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Únik awoke to find the party already breaking camp. To the side, she saw Ylthara performing her meditation, or her magic, once more, her face showing strain as she held the pendant tight within her palm. A nudge from one of the warriors forced Únik to stand and he began rolling up her bedroll. Then, with a gasp, her chest heaving as though she had run a great distance, Ylthara's eyes opened.

"They're moving again. South, towards the end of the mountains." With effort, Ylthara began to stand, returning the chain and pendant beneath her armour once more. "We'll have to race around the forest, try to head them off."

She didn't speak to any one person, but Únik saw several nods and an increased activity began. Horses became saddled, bags packed and the fire put out with sturdy boots. Únik could only stand, watching, as the war party moved around her. She didn't know why they had not killed her, nor interrogated her. Even Únik, with no knowledge of warfare or fighting, knew keeping her alive would only serve to slow them down. Especially if she escaped.

Barsa remained at her side, turning his head this way and that at the activity around them. He had stopped growling at the others, now watching them as though curious, not protective. Únik supposed that was due to them not making any threatening moves against her. None of the warriors gave the dog, or Únik, a second glance.

She saw the maimed healer struggling with his bags as he attempted to attach them to his saddle. How he had managed to saddle the horse, with only one hand, Únik didn't know, but no-one offered the Ice-Kin any assistance. Despite her reservations, she moved to him, reaching for the ties he struggled with.

"I do not need your help, human." There was no animosity to his words and he pushed her hands aside with a kind of gentleness. "I have to get used to having one hand. People helping will not make that happen faster."

"Gislarik must have been angry at you." She pointed to his stump and the man glanced at it himself before continuing to tie the straps. "He wasn't a man quick to anger. You people didn't have to kill him."

"Gislarik? You mean the hunter?" Narrowing his eye, the healer looked confused. "It was not the hunter that did this. You are misinformed."

"Misinformed? You burnt his body, his home. My home!" Unable to understand why, Únik found all her frustrations and pain flooding out against this man. If only because he seemed the only one with anything to show for what they had done.

"Yes. We burnt him and his home. And yours, I suppose." After finishing tying the bag straps, the healer checked the straps upon the saddle, tightening them as best he could. "It was the only way to be certain."

"Certain? Certain of what? That he couldn't warn me about you?" Beside her, Barsa could sense her rising ire. She felt him move closer to the Ice-Kin.

"The only way we could be certain he didn't spread the plague." Once again, the man narrowed his eye. He looked down towards the menacing eyes of Barsa and seemed unconcerned. "You really didn't know? The man had the plague. When we found him, a Snow Bear was in the middle of making a meal of him. I ran to aid him and ... suffered for it."

The man raised his stump and then used his other hand to point towards his scars, turning his head to show the scars trailing down his throat. The injuries were severe and, somehow, he had survived. Then Únik remembered the dismembered hand and the ragged damage, as though Gislarik had ripped it from his attacker.

"No. No! That's not right!" Únik stepped back, her mind becoming a whirl. Barsa remained between her and the healer. "You attacked him and he fought back. It was obvious. It was ..."

Ice-Bound Promise [Wattys 2023 Shortlister]Where stories live. Discover now