Heat wrapped around me immediately, thick with the scents of hay, leather, fur, and manure. Torches burned low along the walls, casting amber light over rows of stalls. Eight shaggy horses lifted their heads, ears flicking and breath steaming in the warm air. A pair of caribou shifted restlessly a few stalls down from me, antlers brushing wood as they turned, while several elk glanced my way with mild interest before settling again, unimpressed by my arrival.
Apparently, an odd-smelling stranger bursting in in the middle of the night wasn’t that alarming a prospect for them.
I ran straight through the stable, dragging my scent across as many surfaces as possible. I brushed past a horse’s flank, ducked beneath hanging tack, kicked through old bedding, and shoved open the far doors. Hopefully, the scent of manure and hay now masked my path. If the hounds followed me in here, they’d stay for a while. Now I had to find a better place to lie low for a bit. Riding out of here on a stolen horse would be epic, but galloping through a strange city in a bizarre world I didn’t know would also draw a lot of attention, and I had no idea where to go. It would be much easier to figure out the best path forward if I could just disappear into the shadows until the hunt died down. If it turned out I could use a horse, I could double back and grab one. For now, it made more sense to stay on foot.
Outside, the shouts grew louder.
“Did you hear that?”
“Get a torch! The hounds are coming!”
“Who escaped?”
“Should we get to the shelters just in case?”
I stopped in front of the stable doors and peeked out. Nine men and women in heavy fur and wool coats stood about twenty feet from the door, gesturing toward the castle. A woman with curly black hair leaned back to peer into the alley, her eyes white-rimmed. “Who escaped? Why are they making such a fuss?”
“Probably something to do with the Night King,” a man in a thick fur hat responded.
A yip sounded from back near the blacksmith, and the hounds howled louder.
A few more doors opened. Lanterns bobbed to life and floated like fireflies, yellow light splashing over snow and timber. People moved into the lanes, half-dressed and half-awake, some clutching tools, others weapons they clearly weren’t used to holding. Most started toward the main road, calling out to one another to find out what was happening and whether they were under attack.
I inhaled shakily.Thiswould help me blend in and cover my scent with those of many others. I slid out and darted forward, pretending to be one of the fleeing townspeople and matching my pace to theirs.
I spotted a building ahead, situated between two others, that looked completely dark, its roof slick with snow and icicles. No torches burned within, and the windows were sealed with slab shutters. Along the left side of the house, a window without glass was partly covered by a shutter hanging slightly askew, its hinge bent just enough to leave a narrow gap.
It had been a long time since I’d broken in somewhere, but that bent shutter was my best shot. I slid into the alley as if I belonged and tested the wood shutter. It was old, the wood swollen and splintered at the edges. I slipped my right hand out of my glove and gently slid it up to test the shutter for weaknesses. There. My fingers found the tension point. I pulled the knife out of my coat pocket and used the blade to work the shutter open.
“Awooo—wooorrrr—awoooo!”
That sounded much closer than I wanted.
Heart racing, I widened the opening carefully, then hopped up to wiggle inside, catching just a glimpse of a small room with sheets over the furniture. The opening pinched my hips and then released, and I fell into the cool darkness. With a squeak, I rolled and landed on a rug. I sprang up at once and put the shutter back in place.
Darkness closed around me.
I pressed my back to the wall and held still, every muscle coiled as I strained to listen beyond the rush of blood in my ears.Outside, the howling rose again, closer now, then scattered, the sound breaking and overlapping as the hounds continued their search. Had they reached the stable yet? It was hard to tell.
I moved slowly, one hand outstretched, feeling along the wall to orient myself. The powdery residue of the ash was making my skin itch. The darkness was near complete. I tried to count my steps and listened for any sign of movement in the house. Nothing. Just the sound of my own breathing and the distant chaos of the hounds outside.
It took a minute for my eyes to start making sense of the room. It was small, close, a weird mix of old furniture under sheets and flat stale air. I edged forward, hip-checking something low and soft—a couch, probably. The whole place smelled musty, with a sweet undertone of something I couldn’t place. I kept moving, sidestepping what might be an old table. My fingers found the edge, chipped and gouged. I trailed my fingers to the corner, then groped along the wall until the room widened.
Soon, I found what I guessed was a door, based on the planks. Pressing my ear to it, I listened.
No voices, no footsteps. Just the creak of wood as the building settled into the cold. Bracing, I pushed the door open inch by inch. It didn’t squeak, just made a low, heavy sound like a sigh. The next room was a little brighter. A small fireplace sat against the far wall, the embers barely glowing. Two windows at the far end were shuttered with slats, hints of torchlight sliding through and casting just enough light to roughly make out the shapes of more furniture. If I had my bearings right, this side of the house faced a narrower road than the alley I’d come out of.
I edged forward, pressing close to the wall as if it were the only thing keeping me upright, and caught the edge of my shoe against a warped floorboard. The dull thud seemed to ring far louder than it should have, spreading through the house.
My pulse spiked. I froze mid-step, breath locked in my chest, muscles coiling tight as I listened for a response—shouting, a crash, the thunder of boots rushing in from outside, or the hounds howling louder.
Nothing came.
After a painful moment, I relaxed and let a tight breath loose. My heart continued to pound, loud enough that I was certain it could be heard.
It was warmer in here, at least. Not comfortable, but sheltered. The air carried the faint scent of charred wood, the lingering trace of stove and hearth that had been used earlier and allowed to die down, much like the embers in the fireplace. Whoever owned the house hadn’t been here for hours.
Relief loosened something in my chest. I could stop and catch my breath for a moment. Just a moment. I needed to tend my leg, steady myself, and think. Running blindly would get me captured faster than the guards would otherwise find me.
