Logical assumption. If this was her land.
“Hmm. How many villages have youvisited?”
He frowned. “Just these three.”
She gave a cold smile. “So you have no realidea of what the people of this land are like, then.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Everything. What is it your people callpeople like me? Throwaways, wasn’t it?”
“I doubt your loyalty is so fleeting as to bedestroyed by a single act of self-preservation,” he responded.
“You know me that well?” Shea said. “Well,how about this? Do you know what these people do to keep the beastsfrom their door?
He didn’t answer.
“They sacrifice men and women, often timeseven children, to give themselves a few more days of safety.” Herlaugh was low and ugly and utterly devoid of humor. “Can youbelieve that? Ignorant savages think spilling blood can protectthem.” The humor dropped from her face. “It’s what attracts them.The ironic part is that if they just shared information they mightfigure out how useless such acts are. But, no, everyone in thisfucked up land hates everyone else. The only people you can trustare those that you grew up with. Everyone else is just an outsider.So they bury their heads and pretend they’re safe if they just staybehind their fences and walls.”
“You speak as if you aren’t one of them.”
Shea closed her eyes briefly. There would bea reason for that. She hadn’t meant to say so much, especially notso revealingly, but once she’d started everything else had justcome pouring out.
“Well, I’m a throwaway aren’t I?” She gavehim a crooked grin. “I don’t really have a people anymore.”
After that, they both kept their own counciluntil the group stopped for the night.
It was freezing when Shea woke, much more sothan usual. Though temperatures in the hills tended to drop sharplyat night, this wasn’t normal. Her breath created a plume of mist.There was a brittle cracking of frost as she sat up in herblankets.
She shivered sharply and stared down at therim of white coating every inch of her blanket. She looked over thecamp, noting with numb disbelief frost blanketing every still form.Even the wagons had a light coating of silver, and the horseslooked like they had been doused with flour. Several had lain down.Their sides barely moved.
The fires had gone out and not a soulstirred.
“Wake up,” her voice came in a hoarsewhisper, barely recognizable with how it trembled. She shiveredharder and put as much force as possible into it. “Get up.”
She climbed to her feet clumsily andstaggered over to Eamon, dropping to one knee beside him. She shookhim. “Eamon, you have to get up.”
His eyes fluttered but otherwise there was noresponse.
She slapped him sharply. “Get up, you slackabout.”
“Wha-” His voice was groggy as he tried toshrug her off.
“Eamon, you have to get up. Something’swrong. Please get up.”
“S-Shane?” She nearly sobbed in relief.“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but I think whatever it is, iskilling us. So you need to get up and help me wake the others.”
Together they staggered from figure tofigure, shouting, shaking and slapping to rouse the sleepers.
Shea bent over a man and stumbled back as ashadow moved where no shadow should have been. It rose from theground, its shape bending and reshaping. She watched it rise, herheart in her throat. A frostling. She’d heard stories. EveryHighland child had, but there hadn’t been a sighting in nearly ahundred years.
Pathfinder. You’ve disturbed my meal.
She inched back as it took on the amorphousshape of a small human, no taller than her knee. Had there been anyclue in how to fight these things in the stories? Her mind couldn’tthink as the temperature dropped lower.
Should you replace it?
