The Stranger From the Snow

Blood dripped into moonlit snow as I trudged towards either life or death. The healer inside the cottage was my only hope. But as I wrapped my cloak tighter around my body, knowing what I had just done, I feared she would turn me away. Or worse. Murder wasn’t typically in a healer’s wheelhouse, but I knew what she thought of me. Or at least what I imagined she thought of me. Or maybe just what my terrible, self-hating inner monologue assumed she thought about me. Maybe I deserved death.

Or maybe, just maybe, she would spare the dying.

Though I’d never been to her home before, it was somehow exactly as I pictured a Sun witch cottage. Mossy and vine-covered, with a little snake of smoke spiraling from the chimney. I ached for the warmth of the fire that she kept in her hearth. For as much as I feared what she might think of my unexpected appearance on her doorstep, I craved to be in her presence again. To see the spells she cast. To experience her magic once more.

I grew dizzy from blood loss. The pain of the wolf bites had become so intense that my body tried to numb it. The cold helped. Being half-frozen in the snow storm had its perks, I supposed. But my strength was waning. Whatever I had left was fading quickly. I somehow made it onto her porch and knocked on the door. My knees buckled under my body and I fell into a heap. I heard the faint click of locks being undone as my vision blurred to black. My fate was in her hands now.

***

I awoke to warmth. Such intense, brilliant warmth. I noticed the fire first. The flames were dancing merrily in the maw of a massive fireplace. I was laid out on the hearthstones, somehow mostly undressed, my bleeding wounds stuffed with herbs and cotton. There was pain, yes. But much less. As my vision focused, I saw her kneeling next to me in a dress stained with my blood.

“You could have killed me and taken my magic,” I croaked, my voice still finding itself after my near death encounter. You’d think, as a witch who deals with death magic, I would have fared better after nearly dying.

Her mouth popped open in stunned shock and I felt the crawling, unpleasant heat of shame welling up in my face. I knew the power imbalance between us. I knew what she thought of me– a Moon witch capable of killing someone like her in an instant. This was an ability she did not possess. “You could have done the same,” she whispered.

“Thank you for healing me,” I said bashfully, trying to catch her eye. I didn’t want her to see me as the enemy, even though Sun witches and Moon witches had been enemies for as long as we’d inhabited Songdal.

When she finally met my gaze, I wondered if she’d recognize me. We’d met as children, yes. But I could never forget her face. I recognized it the very first moment I opened my eyes on her hearth. But when she looked back at me, there was an emptiness in her expression that could only mean one thing. She had forgotten me in the two decades that passed since our first meeting. I was a stranger to her once again. A Moon-touched stranger no less. A stranger that could kill her with death magic.

Yet, she still worked to heal me with her life magic, the dying stranger from the snow. Her tanned, freckled hands were deft and skillful, and not only did the bleeding stop, but my pain abated too. She was kind, gentle, and merciful. And gods, she was beautiful. I’d never seen anyone like her before. She’d grown into a woman that far surpassed my wildest dreams. The shame that had poisoned me melted into something new, something ticklish in my belly. Suddenly I felt very exposed lying on her hearthstones, my fancy clothes stripped away so she could clean my wounds. Had she undressed me? The thought made my stomach roil with nerves.

I glanced down at my body as her hands touched my wounds and wiped the blood from my skin. The ugly scar that ran from my shoulder to the opposite hip was on full display. I wondered what she thought of it when she saw it. Was I as ugly as I thought myself to be?

“I like your home,” I said quietly as she worked. “The fire is nice.”

“Oh, thank you,” she mumbled.

I wanted to say so much to her. I wanted to tell her who I was. I wanted to blurt out why I had come to her cottage on the longest night of the year. I wanted to spill all of my secrets and invite her on my quest with me. Instead, I just stared at her. Though there were a myriad of interesting things on her walls, hand-carved pieces of furniture, and herbs hanging from the rafters, all I wanted to look at was her. She already seemed wary of me and a bit jumpy. I didn’t want to make it worse. So I stayed silent.

After a time she said, “I need to get you out of the rest of these bloody and wet clothes. The healing magic won’t work–”

But before she could finish her explanation, I was already stripping off what remained of my clothes. I don’t know what compelled my boldness. But when my breasts fell bare in the firelight, her cheeks turned red and she looked away. What was that? Did she like women? I refused to let myself hope that I had a chance with her. This was not the time or place.

She hastily finished wiping the blood off my body and bandaging my wounds. The wolf did a number on me and I was fortunate she was able to pull me from an early grave. Then she got up and went to the lone bedroom to find some new clothes for me. She returned and helped me into the soft nightgown.

“Take my bed,” she implored. “You need to rest.”

“But where will you sleep?” I asked.

She nodded to a rocking chair in the corner. I scowled, unhappy that I was stealing her bed from her. I was far too shy to suggest we share it, though the thought crossed my mind. Her accepting me into her home and healing me was more than enough for tonight. I dared not push my luck.

She helped me into her bedroom, wrapping an arm around my waist as I struggled to stand. As I got up, I noticed a dagger lying on her kitchen table. So she had thought about killing me. Maybe not with her magic like I can, but with a weapon. It was only fair, I decided. But the thought still stung.

As she walked me to her bed, I noticed she smelled like roses. It suited her, matching her red hair and peach-toned skin. She snapped her fingers and lit a small candle on the bedside table with her magic. Sun magic. I would never get over how incredible it was.

“I’ll be right out here if you need anything,” she said, closing the door, but keeping it cracked. I heard her let out a long, slow exhale as soon as I was put away in bed. She seemed exhausted by the ordeal of the night.

I burrowed down into her fluffy bedding, the pain in my body from the near-death experience fading away. But I knew the pain of our meeting was not yet over. There was still one more horror left for her to uncover.

The wolf that nearly killed me lay frozen and dead at her front gate. I barely escaped the encounter with my life. I didn’t mean to kill the beast. I didn’t want to kill it. I tried everything in my power to approach the cottage without bloodshed.

But her beloved wolf would not let someone its master perceived as an enemy get that close. Her fearless animal companion fought to the death to keep me out. And still I came. And still I knocked. And unknowing, she healed me.

I wondered how long it would be until she discovered that her wolf would not come home. I wonder how long I had to sleep peacefully in her bed until she came and killed me with her knife. My fate was once again in her hands.

Would she spare the dying?