Page 38 of A Winter Redemption
“Yes,” Jarne said. “The ice won’t break if I fall on it, right?”
“No. It will hold. I promise,” Ketho said.
They skated, holding hands, soft rays of sunlight falling on them. Jarne almost fell a few times, but Ketho kept him from falling. And as the ice continued to hold, Jarne’s terror receded, and he found himself smiling. And then laughing as he soared across the frozen lake.
Suddenly, Jarne’s feet flew out from under him, and he landed on his back. He blinked up at the sky.
“Are you all right?” Ketho asked, kneeling beside him.
“I’m fine,” Jarne said. “Just winded.”
Ketho smiled in relief and helped Jarne stand.
“I’m not particularly good at this,” Jarne said as they began to skate again.
Ketho cupped his cheek and then kissed him. “You’re doing fine.”
Strangely, Jarne didn’t mind that he couldn’t skate well. Usually, he avoided doing anything he wasn’t good at and focused instead on his strengths. Perhaps that was one reason he worked so much.
But he didn’t mind Ketho seeing his weakness. He felt safe with him. And skating was surprisingly fun.
“Was it strange coming to the Norend Mountains?” Jarne asked carefully.
The more time they spent together, the more Jarne wanted to know about Ketho. Which wasn’t easy, as Ketho didn’t like to talk about his past. But Jarne wanted to know more about him, and right here, skating on the ice, just the two of them, it felt like Ketho might be willing to open up.
“It was strange at first,” Ketho said. “The Norend Mountains are very different from…” He shook his head. “It was very different from Bordertown.” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’d been sickly as a child.”
“Really?”
“Oreads can’t live outside the mountains.” Ketho stared ahead as they skated. “For half-oreads, they can’t live for long outside the mountains, not without getting sick. Nymphs need to be near their source to survive. For dryads, they must be in forests. For naiads, it is the water. And for oreads…” Ketho gestured ahead. “We need to be here amongst the mountains.
“So as a child, I was always weak.” Ketho’s hand tightened ever so slightly in Jarne’s. “I had dizzy spells, fevers, and coughs. And I could never get warm. Even on hot summer days. I remember constantly shaking and shivering. Nymph sickness, I’ve heard it called in Bordertown.”
“But I thought you said oreads don’t feel the cold,” Jarne said.
“They’re not meant to. They only do when they are sick.” Ketho grimaced. “I still feel it sometimes. Like a remnant of my past. Sero is half-oread, but he isn’t troubled by the cold. I am. Although, I still feel it a lot less than a human. And not always. Like today I don’t feel cold.”
Ketho lifted his head, gazing across the lake towards the forests and mountains. “From the moment I arrived in the Norend Mountains, it felt right. Like I was home. Like this was where I was meant to be. My sickness disappeared. Except for now and again when the chill creeps up on me.”
“How did you survive out here if you’d grown up in Bordertown?” Jarne imagined he’d be dead in a couple of days if he had to look after himself out here. “How did you look after yourself?”
“I didn’t know how to gather, or fish, or hunt. But I relied on the kindness of other oreads.” Ketho smiled. “They saw me wandering and took pity on me. They showed me what to gather and taught me some basic hunting and fishing skills. But I never stayed with anyone long. I always was eager to move on and see more of my new home.”
Ketho spoke like it was a fond memory. But the idea of being alone and needing to survive in these forests and mountains terrified Jarne. Ketho’s life in Bordertown must have been very bad.
“How old were you when you came to the Norend Mountains?” Jarne asked.
“Perhaps thirteen or fourteen. Maybe even fifteen,” Ketho said. “I’m not sure of my age.”
A flock of birds flew just above the lake, their images reflecting on the surface before they disappeared into the trees on the other side.
“I travelled alone for a while. I think for a bit over a year,” Ketho said. “Then I came across my uncle. He could tell from the moment he saw me that I was his sister’s son. They live in the valley near here. And I lived with them for a while. But I wanted to keep wandering. And I have been travelling on my own for years and years.”
This was the most Ketho had ever spoken about his past. And Jarne greedily consumed his answers. He wanted to ask more. But all he could think of were questions involving Bordertown. Why had Ketho been there in the first place? And what had happened there?
Thankfully Ketho kept speaking. “I hated Bordertown,” Ketho said, voice strained. “Hate thinking of it. Hate that I can’t erase the memories of it. I grew up poor. Life wasn’t…good.”
“I’m sorry,” Jarne said.
