Chapter 10 - The Cold That Killed
Aira stood in the snow, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. Her sister's cries had faded into the wind, muffled by the thick, suffocating silence of the forest. The tiny bundle of blankets barely moved now, her body shivering violently as the sickness devoured her from the inside.
Aira should have turned back.
She should have followed her mother's orders, walked away, forgotten.
But she couldn't.
Her feet wouldn't move.
Her sister, barely more than a child, was dying alone in the freezing dark.
And Aira was expected to leave her here, as if she were nothing. As if she were already dead.
Her nails dug into her palms so hard they nearly drew blood.
No.
She wouldn't accept this.
She fell to her knees, scooping her sister up in her arms. The heat of her fever burned through the fabric, but it was weak. Fading. She was running out of time.
Aira had no medicine. No food. No help.
But there was one place she could go.
One chance left.
Tightening her grip, she turned toward the darkened woods, where the road split off from the village path—the road that led to the nearest city.
The city was dangerous. But at least it had doctors or someone that can help her.
And Aira didn't care what she had to do to save her sister.
She would find help.
Or she would die trying.
The Road to the City
The journey was torture.
Aira had no horse, no supplies, only the clothes on her back and the dying girl in her arms. The snow made every step an effort. The cold bit at her skin, creeping under her clothes, sinking deep into her bones.
Her sister barely moved now. Barely breathed.
Aira whispered to her, trying to keep her awake.
"Stay with me," she pleaded. "We're almost there."
A lie.
She had no idea how far the city was.
But she couldn't stop now.
She pushed forward, even as exhaustion gnawed at her muscles, even as hunger twisted her stomach.
She walked until she couldn't feel her feet anymore.
Until the weight of her sister became too heavy.
Until the edges of her vision blurred.
Until—
The ground rushed up to meet her.
Then—darkness.
The Merchant's Deal
Aira awoke to warmth.
A fire crackled nearby, its golden light flickering against wooden walls. The scent of something rich and savoury filled the air. Her body ached, her fingers stiff with cold, but she was alive.
She wasn't alone.
A man sat across from her, dressed in fine clothes, his boots polished, his rings gleaming in the firelight. He wasn't noble-born—his hands bore the calluses of labor—but he was well off. A merchant, perhaps.
"You're lucky we found you," he said, watching her with sharp, calculating eyes. "Another hour, and you'd have frozen to death."
Aira sat up too fast. Pain shot through her limbs, but she ignored it.
Her sister.
She turned, searching the room desperately—then found her.
The small girl lay on a cot near the fire, wrapped in thick blankets, her face still pale but no longer shivering. She was breathing.
Aira nearly collapsed with relief.
"I assume you were heading to the city," the man continued, pouring a cup of something warm and handing it to her. "Why?"
Aira hesitated.
She didn't trust him. She didn't trust anyone.
But she had no choice.
"My sister," she said finally, her voice hoarse. "She's sick. She needs a doctor."
The merchant sighed, leaning back.
"That won't be easy," he said. "The city isn't kind to the poor. If you want a doctor's help, you'll need money."
Aira swallowed hard.
She had nothing.
"I can work," she said quickly. "I'll do anything."
The merchant studied her for a long moment, tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair.
Then, he smiled.
"There is something you can do for me," he said. "Something... valuable."
Aira's stomach twisted.
She knew that tone.
She had heard it before, when nobles came to buy the daughters of desperate families.
The price of survival was never fair.
But what choice did she have?
"What do you want?" she whispered.
The merchant's smile widened.
"We'll talk after you've rested."
But Aira already knew.
She had just traded one nightmare for another.