Naelen walked alongside his father through a beaten trail of slush, the cold scraping against his cheekbones. He liked the snow but not so much the cold. Kallus had chosen him to be his partner this year, to help the Tribunal distribute goods to those who could not make the trip over to market so easily. It was grueling work, but it brought Naelen some measure of contentment to lend a hand to his village. Soon their errands would be over, and he would get to sit by the fire and drown himself in warm apple cider. 

Naelen clutched the burlap sack over his shoulder, moving like a smaller copy of his father beside him. An adult elf and a youthful one, trudging side by side through the snow. 

"Dad?" Naelen became wary when his father turned onto a road that literally went outside the village and into nowhere. "In case you've forgotten, home is that way." He pointed to the south, then saw his father's aquamarine eyes light up with humor. 

"Yes, I know," Kallus said, staying his course. "There is one more stop to make. Calda prefers to live outside the village."

"Who the Fates is Calda?" 

"She's a widow," Kallus said. "Every year, I like to make sure she has enough supplies for the winter. The rest of our lot goes to her."

"Oh..." Naelen lifted his chin, "you mean that woman the Tribunal takes care of. The healer."

"Yes, that's the one."

Naelen scanned the trees that now surrounded them. With each step, he felt more lost among the snowy leaves. "She must live so far. You're sure it's worth making the trip? Every moment I spend out here, I'm closer to freezing."

Kallus frowned in disapproval. "We give to those in need, Níhilan, it's time you learn to appreciate that. It's why I asked you to come with me."

At last, the little cottage where Calda lived became visible. It sat darkened and alone amidst the Solstice shadows, gave off no light from the inside. Kallus climbed onto the deck and knocked on the door. He waited several moments, it seemed, before knocking again. 

"Calda? Are you in there?" A minute or two, no answer. "Hmm." 

Naelen could see the curiosity and fear on his father's face. The boy's instincts were speaking to him as well; his heart rushed, his eyes and ears tuned into the foul feeling he sensed in the air. 

"Maybe she already left for our Solstice gathering," Naelen reasoned. That must be it. Calda did attend every party the House of Kallus hosted, she was no stranger in that right. 

"Look." Kallus pointed to the trail of their feet punched into the snow. "How many tracks do you see?"

Naelen looked and saw two trails, the ones they had made on their way here. Nothing else. 

"Just...ours," he answered, dipping his head. He understood what his father was trying to communicate. If Calda had entered the village, surely there would be a recent track in the snow. "It doesn't seem she's at home."

"Which is rather odd," Kallus said, holding his chin, his mind circling around the idea. "She couldn't be at market, otherwise we would have passed her. We would have tracked her steps."

"Shards," Naelen cursed, clenching his eyes shut. His mind imagined the worst situation, pictured a corpse laying inside the house. "We should make sure."

Kallus was already opening the door by force, but it was locked and wouldn't give under his shove. After a moment, he turned to his son again. 

"Check through the window. I...have a sour feeling."

"Me too," Naelen admitted. After handing his sack to his father, Naelen went around the side of the cottage. The closest window was to his right, double-paned, and fogged up by the frost. Before opening it, he wiped the fog away and peered inside. He noticed his father coming around the corner as well, standing near him. 

"What do you see?" Kallus asked. "Any sign of her being home, are we just paranoid?"

Naelen made sense of the scene. The house appeared dead on the inside; no burning candles, no lit hearth, no bodies stirring about— not even to sit. 

"It's incredibly empty," Naelen said, turning back to his father. "There's no sign of Calda—or anyone."

Kallus let out a soft curse while placing the sacks of provisions down. The window broke under his fist, and he unlatched it from the inside, pulling it open. He gave Naelen a boost to climb in and stand on the frozen wood floor. The house felt nearly as cold as the outside, sent a shiver through his bones. The boy moved through the house and to the front door to let his father in, but there was a heavy log bracing against it. Naelen grunted while moving it out of his way. 

"Urrr... I—I almost got it." The log toppled over with a loud thump and landed on its side. The door opened and Kallus pushed his way in, then saw the log on the floor. 

"Your training is paying off," he praised, "not many boys your size could move that."

"Thanks, Dad." 

Kallus scooted the log out of the way so they wouldn't trip over it later. It sat beside the empty hearth where it could later serve as firewood, but now there was a matter of tracking Calda. They checked her bedroom first, then her healing room. Both locked. They checked the empty pantry, under the table, around the common space, and the spare bedroom off to the side. Nothing. 

"Calda!" Kallus shouted. "If you're here, please say something!" 

Then a loud tapping came from behind the locked door of Calda's healing room. A female cry of distress.

"Kallus?" Her voice was faint and muffled behind the door, "Kallus, I'm in here!"

He sprang up to the door and pressed his ear against it. "Calda? You're alright?"

"No, I'm not alright! I'm locked in here, my only key was stolen. Please...hurry."

"Is there a window where you are?"

A moment of silence before Calda answered, "Yes, but it's a small fit. I can't squeeze through."

"Hold on, we're coming." Kallus turned to Naelen again, gesturing with his head. "You are small and slippery. See if you can crawl in from outside."

Determined, Naelen pivoted and walked toward the entry, then he flinched at the loud bashing noise behind him. His body curled in on itself out of instinct, but he forced himself to turn to the sound. He saw a woman standing over his father with the large log raised. Kallus' head was bleeding, his eyes were closed. It almost looked fatal. 

"Dad!!" Naelen screamed, his face turned red with anger. Fear.

His senses told him there was someone behind. He dodged the pair of hands that tried to grab him and used his combat skills to deliver a punch to the assailant's chest. He got a quick look at the man, a grungy elf of thin stature and worn-down cheekbones. In fact, both these intruders seemed poorly nourished. Their clothes were in bad wear, their teeth seemed yellow and rotten. 

But Naelen had no more time to scan their appearance. He ducked as the man tried to grab him again and sprinted out the door. He jumped from the deck and into the snow, landing on his feet before taking off running. 

***

Brennan contemplated chasing the boy before shifting his focus back to his wife. She had knocked out the adult elf and was now moving his body inside the little room where they had put the other. His wife's hands were now covered in blood. 

Brennan went over to help her, before she scowled at him and pointed to the doorway. 

"Go get that child!" she screamed. "He'll surely bring his own help if we don't grab him. Go!"

Brennan sighed. "How far can he get in that cold? There are no other houses nearby."

"There's the village nearby you idiot! They must have come from there." After locking the golden elf in the little room with the other, his wife turned to him and folded her arms. "I can make sure these two stay put while you hunt that child."

"Brisa, it's freezing out there. You and I have no coats."

"But you have this," she said, handing him a bone dagger and folding it into his palm. Her murky hazel eyes glared at him. "Let me be perfectly clear: if you don't take care of that child, I will throw you outside myself. There will be no warmth for you in my bed, Brennan. You will starve like them." She gestured to the little room, and Brennan knew perfectly well what sat inside it.

He sighed, tucking the dagger away. "Yes, dear." 

Against every shivering bone in his body, Brennan trudged into the cold and felt the snow around his feet as he followed the trail the boy had left behind. 

***

As Naelen sprinted through the snow, he was grateful that his sweat and body heat kept him warm. It was dark out, and not even the moon or stars showed above the trees this Solstice evening. A light shower of snowflakes blanketed the forest, dotted the black sky. He heard voices in the distance, and when two figures came into view, he recognized Lila and Damien walking together along the snowy path. Naelen closed the wide gap between them, waving his arms. 

"Hey, over here!"

Lila jogged up to her brother, relieved to see him. 

"Naelen! We were out looking for you and Dad. Is he still with you?"

Naelen pointed behind him, even though the cottage was now far away. He panted through his words. "There are...two intruders...back there," he paused, hunching over his knees, "they hurt Dad, and I think they've hurt Calda too. They're scary, like, really scary."

"What?" Lila gasped, her eyes growing wide. "What do you mean hurt?"

"There was this log," Naelen mimed the size of the log with his hands, "they bashed him with it. He was bleeding last I saw him. I was too scared to fight so I ran...looking for you. For anyone, really." He came into his sister, crying. He hadn't realized he was so shaken, so...emotional. 

"Aw, little brother." Lila came around him, holding him close. "We'll get Dad, don't worry. Calda, too."

"But they have a log!"

"And you have us," Lila said, gesturing to herself and Damien. Naelen gave his brother a glance, noticed the grim look on his face. The black sword in his hand. 

"What the Fates?" Naelen stepped back. "Since when do you have a sword, Damien?"

"Since now." Damien's forehead was crunched inward, like a scowl. By the way he held the sword, it seemed he was prepared to use the weapon if necessary. 

"And where's your sword?" Naelen gestured to Lila. 

"I didn't bring it," she said, "I honestly didn't think I'd need it. We were just searching for you."

"Oh, you definitely should've brought it! They got the drop on Dad of all people. Maybe they used stealth runes?"

"I understand. Follow my lead and we'll be alright."

"Okay." Naelen nodded, ready to let his sister take charge.

"Come on." With her signal, Naelen and Damien fell in line behind her, trudging down the path. 

***

So cold. Damien wanted to complain, but he kept himself focused on the task. Kept his eyes peeled amidst the storm. He noticed the figure moving towards them, a man— an elf— shriveled in the frost as he walked. He had no coat, only thin layers of patched leather covering his body. The stranger was sickly and thin— didn't seem dangerous upon looking at, but Damien knew better than to trust appearances. The shifty elf was hunting them, he just knew it, and Naelen confirmed his suspicion by pointing. 

"That's one of them," he said, ducking behind Lila even more. "Scary man."

Lila put her guard up, shielding her brothers from the stranger. "Give me back my father," she demanded, "and I will not tie you up and leave you here!"

The shifty elf laughed at her threat. "I see no rope," he smiled, showing rotten teeth. He pulled out his bone dagger and held it up. "Come quietly, and your father will only die by starving. Otherwise, his life will be cut short."

Lila growled at Brennan and ran at him. She must have been quite confident to go against a dagger without any weapon of her own. She dodged his incoming strike and yanked him forward, as if to pull his arm from its socket. 

"Aahh!" Brennan cried before he was silenced by Lila's punch to his rib. He keeled over but did not go down. The man recovered himself and slashed at Lila again, this time being smacked in his jaw after the miss. Naelen rushed in to help, pinning Brennan's arms behind him, but with a few tugs, the stranger broke free and kicked the boy down. Naelen’s face slid into the snow.

“Don’t you dare touch my little brother!” Lila yelled, seizing Brennan from behind and impeding his windpipe. With a sturdy elbow to his head, Brennan faded to his knees, wrestling with the girl who tore at him. He slashed his dagger across her belly, and the girl winced with pain as she let go and stepped back, holding her stomach. 

Brennan circled around like a beast in a cage, ready to jab at anyone who approached him next. 

"Stay back!" he warned, swishing his dagger, "I know how to use this."

Lila struggled to stay focused. Her eyes kept blinking as blood protruded through her clothes. Naelen picked himself up from the ground, bewildered from the fall. The stranger hissed at them, still waving his dagger. 

Damien glared at the man. Hated him for what he was; a cunning predator. There were no words to describe the rush of anger Damien felt. His feet carried him forward as he drew his sword and clashed into Brennan. His blade met the dagger, and he was not prepared for the harsh parry that staved him backward. He was not prepared for anything, truly, but that didn't deter him from attacking. 

His cheeks felt hot, his heart raced in his chest, and he heard Lila screaming beside him. 

"Damien! Stay away!"

She shouted her order, but it was too late. Damien felt his cheek being ripped open by a sharp blade, then saw Brennan's dagger lifting into the air before it came slicing down. Damien blocked high, his arm trembling under the force. He didn't know that blocking took so much stamina, especially just to hold. He felt fallible under the blade, but he stayed there, refusing to let this man stagger him. 

Naelen's bitterness fueled him as he rushed at Brennan again, seizing his vulnerable opening. The boy wrangled Brennan into another lock, this time preparing himself for a much stronger resistance. Brennan struggled to break free but Naelen held on, clenching his eyes shut. 

Brennan cried out in fear as the reality crashed down on him; he was pinned, and he was open. 

Damien saw such weakness in the man now, how his hazel eyes gave in to the utmost despair as the boy went in and stabbed him in the heart. Brennan's cry transformed into a pant as he collapsed again, his knees hitting the snow. Damien ripped his sword out, and the man fell over face down. Blood trickled from his chest and stained the white sheet around him. 

Damien looked at the blood on his sword and dropped it beside Brennan's body. His hand felt tainted by it, scarred. His own heartbeat thrummed in his ears. His breathing must have been alarming because he felt Lila gripping both sides of his hot cheeks. 

It stung when she triggered the gash on his jaw, but her soft blue eyes stared back at him, fascinated. As if seeing him for the first time. 

Damien sank under her stare, looking at the body. She released him, then bent down to retrieve his sword. 

"No." Damien stepped back. "I don't want it."

"Why?" She tilted her head. "It's yours, Damien."

"If I keep using it, I'll become a monster." It was the truth. Such anger and violence had driven his actions. He wanted to make the man suffer, to make him dead. 

Lila gestured to the corpse at their feet. "He was the monster. You...you defended. You protected."

Damien shook his head. That still didn't change the truth. 

"I killed."