"Remember! William, little Alos, protect the cellar! When the Goblins come to raid us, have little Mishaer bar the door from inside. That'll keep her safe." Sailu took the two brothers around to inspect where they'd be working that winter and the areas they needed to protect.
"There's a small fireplace in the cellar that opens up at ground level. Look, right here. Be careful—the little Goblins might crawl in through it. A hundred pounds of hardtack, smoked sausage, potatoes, Frozen Blue Lettuce, salt, an iron pot, and a water barrel. That should be enough to get you through this damn long winter." Sailu pointed out the supplies and equipment they would need, one by one. Of course, he was mainly pointing them out to Alos. Nobody trusted William—or Chen Jinyang, as he had been known—quite enough yet, given his unimpressive intelligence. The only exception was little Mishaer, who had always believed in him.
"Before the Goblins come, clear away all the hay in the village. Better yet, burn it all, so it can't become their bedding. I'll have the roofs removed from those wooden houses. You can use the doors and windows for firewood, but only if you can guard the cellar properly. I'll also leave two goats as bait. They'll draw the greedy monsters' attention and buy you a little time."
"Little Alos, take care of your brother and sister. William, do everything you can to protect Alos and little Mishaer." Sailu nagged the brothers over and over like an old gossip.
"I know. I'll do everything I can to protect everything here." Little Alos, looking even smaller with his close-cropped red hair, answered cheerfully.
William still hadn't gotten the hang of the local language. After more than a month, he could understand and speak only a few simple phrases, so most of the time he was off in his own world. But he understood Sailu's last sentence, and put on his trademark silly grin as he awkwardly chimed in, "Wil... liam... pro... tect... Alos, pro... tect... little Mi... shaer."
It was really awkward, talking with his tongue sticking out like an idiot.
William scoffed at the way these people fled back to the city as soon as winter came. Although he had inherited most of William's memories, he still hadn't experienced the winter here firsthand.
The militiamen had barricaded the tavern in the middle of the village with thick logs, sealing and nailing shut every gap around the doors and windows. The doors, windows, and roofs had been stripped from all the wooden houses, and even the bed boards and chairs had been cleared away. Important belongings had been moved into the cellars, while anything more valuable had been loaded onto wagons to be taken back to the city. Heavy horses and Highland Rothé pulled the wagons, while two Northland milk cows were driven into the wagon beds. Of the four goats, two had been slaughtered to give the guards a little extra food, while the other two were to be left for the three William siblings. The remaining medium and light horses served as mounts, ridden by the sturdier militiamen, and could also be used as pack animals if needed.
Gnome Village lay about fifty miles from Mirabar. It took just one day to reach on a fast horse, but three days by wagon. As a dependent village of Mirabar, Gnome Village and others like it could enter the city without charge only during a winter or an invasion by foreign races. They would also receive a small amount of free relief supplies and military protection.
To prevent crafty people from taking advantage, Mirabar's city hall had decreed that, under normal circumstances, winter migrants would count as people under the city's protection only if they entered after the first snowfall of early winter. Villages that returned to the city early had to pay a hefty entry tax. So Sailu's caravan usually set out just before the first snow was due. At first, the snowfall would be light, but it would last for several days. If the caravan left too early, they might be stuck in the dangerous wilderness for days or even weeks—or have to spend a fortune. Leave too late, and heavy snow would block the roads, making them difficult to travel.
Watching the caravan disappear beneath the leaden sky, William felt as if he'd escaped a cage and won his freedom. He turned to his little brother, who was just as delighted to be free of their confinement, and said:
"Alos! Go back and keep an eye on Mishaer. I'm going to the woods to cut some more pitch pine." The deep bond between family meant he no longer had to pretend. After all, there was no way a "fool" who could barely communicate with anyone would have learned so much Common in such a short time. His little siblings deserved a lot of the credit.
"No! I don't need Alos to watch me. I'm coming with you!" Before Alos could answer, a clear little girl's voice rang out behind them. Wrapped in the magically warming hide, little Mishaer had Horn of Kor perched on her small head. Barefoot, she wobbled out of the wooden house—her first time outside since the weather had begun to turn cold.
"Be good, Mishaer! There are monsters in the forest!"
"I won't! Big brother William will protect me!"
"Mishaer, it's too cold outside. You'll freeze."
"I've got my warm, fluffy hide"—she meant the animal hide—"so I'm not cold. It's just a little smelly." The little girl proudly showed off the pretty silver-gray fur, then wrinkled her delicate nose.
"I want to go! William!"
Seeing Mishaer's pitiful little face—she looked ready to cry if they didn't let her come—the two brothers had no choice but to give in.
After locking the village gate, William slung a woodcutting axe, an iron pot, a sleeping bag, and the canvas tent over his back, and carried little Mishaer in his arms, wrapped in the hide. The little one wriggled restlessly and kept squealing with excitement. After spending so long bedridden and never seeing the sun, everything outdoors amazed her. Little Alos carried a backpack with salt, seasonings, potatoes, and eating utensils, and had a wool blanket wrapped around him. He, too, excitedly looked all around. Even though he had awakened his Fire Bloodline and could withstand the cold better than ordinary people, the frail little Alos still couldn't brave the wind and snow in just a thin jacket like William.
Since they were going out anyway, William decided to take the two little ones on a snowy picnic. The main dish would be fish-and-potato stew, though it would be even better if they could catch a few Northland rabbits or snow chickens. Fish and potatoes weren't a common combination, after all. A pot of piping-hot, delicious soup was sure to make all three of them happy, especially after more than a month of eating nothing but roasted meat and bread.
William had picked a spot near a stream not far from the logging camp. A month of hard training had greatly improved his strength, and he was confident he could protect his family in the dangerous woods.
"Alos! Look! What's that?" Spotting a squirrel or raccoon was enough to make Mishaer squeal with excitement, shaking her little head. William had to reach out and steady Horn of Kor to keep it from falling off.
A beautiful Snow Pearl Chicken crossed their path, and William killed it with a thrown dagger. The little girl stared at him in amazement, apparently unable to understand how the dagger had flown through the air.
At the stream, William found a level spot and pitched the tent. Its thick canvas lining, backed with cowhide, could block most of the wind. Mishaer sat inside on top of the sleeping bag, watching her brothers bustle about with a happy grin.
"Alos, go clean the chicken. I'll set up the campfire and pot," William instructed.
"Me! Me! What can I do?" The little girl raised her hand eagerly, volunteering.
"Mishaer's in charge of watching to see who does the best job and clapping to encourage us."
Alos took the dagger his brother handed him and carried the game to the stream, where he began plucking and gutting the Snow Pearl Chicken. William cut some pitch-pine branches and set up the fire. Then he gathered a pile of thick branches and lit them with Palm Flame. Mishaer clapped her hands and cheered excitedly beside him.
William fetched water from the stream and scrubbed the iron pot clean, then set it over the fire to boil. The water in the Northland streams was clear and clean, practically natural mineral water. William had sharpened the iron sword he'd taken from the Goblin leader until it gleamed. He used it to cut several branches into a stand, then made two spears as backups. One shouldn't underestimate the dangers of the wilds. Beasts, monsters, and bandits could appear out of nowhere. In the month or so he'd spent training outside, William had run into trouble at least five or six times. Needless to say, he was never the unlucky one. A moment of silence for those poor fools who hadn't known what was good for them.
Alos returned with the cleaned chicken. William cut the meat into small pieces with the iron sword and dropped them into the pot, added a suitable amount of salt, and let it cook over the roaring fire. Then he washed the potatoes they'd brought, peeled them with the dagger, and cut them into chunks.
The soup gradually began to simmer, sending up wisps of steam. William added the potatoes and seasonings at just the right moment. Alos and Mishaer greedily sniffed the bubbling chicken soup as they laughed and played around the fire, their little faces glowing red in its warmth.
Watching the two siblings smile without a care in the world, William felt more at ease than ever before. A peace he'd never known in his previous life filled his heart. Suddenly, he felt a slight chill on his face. He raised his head and looked up at the dark sky. Crystal snowflakes drifted down all around them, blanketing the earth.
It was snowing.
The two little ones noticed the falling snow too. They tilted their heads back excitedly, gazing up at the sky in wonder and curiosity. They had seen snow before, but never like this. Today, they could focus on its beauty instead of fearing its harshness.
William opened one hand and caught a snowflake in his palm. He watched it melt into a faint chill, and ripples stirred in his heart.
The first snow of the North!
The stew was ready, and the savory smell of meat filled the air. The three siblings' mouths watered. The two little ones stared eagerly at the chicken soup bubbling in the iron pot and kept asking, "Is it ready? Is it ready?"
"Alos, Mishaer! Time to eat!" William stood up and took out the clean eating utensils to serve them.
Their bowls were carved from wood, their forks fashioned from animal bone, and their spoons also carved from wood. William ladled half a bowl of chicken soup for each of them, then used freshly made wooden chopsticks to give them each a few tender chunks of chicken.
The chicken soup wasn't perfect, but the siblings hadn't tasted anything so delicious in a long time. They slurped it down noisily, not caring how scalding it was. The hot soup made them cry out and pant, but they refused to stop eating.
William watched the two little ones with a smile, occasionally sipping the hot soup. It was savory and fragrant, perfectly salted and spicy. As it warmed his stomach, the heat spread through his body and brought a light sweat to his skin.
They finished every last drop of soup, and the tender chicken and soft potatoes were gone too. With their little bellies bulging, the siblings lay contentedly in the sleeping bag, rubbing their stomachs and groaning. William, meanwhile, slowly chewed the chicken bones until they were crushed, then swallowed them bit by bit. He needed a great deal of calcium; his rapidly growing body required an enormous amount of nourishment.
After the meal, William scrubbed the iron pot and eating utensils clean, then packed them away. He built up the fire until it was blazing, picked up his woodcutting axe, and began chopping at a pitch pine nearly as wide around as his outstretched arms. Chop, chop.
Alos also struggled to his feet and used the iron sword to search through the fallen branches for pine boughs about an inch thick. The little one was a hard worker. As for Mishaer, the little girl had too little energy and was already lying in the sleeping bag, giving happy little snores.
The snow fell harder and harder, and the sky grew darker. The temperature kept dropping, and the snow on the ground was already an inch deep. Even the campfire seemed unable to withstand the cold, flickering feebly beneath the snowfall. The only good news was that there was no wind yet; otherwise, the weather would have been even more bitterly cold.
Unable to bear the chill, Alos had already ducked back inside the tent. After felling two trees, William looked up at the sky and decided it was time to head back.
He removed the crowns from the two pitch pines but left some side branches, then laid the trunks side by side and tied them together with hemp rope. He spread sturdy pine boughs over the branches he'd deliberately left behind, then secured them with thin hemp rope. With the upright forks he'd left in place, they formed a small platform with a roof.
William then layered the platform with thick, soft pine boughs, laid down the sleeping bag, and draped the spare canvas tent over the top. A simple but warm snow shelter was ready.
He called the two little ones over and helped them climb aboard. Then he put out the campfire, tidied away the rest of their belongings, and dragged the shelter toward the village. The thick, heavy trunks cut through the thin layers of snow and mud, leaving deep tracks behind them, but before long the falling snow covered them again.
Lanwo: A vegetable from northern Faerun, similar to a white radish. Its leaves have blue veins, and its root is plump. It lacks the peppery bite of a white radish and tastes fresh and crisp. It can be grown in both spring and summer and is the main leafy green eaten locally in winter. (It is not lettuce.)
Seasoning: A spicy powder made from a pepper-like seed and hot tree leaves.
I've just revised the prose a little. See if it reads more smoothly now.
Before you continue