Prologue

Engulfed in the raw power of the North, Hazel saw nothing before or behind her. She was separated from her party, nothing ringing in her ears except the death rattle of a thousand souls trapped in the breeze, never ending, never silent; claimed by The Others during the Never Ending Winter, freezing the blood in their veins and turning them into ice before shattering them to dust, the wind forever carrying their pain and memories in their currents, never letting them be at peace... Though these were only tails told my old women in their rocking chairs, standing in the middle of it made her wonder if any truth lay to them at all.

“I...” she started to call out, her mouthing opening to shout but faltering at the last second, her teeth becoming engulfed by cold air, her jaw clamping shut immediately.

After scanning in vain across the view in front of her in search for her party, Hazel suddenly remembering the motley crew she traveled with. *...I’ll hear them before I see them.* her mind’s voice whispered warmly as her eyes closed to concentrate... concentrating...

“Ingrates! We're going to settle for the night here!” carried a voice through the winter wind, its source lost from view by the blankets of white snow blowing through the air as if a dragon was flexing its wings nearby. She knew the voice. Even through blisteringly cold air, his voice soothed her as calmly as it would when he whispered his cruel words into her ear, raised the hairs on her skin with his hot breath and impaled her with his wicked tongue.

“Where the f**k is Here?” echoed another voice, its user’s tone having lost none of its aggravation as it travelled. His voice seemed to boom in front of her and then behind her, as if coming from all directions, but she knew better than to believe that. *His voice booms as loud as his father’s when he’s drunk* she laughed to herself. Her broad-shouldered cousin always drank heavily when snow touched his skin: “The snow brings back the child in me... The ale tells him to f**k off” she remembered him slurring once, a slight grin growing over her lips as she recalled their many drunken nights of sentimental talks with each other of their pasts. *We’re both fucked up... yet together, we created a little world of two people. One where neither of us is afraid to show weakness to the other* the voice insider her mind whispered as the last echo of his drunken voice faded away.

“It’ll be one of the Seven Hells in a moment, if you two don’t shut up!” screeched a third voice, a female this time, though deeper than the usual feminine voice. The voice that had once grated her very spine with annoyance now brought a slightly... less grated feeling of annoyance. Perhaps. Though the giant lady of Tarth was full of the weaknesses Hazel herself had exploited in men, she had come to accept her. *I can thank my deluded cousin for that one* she thought to herself with a snort. Her snorts used to be much louder when thinking of Lady Tarth.

Hazel stopped walking and planted her feet into the snow, her thick hide boots becoming entombed in white as she turned around to await her companions. The snow was only getting thicker, and if she ventured on any further at such a pace she might lose them completely in the tundra. She needed them. As different as they all are, they are all she had left in this world, and yet they were all that she had ever wanted: a family. As she waited, hearing the voices bicker ever closer, the events of the last few days unfolded inside her mind.