The night was freezing cold. All water that was not stored in houses or cellars, sheds, or huts, froze within an hour to a solid lump of ice. Cattle huddled closer together in the barns, dogs crawled into their huts, and women snuggled up to their husbands under thick blankets of fur. The rain froze high up among the clouds into tiny ice crystals and trickled quietly to the ground, where it covered the hard earth with an even thicker layer of white. Lakes and rivers had frozen over, and even the fir trees, with their sharp, thorny branches, had held their breath. The entire forest lay deeply trapped in the sleep of winter and only sometimes, when a gust of wind reached into the dark needles, did a little snow trickle off the thick trunks. Owls crouched close together in their roosts and bats gritted their teeth. Hedgehogs wrinkled their noses in their burrows of leaves and twigs, squirrels sniffled in the sound sleep of the silent season and bears turned in their dens away from the entrance. Winter was cold and harsh - as it had always been in Fuchsbergen.

Those who still roamed outside at night either needed a thick cloak, gloves, and hat... or they thought their lungs would freeze, it was so cold. The moon stood as a silvery crescent in the sky, shining through the clouds and revealing to the attentive observer a world of sparkling, glittering dots and falling stars. Nothing moved - only somewhere in the distance a wolf howled and the few little animals that had still made noises, fell silent all at once. It was as if the sleeping people had stopped breathing. No dog whined anymore, no child whined in its sleep... even the glowing coals in all the ovens suddenly stopped crackling.

Perfect silence had come to Fuchsbergen... at least until dawn.

____________~+~____________

Feels like I'm falling
into a world
I can't control

I hear it calling
down in my soul
grippin' my bones
it won't let go

____________~+~__________
(1)

Asta opened her eyes. She thought she heard a noise, blinked through a veil of tangled curls, pillow, and blanket... but it was silent, even if she listened with her keener senses. How many nights had it been that she had slept badly? Asta couldn't and didn't want to count anymore. Neither did she want to help herself with soothing herbs, because whenever she did, she became more prone to slips. Whether it was just a twitching of her eyes, which for a moment lost their forest-green glow and sparkled yellowish-gold like an opened treasure chamber. Or a strikingly quick reaction after all, as a feeling crept through her body that didn't come directly from her. Not only.

Like almost every morning, it took her a while to calm her instincts. Although the sun had not yet risen, some noise or other was already filtering in through her window, and it was time for her to get up, too. At any other time of the year, she would have grabbed her coat, basket, and sickle, gone into the forest with them, and gathered plants. Then the snow cover was either still very thin or already completely thawed, so the young healer could stock up her supplies. She had learned the trade from her mother and they from hers. It was often like that in small, remote villages like this. Children took over their parents' trade.

Today, however, she would not set out to replenish her stock, for fortunately last summer and autumn had yielded a great deal so that she had already built up all the necessary reserves. Until now, there had been no wave of colds, so she was still in good shape. No, this morning her tasks were a lot more boring because since her mother had left and her grandmother had died, she was running the household more or less alone. Asta lived only with her father Erik in the pretty cottage, which was not quite central, but still in the safety of neighboring houses.

Freezing, she slipped out of bed and skipped barefoot across the cold floor to the wash bowl. After getting used to the icy water, she washed the sleep from her face and then hurried to the small closet in the corner of her room. She dressed in a long skirt of wool, a linen shirt, and finally in the dark green tunic of solid linen. Over it she pulled her shawl tighter, hoping it would keep out the cold at least until she had lit the fire.

Her kitchen was spacious since she had to dry and store most of her herbs here as well, which in turn required quite a bit of space. In general, the kitchen and the adjoining sick room were her realms, since her father rarely thought of setting foot in there. Since her mother Brianna had disappeared, he could hardly bear to enter the rooms where she often stayed. In addition, there was a strong resemblance between mother and daughter. They both had blond, wildly curled hair, a stubby nose, and piercing green eyes, like deep woods after a downpour.

Asta took some smaller twigs from the basket next to the stove and piled them into a heap before igniting a small ball of wood chips and shoving it under the pile of dry twigs. Three minutes and two larger logs later, the flames ate through the dry wood, spreading the smell of spruce and tree sap, smoke, and warmth throughout the room. Asta enjoyed it for a few seconds, then put on hot water and took the old ashes outside. As she did so, she hummed a little song that Brianna taught her shortly after she learned to walk. She sang it often, especially while doing housework and especially when there was something to do in the kitchen. The tune reminded her so much of her mother and her grandmother. It might have been a long time since she had lost both of them and yet Asta remembered very clearly the time when they were all still united. The women in her family had been strong. Strong and fierce. Something she had absorbed with her mother's genes... Just like the dark blood.

As the water boiled, she began to make soup. With meticulous precision, she sprinkled in spices, frozen chunks of celery, and dried parsley, got a handful of potatoes, peeled them, and then diced the vegetables. While she retrieved a few soft carrots from the food cellar, grabbed another red beet as she passed, and continued humming her song, a few floorboards creaked upstairs. Her father must have heard her and also finally got up. Asta didn't mind but continued to work quietly. She would cook the brew longer to have enough for both days. While she was still stirring the soup, there was a soft knock on the door, then Erik entered.

"Good morning Dad.", she greeted him, turned, and pressed a peck on her father's cheek. Erik smiled, then curiously glanced behind her."What are you cooking?" he wanted to know in the typically masculine tone that betrayed that someone could hardly wait for lunch. Asta smiled wryly and explained to him in curt terms that there would be soup. Erik nodded slowly, then ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed."I won't be here at noon today. We don't have much firewood left behind at the house. I'll have to hitch up the horse and get some if we want to stay warm next month." A little disappointed, she nodded. Asta had hoped to at least eat with him today... but now it looked like she would end up alone at the kitchen table again. To her father, she put on an understanding smile and patted his hand, "I understand."

Sure enough, after a quick cup of hot tea, he hitched the bay pinto to the front of their wagon and wrapped up warm. Saw an axe in tow, he finally left the house and a few minutes later the cart was already rolling away. Asta watched him through a window pane full of ice flowers as he drove down the road and disappeared toward the gate.

The day passed more quickly than expected, however, because the healer had her hands full with checking her supplies once again. In the meantime, she made the small inventory almost weekly, because there had already been winters in which she had had to fetch new plants, tinctures, or ointments from other villages. Taking the narrow mountain roads at this time of year was dangerous. It was enough to put one's foot in the wrong place and one would fall. She certainly didn't want to take that risk again.

But because Asta was so engrossed in her work, she didn't notice the small hustle and bustle in the marketplace. News spread as fast as fire consumes dry stalks here in Fuchsbergen. Today, the villagers were given reason to speculate... because an extremely unexpected troop had just arrived.

Asta heard very well how feet drummed over the ice-encrusted ground outside and people hurried back and forth. But it was only when the neighbor's dog barked that she raised her head and became alert. With one leap, the young woman was on her feet and was about to go to the window... when suddenly there was a knock at the door. That someone knocked at her door happened quite often, after all, she was the only healer in this village. But the commotion outside made Asta suspect that this time it was not a customer. Following an intuition, she knocked the plant remains, pieces of wood, and potato peels off her apron. On her way to the door, she tried in vain to fix her hair a little, only loosening the messy braid further.

Although she had had a premonition, nothing could have prepared Asta for the sight... that now presented itself to her. On her threshold, under the small roof overhang that protected waiting visitors from the snow, stood a familiar figure. That meant... long ago it had been familiar and now? Adult. For there waited patiently a young woman, about the same age as Asta, with blond hair and blue shimmering eyes. Features that must have been familiar to the healer in her childhood and a smile that she could not have forgotten even over this long time.

"Aeryn?!" she stammered, stunned, and then it wasn't a second before she had fallen around her friend's neck. Firmly, Asta hugged the other woman to her, enclosing her in an embrace as intimate as if not a day had passed. Aeryn felt cold against her cheek, her clothes seemed a little clammy, too - but that only had the effect of making Asta squeeze her tighter. Then, however, her joy quickly gave way to confusion, and she wondered... how could this be possible? Aeryn had disappeared seven, eight years ago and had never returned since. Only the small packages from all over the world had made Asta hold on to the hope that her friend was still alive and well. Yes, she had never stopped thinking about Aeryn, and yet... the fact that she was now simply standing in front of her took the healer by surprise.

Only after a few moments, during which the girls stood close together, Asta took a step back and finally allowed Aeryn to breathe again. And suddenly it struck her... That they were not alone. The healer's brows rose in surprise and she gave the small gathering at the foot of the staircase a look that was both indecisive and curious.

"Aeryn... what are you doing here?" she turned back to her childhood friend with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. Meanwhile, she eyed the young woman and her companions once briefly, looking for any injuries. It was professional instinct because it was easy to get frostbite up here, and God knew how long Aeryn had been out. But she seemed fine, which tugged the corners of Asta's mouth higher.

"And who did you bring with you?" The young woman couldn't be blamed for eyeing the newcomers with interest, but not trying to hide a certain skepticism. Five men waited patiently at the foot of the house entrance until the ladies had completed their intimate greeting. All with serious expressions and snow-encrusted capes. Heavens, they all must have been out for a long time. Ice had formed where their cloaks had once gotten wet, and even in the tips of their hair, ice crystals and snowflakes stuck here and there.

"W-Won't you come in... Aeryn?", she purposely asked the question only for Aeryn, to check if she even wanted Asta to let the strangers in. There weren't many villages this high up, and if that group didn't stop in somewhere soon, they were sure to catch their deaths."I just made some soup, something warm will do you good," Asta offered politely, glancing at the snowy backdrop in the background. With this dog cold, she wouldn't have even let the priests of the Inquisition stand outside the door, and that was saying something! The young woman had no idea what dangers she might have brought into her house with this invitation...

(1) Song: Bad Dream, Ruelle