back, “This kind woman took us in. We’re in her house.”

“I like your house. It's warm.”

The matter-of-fact yet sweet words made Embla grin with motherly tenderness. “And you’re welcome to stay as long as you need. First, let me find some clothes for you. I’m sure Njal won’t mind if you borrow some.”

As if waiting for the invitation, Aerith pushed the rest of the blanket off herself and pressed her feet into the fuzzy rug.

“It’s so soft.”

Embla guided the child to a wooden chest in the corner furthest from the fireplace. “It used to be a big bear, but my husband took it down with one swing of his axe,” Embla said with pride as she continued to dig through the chest. Aerith stared down at the white creature beneath her feet.

“A bear,” she said in amazement. Her eyes sparkled, thinking of the massive animal moving around.

Without any warning, Embla slid a shirt over Aerith. After pulling out a few more items she fully clothed the child. The shirt was a little baggy, and the pants were too short, but it would do for now, Laniakea thought as she nodded in approval.

The door rattled as Njal pushed his way inside, stomping the snow off of his boots in an aggressive manner. Embla rushed over upon seeing the clumps of snow scatter across the kitchen floor. As Njal glanced up, Embla already had her fingers pinched around his ear.

“You know not to track snow into the house. Why aren’t you helping your father?”

The pain pitched Njals voice slightly higher. “He said he didn’t need help anymore.” His words did not affect her, so he started swatting at her hand, yet she remained firm.

Aerith peeked around the wall separating the two rooms and smiled at the boy. Embla let go, and Njal raised his hand to his ear to stop another attack. “Lunch isn’t ready yet, so why don’t you play with her while you wait.”

Embla motioned Aerith to come forward, and the white-haired girl bounded towards Njal.

“I’m Aerith!”

The boy slouched back at her enthusiasm. “Njal,” he muttered. “Do you want to see our sheep?”

“Sheep,” Aerith said with a puzzled look on her face.

“You don’t know what sheep are?” Njal stood up straight and arched his head back to look at Embla. “Mom, can I take her to see the sheep?”

Embla eyed Laniakea cautiously in the other room. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, that should be fine,” Laniakea said as she scooped up the orange earrings Aerith had left tangled in her blanket.

“Let's go.” Njal opened the door, letting the cold air send a shiver down Aerith’s spine.

“Wait one moment.” Embla leaned down and put a coat on Aerith twice her size. “Since you aren’t going far, you can use my coat and boots. They’ll be big, so go slow and don’t fall.”

Aerith nodded and slid her feet into boots that nearly went up to her knees. As she waddled out the door like an oversized duck, Embla called after them. “And if you get too cold, come back immediately.”

“Yes, Mom,” Njal shouted back. Aerith raised one of her hands in acknowledgment and continued her journey through the snow.

The stream of cold air ceased as Embla closed the door and refocused her attention on Laniakea. The woman had stripped herself of her cloak and glanced around the room, looking for somewhere to place it. She wore brown breeches that slipped easily into her boots and a white linen shirt, discolored from travel, that was tucked in. Laniakea pulled at the crisscrossing string of the shirt near her neck as beads of sweat formed on her face and around her collarbone.

“Where may I put this,” she asked, holding the thick cloak in one hand.

“Here, let me take it.” Embla snatched the cloth from her and hung it up near the door. Her tired eyes turned to the messy kitchen as she shook her head at herself. Raising her eyebrows, a thought came to mind, and she casually proposed a question. “Have you had much experience cooking?”

“Enough to be edible.”

“Well, that's good enough for me,” Embla laughed and beckoned the women to come over. “Bjornik isn’t picky. It’s hard to be when you live here. Help me prepare lunch.”

Laniakea rolled up her sleeves and followed Embla to the heaps of cookware and preserved food. The two women began their work as Laniakea continued to become more relaxed. Harsh winter winds faded from her mind as Embla walked her through a traditional Skanadi dish. The various methods to prepare preserved foods fascinated Laniakea, from reheating dry peas to transforming salted fish into something delicious. Soon, a mouth-watery aroma filled the cabin.

After all the prep work was done, Embla went to fetch a bucket of water to wash the dishes. After she returned, Laniakea volunteered to clean. Embla handed her one dish at a time, and they began to methodically work through the chaotic kitchen.

“This was nice. I can hardly remember the last time I cooked a proper meal myself.”

“Oh really?” Embla raised an eyebrow. “I’m not harboring some runaway queen, am I?”

“No, not even close,” Laniakea brushed the statement aside as she dipped a large bowl into the bucket of water. “I served a noble family but never did any of the cooking. It was an interesting situation.” She froze, wondering if she had said too much again, and hurriedly added to her statement. “I’m not an escaped servant or anything like that, so there shouldn’t be any danger to you.”

“Even if there was, I’m sure my husband wouldn’t let any harm come to us.” She elbowed Laniakea as the woman frowned at the bowl in her hands. “You're welcome here, so stop worrying.” Embla took a peek at the door behind them. “Njal and Aerith have been out for a while. It shouldn’t take them very long to see the sheep.”

“I’ll go check soon,” Laniakea said as she resumed cleaning the bowl.

“No, you stay inside. I’ll have Bjornik check on them.”

A loud thump came from the door as if someone had been shoved against it. Another crash came, and the door flew open as Njal stumbled in. Due to his momentum, he nearly fell face-first but caught himself before he dropped the girl in his arms. Liquid gold stained his fingers, and Aerith’s body lay limp as he struggled to hold her up.

Laniakea dropped the bowl and rushed toward the exhausted boy. Taking the weak child’s body into her trembling hands.

“Get another bucket of water now,” she commanded with a force that shook Embla to immediate action.

Njal dropped his arms to his side as he stared into the kitchen. “Why is it gold?” He mouthed, the words barely audible over Laniakea’s flurry of thoughts.

“I should have never let you out of my sight,” she cried and stroked back Aerith’s pale bangs. Her body was still warm, but the heat was leaving fast. She bit her lip observing Aerith’s wounds. “I won’t let you die. I’ve seen enough death. Enough pain. Today, you shall live.”