“You need a ride?”

  The question startled Rue from her thoughts. Not exactly thoughts, but a hardened determination that wasted no energy on a wandering mind, only that of each step-after-step.

  Rue spun around, carving a circle in the soft snow underneath. A wagon was on the road behind her, drawn by a chestnut horse with a single man sitting in the box seat. She wasn’t sure how an entire wagon had gotten so close behind her without noticing it sooner, or having not felt the hot air of the beast of labor. It let out a snort, a warm puff of mist trailing up the brisk air, ears back as it seemed irritated to have stopped out in the middle of nowhere, fat snowflakes lazily descending without cease.

  Rue stared at the animal, then looked beyond it to the man. He was waiting patiently for an answer, bundled in several warm layers of worn but well-made fabric. It was nearly impossible to determine how old he was with a scarf and hat covering most of his features, and the exposed skin being reddened by wind exposure. All she could see were strands of brown hair cresting dark eyes.

  “You’re not goin’ where I am,” Rue finally found words.

  “How do you know that?” She saw a slight ruffle of his cap, pulled right above his eyes, as his brows raised. Rue considered him. She looked towards the road she had been walking, and then back. He wasn’t one of her own, which was the only reason she hadn’t made a sprint for the forest that rose above either side of the path, looming tall above them.

  “I don’t know you.” The accusation was clear in her voice. A stranger was dangerous out here. He could be a highway man in excellent disguise, she had seen it before. A merchant does not fear a seemingly lone man upon a cart, probably carrying supplies to or from trade. A successful bandit, though, knew how to get creative. But it wasn’t like she had anything worth being robbed over, and he could see that. Her clothes on her back, and a rucksack that was pathetically light. A waste of time.

  The man could easily sense her apprehension. A gloved hand came up and pulled his scarf down to his chin, exposing his gruffly bearded face in full, and offered a weary smile.

  “All roads lead to Whersirki,” he nodded, “come with me, before you freeze to death.” It was a phrase used by travelers, all roads lead to Whersirki. The trading capital of the continent, the city of the king, the city of enlightenment, city of artisans and wealth. Anyone going anywhere who was worth something was likely to seek out Whersirki at some point or another. Not to mention, it was said that all literal roads led to the city, at least the major ones. Head north, and you’ll eventually get to Whersirki one way or another. It nestled in the flat lands and forests, right before the foothills of the mountain, where no civil beings lived beyond.

  Rue hesitated. He wasn’t wrong, it was actually where she was going. Instinct still made it difficult to admit to a stranger of unknown risk. The sun was obscured by mottled grey clouds, but it was low, and days were short. “How far is Whersirki?” She asked, a defensive edge remaining in her tone. He didn’t seem put off by it.

  “I can get you there by the morning. There’s a village nearby with an inn, but I planned on pushing all the way through.” He reached out, patting the spot beside him.

  Rue’s gut twisted in uncertainty, but if it was truly so close…She wasn’t sure that her legs could carry her for that long. She already ached to the bone from walking so long, since the sun had barely even risen. Walking kept her warm enough, but even standing still for this long had let the chill sink in. If she had to stop for the night, she would freeze to death. The thought of being found dead and frozen by her family ignited anger, an internal flame that felt like an illusion of warmth.

  That’d mean her family was right all along. Incapable of surviving on her own, worthless, weak.

  Crows cawed from not far away, and she swore she could hear mocking words in the harsh sounds.

  CAW. LOOK AT HER. SHE CAN’T DO IT ON HER OWN. SHE’S SCARED. STUPID GIRL. STUPID GIRL. STUPID GIRL. CAW! CAW!

  It was just further evidence that staying out here would drive her crazy and kill her.

  Humiliation washed through her, but she ignored her own thoughts and trudged towards the box seat.

  The man scooted over to allow her space, but she didn’t need that much. Rue was relatively tall, but she was scrawny, even in the heavy winter clothing. She hoisted herself up and sat beside him, leaving a small space between their bodies. She could feel his eyes on her, and the crows above sounded as if they were laughing, hysterical.

  SHE’S GOING TO DIE. STUPID GIRL! CAW! STUPID GIRL! CAW! STUPID GIRL!

  “Shut up,” Rue snarled, her head pitching to the skies, staring at the small murder, three or four crows, above them.

  “What?” The man asked, baffled, brows aloft as he stared at Rue with a measure of uncertain concern.

  His reaction broke her from the moment and she finally met his gaze. Fiery remnants resonated in her stare from the surge of annoyance. “The crows,” Rue mumbled, “they’re loud. They always sound like they’re laughin’.” Even now, their caws sounded even more hysterical. The man looked up.

  “Guess I didn’t notice them,” he admitted. “I don’t see ‘em a lot elsewhere. I’ve seen more flocks here than anywhere else. A hyena, now, those have an awful sort of laugh, if I’ve ever heard an animal laugh,” he continued on.

  “What’s a hyena?”

  “Oh, uh…They’re kinda like dogs, but not, sorta unique. In a fucked up way. I don’t think they live on Anerdrasid.” The continent they were on was called Anerdrasid. Rue hadn’t considered that there were other animals elsewhere that were not here.

  “Huh,” Rue grunted. Her nose wrinkled up, failing to imagine what a ‘fucked up’ dog might look like.

  “I wonder if there are any of ‘em weird human-like ones here,” the man mused. This prompted a look from Rue.

  “Wouldn’t they be there? Since the hyenas are there?” She knew the man was referring to a fairly common species distinction. Many animals, though it was distinctly the wild and feral creatures, had human-like counterparts that lived in civilized communities. “There ain’t any dog people here, though,” Rue continued. “They ain’t wild.”

  The man shook his head. “Nah. Hyenas are wild, and we’ve got other wild dogs, but we don’t have those kinda…animal people, ‘less they travel overseas to live elsewhere. And I mean, they ain’t natural anywhere else. Just here. It isn’t just the wild ones though, is it? I’ve seen the cats in the city.”

  She shook her head. “Sarkas? Nah, those are still wild, kinda. They got a whole religion about it, bein’ wild beings.” A sarka was the only real exception to that rule, but Rue was fairly certain that cats weren’t the same sort of domesticated as a dog, or a horse, or any other companion and working animal. Overhead, the crows jeered back and forth.

  “Interestin’. Everywhere I’ve gone in the world has been different, y’know, but this continent has got to be the most different.”

  Rue thought of asking where he came from. She didn’t much care, though. Travelers from all over the world were common enough that it didn’t spark any curiosity. Wherever he came from, she didn’t know of it, and would never travel to. It was a waste of space to keep in mind. So she only grunted, tired of the idle conversation, and silence lapsed for some time until the man spoke again.

  “What’s your name, girl?”

  STUPID GIRL! CAW! STUPID GIRL! CAW! STUPID GIRL!

  Rue winced, her legs tucking up onto the bench to press to her chest. Her hands lifted to her ears, loosely cupping over them to try to drown out the mocking cries. Her ears were freezing, she realized. No warmth was gained from the fabric of the gloves against them; they were numb. “Rue,” she answered after a moment.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Nice to meet you, Rue. You can call me Ferrow. If you’re cold, there’s a blanket back there. You can pull it up.”

  She wanted to deny the help, having accepted more than she would usually have by taking the ride at all. But now that her body was still and the cart did the work, the cold was punishing. Her layers had never been enough. She mumbled that she was cold, and unfolded herself to twist around and look into the back. Ferrow directed her to a bag that had a decent, but worn, blanket strapped to the outside. She pulled it free with a grunt, and settled back on the bench while working the blanket around herself.

  “Where are you coming from?” Ferrow asked. Rue answered with silence, no more helpful than when he had attempted to ask where she was going. He was quiet for a few moments, and he tried again. “Are you running away from something? From someone?”

  The silence stretched further. It wasn’t a tense silence, as Rue simply pretended that she hadn’t heard a word said. Ferrow sighed eventually, and let her be as they continued down the snow-paved road. The pace was slow, given the elements, but it was still faster than Rue would have managed on foot with her exhaustion. With the silence, and the blanket offering some comfort and surprising retention of warmth in little time, Rue found her eyelids fluttering shut. Reality slipped away into the shadows and sounds of dreams.

  —

  SHE SEES US! ARE YOU LISTENING? LISTEN! IT ISN’T TOO LATE! SEE US! LISTEN? SPEAK!

  STUPID GIRL DOESN’T LISTEN! CARELESS GIRL DOESN’T SEE! LOOK! LOOK!

  WHY DON’T YOU LISTEN?

  The cacophony of voices swarmed her head, but even placing her hands over her ears, the voices persisted as if they came from within her own mind. They were all her voice, actually, but they didn’t come from her own mouth nor willful thought. Her throat felt strangled and tight, limbs heavy as if she were a corpse. A black cloud swarmed around her, obscuring anything beyond it. Rue could see nothing but glossy black wings and beaks, with pitless voids for eyes.

  WEAK! FOOL! DOOMED! LOST!

  Rue opened her mouth to scream at them to silence, but no sound came out of her parted lips. She realized then that she had no tongue, and her strangled throat felt rough. She coughed and crow feathers painfully forced from her mouth. A figure drifted from the swarm of crows, face a disturbed blur, watching Rue as her hands went from her ears to her throat, clawing at it. She tried to beg the woman- at least she assumed it was one from the outline of a shapeless dress made of night’s embrace- for help. The woman came no closer.

  SHE’S DYING! THE GIRL IS DYING! THIS IS HER FATE! FATE! FATE! DIE! FATE! DIE! FATE!

  The world rocked and tilted, and she knew she had collapsed onto her side, withering as her vision failed to stay in one place. The crows had grown more erratic, as the woman stared down. She could almost see her face. Or could she? There was a face, distinctive yet just out of reach, colorless milky eyes watched without compassion.

  Dying was slow. Her mind screamed that it hurt. She couldn’t actually feel anything, but there was a distinct constriction squeezing her body, her lifeforce, and rippling void was weaving into the edge of her vision, a static fade shifting in and out.

  The woman snapped to new attention, looking past Rue, before she shattered into a plume of smoke without warning, and the crows began to rush inward.

  WAKE! WAKE! WAKE! WAKE! WAKE! WAKE! WAKE! WAKE!

  It was more than overwhelming, and Rue’s chest felt like it was swelling, ready to burst, the feathers tearing past her lips, vision blurring and exploding into a spark of out-of-place kaleidoscope color as the crows dissipated upon reaching her fetal-curled form.

  —

  And she woke, tearing in a harsh breath as if she had actually been suffocating, the tightness upon her body suddenly gone. Rue’s vision was entirely disoriented at first, feathers turning into a white landscape, the shape of a horse, the muted orange rays of a sunken sun. The sensation of danger was still there and this grounded her far more quickly than even the reminder of frozen air against her face.

  Rue looked down and now saw that Ferrow’s arm was tucked beneath the blanket, which outlined the shape trailing towards her legs, his hand resting far too comfortably on her thigh. The very touch felt like acid, even through her trousers. She went rigid, and felt his eyes burrowing upon her now.

  “You were having a bad dream,” he commented, far too casually for what he was doing. “Thought I would help.”

  How the fuck is this supposed to help?

  Rue’s mind was still half-dredged in the chaos of the nightmare, unable to grasp onto any reasonable thoughts. She could not make herself look at him, and her body was frozen, as if still paralyzed by the dream-state. Ferrow chuckled lowly, seeming to realize that she was frozen. “Now, now. Don’t look so alarmed. Just close your eyes again. We’ve still got a bit of time until we get to the city.” Darkness was creeping in steadily. Had he waited until now, when it would be suicide to escape into the cold darkness, to take advantage?

  A pulse of hot, molten anger coursed upwards through to her core. It contested against the cold air wrapped around her body.

  The anger trailed through her, to her hip, burning into an object strapped upon it. The realization that she was not helpless sobered Rue: she had a weapon, a dagger, her salvation.

  “Just relax. I’m not goin’ to hurt you. All that thrashing you were doing, I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up just to me,” he admitted, as if it weren’t even more horrifying. Rue didn’t answer him. Her hand was sliding, moving slowly, carefully, trying not to alert him. Had he seen that she had a weapon on her?

  Maybe not.

  Or he just believed that he could overpower her. It didn’t matter, whatever it was. Her frozen stupor had faded; she was fueled by the pulsing heat.

  The hot, crackling anger crept up her spine, into her heart and into her lungs. Rue’s fingers were a burning fire when they finally reached the hilt of the dagger, crude metal frozen to the touch despite being beneath the blanket. So cold that it added to the fire of her hand. Ferrow started to say something, but the words were lost to a sudden raging rush barreling through her ears, red heat flooding her vision. The knife was free, and she did not know the moments between freeing it and plunging it into the neck of Ferrow.

  Ferrow’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened, like a fish gasping for air, unable to make a sound. His hand jerked from beneath the blanket, and both clawed up to his neck, trying to grasp the dagger. He couldn’t remove it in time, not that there was enough time to possibly reverse the damage done, the blood spilling internally.

  Rue helped him remove it.

  She twisted around fully, grabbing and yanking the dagger from his throat, a spray of warm blood following the removal of the blade, which was dull enough to have made the pain worse than it already was. It crunched on release. No, it was his neck that crunched, with whatever had been hit. With a hole torn in his neck, he gurgled, coughed and sprayed red blood, then slumped. Ferrow did not move again.

  Thick iron overtook the pure scent of snow and forest.

  She could feel it beneath the surface of her skin, burning and boiling her alive, every second suffocating. Rue brought a hand up to her neck, checking to see if the blade was buried in it.

  Her throat was tight, and she coughed, half expecting feathers to pour out. The tightness eased enough for her to gasp a jagged breath in.

  A scream abruptly tore from Rue’s lips, parted into a snarl akin to feral animal. She heaved herself forward, slamming the dagger back into his body, then tearing it free, plunging it back. Over and over. The smell of his leaking death invaded her nostrils and nauseated her.

  The blade struck into his unprotesting flesh a final time, strength finally sapping from Rue so much so that she left it embedded. She collapsed onto the bloodied corpse, gasping, limbs trembling from exertion. Rage melted from her body finally, like steam burning off into the freezing air.

  It was so sudden.

  The outburst didn’t feel real.

  Eventually, Rue pulled away from his body. It was warm, which she found oddly comforting. All danger had passed. The horse hadn’t seemed to lose even a step of focus and pulled onwards. Had it heard her screaming? Had it heard the death of its master?

  The sun had sunk even further. She did not know how much time had passed from her awakening to now. Surely not that long, but the tendrils of daylight were so low that they offered no help, the thick clouds muting light’s effort.

  Rue stared at the vague shape of the head of the unbothered horse. Maybe it didn’t react because it was part of her nightmare. It must not have been real.

  She looked back to Ferrow, who was slouching over now. All of his features were obscured by dusk, and she could not see the injuries. Every inhaled breath brought the scent of blood. It reminded her of gutting an animal, fresh after the kill, and she could hear her father’s voice over her, instructing her how to draw the blade.

  It must not be real at all.