Snowblind {complete}

Wet - Burn

Lanna woke with a start. Shadows danced on the waxed canvas of the tent in jagged, mottled patterns. What hour was it? The first? Second? The night should be deep black, yet she could make out the grey shape of her knapsack.

Then the smell hit her: burning green wood. Had Frez lit the fire early? She shifted on her sleeping mat and pulled her woollen cover from her body.

Unfolding her long limbs she stretched her sleepy muscles and ran a hand over her face, frowning. Her thoughts remained dull with sleep. How could she see without an oil lamp?

The mournful screech of a kelen echoed through the camp and Lanna cursed in Imperial and Southern. Something was wrong. Well, everything had been wrong since she'd left Eight-Nine-Two.

Growling, she shoved her tunic over her head and pulled on her riding boots. She didn't bother to unwind the tight white binding on her legs, or even pause to put on a riding skirt. Only two days into her new life and she already dressed differently.

Her stubby fingers tugged at the lacing of the tent and she swore again when the leather thongs knotted. Losing patience, she grabbed the canvas and pulled, the muscles in her arms bunching under her skin. There was a long moment of tension then a whip-snap as the leather gave. The strands lashed out and her fingers bore the brunt of their vengeance.

Canvas shoved aside, Lanna sprang out of the tent and sprinted towards the distressed birds. Crackling and the sound of men's voices drew her to the heart of the camp, her mouth opening as tall columns of flame licked at the sky just beyond the rows of tents. Dry heat slipped over her cheeks as she neared and she dropped her gaze from the dancing glow, blood pounding in her ears. The bamboo forest burnt. Guards and servants hastened to unfetter birds and get them away from the flames.

What had happened?

Lanna's body moved towards the fire. The guards needed help.

A large hand fell on her shoulder, and she bit back a scream. On turning she found the looming bulk of Epen. Orange flames reflected in his eyes but that was all Lanna could see of him. His dark skin and clothing blended with the night; it was hard to tell where he finished and the shadows started.

'Misra Lanna, you must go to Misra Chowa's tent.' He didn't shout. His rumbling voice easily won over the sounds of the fire and trumpeting birds.

'I can help!' she yelled back.

'Return, Misra, or I will carry you. This is the duty of our guards, not an assistant chemist.'

Lanna sneered. She was no dainty Imperial woman. Almost as tall as Epen, she folded her arms and glared up at the man.

'Move.' Her voice faltered, unused to commanding anyone. 'Please?'

She squeaked as Epen followed through on his threat. His corded arms wove around her middle and he lifted Lanna from her feet in one easy movement.

'Forgive me, Misra. I answer to Misra Chowa, not you.'

Her soft midriff connected with a robust shoulder and Lanna shrieked in outrage, beating against Epen's back with her fists. How dare an unknown man lay hands on her? She was to be married!

Was – was to be married. No more. Her eyes stung, and not just from the thick smoke that wafted through the tents in billowing puffs. She slumped against the man that held her, conceding. Why fight? They owned her. She must submit.

The guards called out a warning as arrows whistled through the air. Alert to the danger, Epen broke into a run, carrying Lanna as if she weighed no more than a bag of rice. Chowa's tent emerged from the darkness. The circular structure could have housed ten men. Arrows protruded from the tapered peak at its centre.