Closed Longer Lullabies

[Solemn Warborn]

Summer, the 51st, 516 AV Longer Lullabies Solemn was a broken man. You could see it in his eyes. They didn’t dance and shine the way everyone else’s did in Avanthal. Granted, he wasn’t Vantha, but his eyes still lacked the luster and brightness most people’s had. His were dull and empty. They were broken eyes. This brokenness seemed evident elsewhere. His shoulders were always slumped, but this may have had more to do with his sloth nature. Every motion was slow and, even if it didn’t appear it, deliberate, well thought out, and carefully considered beforehand so no energy was wasted. But his stride was the plod of a man who had lost much, and he had. It was no surprise he was broken. Twice abandoned, once as a child by his mother and the second time by his sister when she had kicked him out of her house and out of her life, he had little trust now to give anyone. It had made it even worse that he was a Kelvic and he had been bonded to his sister when she had sent him away. Pain and confusion beyond description had accompanied the breaking of that bond. Still, even the broken can hope, and Solemn had known hope as an intimate friend from a very young age. What Solemn hoped for most was to reunite with his mother and sister. The day his mother left, she had promised they would meet again one day, and that oath had given him hope. No such promise had come when he and his sister had parted ways. But hope was hope, and being what it was made it nearly indestructible, even in the most broken of individuals. It was hope that had him on his way to Snowsong Hold today, specifically the Hall of Aural Creation. There had only been one thing on his mind since he had awoken that morning: Hiberna’s voice. He had dreamed of lullabies, and every one of them had been sung by her. Though he never let her know, he visited her often, listening to her voice from a distance. It was his lack of trust that had caused him to move out of the last place he had called home. While he had felt welcome there, he didn’t trust Padrin and Katrinaria to care about him forever, so he had severed his ties to them and moved into the Stables as most grooms did. What he hadn’t counted on was Padrin and Katrinaria’s dedication to their friend. Try as he did to push them away, they didn’t let him. He hadn’t counted on how much they had come to love him. They were good people. The air felt different today than it had for a while. Despite the increasing cold, the air felt still, and somewhere deep inside of Solemn, his animal instincts rebelled against his current course and demanded that he run and hide. Something vicious was coming. The stillness had a taste to it and a presence, suffocating and powerful. Shoving those instincts down, Solemn continued on. If there was one thing Solemn cared about more than his life, it was Hiberna. He would face whatever was coming. Kicking the snow off his shoes and stepping into the Hall, the first thing Solemn noticed was the warmth. There were more people in the Hall today than there usually were. In Avanthal, if one was smart, one wore multiple layers. And if one wasn’t smart, there were plenty of reminders, and one learned quickly. Solemn had plenty of layers and shed the outermost, his parka, mittens, scarf, and balaclava, quickly to avoid sweating. Hanging them on the hooks near the door, Solemn removed his boots to keep from tracking snow through the Hall. He made his way down the Hall, listening to the music that came from behind the doors as he passed by.

[Solemn Warborn]

From behind the first door on the left came the sound of a stringed instrument, a rapid melody dancing off the strings. There was no one in the room to the right. Its door was open to let everyone know it was available for use. The room beyond had a patient teacher trying to give lessons to a young Vantha who had just received his first drum, tom toms of some sort. He wouldn’t listen to what she told him, but music was in his blood, as it seemed to be in most Snowsongs’. Even with no training, the child beat out a furious tattoo that it seemed he would be able to keep up forever. Solemn moved on. The next two rooms up the Hall had beautiful voices singing behind them, but both were just warming up. Solemn could appreciate beauty in a voice, regardless of what was being sung, but he preferred to have a story accompany the song. And then Solemn found what he was looking for or, rather, listening for. It was Hiberna’s voice. She was talking, but even when she wasn’t singing, her voice had a musical quality to it. Someone, younger than Hiberna by the sound of her voice, responded. “I’m just not getting it, Hib. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” Solemn smiled. He had been the first one to call her Hib. He was glad she was still going by that. Hiberna’s voice, low and calm and always lilting, assured the girl. “You just have to wait for your voice to mature. It’s already such a beautiful voice. As long as you keep practicing, it will only get better.” “Will it ever be as pretty as yours?” “Twice as pretty. And your face will be a dozen times more beautiful.” “Do you really think so?” “I know so. Now, shall we get back to singing?” There must have been some sort of affirmation, because she asked, “What song should we sing?” “How about ‘Into the Storm?’” “How did I know you were going to say that?” “Because you know it’s my favorite.” ‘Into the Storm’ was probably one of the most ancient of Vantha songs from a time after the Valterrian but before the creation of Avanthal. It was either created on the journey to find their new home or as a commemoration to the former after the city had been established. Solemn imagined it was the first as the song was written to the beat of a march. Hiberna’s voice came in again. “You take the melody. I’ll sing a harmony. Listen to the separation between the two and how it changes and pat attention to how all of that makes you feel.” The younger girl began the song, her high voice taking the melody at its pulsing rate. Solemn could see that if her voice didn’t drop as she matured how she would be one breathtaking soprano. It took Hiberna several bars to enter as she found the other girl’s key and tempo. Due only to Hiberna’s absence, those few bars were the most agonizing ones Solemn had ever heard. After what felt like an eternity to him, Hiberna built in, starting so softly that anyone unaccustomed to her voice wouldn’t know it was there, but Solemn knew her voice. It was as familiar to him as his own heart beat that raced as he heard her voice. Slowly, the racing of his heart subsided to match the underlying beat of the song. That had been an observation of Hib’s. Solemn became content as the song continued. Whatever instinct that had been bothering him before paled in comparison to the pleasure and the loneliness he felt when listening to her voice, and his fear was soon forgotten. All through out, Hiberna toyed with various harmonies, so her young friend could learn the play the notes held as they weaved around each other like elegant dancers. When they came to the end of the song, Solemn hummed it with them. When no one’s left to carry The weary Vantha who fall That is where we’ll tarry To build our Avanthal. There was a moment of silence as the last harmony faded from the room whose acoustics it seemed were designed to make the songs within last for all history. “That was amazing, Hib,” the girl burst out. “How did you do that?” Hiberna laughed. “Half of it was you.” “Anyone can sing a melody.” “Not anyone can sing it that well, Kat.” Solemn sat up. Kat? As in Katrinaria? It had been too long since he had seen her if he couldn’t recognize her voice. She must havegrown up quite a bit over the last year. But what was she doing here? Not that he voice wasn’t pretty, but she was a Frostfawn. He began to feel suspicious and uncomfortable. What were the chances that Katrinaria and Hiberna had randomly met up? No. Katrinaria had planned this, and Solemn was certain that Katrinria would make him the subject of some her and Hiberna’s conversations. She had previously tried to get Solemn to make contact with his sister again.

[Solemn Warborn]

Despite his mistrust of Katrinaria’s motives, Solemn stayed. He wanted to hear more of Hiberna’s voice. Katrinaria sounded like she was beaming at the compliment, but she knew how to play modest. “You’re just saying that to keep me coming back.” “Of course I want you to come back. I like having someone to show off to.” Both giggled at this. “But honestly,” Hiberna continued, “you do have a beautiful voice. You should use it more often, even if it’s just in your Hold.” “How do you know I don’t sing in my own Hold?” “I’ve visited Frostfawn plenty of times, and not once have I heard your beautiful voice being used to cheer the place up.” “Plenty of times, eh?” Katrinaria had laid her trap with subtleness, but now that her prey was caught, she was closing it quickly. “Hiberna Snowsong,” she exclaimed in shock, “have you been stalking someone in my hold?” Hiberna recognized the trap too late and took the age-old, honorable way out of denying everything. “I am stalking no one.” “It isn’t him, is it?” Solemn and Hiberna both knew exactly who Katrinaria was talking about: Solemn himself. Leave it to her to make Solemn the subject of conversation less than an hour into her meeting with Hiberna. Solemn shook his head. He imagined Hiberna’s eyes were red right now, the color they were when she was angry. “I told you I’m not stalking anyone.” There was a brief pause while Hiberna composed herself. “What did you think of the harmonies?” Knowing she would get no further on the subject today and actually being interested in her music lesson, Katrinaria gushed out, “It was gorgeous. Every emotion I thought I should feel, I felt even stronger than I usually do. Especially the part about those who were lost. I’ve never felt so sad.” There was a smile in Hiberna’s voice. “Part of that is the words. Whoever wrote them meant to bring those emotions to your mind.” “But I’ve sang the song hundreds of times, and I’ve never felt the way I felt this time. What was that harmony?” “Most of it was dissonance. Two notes that are so close that they are almost the same.” “Dissonance?” “Yes. Do you know why it’s so sorrowful? It’s because the two voices have grown so far apart that they’ve almost found each other again. The only problem is neither knows it.” Solemn caught his breath. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about harmony or herself and him. Tears threatened, and he caught his breath again and calmed himself until he knew he could hold the tears back. There was silence from inside the room. Then Hiberna’s voice came gently. “I’m sorry, Kat. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” “It’s alright. I’m just crying, because it’s so beautiful. Besides, I’m not the only one crying. You got yourself as well.” “Yeah. Just a bit,” Hiberna admitted. “I think it’s for a different reason though.” There was another silence. After a while, Hiberna spoke again. “Do you want to try again? This time, you take the harmony.” They launched into the song again, Katrinaria tripping and stumbling over the concept of harmony like a puppy who didn’t know how big its paws were. Solemn slumped against the wall and, as the song repeated again and again so Katrinaria could get more practice, fell asleep. The exhaustion of his long night before was too much to resist. Once again, he dreamed of Hiberna’s voice.

[Solemn Warborn]

Solemn awoke in a panic. Something was coming. He reached for his shashka before he remembered he hadn’t brought it with him. The animal instincts in him told him to run. Leaping to his feet, he looked around, trying to identify where he was. Heart pounding in his chest, his hands curled into fists as he realized he had no place to run. Then, through his confusion, came Hiberna’s voice, singing one of the old lullabies. Solemn held on to that. She was his anchor, and slowly, he calmed enough to fight the instinct to run. With a few more minutes, he remembered where he was and why had had come. With a few more minutes, he was in complete control of himself, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of some impending doom. No one else seemed to notice that something was wrong. Whatever ingenuity people had that helped them survive had dulled their instinct. Two young women, one holding a violin, were chatting with each other and laughed about something that had happened during their practice. All down the hall, everyone was continuing their songs, unaware of what lay outside coming for them. Solemn couldn’t explain what it was. He just knew something was coming, and with how rapidly his panic was growing, it was coming for them soon. Steeling himself, he placed himself between whatever was coming and the two people he cared about most. He heard it first, mostly because he was looking for something and every sense was on the highest alert. The noise started low and distant, an unrecognizable howl, but as it grew closer and built in pitch and volume, one by one, the people practicing noticed it and stopped what they were doing. The two women in the hall stopped talking, and their eyes went to the front of the Hall where the sound was originating beyond. “What is that?” Katrinria asked. Hiberna shushed her, and everyone waited silently, listening to the noise approach. It came far more rapidly than any of them anticipated. With a vicious howl, the wind swept over them, and the first gust shook the entire building so fiercely that something in the structure cracked. Katrinaria shrieked. The front door of the Hall was blown wide open, and flurries of snow whipped down the hallway, biting Solemn’s skin as they struck him. Tucking his head down against one shoulder, he raised his other arm to protect his bare face from the sting of the flakes. Even the two Vantha women in the hall with him did the same, and they were marked by Morwen. Neither of them moved to close the door though they were closer than Solemn was. There was only one thing Solemn knew, and that was that the door had to be closed. Kicking his legs into action, he tried to run toward the door, but his legs weren’t built for running. Not to mention, the wind that battered him seemed to counter any forward movement. The result was nothing more than a slow shuffle. Only the fact that he passed the two woman nearly lost in the haze of white no more than arm’s reach away let him know he was making progress. Step by step, he forced his way deeper into the cold, every step sapping more of his strength. Every step he took forward seemed to lend more strength to the wind until Solemn was certain he would collapse. It made him all the more grateful when he finally stumbled into the wall. Reaching blindly to his left, his quickly numbing hand struck the thick wood of the door. It was swung wide open but was making jerking, random movement with each gust that blew by. Wrapping his hand around the edge of the door, he held firmly and readied himself to pull it closed. His grip, due to some advantages of his sloth nature, was nearly unbreakable, but the strength in his arms and shoulders were not enough to pull it shut against the wind. Mustering every bit of force he could, he threw his full weight backward and wrenched on the door as hard as possible. A particularly vehement gust lashed the door in the opposite direction at the same moment, jarring his shoulder and dragging him off balance. Seeing the futility of his actions, Solemn tried another approach. A very ungraceful twirl, more like a drunken stumble than anything else, put him behind the door. That much, at least, he could be thankful for; being behind the door had removed him from the brunt of the wind. Crouching low and placing both palms against the door, he plowed it shut, step by step until at last the wind blasting into the Hall was cut off. Slumping against the door, he sank to the ground, his exhaustion overwhelming him. So that was what his instincts had been trying to warn him against. A storm. But this was a storm worse than any other Solemn had ever encountered. Already, from the brief exposure, the tip of his nose and the whole length of all his fingers were numb. The inhabitants of the practice rooms were emptying out and looking at the aftermath in wonder. Had he not been so frightened and tired, Solemn would have noticed how beautiful it was. Little flurries of snow were spinning through the air and settling gently toward the ground. At the far end of the hall, a small knee-high drift had already gathered, and the entire floor was covered with a light dusting of snow. The two women who had been standing in the hall burst into laughter. Solemn was glad they were finding some sort of enjoyment in this, because he did not. This storm wasn’t giving up anytime soon. They were trapped here, and he was cold.

[Solemn Warborn]

Bracing his legs against the floor, Solemn pushed against the door. With a ferocity known only to the lifeless phenomena of the world, the wind continued to batter the door which in turn buffeted Solemn in its own search for solace from the storm. The mechanism meant to hold the door shut had broken free from the doorjamb with the first gust, and the snow on the floor was affording him no traction. He was about to lose his fight with the door when someone ran up and pulled a heavy bench over to the door. The person struggled with it, but once it was close enough, Solemn caught the edge of the seat and slid it over against the door. Slowly, Solemn stood to his feet and stared at the door. Somebody hugged him from the side, and Solemn felt his body warming from her contact. Katrinaria spoke to him. “What was that, Sol?” He realized how much he was shivering when he looked down at her and saw her body shaking from holding him. It took him a moment to realize she was shivering a bit too. “It’s a storm, the worst one I’ve ever seen.” Worry danced in her eyes as a shimmering green. “Maybe I should get home.” Solemn shook his head. “Nobody’s going out in that. Even you’re shivering, and you have a mark from our Queen.” She tightened her grip around him. “It’s been a long time since I felt cold.” Wrapping an arm around her, he tried to share what warmth he had. It didn’t work. He was a heat sink. He wasn’t built to warm himself, not in this climate, but that didn’t matter to Katrinaria. She had as much concern for him as he had for her, and she was more than willing to share her warmth. Solemn felt his distrust of her motives returning. His concern and fear had momentarily disarmed him, but he remembered now how quick she had been to broach the subject of Solemn in her conversation with Hiberna. He separated himself from her embrace and held her at arm’s length. “What are you doing here, Katrinaria?” The green left her eyes immediately, and her eyes began to dance between their various colors. That could only mean one thing. Mischief. She was always in it. It was rare that her eyes weren’t doing this little color dance. “Nothing,” was her answer, but Sol knew better. “You’re lying,” he accused. “Well, of course, I’m doing something. I’m here doing vocal practice with Hiberna.” “And I suppose it’s just coincidence that you happened to end up practicing with her of all people.” “Of course not, Sol. I specifically sought her out, because you always spoke so highly of her.” Beating around the bush was getting Sol nowhere, so he made his accusation outright. “You sought her out to talk about me.” Katrinaria pouted. “You’re no fun when you know my schemes.” “What’s going on out there, Solomon?” Solemn had been among the Snowsongs long enough to be recognized. Solomon was a common mispronunciation of the name Hib had given him, but Solemn had never bothered correcting anyone. That took too much effort. He turned to address the young woman who had spoken, the one who had been standing with the violinist. “We’re trapped.” He hated to admit it, because that meant he was stuck here with Hiberna. Not that he didn’t want to be near her. He just hadn’t wanted Hiberna to know he was there. That’s when he remembered that she was there and that nearly everyone had stepped out of the practice room. Taking the risk, he peered down the hall and saw her standing in the doorway of the room her and Katrinaria had occupied. Her eyes burned a bright red, and she was glaring right at him. He knew her anger was directed at him. The young woman objected. “We’re marked, Solomon.” “And that would protect you for some time,” he admitted, “but the exposure to this cold would get you eventually. With how hard that storm is blowing, there’s no guarantee you’ll get to your destination. It’d be easy to get lost, and if you got lost out in that, you would die.” “So we’re stuck here?” He nodded. “For how long?” Solemn shrugged. “Until the storm lets up.” Something, likely that animal instinct, told him that wouldn’t be today. “We’d better make this place comfortable for now.”

[Solemn Warborn]

The entranceway to the Hall of Aural Creation was quickly turned into a suitable place to wait out the storm. Cleaning supplies had been tucked away in a closet down the hall, and among the things there was a wide broom. Solemn used that to sweep the snow away out of the entryway and into the hall. He had put his parka back on to stave off the cold, but everyone else had remained as they were. They were Vantha and marked by Morwen. All of them had warmed up already from the initial blast of cold. Solemn’s fingertips were still numb, and the parts of his fingers he could feel he wished he couldn’t. There was a sharp, stabbing pain that blended into an uncomfortable tingle before it met complete numbness. His mittens weren’t warming his hands nearly fast enough. There was a fireplace in the entryway to cut the chill of the cold, and being as frozen as he was, Solemn had gathered everyone around it. The extra body heat from the already warm Vantha was something Sol wouldn’t mind leaching from them. They wouldn’t notice anyhow. For the moment, warmth was the most valuable resource. Solemn had taken stock of the fuel supply; there would be enough wood to last them late into tomorrow, if used sparingly. He was hoping that wouldn’t be necessary. Hiberna hadn’t stopped glaring at him since she had found out he was there, and the red had never left her eyes. She didn’t come near him. In fact, she stayed on the complete opposite side of the circle of the furniture that had been brought out and spread in front of the fire. Much of the furniture was not built for comfort or sleeping. It was designed to keep singers and musicians in proper posture, but several Vantha had decided to use some of the chairs and benches for beds. Solemn had taken up a spot against a wall to one side of the fireplace; Katrinaria, the spot just next to him. If there was anything worse than this, Solemn didn’t know what it was. Small stretches of time near Hiberna were manageable, but the longer he was close to her the worse he felt. The old tattered ends of their severed bond reach out, trying to unite with its other half, and with its efforts, brought up all the suffocating emotion that had come with its breaking. He held on to the less painful of those and stifled the others with them. Among those emotions were love, loneliness, and hope. Love, because Hiberna was his sister. There was no one in this world Solemn loved more, and he was certain she loved him too. No matter how red her eyes were and how angry she was, she could not hate him, and knowing that made everything alright. The loneliness wasn’t a pleasant emotion, but he had experience with it. It was familiar territory. He had been abandoned too many times for it not to be familiar, and somehow that was comforting. Hope was Solemn’s most powerful emotion, his greatest strength. He held to it the most tightly, and it never seemed to fail him. So far, his hope had always been rewarded. When his mother had left him, Hiberna had stepped in. When Hiberna sent him away, the Frostfawns had opened their doors to him. Even the broken could hope. The day was coming to its end, and everyone present had resigned themselves to the fact they were stuck in the Hall overnight. Each did their best to make themselves comfortable, despite the lack of the beds each was used to. Hiberna had laid her coat on the ground and was now curled up on it, facing away from the fire, either to shelter her eyes from the fire or to ignore Solemn. Katrinaria had her head against Sol’s shoulder, her eyes stuck now on a vibrant green that danced with the fire. “Sol, will you sing me a lullaby?” “Aren’t you getting a bit old for that?” He felt her shrug. “Nobody’s ever too old for a lullaby. It doesn’t have to make me fall asleep. It’s just nice to hear music.” Solemn couldn’t fault that point of view. “Alright. Do you have a particular one you’d like to hear?” “How about your mom’s?” Taking a deep breath, Solemn nodded. It was an easy enough request. He knew every lyric of the song and every note. He let out the breath, drew in another, and began his mother’s lullaby. In the darkness of the night, Child, don’t you cry For there is still a light That watches you and I. He wasn’t the greatest singer, but he knew how to hold a tune well enough. While his voice never faltered on the notes, he didn’t have the power in his lungs and the control over his breath to sustain the sound. One of the many things he adored about Hiberna’s voice was how softly she could sing and still maintain the notes. He tried it now, but his voice cut out when his breath was no longer able to draw the notes from his vocal cords. Drawing a deeper breath to give him more air for the next verse, he continued on. And if it stops shining, Child, don’t you fear, For she has taught me nightly, And I will be right here. His voice managed a bit better this time around but still cut out on the last line of the verse. Katrinaria shifted next to him and interrupted in a sleepy voice. “Hib sings it better.” “I know. She always has. Now shut up and go to sleep.” “I am.” By the end of the fourth verse, Hiberna was asleep, and even though it had done what work it was intended to do, Solemn sang it to its end. When he finished, he let his head drop to his chest as true exhaustion hit him.

[Solemn Warborn]

Summer, the 52nd, 516 AV Solemn awoke to a sore neck and back. He wasn’t accustomed to a life of luxury by any means, but he was used to having a soft place to sleep. One thing he knew was that, if they were forced stay here another night, he wouldn’t sleep sitting up. Stretching his arms up the wall behind him, he groaned as tightened muscles began to relax. Next to him Katrinaria shifted and stretched as well. Then she muttered something unladylike. Solemn gave her an amused look, his eyebrows raised. “Does your dad know you know words like that?” She glared at him. “That’s not funny, Sol. You don’t have the problems I do.” When she saw the questioning look Solemn gave her, she whispered. “I gotta pee.” “Oh.” Suddenly, Solemn was immensely grateful for his Kelvic nature. Sloths only needed to worry about such things about twice a month. Slowly, as he seemed to do with all things, his mind came up with a solution. “Wait here.” As he stood and walked back to the broom closet, he noticed that most everyone else had woken up and noticed that the ferocity of the wind had not abated. At least, he assumed that was what their uncomfortable glances at the door were. Either that or there were a lot more people who shared the same problem that Katrinaria had. When Solemn made it to the closet, he found what he had remembered he had seen yesterday. There were buckets on the floor of the closet. Selecting two, he took them out into the entryway. “This storm isn’t letting up,” he told everyone, stating what they all already knew. “We’re going to have to prepare to be here indefinitely.” Solemn held up the buckets. “These’ll have to suffice for relieving ourselves. I’m going to put them in the last practice rooms at the end of the hall. That will give people privacy, and it will keep the smell away from us.” As he started down the hall with the buckets, several people followed him, eager to relieve themselves after holding it so long. Until now, Solemn had not realized how precious of a commodity such things were. He put one bucket in each room, leaving a chair nearby to serve as a balance for anyone who needed it. Lines formed up quickly as Solemn walked back up the hall to their temporary living space. Katrinaria flashed him a quick smile from her place in line. One person he didn’t see in line was Hiberna. That made him uncomfortable. That meant she would be waiting in the entryway, and Solemn had the feeling Katrinaria’s presence had been the only thing holding Hiberna back from tearing him a new one. He entered, expecting her to waiting for him, eyes blazing red. What he found surprised him. Hiberna was sitting in front of the fire, staring into the flames while she hummed his mother’s lullaby. Not sure what to do now that she wasn’t yelling, he hung back across the room from her. After a couple verses, she stopped, much to Solemn’s dismay. “It’s been a long time since I heard you sing that.” She turned to him and smiled. The green of her eyes surprised him. It was her color of contentment. She patted the ground next to her. “Come and sit.” Solemn did as she asked. He didn’t have much choice. With this storm keeping them trapped, there was no saying how long they’d be here, and he couldn’t ignore her forever. Sitting down beside her, he crossed his legs and stared into the fire with her. This was agony. He had not been this close to her in the last four years, and there had always been a wall or a door between them. Physical barriers had amounted to real ones in his mind, ones that made the pain of his searching, broken bond bearable, but with her this close, his end of the bond was trying to reform. He wondered if she felt it too. Deep within himself, he hoped she did not, because this torment was nothing he wanted for her. Next to him, Hiberna leaned forward and blew on a dying coal that had fallen from the flames. He would have reveled in the way her breath gave it life, the way it seemed to do with all things, but her movement had shifted her arm, causing her elbow to shift up against his. That flood of emotions that came with her touch was an exact repetition of the last breaking of their bond. He forgot how to breathe. He barely heard her next question. “How long, Solemn?” Darkness flooded in from the corners of his vision as a hundred emotions fought it for superiority. In the end, darkness won.

[Solemn Warborn]

Solemn awoke to both Hiberna and Katrinaria kneeling over him, the concern evident on both their faces. Katrinaria said something unladylike again. “What did you do to him, Hib?” “I didn’t do anything. Look. He’s coming around.” As Sol’s eyes focused, he realized Hiberna and Katrinaria weren’t the only ones gathered around to see what had happened to him. It seemed that half of those who were trapped with him were gathered behind Hib and Katrinaria. That was embarrassing. You groaned unhappily at that. “How hard did you hit him, Hib?” “I didn’t do anything.” Hiberna insisted, more emphatically this time. Everyone present knew of Solemn and Hiberna’s connection. They were all either Snowsongs or they knew Solemn personally. With that knowledge in mind and knowing how easily Hiberna was given to anger, they didn’t believe her. Solemn put their doubts to rest. “I fainted.” She looked at him with one eyebrow raised, unimpressed by his unmanly feat. “You fainted?” “It happens,” Solemn grumbled, sitting up slowly. The reaching sensation of the bond was just as strong as before. Dancing their mischievous dance, her eyes danced laughed at him. “Maybe to pansy boys.” “Real funny, Katrinaria.” Solemn made to stand, but Hiberna held out a hand to stop him. He stayed down to avoid her touch. Feeling that again would be too much. He was already being ridiculed for fainting once. There was no telling how terrible the mocking would be if it happened again. But there was concern in Hiberna’s eyes. He had that much at least. The knowledge that she cared meant something to him. Whether she cared enough to reunite with him remained to be seen, but as he did with all things, Solemn hoped. “What caused that, Solemn?” Hiberna asked, looking for some clue in his face. “Was it hunger?” Katrinaria interrupted. “Because I’m starving. I vote if we have to eat anyone, we eat Sol. He’s half animal anyhow.” “Katrinaria.” There was red in Hiberna’s eyes as she snapped at her protégé. “That wasn’t nice.” Solemn was glad that Hiberna was standing for him, but he knew Katrinaria was only trying to take an unpleasant situation and make light of it. “It’s alright, Hib. She didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, she brings up a good point. This storm could have us trapped here another day. We need to start thinking about food.” “You need to take it easy,” Hiberna chided. Her big sister instincts were kicking in. “I’m fine. Really.” Hiberna, like the big sister she was, didn’t believe him, but she let him be. She was smart enough to know pushing him would get her no answers. She let him stand, and they waited for the rest of their temporary roommates to gather. Solemn addressed them all. “Everybody, listen up. I don’t think today is the day we leave here. That storm outside is only getting worse. We are going to have to think about where our food for each day is coming from. Unfortunately, the Hall has no food stores for us to ration. All we have is what we brought with us. We must share it and make it last.” Emptying his pockets, he spread what he had out on one of the benches. It was a meager amount of food. There was the hunk of cheese he had swiped from the Stables that morning. That, and the treats that always seemed to litter his pockets, the treats he kept on hand for the dogs. There were eighteen of those once he had fished through every pocket in his parka. They were nearly tasteless baked things about the length of one of his fingers and twice as broad. He knew they were tasteless, because he had tried them once. Still, the dogs seemed to like them, and any food they had would do for now. There wasn’t much else. No one had expected to be eating while they were there. There were a few pieces of fruit and a small loaf of bread added to Solemn’s eighteen treats and hunk of cheese. “Dog food?” someone asked. They didn’t sound pleased. “It’s going to have to do until we get back to our Holds.” He looked at everyone, then stated the obvious. “We’re also going to need water.”

[Solemn Warborn]

Staring at the door, Solemn regretted having suggested that they obtain water. Since he had been the one to suggest it, everyone else decided he would be the best one to go out and get it. He had gathered two buckets and a rope from the supply closet. The rope he had wrapped about his waist and had tied with two simple double knots. Though he was only taking a couple steps from the door, he wasn’t taking any chances. If something happened to him, he wanted everyone inside to be able to pull him back in. As soon as he had been elected chief water collector, he had pulled on every piece of clothing he had with him. He had his thick wool pants, his heavy boots, and his fur-lined parka. His balaclava was on, leaving only his eyes exposed, and his scarf was wrapped around his neck. The hood of his parka had been closed around those both. He had pulled on his wool gloves and put on his heavy mittens over those. A line of six adults were holding the rope behind him, Hiberna at their front. Everyone else was gathered around the bench and the door, ready to open it and hold it as closed as possible once he was outside. It would have to remain open enough for the rope to move. Turning toward everyone, he went over the plan once more. “Alright. I’m going to go out and fill these buckets with snow. I’ll have to go out a short ways to make sure the snow is clean. I’m going to be relying on all of you to be able to get me back safely. I always want there to be tension on the line. That’ll let me know you’re there, and it’ll let you know that I’m still there. If I jerk on the rope twice, start pulling me in. If I jerk again once, stop pulling. Everybody understand?” A dozen nods gave him comfort that he would be well looked after while he was out there. Turning back to the door, he stared at it again. Just outside, the storm beat at the door, demanding entrance and screaming its rage at the rest of the world when it was denied. Shivers swept over his body when he thought about stepping out into that. Every moment he waited, every moment he hesitated, he discovered he didn’t want to go out through that door. Finally, when he thought his resolve would break, he nodded at the group waiting by the door. They knew their part in this well enough. It was a simple one. Pull back the bench and let Solemn out. They made to do just that, but as soon as the bench was pulled back, the howling of the wind outside became a roar as it found its way past the its old barrier. One vicious gust slammed the door against the bench, tipping it on its side, but the clatter of wood was lost among the rushing of the wind. Solemn himself stumbled back as he was blown off balance. Snow began to whip into the hall again. Knowing what he had to do, Solemn raised his hand to block the wind, but another gust caught the bucket in his hand and smacked it against his face. Blood filled his mouth along with its iron tang. The warmth was welcome, but the pain was not. He dropped his hand and instead ducked his head down into his shoulder. That allowed him to open his eyes and catch flashing glimpses of what lay ahead of him. Which was only a blinding blur of white. One step after another, Solemn pushed against the wind that was trying to push him back. When his bucket bumped against the doorjamb, he knew he was making progress. Every four or five steps only equated to about one regular one, so he took a dozen and half steps before he decided he had gone far enough. The wind was fiercer than he imagined, but it had nothing on the cold. His clothing was doing nothing to hold back its icy bite. Already his nose and his fingertips were completely numb. The loss of sensation made it difficult to feel what he was doing. Dropping to his knees, he tipped both buckets on their sides and slid them across the ground, scooping up snow to fill them both. By the time that was finished, he couldn’t feel his hands at all, so he couldn’t tell if he had picked up the buckets or not. With the snowflakes stinging his eyes every time he tried to open them, Solemn couldn’t see the buckets to retrieve them either, so he just reached to where he thought they had been and lifted up. There seemed to be an additional weight at the end of his arms. Turning in the direction of where he remembered the door to be, he popped the rope twice. The encouraging pull from the other end of the rope set him on the right path while the compelling shove of the wind lengthened his strides, but going back in felt just as long as going out had, especially when he realized he couldn’t feel his feet. On the bright side, when he was going in this direction, the snowflakes weren’t stinging his eyes, so he could see a little. Of course, the snow was so thick he couldn’t see more than an arm’s length ahead of himself. There was a distinct change in the wind when he stepped through the door, though Solemn couldn’t place exactly what it was. Setting down the buckets, he helped everyone shut the door. Hiberna came to his side quickly, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the fire. Since he was expecting her touch, it didn’t hit him as hard as it had before. When they made it to the fire, Hiberna pulled off Solemn’s gloves, pushed his hands close to the fire, and held them between her own. “We need to get you warmed up.” She tossed several logs on to the fire to build it back up after the wind and the cold had diminished it to small glowing coals. It took Solemn several moments to notice the state of their fuel pile as the pain from sensation returning to his hands was quite distracting. When it finally did sink in, he used Katrinaria’s word from earlier. He made to stand, but Hiberna pulled him back down easily. He hadn’t really wanted to get up and leave the fire anyhow. “I know,” she said. “I noticed it too, but if you want to go back out there for wood, you have to get warmed back up first.”

[Solemn Warborn]

Solemn stood at the door again, fully dressed and with the rope around his waist. Outside, the storm sounded like it had worsened since the last time he had gone out, though something told him that was just his imagination. Still, the sounds the Hall made every time a gust struck it gave some credit to the fear that this storm could get worse. Timber creaked and groaned, and Solemn was sure he heard cracking, though that could have been the shifting of one beam against another. Nodding again, he braced himself for the icy blast of the pent up storm. This time he was smarter and stood to one side of the door. As soon as the door opened, the wind and a wall of swirling white rushed through the entry. Reaching through the door and grasping the outer doorjamb with his unbreakable sloth grip and pulled himself around the corner. Where he wasn’t in the wind’s direct path, its gusting didn’t seem as fierce, but he still had to keep a hand against the wall to keep his balance. With two days, the drift against the Hall had grown up to waist height. That was going to make things much more difficult. Every step he took would have to plow through the snow. Not to mention, he would have to dig out the wood pile once he found it. Fortunately, he had been to the Hall of Aural Creation often enough during the light part of the seasons that he knew which side of the building the wood had been stacked on. Taking one step through the snow, Solemn was forced to raise his free hand to protect the exposed skin around his eyes. Closing his eyes as the pitch black of day made them useless anyhow, Solemn continued on by feel, trudging slowly through the slowly deepening snow. It was like stories he had heard of people walking out into the tide, except instead of briny water, he was descending into an ocean of snow and darkness. One step after another, he continued into the black. Proceeding by feel only did him so much good, because slowly, he lost feeling to his extremities, first his fingertips, then his fingers, then his entire hand. One step after another, Solemn made his way toward the necessary fuel that was the only thing that could hold back this old. He must not have tied his boots tightly enough, because a bit of snow found its way down inside his left boot. Step by step as his feet went numb, Solemn waded into the storm with the wind howling in his ears, hoping the building was at his searching fingertips. Step by step- His numb foot caught on something, and Solemn tripped forward, breaking his fall with his forearms. Fortunately, he didn’t have a long way to fall as he had tripped over and on to the subject of his exploration, the woodpile. The deep, bruising pain in his arms was welcome. It at least meant he hadn’t lost complete feeling to all of both arms yet. Scooping snow away with both hands, he dug through the snow doggedly for several minutes until he was certain he was down to the level of the wood. His hands were meeting more resistance which made him positive he was where he needed to be. Making blind grasping motions in the general area of the pile, he lifted and was greeted by the feeling of weight at the end of his arm. He continued the motion until he had two armfuls of wood, then turned back toward the door. Jerking the rope twice, he leaned against the building to guide him along with the firm pull of the rope and stumbled back to the door. Dumping the wood in the doorway, he made two more trips to the woodpile as quickly as he could. He would have gone for more but stopped when he was certain another trip would do him serious bodily harm. As soon as he stepped through the door the final time, Hiberna grabbed him and pulled him toward the fire, leaving everyone else to struggle to shut the door.