Warmth in a blizzard.

Damn. The fire had just begun to embrace him in a much-needed hug of warmth, but he had no time to stay. I must return to them, to her. He promised himself that as soon as the cold wasn’t dragging him into an icy slumber he would leave and warn everyone about what was coming their way. However, now that the time had come he was forced to fight his body’s reluctance to move. He sat up next to the small fire he started earlier, looked as it danced tenderly beneath the fabric of the small tipi he had put up. After losing all of his comrades all he had was the family he swore to protect and this small, kind flame that existed purely to nurse Gwilym back to a none-dying state. He sighed and watched his breath join the smoke as it rose through the small gap at the top of the tent. He sat in silence for a moment, listening to the subtle crackling of the fire against the silence of this cold night, continuing to watch its wisps slowly sway mesmerically. Move! He stood up immediately. Violently kicking dirt onto the flames that he would have easily let hold him in a reinvigorating serene slumber, but there wasn’t time for that. He would have to hope he had time to rest by the time he got back. It wasn’t too far now.

Gwilym exited the tent, collected the fabric it was made from, and quickly stuffed it into the rucksack that was promptly thrown onto his back. The sticks he used were snapped, dispersed, and covered in snow like the fireplace they once contained. As he did each task he felt the cold creeping through both his cloak, armour, and gambeson to torture his skin with its needle-like teeth. But he couldn’t let that bother him now, he’d made his choice the moment he escaped, no need to have second thoughts now. 

He trudged through the large plain expanse of thick snow that pulled and clawed at his legs. The snow desperately soaking his trousers with its venomous drool as it gnawed at him. Maybe I should run, he finally relented for a moment. Escaping them once is a miracle that’s unheard of, jumping into their sights once more and hoping to escape again would just be plain madness. As he finished this thought, his rifle almost fell from his shoulder. He tugged at its strap to bring it where it belonged, its stock clanging on the sword at his hip as he did so. But abandoning her to such a fate would be worse than madness, I swore myself to all of them over ten years ago, leaving those who had given me so much despite what I was when we first met would be downright disgusting! He tripped over a trunk as he approached the forest line, but got up immediately to continue his march.

As he walked through the forest he heard some struggling. ‘Hey girly, since yer lost and everything I reckon it’d be best if you depart with these items of yours. It’d be an awful shame for all this food n valuable stuff to go to waste on someone who’s gonna die in this storm anyways.’ a man snidely spoke through an audible grin.

‘No!’ the woman panicked in response, and a burst of crunching snow and branches ensued.

‘Give it to us!’ another man exclaimed.

‘Look we en askin’ fer much, we just wanna live throu-’

‘Ken… We-ah, we got some company.’ the second man said.

The larger looking silhouette turned to look directly at the now halted Gwilym with the two smaller ones.

‘It’s him isn’t it, Bev?’ Ken said quietly, Gwilym could barely hear it under the howling of the wind.

The smaller shadow seemed to nod before they both scrambled off into the darkness. Gwilym turned from the staring woman and continued on his way. Bandits eh? If there’s only two of them out alone at this time of year they must’ve been abandoned by their comrades, he thought. Usually, when bandits get low on food supplies they’ll fight over the scraps and a few will likely be killed. But if just one member of the gang was both crafty and had some power to leverage, then before it got to that point they’d likely trick someone they dislike into doing a mundane task that’ll lead them to a snowy grave. Foul practices, but it’s to be expected from those operating outside of the ruling clan’s rules. We should really take them more seriously, they cause more harm than the little that’s practical. 

‘Excuse me.’ A voice tumbled through the wind, ‘Excuse me, sir!’ it came again, throwing itself at Gwilym’s ears. 

He turned, it was a woman. No doubt the one from before. Her desperate looking pink face glowing where her hood, piled up snow, or majestically flowing snow coloured hair didn’t cover it. Hasn’t she got somewhere to go, doesn’t she know better than to stop someone traveling through a storm like this? He turned and continued walking. I don’t have time for this.

‘Sir, just where do you think you’re going?’ she called. Gwilym heard the kicking of snow intensify and catch up to him.

‘What, what do you want!’ he yelled, not stopping. Wavering in his trajectory by stopping to listen would lose him valuable time. 

‘You’re Gwilym right, that legendary mercenary that pledged himself to the Durand family?’ she prompted. When she realised the only response she received was a hastened trudging through the snow, she called once more, ‘You’re too late, they’ve all but perished.’ 

‘Lies.’ He responded. How could this lost girl possibly know of their fates?

‘I sensed their approach to the house, so I ran. Most of the others stayed because they didn’t believe me even after I begged them, I sensed their demise an hour before I saw you.’ she stated, seemingly responding to both his words and the thoughts behind them.

Gwilym’s heart tried to escape his chest, ‘Wait if you were there-you said others… Who exactly are you?’

‘Surely you haven’t forgotten about me, Gwilym?’ she prompted sarcastically.

As she spoke those words there was no doubt, it couldn’t be anyone else. He turned and rushed towards her, brushing the snow from her cowl to reveal a wide grin between rivers of joy and sorrow. 

‘Oh, Charlotte!’ he yelled as he embraced her. They both fell to their knees, sobbing and weeping with each other. The tears that flowed from their eyes uncontrollably turned against them to join the war being waged against them by the cold, being aided by the snow that continued to plunge from the sky in an attempt to entomb them. But during this moment it didn’t matter, since they had each-other.

‘Gwilym, what happened to your band, were they all taken out too?’ she asked as they began to rise from their shallow burial. 

‘Yes, I don’t know how I even survived and I don’t know how they died, all I know is that I ended up hiding and watching as Drystan and his men walked away from their bodies.’ He said reluctantly. To him, his own story sounded like a lie some sort of coward would spout in desperation.

 ‘If you hid, it must’ve truly been a monstrous sight, Gwilym, it’s partially the reason why I had a hard time believing it was you who saved me back there.’ She noted, wiping tears from her face. ‘So, what on earth do we do?’

Gwilym obviously hadn’t planned for anything he might do in this scenario. Completely powerless, only having a single man and a clairvoyant girl, doing anything at this point seemed impossible. What to do? There was nowhere to go, and no one to ask for help from or to serve other than each other. Then. He turned away from Charlotte, and began to walk, beckoning her to follow. Currently, whether or not Charlotte was the only heir who escaped didn’t matter, there was still only one thing they could do at this point in time.

‘Survive.’