Followed by Frost

by Charlie N. Holmberg

Oh, how often I had played the part of the fool, but I learned from it every time. This new pain would ultimately help me grow stronger; I knew that. But it ached so terribly, and I felt so very, very cold. In the morning I ate a breakfast of dates and flatbread and selected some yarn to weave on my small loom, for I had not yet received a larger one. But my hands shook terribly, and I could not bring myself to focus on the task, so I lay down. If I could not sleep, at least I could rest, though the winter chill pulled and wrenched the muscles in my body, my legs especially. The walk from the palace had been a long one. I don’t know when I started humming, but I did, working through the tunes I’d heard at the Nameday Festival as I ran my gloved fingers over the patterns in my blanket, the one that depicted my storm cloud and a flock of birds over the Finger Mountains. I hummed one song after another, improvising the parts I had forgotten. I sensed Sadriel when he appeared at the far end of my cave, but I did not look up. I only hummed and traced the lines of my blanket, one by one. “You are intriguing, love,” he said, taking a seat in one of the chairs, studying me. I

For happiness has wings, and when burdened by the things a man should want, Garen could not reach it.