Page 13 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
“Thatone seemed charming, though…”
Juniper and Eirwen both pretended to retch.
“Come on,” said Eirwen, “let’s go home.”
∞∞∞
They walked together through the crisp forest, through dense pines and the redwood grove, lit up like a firecracker against the golden sky. The sun had almost dribbled away entirely by the time they reached the homestead.
The main cottage was lit up and glowing, the smell of a rich, warm stew bubbling through the air. Oakley’s clinic stood still and quiet, fresh herbs strung up outside the window. Merry was brushing leaves from the porch of their small hut that sat behind it. Apple the pony munched hay in his paddock, snorting for attention as the three of them passed by. Eirwen stopped to pat his muzzle.
Garnet, a dumpy, middle-aged dwarf with nut-brown curls and a warm smile met them on the steps of the cottage. She gave the twins a pat and ushered them inside, before glancing at the mud splattering Eirwen’s attire. She sighed, wiping her floury hands on her apron.
“You’re a mess, child.”
“Maybe,” said Eirwen, her eyes large and wide, “but I’m your mess.”
“That you are. Go round the back and wash up before dinner.”
“Round the back? It’s winter! I’ll freeze to death.”
“It is still autumn,” she insisted. “And you will not.”
“Fine,” Eirwen pouted. “This dinner better be worth it!”
“What are you saying about my stew, child? It’s always delightful!”
Eirwen stuck out her tongue, and did as she was instructed. Wren, a proud dwarven huntress, met her by the pump. She was darker than the rest of the family, with brown skin, black eyes, and braided hair the colour of night. She was the only one not related by blood or marriage, which, in a way, gave her a kinship with Eirwen. Decades ago, long before the twins were born, she’d sought shelter from a bitter storm, and had never fully left. In almost fiveyears, Eirwen still knew only a handful of things about her.
“You have a bit of blood on you,” Wren said.
Eirwen cast her eyes down Wren’s attire. “So do you.”
“Run into trouble?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Without waiting for permission, Wren unbuckled Eirwen’s equipment whilst she scrubbed her hands, approving of the pouch of gems and coins. She took her sheaths and blades.
“You’re down a hunting knife.”
“Sorry.”
“No matter, this loot makes up for it. I’ll wash your blades for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Hurry up and get to the table. You don’t want to keep Garnet waiting.”
“What about you?”
“I can survive her wrath.”
“What about Onyx’s?”
“His too.”
Inside the cottage, Juniper and Ivy were setting the table for eight. Merry had joined Garnet in the kitchen and was helping her spoon out the bowls. Oakley and Onyx were already seated, the latter puffing on his pipe vigorously.
