It was freezing, enough so that most men would rather face the maw of a lion than brave the icy winds. The mere reveal of tender flesh would be consumed within moments of interacting with the bitter storm. Those who did walk the slush-covered roads did so covered head to toe in thick furs and heavy cloth. Most, however, were huddled inside, cozying up to their fires and hoping that the brunt of the storm would quickly pass.

But it never did.

Despite the storm, a small rickety shack seemed open for business. With each ram of the wind the whole structure seemed to sway, and it was dangerously apparent that the storm need only be a bit stronger to collapse the whole place. Given this, most would think it absurd that someone actually worked there, much less lived there as well. It wasn’t as though the resident had any choice in the matter, if it were up to him he’d leave in an instant. The unfortunate truth was that without this shack, his only other option would be to live on the streets, with nothing but his leathers to protect him. In weather like this he’d likely only last a half hour at best before being a victim to mother nature. At least this way he had a chance at survival, and even if he didn’t, he supposed that being crushed by rubble would be a better alternative to freezing to death.

This resident, a man by the name of Gael, sat on a cushion on the dank floor of the shack, quickly skimming through the pages of a book he’d purchased. Well, purchased was perhaps not the right term, he’d ‘loaned’ it from a vendor at the marketplace. He did have intentions to return it, eventually, but for now it was the only company he had to wither out this storm.

“Bullshit,” he mumbled to himself as he scanned a page before turning to the other. “Even worse.” Flipping the pages his eyes seemed to roll into the back of his head. “People believe this garbage? Truly?” The book that he’d nicked had been about the use of prophetic magic, and how anyone, yes anyone, could determine their own future. According to this book it was as easy as looking towards the stars and reading them, the reader only need an open mind to learn all that would befall them.

Nonsense, really.

Real soothsaying was not that easy, and it was certainly not something that everyone could do. One needed to have an inborn affinity for it, and even then it wasn’t as simple as some would make it out to be. You needed complete and utter silence, and you needed to, well, it was difficult to put in words, but reach was perhaps the best way to put it. You needed to reach out your mind to the other person, and you needed to understand them. You needed to feel how they saw the world, how they understood their surroundings, and then and only then, could you look past it and see what would become of them. You had to channel all your energy and focus — yes, focus was key — and brave through the fog of uncertainty, a fog that many fledgling oracles could find themselves lost in. Gael disliked the feeling that this fog gave him, it was not dissimilar to the feeling of the winter, cold and unnerving, a sea of unknown. One had to study, had to practice, before they could begin to see shapes in the fog— shapes of what was to be.

It was a draining process, and not one that Gael particularly enjoyed. Still, he’d learned to deal with the sinking feeling that came with his ability, it was after all the only thing that was keeping him alive.

Letting out a light huff he shut the book and tossed it aside. He was unlikely to get any customers today, the weather being as it was. That was mildly disappointing, as he was starting to run out of coin from his last reading. He’d be lucky if he could buy a small loaf of bread with what remained. Standing up, he gave his back a light stretch and yawned. What time was it? It seemed to always be dark, and it was beginning to fool with his sleeping schedule. Not that he managed to get much sleep anyways, with only a thin cot and worn blanket to keep him comfortable.

It really was a miserable set-up he had here. The cot, a couple of cushions for himself and a customer, and a small stack of books, most ‘loans’ that he had long since forgotten to return. Other than that he had nothing in the way of entertainment or comfort, and that was, slowly but steadily, starting to eat away at him. He wished nothing more than to have somewhere comfortable to live, and all the books he could ever desire to read. But, no, that was something so far out of reach that even dreaming of it was taboo for him. He couldn’t focus on what ifs, but instead remain in the present.

And the present happened to be a rotten shack in the middle of a goddamn blizzard.

That soon became certain to her upon living through various days of jobs falling into shambles, or clients deciding against hiring her at the last minute. Not only that, but with the way her morning began, she had a gut feeling a problem would resurface. Anything to feed her newfound cynicism. The client seemed innocent enough, and although the task wasn't the most demanding she'd ever gotten upon first inspection - she was asked to search for a cat lost in the icy abandoned forests of the kingdom - it ended up being so much harder than she thought. In fact, she wouldn't have even taken the simple quest if it weren't for the completely unfitting reward she was promised afterwards. An entire sum of a hundred coins. It could help her buy a week's meal and even some extra clothing.

So, comforted by that thought, she simply took her time. The client asked her to call the cat by a very specific name - Petunia - and hold a certain tiny squeaky toy nobody, not even a cat, would enjoy. But as embarrassing as the quest would seem, the peasant didn't really have a various array of choices to choose from, and with such an attractive reward it was hard to say no. Armed with a precious pocket knife that she was gifted by her brother, she had it sheathed on a leather belt around her waist right next to a small pouch of 5 coins. She made sure to grab her blue cape in the process in case the weather got colder than it already was. Then, she set off.

"Petunia!" She called once she first saw the icy trees signifying her entrance to the silent forest, pretending to thoroughly care about the cat as she called its name though she was sure she couldn't give a damn. Walking about through the snow, she was sure the poor thing wouldn't even be able to stay around for long alone in such a weather, but nevertheless, she kept going. Occasionally, she would squeeze the small toy, wondering if it would actually grab the feline's attention. But nothing changed. At all. She never heard a meow, a purr or even a cry. Utter, deafening silence.

Hours took hours and her legs were already tired from walking around too much. The trees almost looked the same if not for small details so she thought she knew her way out, and - believing time was on her side - she laid on the snow by a tree, leaning her back against the cold wood. She could barely sleep the night before with the owl by her window, and scaring owls off with a rake meant for gardening wasn't something one would enjoy. So she promised herself. Just a few minutes of a nap in the cold. She had a cape to warm her up, she wouldn't doze off completely.

But she was soon proved wrong. And time was definitely not on her side.

"Dammit, dammit!" She yelled out in frustration, after being woken up in a rush of feeling cold air hit her face sharply. She was soon on her feet, cat and money forgotten. She never liked blizzards. Sure, she tolerated them in better circumstances, but whenever any blizzard took place she would be in the comfort of her own home. Never before did she try to experience walking through one, and supporting herself was so much harder than she expected. She could feel the hood hit the back of her head with every violent gust of wind and she covered her face a bit as she walked through, hoping none of the snow would burn her eyes. She had to get home.

But amidst the ever white atmosphere, she couldn't see anything. Nothing felt familiar at all, but at least the trees seemed to be clearing up. She was leaving the forest at last, but she knew the walk back to her house was still a long and tedious one. She would have to find a shelter, just until the blizzard cleared, and she would get back home and ignore the client who gave her the task as much as she could. Fortunately, she did spot a small, run down shack through the snow, and she could even recall the way that lamppost perched. She was in the capital city! But not as close as she would like to her home.

The shack seemed to be open for business. At least, she was slightly able to make that out by reading the violently strewn about sign that was left hanging atop the shack. Surely she would be able to get inside easily then, slip in until it clears and then leave. Wrong. Holding on to the door, she pushed open the door with all her might, violently cursing under her breath as she tried and tried. Until it opened with a flash, catching her completely off guard.

"Ah!" She yelped out, the gust of wind blowing her forcefully inside the shack, the door loudly slamming behind her as she fell to the ground, landing flat on her chest with a quiet groan. Panting heavily, she felt the slight but still striking difference in temperatures, and her nose felt like it would fall off. Sniffling a bit, she blinked and wiped some snow off of her clothing, face and hair, weakly sitting up where she fell on the floor until she snapped her eyes up, like a deer stuck in headlights. What a way to make a first impression.

The sound of someone trying to pry the door to the shack open was overwhelmed by the sheer roar of the sound of the wind. As such Gael paid little mind when his home seemed to shutter with more voracity. He merely gritted his teeth together and prayed to whatever god there was that the walls wouldn’t collapse in on him. If this kept up then he was starting to lose faith that this hunk of junk would last throughout the nig-

BANG!

It felt like his soul had been forcefully ripped from his body, and it took a few moments before feeling regained its hold on him. His face, now pale and sunken turned towards the origin of the sound, and he found his eyes widening in disbelief.

A woman, one that he did not recognize, had seemingly fallen to the floor. It took him a few seconds for the shock to wane before he could start to piece everything together. She must have tried to enter, perhaps out of desperation to get out of the storm, and had been… flung into his home. It sounded rather bizarre, but there didn’t seem to be any other probable cause. Unless this woman really wanted her fortune told, despite the weather. In which caused he admired her determination.

Gael moved slowly, as if the stranger wasn’t a human but some kind of feral animal. He wasn’t exactly sure how he should address the situation, this wasn’t how most customers entered his home, and he wasn’t even sure if this woman knew where she was. From the look of her startled expression, she was likely to be just as confused as he was.

“Are you quite alright?” He asked, moving forward, still cautious but with more pose than before. He extended one of his hands out to the now sitting woman, offering to help her back up to her feet if she wished. She looked cold, and snow seemed to cover her garments. What had anyone of sane mind been doing out in this weather? Perhaps he better not ask.

He had little in the way to keep her warm, nor did he have anything to offer her to eat or drink, but he wasn’t so callous as to turn away someone who had quite literally crashed into his home. Besides, if he played his cards right perhaps he could sway her into becoming a customer.

In that case than he ought to be on his best behaviour.

As her eyes fell onto the man moving towards her, she hoped the earth would swallow her whole. Although the situation was completely out of her hand and the force of the wind trampled her inside the shack without her being able to control it no matter what she tried, the embarrassment couldn't seep away from her mind the second it set in. She cleared her throat a little upon being asked the question, instinctively brushing off snow off golden hair. She had no idea if she was alright, but she didn't feel like she was.

With the hand extended to her, though, she felt relief that at least just looking at this man wouldn't constantly remind her of the show she performed seconds ago. She gratefully took it, legs cold and unable to support her without at least a hand helping her up. Her hold was tight as she got to her feet with a grunt, trying not to look him in the eye at least until she gathered her composure. And she did, in a minute, after she brushed herself off, regaining her composure and letting his hand go.

"Yes. No. I don't really know," her face was pale from the outside, but splotches of red were gathered round her cheeks where the blood was no doubt trying to return. She was almost going to freeze out there, and although the shack wasn't as warm as her home was, it was better than turning into an icicle. She wrapped her cape tighter around herself in an attempt to warm up. "Forgive me for, uh, letting myself in in such a unique manner. I must have frightened you." She mustered a breathy, slightly nervous laugh.

She couldn't help the way her eyes trailed over the place, studying it. Cushions, books, worn out walls and floors. It made her feel slightly relieved to have more in the way of warmth and comfort at her house, even if it was nowhere as elegant and pristine as the royal palace was on the inside. She looked back at the man again. He looked harmless enough, and as she's just seen, someone capable of common decency, but her issues of trust always kept her pocketknife close by in mind.

"Would I be a burden if I were to stay here? Just until the blizzard clears? My house is pretty far."