Within a week the winter festivities would begin, one of the highlights of the year, and many were busy with the preparations. It was no different for Kirsi as the last orders came in, which ment she was spinning and weaving day and night. The other years she had been so busy with the orders that there was no time to prepare something nice for herself. But this time she had made sure there was some room left to create something magical for herself as well. Her eyes gazed outside, imagining walking around in her beautiful gown while the townspeople looked at her in amazement and admiration, instead of the usual dread and distrust.
Folk would often come to her for the unique and peculiar products she made. But apart from that they usually avoided her as best as they could. For some reason it was unthinkable to these small minded people that a young woman could be sustaining, even thriving, all by her own doing. Having started to work on some salves and oils hadn't made that viewpoint any better.

Even though it wasn't the most comfortable status to hold, Kirsi didn't let it stop her. She needed to be here. Not only was the region rich in all wool and dye related materials, after some time she had discovered that some who were responsible for her family's death lived nearby as well. Her hatred for what had happened lived on inside her. Inside her creations. And it was infecting her magic. On bad days she could see the foul colour drip into the yarn she spun, making it unusable. People kind of knew that there was something special with the wares they bought from her. Yet none had condemned it as witchcraft. It needed to stay that way.

Her mind wandered further and ended within the walls of the nearby monastery. She had promised to bring the monks some new habits and in return they would give her woad, which she required to make beautiful light blue yarn from. It brought her back to reality.
Shoot.. I completely forgot and they already needed them last week. I hope they can forgive me.
She placed her spinning wheel aside, grabbed the habits laying on a small pile and put them in her basket. After wrapping herself in a warm cloak she stepped outside into the chillness of December. The monastery was quite a walk away as it lay outside the walls of the town. But the air was fresh and the sun shone friendly, making the snow all glistening and the walk rather pleasant.

The forest had been dark and cruel as of late, even at the cusp of winter. Only the birds still appeared, and they only appeared when the sun did, which was infrequent at best. In fact, this was likely the first sunlight Ali had seen in weeks. The winter had been harsh, and there had been talk of Wolves and Bears appearing in the Westwood. Wolves were rare, but he had not heard of a bear in seven winters, yet here they were, attacking livestock and men. Ali wouldn't easily forget having to fight off a small group of wolves after two sheep had been taken naught but a month ago.

The day was crisp, and the sun's warmth had barely begun to lessen the cold of night as Ali left Fulton's Ferry to head southward toward the town, taking one of the lesser known roads to make better time. Old folk would say it brought you dangerously close to the Mountains, and Gods know what sort of spirits haunted that dreaded area. But there was many miles of forest separating the road from the mountain, and the young adventurer had taken the road many times in youthful rebellion of going against his elder's advice. What was one more trip?

He whistled with the birds. The plump little creatures hanging in the trees above him as they sang, and though he whistled a tavern tune, they almost seemed to be singing with him. Ali wasn't one to be merry all the time. He took life for what it was. But it was a fine day, even with the chill. And he could hear the words in his head, from when he heard the song first all those years ago by his nan.

"The fields are sewn and the winter's done.
Celebrate the Raven and await the Sun.
Keep to your kin and love shall win.
Whistle this tune until the demons are gone."

He was just about to whistle the second verse, when something happened.

There was a terrific snarl, and the growling roar of a large canine. Ali turned, just in time to see a flash of fire and the visage of a fanged mouth. Ali was no stranger to combat, nor safety on the road. He ducked under snapping jaws, but the weight of the big animal bore him down. Be tucked his legs under him and kicked out, even as his back hit the road. The beast fell off him, but it scrabbled back onto its feet in an instant.

Ali rolled and reoriented himself, seeing his attacker plainly.

It was a Varghulf. A malevolent species of wolf, intelligent and huge. The grey furred thing leaped at him again, Ali grabbing his staff and shoving it into the thing's mouth to keep it from clamping on his throat. But he couldn't keep the claws busy. They raked against his body, tearing off bits of clothing and skin. Ali cried out in pain, but pushed back against the beast, shoving it off him as he tore out the knife at his belt. The Varghulf wriggled free and snapped at him, but Ali managed to stab the beast thrice, causing it to squeal in pain. Another stab, and it howled and ran back into the woods, limping and shrieking.

Ali stood there, panting, until the tall man collapsed to the ground, blood seeping out of the wounds on his leg and stomach.

As Kirsi had just left the town behind, the muffled sound of hooves trotting through the snow reached her senses. Even though the path was broad enough, she nevertheless stepped aside. The chance of this being noblemen was quite likely and if they were in a hurry it was better to be out of their sight. No need to draw unnecessarily attention. Her eyes glanced upwards in surprise as the riders stopped in front of her. It was the landlord, Drystan Moonbroch, with one of his valets. Quickly she turned her gaze down to the ground and gave a modest curtsy. The lord greeted her with a polite nod and observed her before he spoke in a low voice. “Good morning, a rather pleasant day in the harshness of winter, is it not?”
Not knowing where to look, Kirsi held her glance to the ground. “Certainly, my lord. I hope the snow does not cause too much trouble for the horses, my lord?” Within her she scolded herself. ‘Am I seriously starting a conversation with this man? Say your goodbyes and be on your way!’
“Not in the slightest. You are Kirsi of Eelin, if I am not mistaken.”
“I am, my lord.”
After an uncomfortable silence, in which even the horse started to show impatience, Kirsi decided to face the lord. If he was still standing there, there must be a reason for it. A stern look met hers. The man was not that old yet, but grey hairs stroke through his dark hair like lightning stroke through a thunderstorm. She heard he was a man of pride, which showed in how he carried himself. And there was this shrewd twinkle in his eyes, letting a brief chill go down her spine. ‘Be wary of this man.’ It echoed in her mind.

Her voice rang clear within the silence of the whiteness surrounding them. “Can I be of service to you, my lord?”
“I need you to make a piece for the upcoming festivities. A gift to my wife to be precise.”
Kirsi’s eyes turned wide for just the briefest of moments. An assignment from the lord was a grant honor to be sure and if done right would increase her clientele. Only she wished he had given notice earlier. She could forget about her own gown now.
“Answer me. Or this order will be lost.”
“Yes, my lord. I was only surprised by your demand. I gladly take the order. Please send the details about the gift and what you are willing to pay to the shop when I return from the monastery.”
The servant looked shocked and a small smirk appeared on the face of Lord Moonbroch. “Not ever did a subject give orders to me, let alone a maiden. You will receive what you inquire. But know that you will be rebuked for your directness if you do so again.” He paused for a moment to see she understood and was already moving his horse forward, only to hold it back one last time. “You mentioned the monastery. I advice you to stay on the path most traveled, for near the mountains there have been sights of beasts even a well-trained knight would not be pleased to encounter. I bid you good day, Kirsi.” And with that he urged his horse back to his castle.
Kirsi gave a last curtsy and waited until the riders were on their way again. ‘A rather uncomfortable first meeting with Lord Moonbroch, but at least something that could be worth my while.’

She continued her walk and thought ahead of the newly taken order, what to make and what materials to use. As she was lost in thought, her feet took her away from the road, unto the paths she was used to follow. It was a cry that abruptly made her attentive to her surroundings again. She stayed very still and tried to orientate herself, recalling where the sound had come from and if she would hear it again. Or had it been only in her mind? Just when she decided to walk on, there was the unnerving sound of a squealing and howling wolf. Her body froze, not knowing what to do. Then she recalled the first cry she heard, a human cry. She made her body take a step forward, and another and before she knew she was running towards the direction the sounds had been coming from.
‘I’m a damn fool. I might as well be running right into the jaws of this creature.’ Yet the sight were no jaws welcoming her. Before her, snow had turned into a beautiful dark red, and a man laying in the midst of it. A flash of memory showed before her eyes. She slowed herself and quickly took in what was actually there. No armor, not anything that seemed like a proper weapon, simple clothing. And still breathing.

Kirsi kneeled down beside the man and examined his wounds carefully. Blood was still seeping out of the wounds and even though they seemed deep, they were rather clean. Her mind acted fast, knowing with the amount of blood the man was loosing and the cold surrounding him, he would not last long. She grabbed for a habit out of her basket and tore it into usable strokes of fabric. It was not that she was familiar with the art of healing, but she had seen folk taking care of each others wounds plenty of times. A clear memory of her mother tending her father after an accident was mostly what made her hands know what to do. She cleared the wounds from any dirty cloth and covered it with the bandages. His leg she tried to tie up with her waistband, in order to stop the wound from bleeding somewhat. She did the same for the wound on his stomach, yet that was also the more worrisome one.

She eyed the stranger, her hand touching his face, lightly tapping his cheek in order to wake him up. He had to wake up. They had to move. She was not strong enough to take him to the monastery by herself. Leaving him here left him prone to the cold and other luring creatures.
“Please. Wake up!” Her voice was urgent and slightly fearful at the same time.
The bandages turned almost black as they slowly soaked up some of the blood. Tiny light blue drops appeared within the fabric, creating a spiderweb-like embroidery as they were connecting one by one. Seeing what was happening, she quickly grabbed two other habits and tried her best to wrap them around the man, hoping the energy would not only aid in healing the wounds, but also in giving the man enough warmth to not freeze to death.

Ali felt numb, drifting in and out of consciousness as his body had begun to meld with the snow. He knew, vaguely, that he was freezing. But he hadn't the thought to get up, and he was growing warmer where he was, or so he thought. Somehow, he also felt more cold. A sticky, warm liquid coated his hand and leg, unaware it was his own blood. Ali lifted his head once, surging to life for a brief moment in defiance, before he collapsed again into the snow. That was when the woman found him.

His world, dark and grim, became one of bright light when he opened his eyes and saw her. He did not know who, and very nearly couldn't guess what, he was looking at. When his blood-drained body had granted him the ability to think, he did not ask for help, or for warmth, or thought of his own mortality. Strangely, he idly thought she was quite pretty.

Ali did not have the self awareness at the moment to understand the absurdity of the thought, and so he just thought it for awhile until he nearly passed out again. He felt her try and warm him, pleading with him to get up. After a minute of this, he groaned. He forced his eyes open, and snow hit him in the eyes. He grunted in discomfort, but it woke him up enough to stoke a flame in his heart. "What?" He gasped, and at her insistence he managed to sit up, and then stagger to his feet.

He nearly fell on the woman, his weight almost bowling her over. But she wasn't as weak as she looked, and with his help he managed to get walking, stumbling down the road. Ali was not certain how long they walked; likely only a few minutes. But he would never forget the walk, the wintry countryside and the woman holding her up, to unaware to feel the fatigue gnawing at his limbs. In his memory he would think himself floating. Soon, they entered a building, one he would later learn was this woman's shop and place of residence. The carpets and fetishes among the decorum were bright and colorful, but he soon passed out after that, fading into oblivion until he next awoke, seeing her once again.

Her mind raced with small talk nonsense. Asking his name. What was his business here. How did he like the walk. As if this was a daily pleasantry to do. If she wasn’t so out of breath, it might had made her laugh.

It was late in the morning when they arrived back in town. Even though there was a brisk, snowfilled wind, folk were attending to their chores non the less. Some eyed them curiously, yet none insisted on helping them. Just before she reached her shop, she noticed a shepherd she was on friendly terms with. A single, tiny voice in the back of her mind spoke before she yelled out to him. What will all the people think?
“Elijah!” The man looked up from under his hat, squinted his eyes, which grew wider as he saw the two before Eillin’s shop. “Fetch the healer. Quickly!” He gave a small nod and was on his way.

With a stroke of her arm she cleared her table and helped him to lay down there. It was not the most comfortable place, she knew that. But it would give the healer the most space to treat the stranger. She grabbed an old cushion and placed it under his head.
“That will have to do for now.” Her eyes wandered over him for a moment. Taking in the lines of his face, the dark locks of hair somewhat sticking to it, his injured body. It was only then she noticed how tall he actually was. A fine man to look at. She wondered what kind of man he was and if he would live to answer her curiosity. She made herself move again, getting all the necessary things that could help the healer.

It appeared the man was in luck, for the healer shortly arrived after that and with the assistance of Kirsi and Elijah, took care of his wounds. It was rather swiftly done. The wounds were cleaned and stitched. But he had lost a lot of blood, which was a cause for concern and advice was given that he should rest at least a few days to a week. Kirsi gave the healer a slight nod and let him pick anything from her shop as a way of repayment. Both the healer and Elijah said their goodbyes after they had laid the man in Kirsi’s bed. She placed a chair beside the bed and sat with her spindle in her hands. She would make sure this stranger would walk whistling out of her shop if it was up to her.

Ali awoke in the most unlikely place to his senses. Last he remembered, he was half buried in the snow and bleeding from multiple wounds. He still recalled the jaws of the wold and the claws raking his skin. And the woman, as well. Had there been a woman? Or had that been a sort of angel or valkyrie? His breathing quickening a step, showcasing he was now awake, if only slightly. He opened his eyes slightly, and he noticed the woman sitting next to him, sewing and humming softly to herself.

He almost fell back asleep, it was so soothing. But after another minute, he decided he needed to speak. Ali wasn't new to little white lies, but somehow he felt very deceitful lying there, not letting her know he was awake enough to hear her. He wondered how he got there, and if she was the one who placed the bandages on him, but that could wait, he decided.

"That's a nice voice," he said, his words almost a croak from his dried throat. He did not know how long he had been out, but it couldn't have been too long. Still, his last sip of water must have been at the pub. His forehead was pounding, and when he tried to move he felt a sharp pain from his wounds. Ali grimaced, groaning deeply. It all felt so surreal and yet still somewhat dream-like all at once. "I guess I have you to thank for s-..." He sighed, catching his breath. "Saving my life."

He opened his eyes wider so he could give her the respect of looking into her eyes. The memories of seeing her face in the snow came flooding back, and his thoughts on how pretty she was came back as well. He tried not to think about it, though it was quite difficult. He gave her a tired smile. "Thank you. I don't deserve that."

Kirsi shook awake from her trance as she suddenly heard the man speak. A light blush appeared on her cheeks.
She put away her handwork material and observed him as he tried to form his words. As she stood up and leaned forward to help him sit up a little, adjusting his pillow, she said with a calm voice: “I couldn’t let you die there in good conscience. Better to let that happen in a more warm and comfortable place.” She gave him a quick wink just before she turned to the kitchen place.

It was in the same room, just in another corner of it. She kept all her utensils and herbs there. To find her way through the many stuff standing and lying around she had to maneuver herself a little, but she was used to that. Creativity was all over the place and it kept her busy. She picked a few small pots filled with different kinds of plants and dried fruits and put some in the kettle that hang above the fire. “I do not know you well enough to judge what you do and do not deserve, so I will just treat you like I would any man, to the best of my capabilities.” From the table she picked a jug of water and poured some in a cup. Then she returned to him and handed him the drink. “You throat must be dry. I’ll give you some tea later that is more comforting, but this will still be good enough to drink away the first thirst.”

Kirsi picked up her project again. Even though she wanted to take care of the stranger, she also had to keep in mind that time was ticking. To finish the orders she needed all the time she could get. A slight fright went through her heart as she recalled the last order that got placed. Lord Moonbroch. She hoped the details would arrive soon.

As her hands worked on her lap, she looked at the stranger again, and realized she didn’t know his name. “I must admit, giving me your name might be preferable if you are to stay in my bed. People like their fair share of gossip around this place.” It would also be good to know where he came from and what his business was that let him close to the mountains. But she could she he needed his rest, and so decided to be patient.

It was good fortune then, that he had been found by such a nice person. In life people often took things for granted. He almost had just there. Ali thought to himself 'of course I would not die there. Of course a pretty woman finds me and brings me back to health.' As if the stuff of dreams not only could but should happen. However, he intellectually understood that was silly to expect. He put on a congenial smile, though he did not look well enough to walk. Not yet at least. He still felt a bit dizzy, and the wounds had barely been tended to.

"Thank you," He said softly, taking the water she offered with both hands. He did his best to keep his hands from shaking, and he did a good job of it for the most part. He was aware of her eyes on him, and for some reason he felt self conscious. It was silly, considering she had seen most of his upper naked body and helped carry him here, bleeding.

He had never felt so good, quenching his thirst. The water was cold and pleasing, disappearing down his throat so quickly he almost didn't believe it was gone. A drop or two rolled down his chin and onto his well-formed chest, curling over the definition of his physique. Ali wasn't a laborer, but he was young and strong, often helping his family with chores and carrying heavy packages miles up the road.

He set the glass down, catching his breath. Wow, he really was fatigued. Still, Ali made sure he wouldn't immediately close his eyes. "I'm Ali. Alidren Baldyr, but just call me Ali." He said with a wan smile, shrugging. He regretted the action, pain shooting through his body, the bandages on him stretching a bit. His eyes widened and he grunted from the pain, but continued to talk with a strained voice. "It's lovely to meet you, miss...?"

He sounded like he had been smoking a pipe all his life. Smooth.

It was not uncommon for her to get into situations that were deemed rather unsuited for women. Having an unknown man laying in her bed was a new one though. The folk already wasn’t too keen on her. Spreading the latest rumors about the witch of Eillin was almost a time spent well around here. And this surely would get the people to talk. She frowned as she gazed at the man who called himself Ali. In a way the childlike sound to it befitted his attitude. Wandering around alone in those parts of the forest surely was an irresponsible thing to do. She held back in scolding him for it. Instead she closed her eyes for a moment, breathed in deeply and answered him with a controlled voice, breathing out hardly unnoticeable: “Kirsi. Yet most people call me ’the witch’.” With a swift gesture she brought her hair to one side of her face, making sure it was out of the way as she took the cup from his hands.

Her eyes lingered on his chest for a moment. “Your wounds. They will need some time to heal.” The bright blue of her eyes pierced through him as she looked up again. “Although it isn’t an ideal situation, you can stay here. It is the most practical anyway. The healer lives nearby and I will be around most of the time, since I need to work on the orders.” The chair squeaked a little as she stood up. She grabbed the blanket that covered him somewhat and gently tucked him in. “But no need to think about such things just yet, Alidren. First you will get some more sleep. And when you wake up, I’ll make sure there is some food waiting for you.” A mingled feeling of caring and shame got stuck inside her as she made sure he was comfortable, making her cheeks turn red once more. Silly me, who do I think I am? His mother? Yet he needs the care. He needs someone to look after him, even if it is only for the coming days. I can’t make him move when he is like this. She gave him a small smile before she turned away from him to let him rest.

The rhythmic chopping of a knife was the only sound that filled the cottage for some time. Accompanied by Kirsi, softly humming a long lost melody as she prepared a broth for Ali. Yet a harsh knocking on the door interrupted the peace and quiet. It made clear it was expected to be answered and knocked a little louder when it found itself waiting too long. Kirsi looked quickly towards Ali as she passed him to open the door. The bed was not directly in sight, but a visitor would easily spot him non the less. Knowing who would be at the door, she opened it just enough to be polite, but made sure she obscured the entrance as she greeted the messenger of the lord. “Ah, I did not expect to see you so soon, Sir.” A bright smile accompanied her clear voice. The man standing before her was an ill-humored servant of Lord Moonbroch. Sleek, short, graying hair crowned his head. Deep lines had set his cheerless expression in his stone-like face. Still there was this stuck-up air in his ways. He was a servant of the lord after all. And he had been so for many years. It made Kirsi wonder wether his dutiful years had sucked the life out of him, or if it was just the man himself. In return she got a disdainful look from him. “You should know that my time is too precious to spend lingering around your door.” His eyes glanced over her shoulder, trying to have a peak inside. It almost made her chuckle. Curiosity lives in everyone. She leaned against the post, making clear she had no intention of letting him in. “Let’s get on with it then.”

Had Ali been well, her calling herself a witch might have taken him aback more. Like every common man, he was superstitious. He remembered his da telling him of specters in the woods, and black magic performed in strange rituals in covens within the bosom of the great forests. But he had never heard of a witch saving someone's life, and as far as he had seen, she had not asked anything of him. No cup of blood, no bargaining for his soul, no firstborn child. If she was a witch, maybe they weren't so bad.

Or maybe people were simply stupid.

She tucked him in, surprisingly gently. He felt she had the hands of a healer, not of wickedness. He could not know how he was sure, but he knew he was, somehow. Ali found himself fading away back to sleep before he even knew it, and an unknown slip of time passed as he shut down, his body slowly healing from her herbs and care.

Something caused him to wake up. He had never been a light sleeper, but as was as if something had taken his hand and helped him wake up. He stirred, groaning quietly, until he heard a voice in the doorway.

"I'm not here to play games with you, witch. I'm here for what I'm owed."

Ali did not know if he had the strength to sit up, but he was deathly curious on what was going on. The voice was gruff, that of a man that was on the precipice of running out of patience. Normally, Alidren was notably strong, but right now he felt far too weak to really help out in anyway. He almost cursed himself, but he felt the need to be quiet unless the man tried to force entry, in which case Ali would need to be prepared. If it came to that, he hoped she didn't expect him to be like a knight in shining armor. Even if he would certainly try.

He held his breath in anticipation, reading his muscles in case he needed to burst out of bed quickly.

Kirsi raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What you are owed? There must be a misunderstanding here.”
She could feel her heart beating in her throat. Even though she knew, people calling her a witch in front of her, spitting it out as if it was some disease, still hurt. It made her want to either shut the door in his face or curse him as a wicked witch was supposed to do. Instead she took a deep breath and continued in a calm voice.
“His lordship has only given me the assignment this morning and details about the wished product would arrive later. I expected you were here to give those criteria. You surely understand that a gift to our ladyship is not to be a pre-made, anonymous trinket.”
As she dared to look the servant in his eyes, she wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her. The chilly draft would be uncomfortable for her guest and keeping the man standing outside for too long would look bad on her business. Yet letting the man in might have an even worse outcome. The man did not give her time to ponder over it much longer. With a surprisingly strong arm he shoved her aside and let himself in.
“So this is how the witch lives..” He murmured to himself as he looked around. Kirsi came in behind him, clearly annoyed and closed the door.
“Sir, I must ask you to please” But there was no chance to finish what she was to say, for he was already pointing accusingly at her. “You whore. You filthy whore.” There was a certain amusement to his voice as he looked at Ali. “Taking a job on the side are you? Extorting us with these useless trifles isn’t enough?”
She clenched her fists, but this time her calmness had left, her voice coming out trembling with anger. “How dare you. Don’t you have eyes in that withered skull of yours? The man has been attacked and is clearly wounded. He needs his rest to recover.”
“And what a rest that must be.” The man added with a smirk on his face.

The talking had been soft at first. Ali had almost drifted back to sleep, thinking the man belligerent but not brazen enough to actually harm Kirsi or to force his way in. The bed was so warm and he was still fatigued. However, that all changed when the door flew open, banging against the wall so hard it was like a blacksmith's hammer ringing against steel. Ali blinked, and the part of his mind that had kept listening flew back into focus.

"She hasn't touched me, save to heal my wounds, sir." Ali remarked in a tired voice. He spoke with a weaker cadence, wanting the man to think him at death's door. "She's been very kind to me. You can ask the villagers. They saw her help bring me in from the road. It was a wolf attack."

The servant only glanced at Ali, his eyes scanning the apothecary instead. He had the look of a man searching for some ill-gotten gains. Ali knew the type. Upjumped thieves given a small amount of power and stretching it to its limits, trying to gain an edge over the common folk they had so much in common with. Luckily, he seemed unsatisfied with what he found, and turned his attention back to Ali, sizing him up like a dull knife he had little use for.

"As you say, sir. But this whore is tricky, and I don't trust you if you're under her spell." He said. "Gods know a woman like her could bewitch any man."

"Sir, if you're here for your lordship... what does a life like mine matter? It's in her interest to have her gift prepared on time, as ordered. She would not waste valuable time on me if it led to her being late for your master." Ali coughed. "Let her resume her work. I'll be dead soon enough anyway."

The man sneered. "True enough..." He said, and glared at Kirsi before shoving a pot of herbs onto the floor. The earthenware shattered, scattering herbs and shards of pottery. "Hopefully that does not make her any more tardy," He said with a laugh, and walked back out of the door, not even bothering to close it.