12. Shades of winter

The journey was a long one, and I didn’t know our destination. I had seen a map of the world once in a book, but the memory was blurry, and my sense of direction wasn’t very sharp. All I knew was that we weren’t going toward the sea, as the forest surrounding the road grew thicker and darker with each passing day.

At first, I slept most of the day, tucked under a heavy blanket at the driver's side. It was strange, facing the road instead of watching it blur past through the side windows. But my condition made it difficult to enjoy the change of perspective. The snow from the night of my escape didn’t last long, but the cold air lingered, and the melting snow turned the roads muddy and treacherous. 

Every bump in the road made my wounds throb.

Some of them were still fresh and prone to bleeding. In these first few days, the driver had to change my bandages several times a day. At night, he would apply ointment in silence, careful not to make any rough movements. It hurt, but it was more than bearable compared to what had caused the wounds in the first place.

During our journey, we rarely stopped. Once or twice a day at most, we would trade horses at travel stations. We only stopped when darkness made it impossible to go on or when the rain was too heavy to see the road. It felt like we were fleeing something. 

And maybe we were. I couldn't tell.

Eventually, the forest gave way to a vast open field and beyond an enormous lake where fishermen sailed their both on the calm waters. I recognised it. Well, not from memory, but from stories. It had to be Lake Alenia. The largest lake in the world, said to be a miracle of the harvest goddess herself. Pilgrims and visitors came from all over the continent to gather rare herbs and fertiliser or seek Alenia’s blessings.

When it came into view, I excitedly stood up on the bench. The driver, amused, had steadied me with a hand on my shoulder. The water sparkled like polished glass, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. It looked like the sea, but smelled different. It smelled more… Alive. 

I’d only been to the sea once despite being less than a few days’ travel away. It was beautiful for sure, but also intimidating, almost threatening. On its shores, it carried from its depths debris, algae and the corpses of fishes… Mixed with its dry and salty air, it gave a feeling of melancholy and sadness. A feeling I had become intimately acquainted with.

The lake, on the other hand, was very different. The smell here carried the rich scent of flowers and trees. It was vibrant. Rich. It smelled like freedom.

After we reached the lake, we began to travel slower, and the driver and I started interacting more often. He would point at things around us and talk at length. His words were lost to me, but the way his lips moved carried rhythm and warmth. I couldn’t hear him, but I could see him: his animated hands, his crooked smiles, the way his eyes crinkled when he found something he said funny. I liked that. It was very different from the way people had acted around me just a few weeks ago.

At inns, he’d get us a room and let me take the bed while he took the floor or dozed on a chair. The warmth of a bed made the pain of my wounds easier to forget, but also made getting back into the coach harder each morning. In the same way, it felt like every day, the sense of fear and numbness lifted its shadow from me.

As we moved on from the lake area and reached the mountains, the snow returned. In Oblon, it rarely stayed for long, melted by warm sea winds. But here, in the high valleys, it piled high around the road and reached my knees anytime I stepped down from the coach. We travelled through these winding valleys where villages clung to cliffs like barnacles. It felt like we were passing through a completely different world. On nights we would stop for rest at a village, we reached them using pulley platforms or crooked staircases carved into the rock. I would look over the edge, watching the stable far below, and the horses looked like tiny toys.

The wind would blow my hair into my face and I would suddenly become aware of just how high I was. My eyes would dart upward toward the mountains across the valley, going as far as the horizon. 

It felt like another world. One I never knew existed.

Then, at last, the mountains parted, revealing endless flatlands bathed in sunlight: the plains of Midland.The kingdom’s beating heart. Everyone knew this place without ever having seen it. It was the single most described location in all holy scriptures. 

“The last gift of the god of creation”, the bishop had once described it.

I could still hear his voice echo in my head despite wishing it wouldn’t. Remembering what his voice sounded like, but being unable to ever hear Goldie’s or anyone else’s ever again felt like the greatest injustice that ever was… But it didn’t remove anything from the sight before my eyes. Not a single ridge or hill as far as eyes could see… And even at this impossibly far distance, I could see the making of the capital: Evergreen. 

A city so large it didn’t look like something people could live in. It looked too distant. More myth than place.

Even from here, it looked like a mound of houses stacked on top of one another. Castles and ramparts piled high, more mountain than city. The outer borough spread like a patchwork of rooftops and smoke stacks, and behind it all loomed the towering walls of the city.

This was the place my parents and siblings  had been returning from that day. The city housed the king of this kingdom, and as such, nobles flocked to it like moths to a flame.  Most had a residence in the city and used them to hold extravagant balls to build connections. 

Ela and Knox, themselves, had their social debut at the estate of a cousin of my father's family.

I doubt I will be doing the same. After all, I was just a broken toy now.

We travelled through towns and farms for weeks until the city gates came into view. What had looked like a fine grey line in the horizon turned into an enormous wall surrounding the island city.

We crossed the borough surrounding it. Here, the crowds were like nothing I had ever seen: nobles and peasants, merchants and beggars, all crammed into the same winding streets. People of every godline walked shoulder to shoulder. Hair in all colours: pink like mine, green, silver, golden, even some I didn’t know the names for… And clothes just as varied.

But what struck me the most was that many of them wore nothing around their necks. No insignia. No symbol. Just bare skin where a pendant would have hung. Back home, anyone past baptism age wore their Meiriem sigil, or that of another god. Even Goldie had worn the eye of Seeir around her wrist. But here… Even that was different.

We began to cross the bridge into the city and were stopped at the gate. A guard approached us, and the driver handed him papers. The guard examined them for a moment and then looked up at me.

The driver picked me up gently and sat me on his lap so I could see the guard properly. Normally, I would have been flustered, being treated like a baby, but I didn’t protest.

The guard had kind green eyes. He said something. 

[Sorry, I don’t understand.] I answered, worried about his reaction.

He blinked, then smiled. No anger, no frustration. 

The driver spoke a few words, explaining I couldn’t hear, I assume. The guard didn’t seem bothered. He stuck his spear under his arm and looked into my eyes. He then used his two hands and pointed them at me and then at the driver, then raised his thumbs while tilting his head like a dog would.

Was he asking if the driver was a good person?

I nodded. After all, he had taken care of me for weeks now.

The guard smiled again, said something else to the driver, and waved us in.

We passed through the arched gate and into Evergreen proper. What lay beyond was unlike anything I could have ever have imagined. The buildings were stacked on top of one another, with balconies, bridges, laundry lines, and wooden passageways weaving through the sky. People bustled through the streets like ants. I could almost feel the noise through the cart wheels. I tried to absorb it all, but so many things moved simultaneously that I almost became dizzy keeping track of anything.

We wove through the maze-like streets for over an hour and reached a somewhat quieter area. Brick buildings rose like old trees on either side of a snow-covered street. The coach came to a stop before a large house with a sign I couldn’t read.

The driver stepped off the carriage, Goldie’s bag in hand, and helped me down. We walked through the thin layer of snow to the porch together. He knocked on the door once, and we waited a few moments. When no one answered, he knocked again, this time with more strength.

After another moment, the door opened. A man with long white hair and red eyes stood before us, dressed in a green apron. At first, I thought he must have been very old because of his hair, but his face looked young. Younger than the driver or even Goldie.

I flinched at his appearance, surprised, and hid behind the coach driver. 

The man tilted his head slightly, curious, but didn’t seem offended. 

The coach driver stepped forward and exchanged words with the man, and handed him a letter. The stranger read over the content. Once done, he nodded seriously before looking down at me and smiling. He crouched down so his head could almost be level with mine.

I clutched Darkie tightly and peeked out. The man’s eyes were drawn to the stuffed rabbits. He started extending his hand toward him, but I pulled away. 

What was he trying to do? Steal him from me?

He froze for a moment. 

I looked cautiously at him as he lifted his hands innocently, as if to say he was harmless. I relaxed a little as his hand reached for Darkie again. I resisted the urge to hide behind the coach driver again, as the white-haired man held Darkie’s paw between his index and thumb and gave it a little shake.

“What a nice person!" Darkie said from my arms. "Everyone always forgets to greet me!” 

[You think he’s nice?] I asked him, surprised.

“Of course! Only nice people greet others properly!”

[But… His hair is like ice... And his eyes are red like blood. He looks scary.]

“So? You never met anyone like Goldie and me before, but you aren’t scared of us.”

[Oh…]

I felt slightly embarrassed after thinking about it for a moment. 

I looked at the man again. He was chuckling softly. I frowned.

[Is he making fun of us?]

“Maybe a little…?”

The man ruffled my hair before standing. I glared at him, but didn’t move. He didn’t feel so scary anymore.

Seeing this, the coach driver tipped his hat and turned back to the coach. I reached out to follow him, but the other man stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw the white haired man shaking his head.

I turned back just in time to see the driver wave goodbye. 

For weeks, his presence had brought me comfort and peace; he’d changed my bandages, carried me, fed me when I couldn’t even lift my arms… And now… Just like that… He vanished around the corner of a street. 

I felt tears welling up in my eyes as the last connection to my old life disappeared.

The white-haired man crouched beside me again and extended his hand. I hesitated, but finally took it in mine.

Together, we walked through the doorway. 

Out of the snow and into my new life.