Out in the Cold: Part 2

Part II: The Beast in the Snow

The storm never ceased but it did slow after a time, giving way from dark menacing clouds to ones a softer shade of silver.  Her discontent evolved over those days from a dull ache to a fiery restlessness.  The cottage felt stuffy even with a window cracked to let in a sliver of winter’s breath inside.  Each inch of the floor had been walked; each groove of the ceiling carefully examined.  Life idly slipped by.  Her wounds were healing.

Perhaps the stranger sensed her near-bursting energy.  They reared their head slightly from the book they read, the firelight dancing in the amber of their irises.

“We will need firewood tonight.  The snow isn’t falling too badly outside.  Why don’t you go look for some?”

“Alright.”

Bundled in a coat, she made her way out the door and into the cold.  Barren, withered trees greeted her, their gnarled bodies weathered and beaten by the storm.  Icicles dangled from their fingerlike limbs.  The wind had ceased its screeching; the world was trapped in a frozen limbo.  Each step crunched into the snow, breaking the quiet.  As she walked about the bases of those dormant trunks, she felt as though she were the only one alive left in that world.

She had never had the best eye for firewood but that did not deter her efforts.  Despite the woods being unfamiliar to her, her feet seemed to know how to maneuver the uneven ground well enough.  It brought back more faint memories.  She felt the ghost of a woven basket in her hand, searching for something shiny on the ground.  But as soon as the feeling came, she shoved it aside with gritted teeth.  A part of her associated anything from before with an anguish that felt so palpable that her body recoiled with pain.  It was better to not think about it.  It was better to leave all of that behind.

It caught her attention with a small glint of light.  The stone sat nestled on a wiry root jutting from the earth, peering from the white frost.  It was nothing short of destiny that she saw it, gravitated towards it, and reached for that rock without second thought.  At once, even through the thick of her gloves, she realized it was a smoothed stone.  Purposefully smoothed by a craftsman’s hands.  Her thumb ran over its surface thoughtfully and she turned it over in her palm.

The markings that had been etched into its body were strange to her and she could not decipher their meaning.  A series of lines stretched lengthwise across the stone’s surface, arcing somewhat outwards as they did.  She studied it for a time, thinking to pocket the strange rock.  Perhaps that weirdo back at the cottage would know what it meant.

But as she straightened her posture, she felt a different sort of chill creep across the back of her nape.

She was not alone.

A shadow manifested somewhere just within her peripherals.  Its footsteps softly padded atop the snow underfoot, its breath a haggard rhythm and a cadence of death.  She turned and saw the beast, its eyes like a cluster of rubies, its snout distinctly lupine with rows of serrated teeth jutting outward.  Its hide was bristly as a boar’s.  The beast slunk from its hiding place, lithe and muscled as a panther.  Each paw was equipped with curling hawk’s talons and twin, curved horns sprung from its head.

She reached for her glaive, fingers gripping air before she remembered her mistake.  It was shattered now, broken into pieces back at the cabin.  A gasp tore from her mouth as the beast drew closer, mouth dripping wet with hungering saliva.

A part of her knew what to do.  It was muscle memory, an itch between her fingers.  But as it came to her, a part of her forced it away.  No.  No fighting.  She was tired.  Everything was about fighting, all the time.  Her hand fell to her side, anchored by something unseen and yet so heavy.

The beast lunged, mouth opening to an abyss.  She could only stare upward at it.

And then there was a flash—white, hot, and precise.  A single bolt of magic snapped from the heavens, piercing directly into the beast’s spine.  The bolt was pure as snow, its light radiating across her face in rapid-fire waves.  The sight of it anchored her heart into the soles of her feet.  It twisted her gut into never-ending knots.  Her exhale was kept firmly in her lungs, expelled slowly as the monster fell to the cold earth.  Gradually, her eyes traveled to the left, where the hooded figure stood.  They bent over, panting. 

“What are you doing?!” the figure snapped at her.  “You could’ve died!”

“I don’t…” she fumbled out and then heard the distinct sound of snow crunching underfoot.

The beast was rising from where it had fallen in the snow.  Its crimson eyes turned in unison to the hooded figure.  A baleful screech tore from its opened mouth, each row of teeth bared.  She tensed, one of her hands drawing to her chest.  Once more, there was a call from somewhere within but she feared what she would remember.  Suppressing it, she let her hand ball into a fist.

Another bolt fell from the sky upon the monster.  This was enough to send it fleeing, its pitch-hued coat soon lost among the dead trees and snow dunes.  A shrill wail carried on into the distance, echoing into an eventual nothing. 

“A barghest.  And a juvenile one at that,” the figure said.  “Some say they’re omens of death.”

She stared at where the beast had fled towards, numbed from fear and the cold.

“Are we going to die out here?” she asked the figure, who laughed loudly against the freezing wind.

“I think we have both survived worse,” the figure replied.  “Come, let’s go back to the cabin.”

The trek back to the cabin was made in relative silence.  Silver snow fell gently upon them as they plucked some wood on their way, not daring to stray too far from the other.  There were no signs of barghests, much to her relief, but her skin crawled with memories of how monstrous that beast had looked.  In the cold of winter, it felt like death was a thin veil away. 

As she walked, holding that bundle of sticks under her arm, the most distinct feeling of deja-vu washed over her.  Wandering the forest, dangers just out of view… it was all familiar.  A distant, distant dream from her youth… but all of that was barred behind what her mind did not want her to recall.  This time, when she yearned to recollect, it hissed back at her, spitting venom.  Telling her that no, she was a fool.  No, it was better to not remember at all.  No, she should simply carry on.

And so she did.

The figure began to wash the dishes in a basin in the kitchen almost as soon as they were back inside.  Snowfall had resumed in thicker sheets and the unseen sun was beginning to flee the sky.  Nighttime was darkening the heavens and she set to work stoking the hearth back to where it roared pleasantly in their small cabin.

For the first time since arriving, she wondered what was next.  Would this be her life forever?  The cabin was fine enough; a cozy respite in the snowstorm.  She had been under the belief that she would leave when the weather had cleared but after so many days, it felt like it would never happen.  Maybe that was all this land was—ice, snow, ill-omens, and death. 

She let thoughts of an eventual departure stew in her mind for a few long minutes.  As she entertained the idea of embarking for her next destination, she realized there was an unwillingness within her.  Despite this cabin being a limbo of sorts, it was safe.  Even if it was away from everyone else.  Even if it offered her little in terms of answers.  There was something nice about that, something simple.  The absence of knowledge and progression was, in a way, a paradise.

“Ephalys,” the strange person said, snapping her from her thoughts. 

“Is that your name?” she asked them.

“No…” their voice trailed.  “It’s someone I knew once.  You remind me of her.  So, I think I’ll call you that.”

She had no rebuttal for it.  It was a name and she supposed that was better than nothing. 

“Until you remember your name, I mean,” the figure added.

“Pretty bold to go around assigning names to people when you won’t even tell me yours,” Ephalys said with a sigh, warming her hands against the hearth.

“I don’t think I ever had a name,” the figure said and Ephalys shot them a strange look. 

“Everyone has a name.”

“You don’t.”

“That’s not… I just can’t remember it.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“If you wanted a name, what would it be?”

The figure paused to consider the question a moment.  And then, with a sort of brightness to their voice, they said, “Ephalys.”

Ephalys sighed.  “We both can’t be Ephalys.  That’d get too confusing.  Besides, if you want the name, you can have it.”

“But I am not Ephalys,” the figure said with the tilt of their head.  “And neither are you but you are like her.  So, I will you call you that.  For now.”

“Who was she?”

“A great person that lived a long time ago.  Divinus Ephalys.”

Divinus.  That word rang a bell but its call beckoned only the fog of something that could not be quite remembered. 

“She was the best of them all.  The most powerful,” the figure continued.  “But she died.  And that was the end of a lot of things.”

Their voice trailed and they began to go back to washing the dishes.  But then they hesitated and Ephalys could see that they were clearly trembling.  Slowly, she began to approach, not sure if she should reach to them to comfort them.  But soon, their shaking ceased; the figure turned their head to look at her over their shoulder.  A sad smile was all she could see of their features.

“It’s alright, you know.  Sometimes, things end.  And it’s alright.”

A long pause.  And then.

“Even if it hurts.”