Walking from one farmstead to the neighbouring one was a more pleasant journey when there wasn’t a foot of well-packed snow to trudge through. Even the dogs hadn’t wanted to venture out into the cold night, but there had been news.
Being the closest farmstead to the Aetherway Road, the Balmanos family saw many travellers pass through and even more in the winter time. Roughshod wayfarers stopped in for a bowl of warm porridge or stew and repaid the Balmanos with little trinkets, conversations, or news from beyond.
One such gift, a carved coin talisman hung from a length of cord, rested against Emora’s skin under her heavy wool cloak. The wood of the coin absorbed the heat of her skin and had been smoothed by many years of wear, mostly from before she had been given the coin.
The Balmanos family was small compared to most others in the area. Emora had one brother, four years her senior, named Briun. He preferred the travellers’ stories and lessons in other languages to the trinkets Emora collected. She rarely wore her finer pieces of jewellery so as not to make the other girls in the area jealous.
Briun walked at her side, a tall figure wrapped up just as warmly as his sister. Any time she stumbled he caught her to make sure she didn’t get a face full of snow on the way down.
Her pride prevented her from vocalising her thanks but Briun knew her well enough to know that she liked having him with her. There were wolves at night and their mother didn’t let Emora carry anything larger than a dagger when she went on visits to the other farmsteads. It wasn’t ladylike, she maintained.
Almost before they could see the lights of the next farmstead, the siblings heard the muted barking of sheepdogs. The animals ran towards them and after a few moments, their tails started wagging and the barking subsided to a friendly yipping. Emora reached out and patted one of the dogs behind his neck as they marched on.
Briun opened the gate to the Uldani farm and the dogs charged on ahead, leading them to the back door. Like the Balmanos farm, this farm house was two stories tall with large open rooms on the bottom floor for the animals to shelter inside during bad winters. The dogs, satisfied that their guests had reached their destination, settled quickly with tails thumping happily.
Emora pulled the corded rope beside the door and set the dull tones of the bell ringing through the house beyond. Small plumes of breath clouded the air as the Balmanos siblings waited.
The sweat beneath Emora’s clothes began to cool, and she resorted to stamping her feet in an attempt to distract from her mounting misery. She glanced at her brother, who was shaking.
At last, a bleary-eyed Ramina opened the door still draped with her heavy woollen blanket. She ushered them inside with a murmur and closed the door on the cold and dark outside. The fire in the hearth burned low, but its light and warmth was a blessing.
Before Ramina could ask what drove them out so late, Briun spoke in a whisper. “Wake everyone. Mount Hieton is burning.”
“The mountain is covered in snow, same as everywhere else,” Ramina said, rubbing her eyes. “You can’t believe everything those vagrants say.”
Bristling with frustration, Briun moved to the hall and called loudly, naming Ramina’s family members one by one in a tone of voice Emora had never heard from him before. More than the news of the burning mountain, Briun’s agitation frightened her.
Ramina threw her a cold look. “You can’t believe this story.”
Emora tried to remember exactly how the traveller described what he had seen at Mount Hieton. She had been too shocked by the stench of him, at the sight of his feet burned black and raw through his boots.
Emora took a deep breath, opened her mouth to try to convince Ramina, but no sound came out.