Winter Haven's Dyrpath - 1. Chapter 1

The sound jolted me from sleep. I held my breath, my heart thudding against my chest as I stared up at the knotty pine of the roof above me. Silence and wind blowing in the trees, the odd creak of wood, then the whoosh of my trapped breath escaping me was all I heard. It couldn’t be out there. It must have been a sound my mind made up, a nightmare phantasm that sent sweat slicking my spine.

Still… I pushed aside my cover, climbing off my pallet and inching toward the window. The freezing air chilled my flesh beneath my damp nightshirt, and the rough boards under my toes didn’t hold a speck of warmth from the fireplace underneath. Peering through the thick glass of the tiny window, I stared out. The night was dark, the lights of the stars shrouded by misty clouds and the moon a slim sickle.

I sighed soundlessly in relief, then crept over to the pitcher and basin. I trickled a little water inside the basin, the cupped a hand in the deep bowl and poured the water over the wrist of one hand before repeating on the other. I wiped my wet fingers over my forehead and patted my cheeks. Dipping my fingers and swirling them in the fingertip of water, I dripped it on the back of my neck.

“Whoo. Youuuu.” Peck. Peck. Peck. The cold water turned to ice because the call came again, followed by taps of beaks on the glass. I shuddered and quaked, clutching the back of my neck and wrapping my other arm around my chest.

“No, no, no.” I clapped my hand over my mouth, cutting off the words, listening hard. No one moved, thank the souls.

But now I knew it wasn’t a dream, and if anyone else heard that call outside my window, they’d know what it was. They’d know it was here for me.

Or they’d blame me anyway, even if they didn’t. My breath came in short pants behind my hand, and I trembled, part cold and part fear, as I strained both my ears for the silent swish of wings I knew I’d never hear or the ability to move. Movement came first, of course.

Tears burned hot in my eyes, the only thing warm about me, and I swallowed the sob back. I’d hoped to stay a little longer, but the fates weren’t on my side. Pulling on the leggings that went under my outer pants, I hurriedly tied them then tucked in my nightshirt. I’d need layers, so my two shirts went over top, and I belted a woven scarf around my waist twice before tying it. Another, a gift from two farms back, covered my head and neck so I could keep my ears, neck, and face warm. I curled up on the pallet and pulled warm, woolen socks out of my boots to cover my feet but left those off.

My coat was not as thick as I’d like, or the wind would make me wish for, but it seemed calm; I might get lucky and find a new place before a whiteout overtook me again. Rustling broke the silence, and I darted on my stocking covered toes to the window again. Peering out, I stared into the dim night.

Could I risk it?

I mocked myself, pursing my lips. If I tried to stay until the light of day, it would only go worse for me. This was no ordinary owl, and she was not going to be scared off by the lights of the sun’s rays. Her call of whooo might sound simple, but the bad luck would be put on me.

I was the master’s last apprentice, and he would not keep an ill-omen. And an owl calling at night, tapping on my window, was an ill-omen he could not ignore, not at his age.

The beating I’d get before the booting would make it too difficult to travel in the snow, so it was best to leave now, I reasoned. Besides, maybe I could pilfer a little something in the pantry. I’d earned enough, having almost two weeks of slaving away in the work room with naught but a broth and slice of bread without any spread. Ridiculous for the amount of casting I’d facilitated.

Bundling my spare pants, socks, and a woolen hat the young mistress at a house a few stops back had given me, I wrapped it up in the cover and folded the ends in tight to make a roll that fit perfect when tied with the string I’d put under my pallet.

Nobody called me a fool, or underprepared. Ill-luck, sure. The dark hair, bright as a raven’s wing, with the pale skin of a snowflake, And the animals.

At first, the call of the owl. I learned after the first time I was driven off to be wary, and the beatings I’d taken and the second and third farm were enough to convince me that getting gone was more important than staying warm or getting three hot meals.

With my bundle slung over my shoulder and my boots in hand, I crept down to the ladder one-handed and across the floor toward the door. The other two apprentices were enjoying the warmth, huddled together by the fire.

They didn’t twitch until I opened the door and the freezing draft swirled in along with several snowflakes that twisted and danced in the air. I stepped out quickly and latched the door behind me. That was it, I was stuck outside.

Scraping distracted me, and I glared up, shivers already wracking me as I hurried to shove my feet into my boots. I tied the laces with stiffening fingers, and then took off away from the house, away from the ill-omen that never brought anyone any bad luck but me.