//------------------------------// // Chapter Five - Blossom // Story: When The Snow Melts // by Bluespectre //------------------------------// CHAPTER FIVE   BLOSSOM   Rush woke with a start. He’d finished Snow’s grooming and replaced the poultices and bandages, but somewhere along the line, he must have fallen asleep. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and forehead, staring at the resulting dampness on his sleeve. It was drenched in sweat.   He must have had a nightmare, and a bad one at that. Rush couldn’t recall much of it, just that he was running from something, something that he had to escape at all costs. Damn it, it was probably that blasted horseman who had chased him in the forest. What he couldn’t understand was how he’d managed to somehow wrap himself up in the blue blanket that he’d washed and hung up to dry near the fire. His own was still covering Snow, but this one had definitely been drying over one of the rafters when he’d last seen it. Hadn’t it? He shook his head. By the gods, he was losing his mind!   Rush felt the blanket. It was mostly dry at least. He’d managed remove the majority of stains, but it would never again be the beautifully embroidered cloth it had once been. He examined the images sewn into it: the delicate gold and silver threads that depicted horses that pranced beneath a…   A large golden sun…   He hurried over to the corner of the room and levered the loose floorboard. In his haste, he almost dropped the precious object that tumbled from its oil cloth covering: the small box. It couldn’t be…   “My gods,” he breathed, staring at the engraving. It was the same in every detail: the horses, the sun, the hills… they were all there. Rush plopped down on his rump, shocked and confused. What did this mean? Was it coincidence? He looked across at Snow, sleeping quietly in a dream world all of her own. Rush found himself staring at her, that pure white coat, the sunburst emblem on her flank. He lifted the blanket, comparing the markings on it, the box and his mysterious equine patient. There was no doubt about it.   “Who are you?” he whispered.   Snow shifted slightly, murmuring in her sleep. Rush scratched his head and took another look at the box and the odd writing. If only she could tell him what it read! Her owner probably could, but what if it was his box? The warriors of this land would cut you down soon as look at you, and nobody would question it. The rule of law here was the sword. It always had been and probably always would be. There was a hammering at the door.   Rush’s heart skipped a beat, and he dropped the box, catching it just as it was about to hit the floor. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, he quickly wrapped it back in its oil cloth. The door shook in its frame under a second hammering. “Rush? You in there? Are you alright? It's Nasta. Rush, for the gods' sake, open the door!”   Pushing the floorboard back down, Rush threw the blanket up into the rafters and opened the door a few inches. “Nasta?”   His mother's apprentice looked at him like he’d seen a ghost. “Great gods, Rush! What’s been going on up here? Where’ve you been? Don’t you know what’s been happening?”   Rush looked past Nasta at the large group of villagers standing around with makeshift weapons and lanterns. It must be later than he’d thought. “Nasta, what the hell are you talking about? I’ve been working as normal, that’s all. If this is about your daughter—”   “It's got nothing to do with her!” Nasta spluttered. “There’ve been attacks in the village! People have been hurt. They think it's forest demons!”   “What a load of crap!” Rush spat. “Superstitious nonsense. It's probably wolves or bears again. I’ve told you about this before. You never listen, any of you!”   One of the villagers strode up. It was Cray, the local blacksmith. “Wolves? They wouldn’t come near the village, and the bears are hibernating,” he rumbled in his gruff voice. “I think you’d better come with us and see for yourself.”   Go with them? And leave Snow?! “NO!” he exclaimed, the word leaving his mouth louder than he had intended.   “What?”   “I…I can’t, I’ve got work to do,” Rush blurted out. “You go and chase your wolf and leave me be. I don’t want to get involved.”   Cray’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Why you—!”   Nasta pushed him out of the way. “Look here, Rush, for the gods’ sake, this isn’t another blasted wolf attack. It’s one of the girls this time…”   Something in his eyes, something…   “Who?”   Nasta’s mouth opened and shut before he looked away slightly. “Rush, I’m sorry…”   “You’re sorry? What do you mean you’re sorry?” A thought suddenly struck him. “Oh no. Oh gods no. It's Blossom…”   Nasta nodded. Rush felt the blood drain from his face before sinking to his knees, his voice barely more than a whisper.   “No…”   Cray stepped forward. “Look, Rush, I know you’re hurting now, but we need your help to find this thing. Nobody knows the hills like you do, you living here and all.”   Rush felt tears streaming down his face and tried his best to hide them. He didn’t want these rats to see him cry, but Blossom, his beloved niece. She was the last one of his family left. His mother, his father, even his brother… all gone.   “I’ll… get my things.”   Nasta went to push his way into the house, but Rush slammed it shut in his face. Inside, he grabbed his winter gear, spear, and reed knife. Something insidious was happening in the forest, his forest, his home. Oh gods, Blossom… She was so young. Determination grabbed him. He had to see for himself; he had to know.   As he was about to leave, he walked over to Snow and pulled the blanket in around her, and as always, placed a bowl of fresh water and greens for her in case she came around. He hadn’t seen her stir once since he’d brought her here, and it worried him, but right now there were other priorities.   “I’ll be gone for a little while, my lady,” he said quietly, stroking her mane. “I’ll lock the door, but keep quiet, yes? I’ll be as quick as I can.”   Rush exited, pushing past Nasta and locking the door solidly before slipping the heavy key into his shirt. “I want to see her, Nasta.”   Nasta shook his head. “I don’t think—”   “I said I want to see her! Damn it, man, she’s the last family I have… had.”   Cray placed his hand on Nasta’s shoulder. “I’ll take him. You go with the others, my friend.”   Nasta shook his head. “No, Cray. Thanks friend, but I’d better do it. Willow would never forgive me.”   The blacksmith nodded, turning his meaty body about and trudged off back down the hill to the rest of the villagers, who had set up a makeshift camp.   Rush had never seen Nasta like this, so… serious. He walked ahead of him. “Come on then, let’s get this over with.”   The deadpan voice wasn’t like the normally jovial and over-animated Nasta either. Rush shook his head. All he wanted now was to see Blossom, to see… to know.   On the worn path through the forest to the village, Nasta never spoke once. Rush wasn’t bothered—he didn’t know what to say in any case. He’d cared for his niece but hadn’t seen much of her since his mother had died. The two had just sort of drifted apart. He still thought about her, though. Now he wished he’d spent more time with her, asked her about her life, her plans, her dreams.   It was too late now, far, far too late. There would be no more dreams.   “Come in.”   Nasta walked up the polished stone steps onto the wooden porch, slipping off his sandals before entering the house proper. Rush had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed the walk through the village until Nasta had spoken. All the way here, he’d kept wondering if this were all a dream, a mistake, that someone had just got it wrong. At any moment, Blossom would come running out to hug her old uncle, and he’d muss her hair as she excitedly told him all about how she was going to learn medicine like her nan, how she’d been fishing and on and on and on…   “Rush?”   He looked up. Nasta’s eyes were red and puffy. Gods knew what he looked like. He hadn’t had that shave he’d been promising himself, and now he was here to see his niece while looking like a filthy tramp.   The room was sparsely decorated. There were a few flower arrangements here and there. A lantern sat in the corner and a large painted banner hung from the end wall with the family's motto painted on it: Duty first, family second, self last. He’d never agreed with it, for it came across as pretentious nonsense to him. Putting duty first? What had duty gotten them? A slain father and a golden handshake from the local lord who couldn't even remember his bloody name, the self-righteous rat.   Rush’s eyes were drawn to the red and white quilt on the floor, a smaller white sheet covering the face of the bed's occupant. His blood froze in his veins as he stared at it. There was no mistaking the raven black hair spilling out from beneath it.   Nasta looked away as Rush lifted the cloth from Blossom’s face. She looked so peaceful, like she was simply resting and would jump up at any moment to surprise him. He knelt beside her, reaching out tentatively to touch her forehead.   She was as cold as winter’s morning.   Rush’s eyes were drawn to the glint of metal. Gently, he brushed Blossom’s hair to one side to see. It was the red dolphin hair clip he’d bought her for her ninth birthday, still fixed in that fall of shining ebony she was so proud of. His gift had always been one of her most treasured possessions, and it made his heart a little warmer whenever he saw her wearing it. It reminded Rush that even in his self-imposed isolation, even with all his distrust and dislike of the village, one still remained who remembered him. And loved him.   Tears stung his eyes as he looked away, gulping air to try and keep the sobs at bay that threatened to overwhelm him. His niece, his poor beloved niece. How could anyone, anything hurt something so precious, this delicate life that—   “Rush? Come on, let’s go. There’s nothing we can do here for her now.”   Rush’s fingers dug into his knees as he grit his teeth. “Who or what did this, Nasta? How did it happen?”   Nasta shook his head sadly. “We don’t know. She’d been out with her friends near the pond, playing. When she didn't come home, we went looking for her, and found her… like this.”   Rush went to lift up the quilt but stopped, his hand half outstretched.   “Don’t.” He looked up to Nasta, who had his eyes closed. “You don’t want to see, trust me”   “Then tell me,” Rush said levelly. “What did this?”   Nasta took a deep breath. “She’d been…” He held his hands up to his face. “Something’s been…”   “Wolves?”   “No. Some think it may have been, but there were tracks there. I’m no expert, Rush, but they weren’t wolf tracks, or bear. They looked like hoof prints to me, but not like any horse I’ve ever seen. I just don't know.”   A flush of cold ran through Rush. He knew without any doubt in his mind that it was one of those things from the clearing that had attacked Snow. It had to be. What it was, though, he had no idea. Did it have something to do with the rider who had chased him the other day? So many questions, so many…   “I want to find the thing that did this, Nasta. I want it dead.” He stood and gripped his reed knife, his hand shaking in fury and grief. “I want to kill the damned thing myself, do you hear me? It’s MINE!”   Nasta nodded silently, then turned to walk out the room. “Let’s go, Rush. The others will be waiting for us.”