It was cold, the chill wind ripped through her like daggers of ice. But she had something she must do. Something that couldn't wait for spring’s gentle kiss. Her black hair was matted and tangled with mud, twigs, and pine needles. Her hazel eyes deep with sorrow, fear, and fatigue. The mirror which had once hidden her emotions so deep inside of her was now shattered, the pieces dotting her eyes with pockets of cold, unnerving steel. Her feet continued walking, driven by some unseen force. Her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was with her beloved somewhere colder and darker than she could imagine. She would journey there, face the dark and cold, and save him. Bring him back to their home where they would live together always and he would never again leave to spy on the enemy. They would live long and grow old together. She could remember his words, the only thing keeping her going when all seem lost and futile.

“Leda, I’ll be back for you. Don’t lose faith.” How hollow those words sounded, but she still continued. She could still feel where his finger had traced along her cheek before he mounted and rode away, and that was all she needed. Not a spoken promise, but one sealed by an action.

Something brought her back to where she was; maybe it was the sound of a bird whistling shrilly in the air, maybe a lone wolf howling to the slowly darkening sky. Whatever it had been, it may have saved her life. Her head snapped up in time to catch a shadow darting across the path in front of her. Only a shadow of a figure. It had no substance, so it couldn’t be a Shadow Slider, but it could be another human. Shadow Sliders had the ability to merge with the shadows and become one, but this was human. Her hand flew to the ebony and white switchblade under her black cloak. Just the feel of the cool handle was enough to calm her to sensible thinking. She continued walking as if in a dream.

Soon the figure leapt out of his cover. Long blonde hair trailed out behind him and his emerald eyes burned with a mad glow. A beard grew roughly along his chin and his mouth was open to reveal rotting black teeth.

He threw her off balance and shoved a dagger of his own to her throat. “Ah, look at the lil’ girl travelin’ alone on such a dark, cold night. You‘ll be a hopin’ you never a left home.”

She fumbled with the catch on the knife before bringing it upward. It slid into his side, not enough to kill him, yet. She screamed out. One thought rang through her mind. He is keeping me from Marten. Her mind was solely focused on that one goal.

The second time the blade flew through the air, it didn’t miss. It lodged in the man’s heart. Soon a crimson flower of blood began spreading across his shoddy tunic. His eyes were frozen in a moment of horror as the realization hit him.

Leda stood and looked at the body. A shudder ran through her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But Marten wasn’t supposed to be caught. She pulled the switchblade out of his chest and wiped it on the grass. Blood covered the white bird embossed on the handle, but it came off as she dipped it in a cold wet weather spring.

She looked down at her hands, unable to believe that another had fallen to her. The feeling was oddly empowering, but something she disliked. Disgust filled her. She knew she had had no choice, but it seemed there should have been. Anything else. The calm that had earlier filled her vanished with the other’s life. There would be no way she could continue on that night with the thought still haunting her.

Camp was quickly set up by her knowing hands, though they were frozen with cold. She soon had a blazing fire burning. She looked distrustfully at the shadows, but they were just that. Shadows. She felt like a child again. Afraid of what was hiding in the shadows, waiting for her to look away, to grab her, and carry her away.

She listened to the fire crackle and pop as the wind raged through the trees, bending them in an odd dance. They were asking her to join them. To dance into the night, to never feel the world’s worries again. She turned back to the fire. Maybe that is what the crazed man had done. Run off to join the wild dance of the trees. She didn’t want to become him.

Though she would later look back with disbelief, she fell swiftly asleep after a light dinner. It was the sudden cold that awoke her. The fire had gone out and the cool morning wind ripped through her. She shivered and drew the black cloak around her shoulders. The sky was covered in heavy clouds threatening to pour rain or snow down on her. She ate some hard bread and dried apple before continuing. As soon as she began moving again, the dazed state settled back down on her. The sun continued in its arc across the sky as she walked.

The next thing she remembered was being out of the forest and a plaintive mewing. She looked around for the source of the cry and was surprised to see a vulmar. Vulmar supposedly meant fire magic in an ancient tongue and they were said to have the ability over fire. Nothing had ever been proven, only tales of drunkards and woodsmen. Its rust colored coat was spotted with snow, and it was only then that Leda noticed the tiny flakes swirling around her. Black eyes stared up at her with golden pupils that contained a form of intelligence she had never seen. As if the vulmar knew the secret to life. Maybe it did. Many creatures of myth knew many things.

It mewed again. A high cry, full of despair and hope at the same time. Leda looked down. Its black paw was trapped in a dead log. How it had gotten in there, she didn’t know. Maybe it was fate. She reached down and worked the foot back and forth until she had freed the creature. All the time she was working, it stared at her with that intelligence. It knew she wouldn’t hurt it. She was there to help. It stood and walked away, a slight limp in its step. Nothing more.

Leda looked around her in wonder. A creature of olden days had just come to her and nothing more than a slight surprise filled her. She walked. It was all she seemed to do. But this time, fully aware of what was happening. She noticed the way the high, brown grasses brushed pat each other in the wind; how the snowflakes spiraled downward in their suicidal path; how the snow piled softly around the base of the few trees in high drifts. Her senses seemed heightened. She believed it was because of severe exhaustion.

Suddenly a thought hit her. She had no idea where Marten was. The soft shadow of a town loomed on the horizon. She headed towards it as she became aware of the bone chilling cold around her. Then a sharp pain flared through her arm. She looked down to see a gash in the cloak and dried blood was caked around it. The man had left a long, winding cut from her elbow to her wrist. She hugged the arm close to her and continued on. There was nothing she could do, but if she reached town, she might be able to buy bandages. She felt stupid for forgetting them, but the hurried way she had left had left plenty of room for mistakes.

A flash of red caught her eye as she walked. The vulmar was there, just inside the waving grasses. It slid through noiselessly, leaving only a small wave to mark its path. Then it slid out and stood beside Leda, who was staring. She had never expected the vulmar to follow her. It stood on its back legs and she picked her up. She didn’t know how she knew it was female, it was as if a voice had spoken inside her head. Instant warmth flooded her body, banishing the cold. The vulmar looked up at her gratefully. She set her back on the ground and she stayed there. When Leda began to walk, she followed. Leda looked at her, then stated plainly, “If you’re going to come, I must call you something.”

It looked at her with curious eyes. “Lireth.” Lireth was ancient for Lightening and it seemed to fit the young vulmar perfectly. They made quite a pair. The happy, rust colored vulmar and the sad, dark-clad girl.

The town grew closer.