Young Writers Society

(Author's note: This is inspired by a dream I had last week. The non-English words aren't based off of any earthly language. They're just made up in an attempt to give this one more culture!)

-

They say the Queen of Winter has the warmest heart. Without it, she would make no effort to harness her power and would turn as cold and heartless as winter itself. Without a warm heart, she would care for neither tree nor creature nor human being. She would never let go of her grip and let her season of ice and snow and bitter night melt away into Spring so the world could awaken and begin anew. Without a warm heart, the Queen would conquer every life she saw.

The opposite is said of the Queen of Summer. She has the coldest heart, so she can temper the scorching heat of her summer and keep the planet able to support life. Without this balance the two harshest of the four seasons would never give way to the next and the world would be caught in a sate of timelessness or decay.

And so Krren wondered if the Queen of Winter had somehow frozen her heart. He had certainly never before seen such a harsh winter, with snow blocking the door and threatening to break through the windows. Hard beads of ice blew in from the north to batter those foolish enough to venture outside. Even the beauty of endless, fragile white crystals had lost its splendor, for the sun had forgotten how to emerge and make the white sparkle with color.

Even inside it was cold. There was a fire in every fireplace and the stove, but he still shivered where he sat on the hearth. It was as though the heat of the flames had failed; he could hardly feel the warmth on his back. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and a mug of hot ynya held firmly in his gloved hands. He sipped at it, secretly relieved when the bittersweet liquid scorched his tongue. At least this heat felt real!

There was a horrendous scraping outside, and then the front door banged open as hulking man forced his way in, stomping snow from his boots and trousers. He closed the door behind him quickly, his dark eyes sweeping over Krren and the blazing fire. "I'm home," he grunted, beginning to shed his top layer and reducing his bulk considerably.

"Did you bring firewood?" Krren asked, placing his mug of ynya beside him. The man shook his head.

"There wasn't any left," he said gruffly. "I'll have to make a trip all the way over to Dunseth to hire a cart and fell some trees myself." Krren stared up at him in alarm.

"You can't do that! It's a two day trip from here to Dunseth, and that's in good weather! Spending nights in weather like this would kill you, Ji'appa!And you could never cut down enough wood by yourself…."

The man sighed and sat down beside Krren. "It's just going to get worse, Son, and we can't live without something to burn. I go tomorrow."

"Then take me with you!" Krren, young and enthusiastic, looked up at his father with dark, intense eyes. "I can carry nearly as much weight as you can and I'm a good navigator. You can't do this by yourself, Ji'appa."

His father smiled just a little. They had the same eyes and stubborn, strong jaw, though Krren had inherited his mother's straw-like hair and softer mouth. "I can't Krren. You need to stay here with your mother. Where is she, anyway? That ynya smells good."

"I'm right here, Daeg," said a soft voice. Unnoticed by either of them Krren's mother, Wynnie, had come into the doorway, holding another steaming mug. She smiled warmly as her husband stood, slapping his thighs, and bowed his tall self over her dainty form to steal a kiss. "You wanted some?"

"Thank you, Wynnie." He accepted it and sipped it slowly. "Oh that's better. The cold out there must be what it's like in Kyrenar."

"Don't even joke about that, Daeg!" Wynnie protested. "We'll not have talk of that underworld here. But there are more important matters--did I hear you right? Are you going to Dunseth?" Her slim hands were trembling a little as they clenched handfuls of her gray wool skirt. Krren felt a familiar rush of protectiveness for his frail, sweet mother. Would his father really leave her here to fret about him? But there really was no other choice….

"I have to, Wynnie. There's only enough firewood in the shed for this week, and that's if we cut down how much we've been using. There wasn't any at the market."

Her blue eyes turned to the wood floor. She nodded, thin face tense. "Of course you have to go then. Krren, would you bring as much firewood in from the shed as you can? If it keeps snowing like this we won't be able to get to it tomorrow."

Krren nodded and stood. He was quite a lot shorter than his father as well, only a few inches taller than his mother, but he was in his late teens and didn't have much growing left to him. He wasn't thick, either, but a sort of tough broadness to his shoulders and a fire in his eyes suggested he was much stronger than he appeared. He hurried to pull on an extra fur-lined coat and his boots and reinforce his trousers with a button-up leg tube of bearskin. Then he had to force his way out the door and into the howling storm.

It was as though all color had left the world; warm browns, yellows, and soft reds were replaced by whirling white and angry gray skies; the howling wind deafened him and despite the many layers he felt as though he'd stepped outside naked. Numbness crept through his clothes and deep into his skin almost immediately. Gritting his teeth, Krren plowed his way to the half-buried shed and got to work.

* * * * *

The storm had somehow grown worse when Daeg left. Krren had given in and agreed to stay and take care of his mother, but he wished he could somehow go with his father as well. He felt like something was bound to go terribly wrong as he watched his father's dark figure swallowed by the snapping of white snow. His mother was wrapped in just a shawl, but she stood outside for nearly an hour before Krren could coax her back inside. When he asked her if she was okay, she smiled and informed him she was "absolutely spiffing." "Just go and stoke the fire in the oven. We'll just use the oven and the one here in the front room until Daeg gets back with wood. I'll put on some ynya and bread." She rubbed her cold hands together absent-mindedly. "Though you may have to make a trip to the market soon as well, Krren. I'm sorry. We'll have to go every day until we manage to snatch up some of the food."

Krren's spirits lifted. "Of course! I can see Podd if I'm lucky." It would be worth struggling through the snow. "If I fix those old snowshoes it could go even faster."

"Oh, please fix them. Everything would be less of a struggle, since I convinced Daeg to take our good pair." Krren nodded, then went into the kitchen to tend to the stove as asked. When he managed to get a fire going, he simply stood there with his hands over the flames wondering why they didn't feel more warm.

* * * * *

Several hours later, Krren set out to the market. Even with the newly patched snowshoes it was difficult. The snow was blinding and Krren nearly went in the wrong direction twice, because the road was almost completely buried. Although it was scarcely over a mile to the rest of the village, it took Krren nearly two hours to get there. Results upon arrival weren't promising either. There were some frost-bitten winter squash selling for ridiculously high prices and no one was willing to barter for anything but food and firewood and warm clothes, none of which were easily spared. Krren managed to purchase a single squash and pound of flour but there wasn't anything else for him there. When he inquired about his friend Podd he heard yet more grim news. Podd had left with his father to Dunseth twenty days ago and not returned. They'd had the same plan in mind as Daeg. Worry gnawing in his gut, Krren went back home.

The homeward journey wasn't quite as miserable, though is body was already numb to its core. At least the wind was at his back so he could move more quickly and he wasn't quite as blinded by the blizzard. He'd have to tell his mother they needed to skimp on the winter rations even more if they hoped to live through the new year.

Krren was just within sight of his house when he tripped over something lying prone in the snow, managing to topple face first to the ground. The squash and bag of flour went tumbling out of his arms and made nice indents through the top layer of fresh powder and Krren got a mouthful of icy fluff. He dragged himself off of whatever was in the snow--it felt sort of squishy--and seized the fallen food. Then he turned to investigate and felt his breath catch in surprise.

There was a girl lying there! She was half covered in snow already, and so pale that she'd been very difficult to see. Her hair was as white as the snow itself and her skin had scarcely any more color than that. She looked young, though, perhaps a year younger than Krren was himself. She seemed to be sleeping, with her hands folded beneath her breast, and she was in a many layered dress of fine, shimmering silk of blues, silver, and white. He stared in astonishment. It wasn't too strange to find someone who had succumbed to the temperature, but never before had he seen someone who looked as though they'd merely laid down for a nap. Stranger still was the superb quality of her dress; not even the Lord and Lady of Dunseth dressed so well. Her face was dainty and peaceful and there was the faintest touch of rose to her cheeks.

She can't be too far gone yet, to have such color, Krren thought. Using his teeth, he pulled off one of his thick gloves so he could touch her throat right under her jaw. There was a pulse, faint but regular in beat. The iciness of her skin pierced him even more than the air and snow did, however. Krren rocked backwards, holding his glove and staring down with a puzzled expression on his face. What do I do now? I can't just leave her here to die, but how can Mother and I afford to feed another person? How can we help and still have enough for ourselves?

Then he sighed. Wynnie would scold him something fierce if she ever found out Krren could have helped someone in need but didn't do it. He lifted her from the snow--her body was slender and small and quite light--and managed to prop her on his back with her arms dangling uselessly over his shoulders. Then, straining slightly, he retrieved the squash with one hand and flour with the other, then somehow managed to tuck the bag under his arm so he'd have a hand free to hold on to the girl's arm.His snowshoes didn't keep him up ver well with her weight, but he didn't dare try and take them off. Rather he began to make his laborious way to the house, grateful that the girl did at least collapse so close to his home.