Winter Witch Read Free Page A

baby on the straw mattress to free her hands and dragged the ladder up into the loft. A rope and pulley attached to the ceiling secured a heavy wooden door. It was scant protection from troll invaders, but it was the best Ellasif could offer her sister.
    The boards beneath her feet shuddered as the crash of another doomed tree shook the village. A moment later, the door burst open.
    Ellasif’s father, Kjell, lurched into the house. Blood streaked his yellow beard, and his wild gaze swept the room. At the sight of his empty hands, Ellasif knew true fear.
    Her father had left his place. He’d put aside his axe before battle’s end. Ellasif could imagine no surer proof that White Rook was defeated.
    Kjell ran to the bed and swept his wife into his arms, blankets and all. He whirled toward the loft.
    “Hurry, Ellasif!” he shouted. “The north pine is falling.”
    Their house stood at the northern end of the village crescent, closest to the forest. The groaning creak of a falling tree grew louder. There was no time to push the ladder back down. She could jump and roll, but not with the baby in her arms.
    For the first time, Ellasif noticed the bleating of her goats outside. The byre stood separate from the cottage, but the roof and loft ran over both buildings. A second, smaller hatch led down into the pen.
    She was reaching for the baby when her father’s shout drew her attention back to the cottage floor. A huge winter wolf crouched in the doorway, blocking her parents’ escape.
    “You slew my mate,” the beast said in the rough female voice so like Red Ochme’s. “Now watch me kill yours.”
    A defiant curse bubbled to Ellasif’s lips, but the oath she’d sworn forced her to silence. She clutched the baby tight to her breast and ran.
    Ellasif slid down the ladder into the goat byre and waded through the milling herd. She unlatched the door and burst into the clearing amid a small stampede of panicked animals. The north pine had broken free of its halter of vines and tilted swiftly. Wind shrieked through its branches as it plummeted toward the house.
    Ellasif ran through the storm, ducking under the swing of an ice troll’s club as she headed for the weapon shack closest to the hot spring. It was stone-built and solid, and it would be warm inside. The baby would be as safe there as she could be anywhere in White Rook.
    The tree crashed with an impact Ellasif felt in her bones. She chanced a quick look back to see if her parents had escaped.
    One glance told the tale. She heard herself whimper, but was too heartbroken to be ashamed of the sound.
    “I’ll take that bundle, bitch cub,” growled a familiar voice.
    Ellasif had not heard the wolf approach. She stumbled and fell hard on one knee.
    Steel swept over her head, and the wolf yelped in pain. Ellasif scrambled aside and rose in time to see Red Ochme bury her sword in the hump of the winter wolf’s shoulder. The tough old warrior jerked the weapon free and held it at guard, but the sword’s task was finished. The wolf’s legs folded, and she fell heavily on one side. The blood pouring from the wound stopped when the wolf drew a breath. She had suffered a sucking wound, and soon her own lungs would drown her.
    Bloody froth spilled from the creature’s jaws and froze on her muzzle. She fixed her strange blue eyes to her killer’s face.
    “Die, old woman,” she cursed. “Drown in a pool of your own piss. Perish, forgotten by your pack.” The wolf turned her head to Ellasif, and her lips curled in a canine sneer. “Die weaponless, like the bitch cub’s sire.”
    Something deep within Ellasif cracked, and something else slipped free. She snatched a dagger from Red Ochme’s belt, thrust the baby into the warrior’s arms, and leaped upon the dying wolf. With one blow she severed the plumy white tail, not caring that no one in the village, not even Red Ochme herself, had ever dared to take a winter wolf trophy. Ellasif brandished the grisly talisman at