Page 143 of To Trap a Soul

Ward off evil, huh?Their spindly branches did little morethan hold up snow.Then again, no leaves means no place for Demons to hide from the sunlight.

“What is so beautiful about this place?”Weldir asked, his voice distant and revealing he wasn’t next to her, but somewhere far away. As always.

She pretended he was right next to her. “I guess I like the snow.” Her voice made another companion nearby turn their head one-hundred and eight degrees, so that their big yellow eyes could lazily blink at her. “I also like how quiet it is.”

The snow owl, who had made its home for the day, gave a low and raspy hoot. It lifted its wings to shake off a small amount of white flakes that had drifted onto its feathers, further concealing the large bird’s presence. She thought it would fly off, but it merely watched her with a wise and calm interest, keeping her in its sights, observing her.

She was used to being watched.

“I like that owl’s feathers,” Lindi admitted, eyeing their mostly white downiness.

“Then why don’t you take them and I’ll make you a new cape?”His tone was aloft, lacking in any emotion as per usual. She’d learned to just accept it.

Lindi shrugged. “I’ve thought about it, but I like the darkness of my raven feathers.”

“You look like a Demon,”Weldir pointed out.

Lindi sighed and closed her eyes while lifting her face to the weak, wintry sun. “You have a point,” she grumbled, trying to keep her annoyed disappointment from her tone. “I think maybe that’s why our children don’t like it when I greet them as a raven.”

They were always immediately on the defensive, likely thinking she was coming to attack them like any other Demon. Over the last few years, she’d learned it was best to approachthem as a human. But even then, they remained wary, althoughsomewere beginning to converse with her.

It was a slow and arduous process.

She had many children to meet, many languages to perfect, and it was... difficult. Not impossible or pointless, just time consuming when she wanted to move on to greet another child. To make sure they were well and living somewhere safe.

The fact that they’d needed to eat many humans was a blight on her conscience, but she tried to ignore it.

They were what they were, and she’d long ago accepted that, among other things.

Watching the owl turn its head once more to bury its dark beak into the back of its neck, hunkering down for more sleep, she listened for any danger as per usual. One of her children had made a home in the mountains nearby, and while they rested in their cave, she came here to spend her day. They preferred to be alone when they slept, disliking her nearby when they were otherwise vulnerable.

Not that her children were vulnerable creatures. Not even with their hard, although breakable, skulls.

The cold continued to swirl around her as snowflakes gently followed the flowing breeze, but the talisman gifted to her from an Anzúli of Eyropea kept her warm. She had many things hidden beneath the black feathers, but the blanket of her cloak kept her nice and snug as she sat on the ground. The thick icy powder creaked whenever she shifted her weight.

A small, sad smile minutely curled the corners of her lips.Nathair would hate it here.He liked everywhere hot. She’d often greeted him when he was sleeping in a knotted ball in the sun, soaking up its heat in the middle of the day. He tended to hibernate in the water when it was winter and often refused to leave it. She had a feeling the cold didn’t bother him when he was aquatic.

Thinking of him had her eyes wandering the desolate, empty forest. No tears came, as she’d long ago ceased shedding them.

“How’s Nathair today?” she asked quietly, trying not to disturb the peace of the area too badly.

“He’s fine, Lindiwe. Just as he always is in Tenebris. Just as you always ask.” There was no sigh of irritation at the question she asked frequently, without shame, nor was his tone curt. It was informative, and in some ways, she thought Weldir appreciated her asking.

Sometimes he shared what they’d done together in Tenebris, or if they’d spoken of anything notable. She knew all about Nathair’s life in the afterworld, and he was as happy as he’d been on Earth.

It didn’t seem to matter to him that he’d died. There was relief in that.

Then again, he’d done little other than occasionally hunt and sunbake. Perhaps it was beneficial that her laziest son happened to be the most suited for such a drastic transition.

But there was a well of guilt that constantly dripped along the waves of her conscience. Especially since the more humanity Nathair gained, the more itdidbother him. He was beginning to understand, and she and Weldir were both waiting for the day he felt trapped.

Felt anger and betrayal that he’d been the one to die.

Or maybe he’d already begun to show those emotions and Weldir was hiding them just to save her. Whatever trials Weldir dealt with when it came to Nathair, she was privy to as much as he cared to share. Which, knowing Weldir, was not the whole story.

But Lindi had already begun to face that regret and guilt, even if he tried to protect her from it. She was growing strong enough to acknowledge it.

“Where will you go next?”Weldir asked, obviously desiring to keep their conversation going.

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