"That was cruel," she said.
"Memory often is," he replied, "when it is all we have left."
She pulled her hand back from the tree and studied it. Calloused from long years of wielding a spear and worn from too many winters. How old was she now? Twenty? Thirty? She couldn't remember.
"Why am I here?" she asked.
He glanced at her once before turning back towards the tree.
"You know why."
From the corner of her eye, she saw again, the dark shape hanging from a low branch. They had not moved, but it was closer than it had been last time she had looked. The shape was familiar, and she shut her eyes against it.
When she opened them again, she found him watching her. There was something in his dark eyes that both frightened her and reassured her.
She took a step towards the center of the tree and tilted her head to inspect the branches above. Above her, nestled in the crook of two branches, grew a small white flower. Winter had coated its delicate petals in a thin layer of ice. Tentatively she reached a hand up to touch it.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Winter's Tree
Fantasía[Open Novella] - [Long Listed] In the middle of a snow encrusted field stands a tree. Ancient and formidable, its roots run deep below the surface, carrying secrets that could unravel the very fabric of reality. Follow Ayessa as she struggles to rem...
