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Chapter 5

Blood in the Snow

1

Kiana awoke with a gasp, disoriented and shaking all over. It took her a few seconds to realise she was in her bedroom, lying in bed, staring up at the same old familiar ceiling with the same old familiar bands of early morning sunshine streaming across the walls. But not everything was the same, she thought, raising her hand and watching its shadow reach up and up, the fingers elongated into claws with the weird angle. Why was her heart beating so wildly in her chest? Why was there sweat on her brow? Why did it feel like there was a giant worm coiling around in her stomach? It was because of that horrid dream, the one she'd been having on and off over the past two months, ever since what happened underneath that giant tree on the Wolves' side of the mountain. In this dream, she had to watch Ander die in her arms over and over and _over_again, whispering his final words so softly she couldn't hear them.

Kiana swung her legs over the side of the bed, just like always, washed her face in the water bowl on the nightstand, just like always, and stood up, rubbing her bleary eyes, just like always. It was the same routine, just like always, but some things were very different now, and would never be the same again.

"Different..." she whispered to herself as she slipped into her favourite green dress, the very same one she ran away in so long ago, all the rips and tears neatly mended. That word was at the top of a long list of things that would never have the same meaning for her. Before, it was just another word, like thousands of others, with no more power than 'house' or 'river' or 'hat'. But now, just hearing that word filled her with joy so intense and sorrow so forceful it bordered on actual, physical pain. It was the name of the Wolf she loved, both a blessing and a curse, something he had to live with his whole life. It was because he was so different that they came to love each other, and it was because he was so different that his own people sought to destroy him.

As she descended the stairs, her thoughts drifted back to that dark, endless day in the mist. She and Layla and the twins had carried Ander's limp body to the foot of the mountain, and there they had waited for a miracle.

You're not gonna glare the mountain any lower, girl, Bart had told her time and time again, occasionally checking to see if his booze pouch was still empty. Devin is a right quick little blighter, but it'll be at least twenty more hours before help arrives.

I know that.

So then try and save your energy for when it's needed. Pacing up and down's not gonna do anything 'cept tire you out.

I know that, too.

Layla had knelt by Ander's side the entire time, constantly checking his bandages, tightening the makeshift tourniquets they had fashioned from Nick's laces.

And she shooed away the flies. Dozens and dozens of flies, stubbornly intent on landing on the gashes in the side of his face. It made Kiana want to scream in horror and frustration.

And then Nicholas spoke up, out of the blue, and asked her something that had taken her such a long time to realise, but was now so deeply ingrained into her Soul, she couldn't understand why she had waited such a long time to let herself feel it, until it was far too late.

You love him, don't you?

She stopped, looked up at the crack in the mountain, far too steep and treacherous for them to tackle alone, and replied: I do love him.

You love him like one Fox would love another?

The sounds of the kitchen suddenly tore her away from her ruminations; a knife on a cutting board, a chair scraping against the floor, her father's pipe cough.

She stepped down from the final stair, and there it was, just on her left, right where it had always been: the door to their spare bedroom.

Ander's room.

She gripped the doorknob, still not sure why she insisted on going through this ritual each and every morning, but she felt compelled to do it. It just... she had to see it. She had to confirm it to herself.

She turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open on its creaky hinges, thinking about how she had answered Nicholas's question.

I love him like one Soul would love another. That's all that matters.

This room was empty, just as she knew it would be. The bed was neatly made and completely devoid of bloodstains. No tray with medical tools. No bandages. No Ander.

Of course not.

He wasn't with them anymore.

She closed the door, wondering if she would do this again tomorrow morning, and went into the kitchen. Mother was cutting potatoes, Layla was re-reading one of her favourite romance stories, and Fa was just sitting around being Fa.

"Good morning, hun," he said, putting his pipe down on the table. "Are you all right? You look a little..."

"I had the dream again," Kiana said, sitting down next to her sister.

"Some blisterwort should take care of that," Mother said, still chopping away.

"No thanks, Mother. There's only one thing that can drive that dream away." She looked to the windowsill, a smile on her face, and regarded the little wooden carvings that had joined their family, one by one, over the past two months.

There was a little wooden Fa, leaning against the wall, re-filling his pipe. There was a little wooden Layla, sitting on the edge with her feet dangling over the side, completely engrossed in the book in her lap. Watching over those two with her hands planted on her hips and a stern expression on her face was a little wooden Ma.

And off to the side, staring out the giant window at the giant world beyond, was a little wooden Kiana, her hands folded over her heart.

She was smiling, too.

"I'm going to go visit Ander."

"Again?" Ma turned around, the knife in her hand nothing compared to the daggers flying from her eyes. "Didn't you visit him yesterday?"

"And the day before that," Layla added.

"And the day before that," Fa added still, although he and Layla did it with a smile.

"I hardly see anything wrong with that," Kiana said, twisting around in her chair. "He said I could come round whenever I wanted, be it night or day or anywhere in between."

"Well of course he'd say that, he's_Ander_," Mother said with a roll of the eyes, as if this should have been self-evident. "But even the most hospitable host will grow weary of a guest who refuses to stay away longer than a day. The poor boy is still mending, you should give him more time. Also... No, never mind."

"What?"

"No, forget I said anything." To Kiana's immense surprise, Mother turned around and resumed her potato chopping, despite the fact that they were already so finely chopped they bordered on mash.

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing." Chop chop chop.

"Ma? Come on, what were you going to say? You can tell me."

Chop chop chop.

"All right then, I'll be back in a few hours. Save some veggies for m -"

"It's just that," Ma plunged the knife into her cutting board and spun around, her hands resting on the counter behind her. "If you go up there every day, then, well... Kiana, the Foxes, they'll start to... you know. Say things."

Layla had to hide her face behind her book to keep Ma from seeing the colossal effort she had to put forth to keep from bursting into wild gales of laughter, her lip trembling and silent tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Fa managed to hide his snigger with a well-practiced cough.

Kiana just barely managed to keep a straight face and asked, ever so innocently: "What kinds of things, Mother dear?"

"Things that ought not be said about any daughter of mine!" Mother said with a huff and a scowl. "Gracious, you wouldn't believe half the things I've heard on my rounds, vixens that haven't even stepped foot outside for weeks suddenly think they know every little scandal. Why, that old biddy Calista has been laid up with gout for neigh on two months now, and she had the gall to ask if... no, I shouldn't talk behind her back like that. It's ridiculous, not even worth repeating. Just forget I said anything."

"It's just some harmless gossip, Mother," Kiana said, slightly more serious now. "It's to be expected."

"And that's even more reason for you to stay home today. No good will come of fanning flames, even if there are no real flames to fan. Don't get me wrong, dear, I'm happy you made such a good friend, really I am. I love Ander to death, but you have to give more thought as to what it looks like from the outside, to Foxes that don't know him as well as we do. I'm not saying you should stop your little visits, just spread them out a little. Maybe once or twice a week. That still won't stop the tongues from wagging, but it's a damn sight better than every single loving day. You'll give Foxes the wrong idea."

"And what idea would that be, exactly?"

"Gods give me strength, you're going to make me say it, aren't you? Fine, if that's the way you want it, I'll be perfectly frank. If you go up there every single day, Kiana, then, well... Foxes will think that you and Ander have... well... that you have some kind of... thing going on."

Poor Layla couldn't keep it in any longer. She tried her very best, but the laughter just squeezed out through her pursed lips in an explosive snort, and Father was right behind her, chuckling around his pipe.

"It is not funny, you two!" Ma said indignantly, crossing her arms. "You haven't heard the things everybody's been saying behind open palms, things that would make your fur turn white!"

Father tried to blow a smoke ring, but failed spectacularly because he couldn't stop smiling. "Well, Beth," he said, puffing up for a second attempt, "would that really be such a bad thing? Ander's a nice enough fellow."

"This isn't a question of good or bad or right and wrong, it's just not proper! And I'm not talking about the fact that he's a Wolf. Even if he was just another Fox, same as Kiana, I wouldn't want her going up a hill to visit some boy for hours on end, every day, unsupervised!"

"Excuse me," Kiana interjected, "but I am an adult, and I can do as I please."

"But you are still living under my roof, and therefore you shall follow my rules."

"The only reason I'm still living under your roof is because I didn't want to be married off to that jackass."

"Oh, poor Mateo," Mother's hand went up to her chest and she sighed the most forlorn sigh Kiana had ever heard.

"'Poor Mateo' my butt. He almost shot me in the face."

"Well, in Mateo's defence, he wasn't aiming at you."

"No, he was aiming at Ander, which makes everything perfectly peachy."

Mother waved it off. "You really should try and make up with him sometime. He's been under a tremendous amount of stress lately."

"What?"

"You know, what with the wedding being called off and then the, um... all those stories of his mother's - how shall I put it? - wilder days of youth coming to light, it's all been getting him rather down, and understandably so. Oh but look, now I'm the gossipy vixen with the wagging tongue. By the gods, it's contagious..." She turned back to her cutting board and started work on a fresh potato. Chop chop chop.

"I'm not getting back together with Mateo, Mother," Kiana said, unconsciously crossing her arms in the exact same way as the little wooden carving watching over them from the window sill.

"Well then I suppose you'll just have to stay home today. There's a whole pile of potatoes to be peeled, and linens to be washed, and shelves to dust, and -"

"But Mother!"

" - and your father needs help with that pigsty of a smithy of his. It's a wonder he can find anything in there, all covered in soot like that." Chop chop chop.

Father leaned back in his chair in that precarious way of his that always seemed just a hair above tipping him on his tail, and blew a perfect smoke ring in the air. He caught his daughter's dumbfounded eye, tipped her a wink, and abruptly stood up, letting the chair legs double-clack against the floor. "Now now, Beth, no need to be so hard on the girl." He casually sauntered over and put an arm around his wife's shoulder, who diligently kept on chopping potatoes, although her ear was perked and her mouth curled up into that naughty smile that always made Kiana want to retreat to the next room over. "She's just relieved, as are we all, that Ander managed to pull through. All thanks to your wonderful skills, I might add."

"Well, I can't take all the credit for that. Ander is a remarkably tough fellow."

"Don't sell yourself short, darling! You're the only vixen in the whole wide world who has the skills to pull such a grievously wounded individual from the brink of death! Surely, without you, we'd all be wearing sackcloth and ashes right now." He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Oh stop it, Salem!" Mother giggled. "It's much too early for such flattery."

"A true heroine you are."

Father stealthily waved his hand behind his back - Shoo! Shoo! - and Kiana didn't need telling twice. She silently got up from the table, nodded at Layla's thumbs up of camaraderie, and then expediently bolted out the door and into the bright morning sunshine.

"Gods give me strength! Kiana! Come back here!" she heard her mother yell from inside, but she was already tearing down the road without a care in the world, dodging around random patches of snow and icy puddles. Houses flashed by in a whirl of white and brown, and surprised Foxes looked up from their barren gardens at the happy vixen running past. Let them have their gossip, let her mother yell herself hoarse. Life was too wonderful to waste on such things.

She heard their door bang open somewhere behind her, and then Mother's voice again, screaming after her amid gales of laughter. "Kiana, for gods' sakes, people will think you have a thing! A thing!!" A pause, then: "And will one of you please tell me what is so godsdamned funny!?"