Into the Keeper's Den (Chap. 1)

      Blood pulsed thickly through veins threatening to freeze with every passing wind. The ground, as stiff as a stone walkway, crunched beneath booted feet. Crisp air carried by frigid wind relentlessly swirled and slammed into anything in its free-spirited path.

         I stopped to catch my breath. My chest ached; the frigid air was making it difficult to draw the deeper breaths I needed. I flexed my fingers, frozen despite the insulating layer guarding them. My legs ached and my feet were tender from the seemingly endless trek in boots that pinched my toes. I squatted for a moment in an attempt to rest. My sore calves protested but the ground was too cold to sit on.

    I should keep moving.

         The wind whistled menacingly through the sparse grove of trees where I crouched. The fierceness of the bitter blast was barely broken by the clustering trees.

         I glanced around, out of sorts, wondering how I allowed myself to lose the path I should have followed. Clearly marked and passable with relative speed, the path to Roneida Crossing had fallen prey to a winter storm that left trees toppled and a blanket of snow thick enough to shroud otherwise familiar surroundings. I stood in the middle of it, huddling in my thick coat that did little to break the wind’s ferocious onslaught.

         I had no choice but to stray from the path if I wanted to continue, but the nagging thought that I should just go home savagely battled with the need to make it to Roneida Crossing and the healer that could help my father.

         “Stay on the path, Amaelia,” I remembered my father’s voice. “I wish you would stay, but if you must go, stay on the path.” He had barely whispered through lips as parched as sun bleached wood. I had listened to his haggard warnings while preparing a meager pack for a trip that should only last two days.

         I stood, stretched, and inhaled a deep breath of the lung-searing cold. “Stay on the path,” I muttered, readjusting the light pack on my back. I gazed around, dusk dimming my view of the frozen landscape awash in a sea of white, spotted every now and then by a small green cluster of green tipped in more white.

         A cluster of trees ahead of me beckoned as the best shelter I could have this night. I wanted nothing more than to be at home with my father, warming our cold bones by the crackling fireplace, the sweet scent of his pipe tobacco floating through the room. I knew I would have to settle for the shabby traveling tent I had brought along, but now I was thankful I had thought to pick it up. Sleeping in the snow wasn’t an option for me if I wanted to stay alive. Finding dry wood for a fire would prove difficult.

         A long, slow howl like a wolf in the distance quickened my pace to the grove of trees. Darkness was falling fast, casting shadows all around me. I would feel much better once I had a fire going to help keep the animals at bay. I noticed several fallen limbs as I pushed my aching legs through ever deepening snow drifts to make it to my intended destination.

      Maybe I can get those limbs to catch up for a fire.

         The trees were more dense than I realized and the fading sunlight made it nearly impossible to see anything further than right where I was walking. The trees thinned a little ahead of me, opening to a clearing. Stepping into the clearing, I strained my eyes in the dusk for a place to put up my tent.

         My foot caught on something I couldn’t see and I suddenly found myself staggering, throwing my hands out in front of me to keep from landing on my face. My shoulder slammed into something solid and I opened my eyes --I hadn’t even realized they were closed-- and squinted to make out what I had collided with. My shoulder ached dully from the impact.

         I pushed myself away from a wall. It actually looked like a small shack, probably a hunting cabin. My heart leapt with relief. Maybe I won’t have to sleep in the snow after all.

         I grabbed a small, broken branch from my feet and thumped it solidly against the wall of the shack. I stopped, listening for scrambling inside that may mean the shack was occupied. I didn’t see any windows on this side. I kept slapping the wall as I walked forward, hoping to find the door to this dilapidated building. Boards were creaking and snapping, some threatening to fall off altogether.

         Surely no one lives here, I thought as I rounded the corner. I slapped the front, still hearing nothing. If there was anything in the shack big enough to hurt me, surely the noise would’ve startled it enough by now to move or make some kind of noise. I hoped.

         I saw the door in the dim, dusky light. There was no knob to grab, but a rope handle dangled loosely from the precarious slab of wood. I cautiously tugged the rope and nearly shattered in my boots when the weathered hinges snapped, causing a thunderous crack as the door slammed down. I held the door up as it fell on me, pushing and tugging to keep it from falling to the ground. It wasn’t all that heavy but the awkward angle at which it hung on the remaining hinge added to the increasing darkness, threw me way off. My chest burned with the freezing cold and my own effort.

         I cautiously stepped into the shack; dusky light trickling in through one tiny rag-covered window near the ceiling. An increasing rattle near the back of the shack set my heart racing, pulse thickening in my ears. Skittering feet ran toward me, toward the door, as a frightened squirrel made its heroic escape. I grinned, placing gloved fingers over my heart. Calm down, I told myself. You’re fine.

         My eyes landed on a small stove off to the side of the sparse room and a shiver of delight coursed through me at the thought of a real fire. My steps echoed hollowly as I crossed to and knelt in front of the stove. Its hinges let out a shrill groan as I pulled the door open. A woven mass of sticks and leaves filled most of the tiny stove’s belly and I praised the bird whose nest would help warm my fingers and toes if I was lucky.

         I pulled flints from my bag, striking a few times before a spark jumped to the brittle, empty nest. I blew frosty breath on the tiny spark and willed it to grow. The warmth grew, casting out onto my face. Painful tingles reminded me of just how cold I actually was. The warmth was heavenly yet distracting.

         A loud thump outside startled me. I fell into the door of the stove, scraping my defrosting cheek against its rusty surface. Lifting my hand to my face, I strained my ears to hear the rustling outside. My heart hammered in my chest, fear paralyzing me for a second. I heard shuffling and what sounded like voices coming closer.

         My eyes darted around the room looking for a place to hide. The fire was dying, cold enveloping me again. I scrambled to the darkest corner of the room and squeezed myself into the tightest ball I could manage to get my tall frame into. I held my breath and listened, straining my eyes against impossible darkness to see what was coming.

         Everything was quiet. Eerily quiet. My chest burned with fear and the need to breathe. Realizing I was holding my breath, I let it out in a quiet rush, my pulse thumping in my neck like a rabbit trapped by a wolf.

         A loud rattle outside the cabin startled me and I jerked, nearly screamed but choked it off. My eyes watered from the effort. The heavy, crunching sound of footsteps rounded the corner.

         “…damn door,” a deep, voice rumbled. The screeching sound of rusty hinges, a male oomph of effort, and a crackling slam assaulted my heightened senses. I opened my eyes to confirm my thoughts. The man shut the broken, dangling door.

         My guts twisted into a knot. With no windows, my only means of escape was through the broken door. It would only take a second after forgetting the door for him to realize the sputtering, smoldering bird nest in the stove. How am I going to get out of here? My mind screamed. I pulled myself into an even tighter ball, trying to plan an escape route. This one room shack wasn’t big enough to sneak out of. He would see me, so I would have to be quick.

         I heard a heavy thud as the man dropped something on the floor. A slight rattling in the bag like he was hunting something, then a quick movement. The fire in the stove sprang to life, rolling flames and almost immediately generating heat.

         What the…? I wondered in amazement.

         The light cast away from the corner where I was cowered down, but I couldn’t stay here forever. My whole body ached from being compressed. I steeled myself for the inevitable. Would this man hurt me, even kill me? My eyes continually scanned for an escape. I didn’t want to find out the answer.

         “You’re going to have to come out sooner or later.” His voice was deep, almost comforting, but it scared the hell out of me. I jerked, tossing my head into the wall behind me and clamping my teeth down. I tasted copper on my lips and licked it away.

         The man turned toward me, his face shadowed by the flames casting light enough to see his tall stature. This was no book keeper. His body was thick with muscle. This man was a worker. A hunter? Of what, I wondered grimly.

         “I’m not going to hurt you,” he coaxed. His voice, a deep grating timbre, startled me and I jumped. A sharp pain struck in my side. A small whimper of pain escaped my lips before I could swallow it. My heart hammered, threatening to shatter my ribs.

         The heavy shuffling of booted feet made me hold my breath as I realized he was slowly coming toward me. He stopped just past the glowing stove, flicking his hand toward the dying embers. The hibernating flames roared to life, casting the entire cabin in a warm wash of orange. The stranger’s gaze never flinched from me. I couldn’t so much as see him looking, as feel him. When he flicked his eyes away from me, a rush of warmth left my body that I hadn’t realized existed. Crammed into this tiny corner in this dilapidated shack in the middle of a freezing snow storm, I should be numb from cold. Unconsciously flexing my fingers, I dared to look with wonder into this stranger’s face. My pulse still thundered through my ears, but the fear had washed away.

         “What are you?” I timidly whispered. I felt it impossible that he had known I was hidden there, yet he had spoken to me without laying his eyes on me. Maybe he had seen me come into the cabin. I hadn't noticed anyone around, but that didn't mean he hadn't been out there in the dense wood. Still, I hadn't seen him strike a flint, so how did the fire start? A memory niggled the recesses of my mind, but I brushed it away.

         An easy smile broke across the man’s face. “It would normally be 'Who are you,' but I suppose your question will do.” He held his hand out to me. “Come by the fire.”

         I uncurled my tense body slowly and stood. I walked toward the stove, keeping myself out of arm’s reach. I wasn’t afraid of him, but I didn’t trust him either. The stove was closer to my only available escape route, after all.

         He dropped his hand, a look crossing his face that I didn’t quite catch. Was he disappointed? Maybe he could read my lack of trust in him.

         He pulled two stools by the stove, placing them far enough apart that I didn’t feel quite as uncomfortable. I knew night was thick outside and there would be no way for me to make it anywhere safely right this moment. Like it or not, you’re staying here.

         The stool creaked when he eased his weight onto it. His booted feet spread wide, elbows on knees, he stared at his hands. I slid onto my stool, pushing it back from the fire just a bit. He didn’t raise his eyes from his hands, picking at his fingers almost nervously. What does he have to be nervous about? I wondered, swallowing a nervous laugh that would’ve upset the delicate balance in this small space.

         The soft orange glow from the comforting fire bathed his face. Wiry stubble covered his chin. His hair fell in waves, brushing just past his shoulders. Smooth skin traced his cheekbones, interrupted by faint creases at the corners of down-turned eyes. His lashes lifted and when our eyes met, my fragile breath caught in my throat as I drew away from him. Tiny orange flames licked in his eyes.

         “What are you?” I gasped, keeping my inquisitive gaze locked on his oddly colored eyes.

         He cast his eyes back down, nervously studying his fingers again. “I am called a Warmth Keeper,” he sighed. “I mean you no harm.”

         A Warmth Keeper? I’d only heard of those magical beings in childhood fairy tales. I never thought they were real or… human. My mind reeled with astonishment and disbelief.

         “My name is Bayn,” he offered to the silence.

         “What are you doing here?” I asked, my mind grasping at old fairy tales. Bayn had been the most powerful of Warmth Keepers until a war had broken out between his family of Keepers and his brother, Fryglen’s, family of Earth Keepers. Baynglo was exiled from the Keeper’s Den when he refused to pit magic against his brother. These bits of information filtered through my memory, along with images of my father sitting in front of the fire as he told me countless stories about Keepers.

         “I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, a smile quirking his lips.

          “I’m here because I accidentally stumbled across this shack trying to find shelter from the night,” I sighed. “I’m making my way to Roneida Crossing to the healer there. My father is very ill.”

         Bayn’s eyes met mine and I felt that curious wash of warmth again. “I am here for the same reason."

         “Do you know the way to Roneida Crossing?” I asked, hopeful. “I lost the path and I have been gone for two days. My father needs me.” I shivered. I wondered if he was even still alive. The chill that consumed him was so frightening. No matter the amount of blankets or the heat of the fire, the chill coursed through his body. It was like he was freezing to death.

         “Roneida Crossing’s healer cannot help your father.” Bayn sighed heavily.

         “What do you mean?” I eyed him quizzically, my body stiffening.

         Those orange eyes swept me again. “I was called upon to help your father.” He spoke softly. “I fear it may be too late.”

         My heart landed in the pit of my stomach with a sickening thump. “No,” I whispered. “It’s not too late. I’ve got to help him.” Frantically, I jumped up, toppling the stool.

         I ran for the door, swinging the unhinged monster aside as if it weighed nothing. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I bolted into the heavy cloak of darkness.

         I heard Bayn yell for me, but I ignored his crackling voice as I ran blindly into the night. My feet sank in banks of snow that slowed me down, but I scrambled along. Crunching sounds behind me let me know I was being followed. He called over and over for me to stop, but I pushed on.

         My lungs burned from the frigid air. The hair that whipped around my face felt cold even against the snow laden wind. The noise behind me stopped and I didn’t hear Bayn calling for me. I turned around to venture a glance and collided with a small tree in an instant. The force snapped my entire body back, half flipping me into the snow. I hadn’t even seen the tree. My head erupted with pain, my skin prickling from being pressed into frozen snow. I tried to raise my head but a swirling blackness threatened to envelope me. I closed my eyes against the sudden pang of nausea.

         I felt strong arms scoop my limp body off the unforgiving ground and sudden warmth enveloped me as I was cradled against a hard heat like barely contained flames. I smelled freshly cut cedar; the scent familiar and oddly comforting. I tried to pry my heavy eyelids open to see who was using such gentle strength to carry me away, but sagged against the warmth and allowed the gulping blackness to take me.

         I awoke lying on an itchy rug, covered in a thick blanket. The soft, orange glow from the stove on the shack was replaced with a dull, gray light filtering in from the vented roof. Stale dampness hung in the air and I knew it must be raining outside. I wondered vaguely how it could be raining now when it had been snowing so intensely last night.

         My head was heavy with a pounding ache and a moan slid from my lips. I turned my head gently to the side as a wave of nausea flooded me. Bayn was at my side in an instant, cradling my thunderous head and pressing an earth-scented liquid to my parched lips.

         His warmth pulsed through my body, heat prickling along my spine like languid snakes. “This is an herbal healing brew that will rid you of your aches.” He spoke in a rasp, answering my unasked question.

         The warm liquid coated my throat with a spicy cedar flavor and my body immediately began to relax. Dark splotches at the edge of my vision slowly receded. The immense ache in my temples lifted little by little, leaving a dull, distant thump.

         “Thank you," I managed to croak. My body felt like a dead weight as I struggled to sit up.

         Firm, yet gentle, hands pressed into my shoulders. “You should rest. The brew has not finished its healing.” He knelt beside me, pressing warm fingers against the pulse on the insides of my slim wrists. Warmth floated through me again, this time washing in and out, leaving a crisp feeling inside me. I flinched against the odd sensation, and then relaxed again.

         Bayn leaned back, breathing deep. Dark circles under his glowing orange eyes lent him a slightly haunted look. His hair, an auburn-orange that nearly matched his eyes, hung limp against his broad forehead. The sprinkling of wiry bristles on his face grew thicker.

         “My name is Amaelia.” I whispered, like liquid silk.

         He nodded his head, a curt motion. “I know,” he breathed. His body slumped with weariness. “I must rest for a while.” He stretched his body out on the bare floor and closed his eyes. Heat radiated from his body like a shield as he fell into a deep slumber.

         I studied his chest rising and falling, the movement threatening to lull me to sleep. My own breathing pattern slowed to synchronize with his even rhythm. My eyelids grew heavy as his warmth drew me to him. I reached out to touch him, his shield of warmth stiffening under my touch. I withdrew my hand slightly and curiously tried again. The protective shield softened under my touch as if it recognized me and I ventured closer. The warmth closed over my body as I slid next to him. I laid my weary head on his broad chest, his shield enveloping me, sending thrilling tingles of warmth dancing across my skin. I closed my eyes.

         A field stretched out before me. Dewy, green grass felt soft under my bare feet. Wildflowers with an overwhelmingly sweet fragrance caressed my legs as they swayed in the breeze. A lone tree, its great branches expanding outward, stood in the distance. A figure wrapped in gossamer stepped from under the branches’ shade and beckoned to me. Her long, blonde hair, much like mine, drifted in the breeze and swirled around her shoulders. I moved slowly forward, trying to reach the woman, but the tree seemed to move farther away the closer I moved. Still, she beckoned to me.

         The dewy grass turned into sharp rocks that stabbed into my bare feet. I slowed down, my feet sliced and bleeding, but continued to move toward the woman who beckoned more urgently than before. The ground gave a great rumble and split, cracking and spitting like something alive until the woman and her tree were standing on an island surrounded by a perilous gash in the earth.

         I stood on the edge of the cliff, reaching for the woman who reminded me so much of myself.

         “Amaelia,” she whispered, “come home to me.”

         “Amaelia,” a raspy voice whispered in my ear.

         My eyes flew open and eyes of liquid fire stared back at me.

         “We must go,” Bayn said, shifting away from me, the shield of warmth sliding away with him.

         I blinked several times trying to clear my head. Who was the woman in my dreams? She looked so much like me. Was it me? A rash of questions I had no answers to exploded through my mind.

         Bayn’s staring caught my attention and I pulled myself up from the unforgiving floor. I expected to be achy, expected my battered body to protest, but I seemed fine.

         “I trust the healing brew has run its course?” He cocked an auburn eyebrow.

         I smiled and wiggled my fingers. “I seem to be fine. Thank you.”

         Bayn nodded his head in a curt, satisfactory fashion.

         “Are you rested?” I asked, noticing he looked much better. The dark circles were gone at least.

         “I am,” he replied, passing my travel pack. “Time is wasting. Your father needs us.”

         I slipped into my pack, following his retreating frame out of the shack. The air outside was cold, but still. Thick, gray clouds covered the sky, blocking any potential sunlight. The white-blanketed landscape was beautiful, though a tad soggy. Banks of snow rested against trunks of frozen trees. A few birds flitted through the branches causing snow to trickle down like dust. As beautiful as it was, it was still brutally cold. I hurried to catch up with Bayn.

         His stiff back retreated away from me without turning to see if I was following. His long strides seemed to walk on top of the snow while I floundered to plow through it. I was falling further behind and finally had to call out to him.

         “Wait up,” I yelled, trying to jump a drift and falling, catching myself with my fists down.

         Bayn stopped and turned around. He waited for me to catch up, throwing me a quizzical glance as I dusted snow from my damp gloves.

         He seemed tense and it made me wonder if I had said or done something to upset him. He had seemed much more relaxed last night, hadn’t he? No, Amaelia, he was as nervous as a chicken on a chopping block last night, I reminded myself.

         We plowed through pristine snow for a great distance in silence. He slowed his pace down so I could keep up. I noticed the way he turned his feet out in the snow was keeping his heavier weight from sinking as far. I tried his method in silence. It just wasn’t working for me.

         I had no concept of time, but my growling stomach let me know that I should eat something.

         “I’m hungry,” I said, slipping my pack off and letting it land in the snow. I dug through the meager contents until I found a small heel of bread. I broke a piece off the stale loaf and offered it to Bayn, who had graciously stopped when I did.

         “No, you eat it. You need your strength.” He watched as I slid back into my pack, taking a bite of the rubbery bread.

         We continued in silence until Bayn broke right, heading toward a grove of trees. I knew the path I had come on hadn’t brought me through these trees.

         “Where are we going?” I asked, dodging low hanging branches.

         “We will make better time with help,” he replied, never breaking his stride.

         Maybe he’s just worried about my father, I thought. I hoped that someone had happened by to check on him. He must be sick with worry about me. My heart ached with the knowledge that I may not make it back in time. Tears welled in my eyes. I brushed them away with gloved hands.

         We didn’t walk much farther before I saw a stream of smoke coming from the chimney of a cabin at the bottom of the hill. Bayn descended the hill. I followed.

         The cabin was quaint, nestled between a few snow-covered bushes and trees. A large pile of wood was stacked neatly against the house. Chickens ran free, digging through snow in hopes of finding a frozen worm. A low building off to the side housed horses covered in blankets.

         I followed Bayn to the front door and waited as the resounding knock ushered the owner forth.

         A short, white-haired man with a big, bumpy nose and vivid green eyes came to the door. He looked at Bayn and smiled.

         “Come in, Warmth Keeper!” The little old man hailed. His eyes landed on me and his hand clapped over his mouth as if he were trying to keep words from spilling out.

         “Hold your tongue, Mazrat.”  Bayn warned, walking into the cabin. I followed, confused and aware it was showing on my face.

         I must have looked worse than I felt, because the old man kept staring at me and clucking his tongue. He paced back and forth, his eyes never leaving me. A look of disdain swept over him and he finally said, “Forgive my ill manners. I am Mazrat.” He extended his small, wrinkled hand.

         I took his hand and smiled. “Pleased to meet you, sir. I am Amaelia.”

         He smiled, then. “Amaelia,” he breathed. He shook his head once, smiling again. “Hungry?”

         “Pack it for her, Mazrat. We have a distance and little time. We need horses.” Bayn was curt with the old man. I frowned.

         “Of course, Bayn. Always in a rush,” Mazrat mumbled, walking into another room.

         I glanced around the warm little cabin. A plethora of jars were situated at particular stations around the room. Some were filled with liquids and herbs, while others were filled with strange looking insects. The jars varied in size and color. Each jar was labeled, all stacked and lined up neatly, not one thing out of place. The display was unexpectedly beautiful.

         Bayn stood just inside the door with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked at me and looked away. Every so often, I would feel a slip of warmth wrap itself around me and I knew he was watching me. He never said a word, just quiet observation.

         Mazrat came back into the room with a rather large package wrapped up. He offered it to me and I accepted without asking what it was. It smelled wonderful and my stomach betrayed my hunger.

         “Plenty of food is in the pack. Enough for both of you,” he threw an accusatory glance at Bayn.

         “Thank you kindly,” I said with a smile.

         Mazrat swept a quick bow that brought a broader smile to my face. This little man is certainly charming, I thought.

         Bayn cleared his throat, quirking an eyebrow at Mazrat. “The horses are ready, I trust.”

         Mazrat scowled. “Yes. You know where they are.” He waved Bayn off dismissively. “Be safe on your journey, Amaelia.” He placed a kiss on my hand before I even realized he held it. I smiled tentatively.

         “Come, Amaelia. Time is wasting.” Bayn opened the door and waited for me to leave before stepping out.

         I adjusted my collar against the cold and followed Bayn to the stable. I watched as he saddled two very large black horses. The bigger of the two had silver streaks in his mane and tail. The smaller horse threw her mane back and whinnied as Bayn saddled her.

         Bayn swung into the bigger horse’s saddle effortlessly and eyed me, waiting. I inched toward the smaller of the horses, her glittering eyes regarding me carefully. I put one foot in the stirrup and hauled myself up into with a little effort. Bayn nodded, gently clicking the horse’s reins. I followed his lead and both horses trekked carefully up the sloping, snow covered hill.

         Once we were out of the thicket of trees, Bayn drew back to ride beside me. “You don’t ride, do you?” He glanced at me, sending a puff of warmth to settle in my midsection.

         I felt the blush stain my cheeks. “This might be the third time I have ever ridden. I don’t know a thing about horses.”

         “It’s easy enough as long as you’re comfortable. Loosen up and trust the animal’s instincts,” he advised warmly.

         I felt myself relax and settle into the saddle more comfortably. I took a deep breath of the chilly air. “What are their names?”

         “This is Nightfall,” indicating the huge stallion he rode. “You have Winter Snow,” he smiled.

         “Fitting,” I mused.

         Bayn picked up the pace and I followed, wondering briefly if we would set up camp somewhere before darkness fell. Surely the day was wearing to a close. It seemed as if we had been traveling for two days already.

         We rode in silence for a while. Dusk began to settle in, yet Bayn didn’t slack up. My legs ached. I wasn’t used to being on horseback, but apparently it didn’t faze him in the least.

         “Are we going to set up camp?” I asked, becoming irritated with the silence.

         “No. We can’t afford to lose any more time.” He raked his warming gaze over me. “There is a blanket tucked under the saddle you can use to cover yourself if need be.”

         My irritation growing, I gritted my teeth together to keep it from showing. “Let’s stretch our legs for a minute, then. Maybe nibble on Mazrat’s food package.” It sounded more like a suggestion than a demand. Chalk one up for me.

         “Soon,” Bayn replied simply.

         My legs ached, my stomach growled, and I needed to take care of more pressing matters that were making it very difficult to stay astride the horse. I pulled on the reins and Winter Snow stopped dead in her tracks. I slid down, landing with a thump in calf-deep snow. I dug through the pack for something to nibble on. I felt his warm gaze land on me.

         “What are you doing?” He asked, reining Nightfall in beside me.

         I shot him a heated glance. “My legs hurt, so I’m going to stretch them. I’m hungry, so I’m going to eat. What are you doing?” I snapped.

         Bayn leveled those glowing orange orbs on me and sighed. He dismounted with barely a crunch in the snow.

         I broke a piece of soft, doughy bread from a small, fragrant heel and took a bite. I didn’t bother to offer any to Bayn. I nibbled in silence, feeling warmth slither up and down my frigid skin as I relished the flavor of the bread. Lightning hot heat pressed against me and I turned to see Bayn kneeling over the pack at my feet. He pulled out a cold leg of meat, probably chicken.

         “Why did Mazrat seem so interested in me?” I asked after I had licked away every crumb of the delicious bread. I felt warm and full, Bayn’s heat nuzzling me like a cat.

         Bayn flicked nervous eyes at me, sucking the last of the chicken from the bone and tossing it away from us. “Maybe he doesn’t see women that often,” he answered noncommittally before walking over to rub Nightfall’s nose. I wrinkled my brow and watched him with the horse, sensing there had to be more to it than that. Bayn was keeping something from me, I realized. I had no idea what it was or why he would have a reason to hide anything. But then, I didn’t know anything about him, did I? He was just some stranger claiming to be a Warmth Keeper who just happened to show up at the same dilapidated shack out in the middle of nowhere that I did. Odd sensations began flowing through me as all sorts of questions began to form. How much of a coincidence was our meeting? How did he know about my father’s illness? What was it that he warned Mazrat to hold his tongue about? Why did I feel so comforted by his presence, yet so confused at the same time?

         I shot a quizzical glance at Bayn, the mysterious Warmth Keeper. His eyes were studying me, butterflies of heat kissing my skin. He blinked his eyes and looked away.

         “We should go,” He suggested, waiting while I donned my pack and mounted. He nudged Nightfall into a fast trot and Winter followed without any assistance on my part. I stared at Bayn’s rigid back, my mind catapulting questions and oddities around until I felt like my head would burst.

         “I feel like I’m missing something here,” I finally called to him.

         He turned his head slightly, offering no reply other than to urge his powerful stallion even faster. Irritation rocked me and I fought to urge Winter Snow up beside him. I turned to look at him.

         “Answer me, Bayn. What am I missing?” I demanded.

         He looked as if he would say something, clamped his lips shut, wrinkled his brow and shot out in front of me. I jostled the reins fiercely trying to keep up, but every time I would pull almost abreast of him, he would edge ahead. My face burned as if the sun was breathing down on me. My lungs ached and I was furious, my breath coming out in white bursts.

         My mind was clouded with betrayal. Never had I felt so jilted and angry. Fury prowled in my chest, catching in my ribs and aching, threatening to burst out with shredding claws. My vision blurred around the edges, the only thing visible to me was Bayn’s retreating figure hunched low over Nightfall’s neck. I spared not a thought of the breakneck speed we were pushing the animals to, nor to the distant grove of trees coming closer. My fury centered on Bayn, his curt and secretive manner spurring my anger to swirl like the clouds above. The caged rage abated a breath then slammed with more might than I possessed against the inside of my chest, a painful cry tearing from my burning throat. Bayn half turned toward me, wild-eyed. Our gazes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. My ragged cry slapped him in the face with physical force, snapping his head around and unseating him from Nightfall’s’ speeding back. I watched Bayn fall from the saddle into the snow with detachment. It was like I was looking through someone else’s eyes.

         My chest tightened and settled, a kind of peace washing through me, angry claws recoiling to some hidden place inside me. I came back into myself with a feeling of shameful wonder. I reined Winter Snow in, turning her back toward Bayn’s fallen figure in the snow. What just happened?

         I leapt off the horse, plodding toward Bayn as he pushed himself up out of the snow. I fell to my knees beside him, my mind frantic with guilt and… what? Perhaps a little satisfaction, as well. The uneasiness inside me stirred then withdrew.

         Bayn’s face didn’t conceal his amazement. He didn’t seem angry, which was amazing to me. His liquid, golden eyes were wide, accepting. His curiosity stung my face, slapping me with warmth as I stared at him, breathlessly waiting. My insides swirled, waves of emotion crashing into one another. My breathing was deep, even, calmed. My mind was in restless agony, trying to still the storm raging inside my chest.

         Bayn reached his hand out to touch my face and closed his eyes. Warm fingers caressed my frozen cheek, thawing under his touch. He drew a deep breath and sizzling heat exploded from his hand, scalding my face like liquid fire. I didn’t flinch from that touch. Instead, I leaned into it, welcoming the calming heat. The storm inside me retreated little by little until I was able to breathe deeply of the chilled air. The swirling emotions settled lightly in the pit of my stomach, dormant.

         Golden eyes opened like exotic flames, stealing my breath for a moment. Bayn’s fingers still caressed my face, the dull warmth stirring another emotion deeper inside me. I blinked and he pulled his hand away. His gaze was full of wonder and I felt something inside me had changed. I felt renewed, invigorated, empowered and… scared.

         “What just happened?” I breathed.

         Bayn’s liquid gaze slid down the curve of my cheek, rested on my slightly parted lips before returning to meet my eyes. He drew in a shuddering breath and I felt a faint crackle in the charged air between us.

         “What happened is, you assured me of my suspicions,” Bayn replied, his voice husky.

         My mind formed questions more quickly than I could spit them out and as my voice rattled them off one after another, Bayn grinned. He placed his fingers over my lips.

         “There is plenty of time to have all your questions answered, but first, we must attend to your father,” he said, standing from the snow and helping me to my feet.