//------------------------------//
// Chapter Two - Snow Fall 
// Story: When The Snow Melts 
// by Bluespectre 
//------------------------------//


CHAPTER TWO


 


SNOW FALL

 

Weeks passed, the snow continuing to fall steadily in the forest, making the little house near enough near invisible in its white embrace. Rush sat by the fire as he warmed his hands, a contented smile on his face. He’d sold most of the bundled reeds on the last market day, stashing the coin under the old floorboard in the corner of his living room. He’d even managed to repair some of the gaps in the walls, and he had to admit that the difference was noticeable. The heat remained longer, and his home warmed up faster. He’d have to keep on top of maintenance more often in the future. When the thaw came, he’d get up on that roof and see about re-lining the lot. He shrugged to himself. He used to criticise others who ignored such an essential part of maintaining their homes, yet here he was, a prime culprit himself.
 
Rush rubbed at his shoulder, the old familiar ache playing up again. Wincing, he manipulated the joint to try and ease it up a little. It helped, but not much. The cold would seep into it and make the long winter months that much more of a chore. His mother's old medicine chest was low on supplies as well. He didn’t use it much except if one of the villagers sought him out for help, but there should be something in there for the pain he could use…
 
A crashing noise outside in the forest made him pause, his hand outstretched toward the chest. What was that? It was big, a bear perhaps?
 
There was another crash, nearer, and noises: screaming and the sound of a creature in distress. Standing up suddenly, his aches forgotten, Rush picked up his reed knife and buckled it to his side. You could never be too careful when living out here on your own. Bears could be around… maybe even wolves.
 
A stark cry of pain and the clatter of metal made his heart leap into his throat, for he recognised that sound all too well. Someone was in trouble, in pain, and he was damned if he’d stand there and do nothing. He looked around and spotted the seemingly archaic spear on the wall. He hadn’t used the thing since his younger days, except when he’d had to fend off an inquisitive mountain bear a few years ago, but that was all. Dear gods, had the war found him even here?
 
To hell with it! Rush grabbed the spear, pulled on his winter sandals, and hurried out the door into the night.
 
The sky was crystal clear, the stars twinkling like diamonds on their inky black background. The moon was full tonight, reflecting off the deep snow and making it surprisingly bright for the hour. The forest itself was in silence—had he been dreaming it? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d jumped at unknown sounds. The bamboo could make some strange noises, the local wildlife also adding its own eerie chorus. No, there had been the distinct sound of metal on metal. Someone had been in a fight, and it had been near. How near, and from what direction, was the real question.
 
A crack and thud from further down the slope to the west caught his attention, and he was off, running towards the sound, his spear bouncing on his shoulder as he went. The snow was shallower around here, yet it still hampered his movements to a degree. Such thoughts didn’t enter his mind. This was his home, his world, and he stretched his senses to their limit to try and detect any movement or sound that would lead him to the source of the sounds.
 
Rush quickly came upon the small clearing, his spear held ready as he’d been taught, but save for a multitude of footprints, there was nothing there. He lowered the weapon, looking around for any clues as to what had happened here. There was no shortage of evidence that he was in the right place, for there were tracks everywhere amongst the shattered lengths of bamboo. Mostly they were those of horses, but there was something else, something he hadn’t seen before. It was probably elk. He’d heard they had been migrating from further along the valley this year, but had never seen one himself. Rush certainly hadn’t seen any tracks that he could have identified as being from one either, and he knew most of the forest dwellers. Whatever they were from, it sent a shiver up his spine for some reason.
 
There was something… wrong about them.
 
Suddenly, rushing out here in the dead of night didn’t seem like such a good idea. There’d been something going on here, but it was gone, thank the gods. What the hell had he been thinking? Nothing good ever came of trying to help others. He never even received a thank you most of the time. More often, it only brought trouble to his door. Still, it was all over now.
 
Curiosity pulled at Rush, the way the light was darker in places, like something had been spilled. He looked closer. A thick, sticky fluid was spattered across the snow and on some of the swaying bamboo. Running his fingers through it, he held it up to have a better look. The smell hit him immediately, telling Rush all he needed to know.
 
Blood.
 
It was everywhere. He had walked into what looked to have been a battle site, albeit a small one, but where were the bodies? With all that blood, the noise and screaming, someone must have been hurt. Perhaps their friends had carried them off, or their attackers. In either case, there was nothing more he could do now, and would be putting himself in danger wandering around in the snow and looking for tracks. Shrugging to himself, Rush shouldered his spear and made to head off back to his home.
 
The cold nipped at his hand and face, making him pause to rub them to try and get some warmth back into his skin. There was really no hurry to get home. Whatever had happened here had been and gone—that was just the way of things. Mentally, he berated himself. “No good deed goes unpunished,” he muttered to himself.
 
Well, except for the box of course, but there were exceptions to every rule.
 
He held his breath, for something had moved. It was barely perceptible in the strange light, but it was there. On the edge of the clearing—again! Yes, there was definitely something there, and by the looks of it, it wasn’t human. Rush approached cautiously since a wounded animal could be a deadly foe. There was no sense in taking risks, especially when he had no idea what he was going to face here.
 
Whatever it was moved again, emitting a faint whinnying sound and a snort that caused a small puff of loose snow help locate the downed beast. Rush placed his spear down, taking out his lantern and tinder box. In short order, he had the wick lit and was able to better see the shape before him. The snow had covered everything. Although it couldn’t have been lying here long, there was still enough coverage to make the thing near enough invisible.
 
Rush dropped to his knees, hanging his lantern from a broken bamboo stump and began brushing at the snow. “It’s alright,” he said quietly. “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise.”
 
Wiping some of the fresh snow away, his hand touched something cold and hard; metal by the feel of it. Further investigation revealed a long blue covering, a blanket of some kind covering what looked like bronze or gold-plated armour, the wearer enclosed within. Rush held his breath involuntarily. Stretched out before him lay the bloodied and battered prostrate form of a large, white-coated horse… No, not a horse—she was different somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but then again, he was no expert on equine breeds. Still, he knew enough to realise that this was a female despite the expanse of armour and the blue blanket that covered her.
 
No saddle though, he realised. The rider had most likely taken it with him, leaving his stricken mount to succumb to the elements. Saddles were worth good money, after all.
 
Lying in the snow and half-buried as it was, if it hadn’t been for the armour and cover, she’d have been all but undetectable with her colouring. Her mane and tail, a pastel magenta in colour, hung limp and sodden with water. She’d been injured, and recently by the looks of the fresh blood on the wounds. Lying beside her was probably the cause of them too—a long lance with a golden blade was wedged beneath one of her hooves. Rush moved up to the equine’s head and brushed snow from her face, uncovering more cuts and gashes along her neck and muzzle.
 
He couldn’t believe anyone could injure so noble a creature. She was magnificent, pure white as the snow she lay in, with a look of strength and spirit about her. Right now, though, she was simply a creature that was hurt and needed his help. Quickly, Rush took off his coat and rolled it up, gently lifting the mare’s head and lowering it back down on the makeshift pillow. She didn’t offer any resistance, only lying there and panting, her eyes shut tight against the pain that wracked her body. Rush leaned down, stroking her mane.
 
“It’s alright, girl, don’t worry now. I’m going back to my home to fetch a sled for you. Just hold on until I get back.”
 
He ran as fast as he could through the snow back to his workshop, pulling off the years of detritus and other junk that he’d dumped on top of the sled since he’d used it during the last winter. Thank the gods it was still serviceable, if only just. Dragging it behind him, Rush cursed himself for not taking better care of his belongings. It was for exactly this sort of situation that he needed these things useable and in working order. He muttered to himself on the way back down the hill. When had he become so slovenly, so lazy? He’d never been like this before, not since… He spat—there wasn’t any time for reminiscing about things he couldn’t change. Rush pushed himself hard and re-entered the clearing, sweating and panting for breath despite the cold air.
 
The mare was right where he’d left her.
 
“Right then,” he muttered under his breath. “Let’s get that off you first, or I’ll never be able to move you.”
 
He knew the mare wouldn’t be able to understand him, but he’d always found that talking to animals helped put them at ease. Perhaps the simple act of speaking softly and showing attention to them demonstrated that you had no intention of harming them. Horses were noted for being flighty and scatty things, and he had no reason to think even a trained war horse would be that much different.
 
Carefully, he felt around her until he could locate and undo the armours buckles, but there were none to find. It was as if she’d been virtually poured into the blasted stuff. Scratching his head, he moved the sled toward her, concluding that if he were to wedge the sled beside her, he might be able to pull her onto it using the blue blanket and slide her onto the thing. It could work, but the combined weight of the mare and her armour would be phenomenal. He’d just have to try his damnedest or else she was likely to pass away before his very eyes. Rush looked down at her. There was no way in hell he was going to see such a beautiful creature die in his forest, not whilst he drew breath.
 
The blue cloth was surprisingly strong, covering the white mare’s back, sides, and rump. Taking a good handful of the material in each fist, Rush began to pull. The strain began to show on his face, but he wouldn’t give up, he couldn’t… goddess give him strength…
 
With a sudden jerk, the mare’s body moved, sliding across the snow where she lay and onto the sled. Her head was dragging behind her, and Rush quickly manoeuvred the prone form until she was completely on. Not standing on ceremony, Rush took the ropes he normally used for strapping down lumber and tied the mare down as gently as he could. He stood back, ensuring that she was secure. It wasn’t a great job, but it would do until he could get her home. She wouldn’t be falling off at any rate.
 
Just as he was about to leave, Rush glanced behind him. The golden spear was still there in the churned up snow and mud. It seemed wrong just to leave it there. The brutal yet elegant-looking weapon would pose a danger should anyone stumble onto it. Best to bring it back just in case—he could always sell the thing on the next market day. There was always someone looking for weapons: the adventurous types, the lord’s warriors… or bandits. There were always bandits these days. They were all over the hills like an infectious disease.
 
Shrugging, he tied the spear next to his own, laying them across the rear stay of the sled and, with a deep breath, began the uphill climb back home.