The winter's icy embrace caught up to us this morning. We spent the last two weeks trying to find a cover in the woods, to get away from hunters. They were on our heals, wishing to give our ashes to the wind. And every second I was praising the gods for giving us one more day without snow. But this morning we woke up to the first feathery snowflakes spiraling towards the ground.

Heavy Atti's footsteps were registering on the back of my mind as I looked for the safer path through the debris. I couldn't allow him to fall on the sleety soil. Especially when he was carrying Art on his shoulders.

I squeezed my daughter's hand tighter, and she faintly gasped. For the last half an hour, Arlene hung off my hand, like a little sack of potatoes. And she wasn't even complaining. My children have learned to stay quiet since the start of this journey. And this weighed me down more than carrying our belongings or worrying about our next meal.

"Ari, let's rest near that tree."

I nodded and headed toward the solid looking fallen giant. After spreading a blanket on the log and taking out some food I finally lowered down to give my legs some rest. My son reached out for his toy in Atti's bag, but I cut him off and placed a piece of bread in his hand. Atti was towering above us, a heavy gaze fixed on the forest.

"I'll go see what's ahead. It's getting dark and we should find a better cover for the night."

"That's a good plan, Love. Just be careful."

Atti kissed my hand and disappeared into the forest ahead.

My instincts were silent. They were dormant ever since we left the village. As if the disease that killed almost everyone in our settlement took my gift away, too.

I sighted, afraid to show my despair to the kids.

Late winters are always fast at sprouting their freezing palps through the Island. We had to find shelter.

I sent a wave of magic to reactivate runes of heat on my children's clothes. Without my force, we would already be dead. Maby even from the Black Death that moronic village chair brought to our land.

A distant triple owl hoot made me squeeze my hands. Atti signed to follow him. My legs stiffened up, and I had to use my hands to push myself off the log.

I activated the rune of strength on my undershirt once again. There was a powerful source somewhere nearby. Because I felt no signs of exhaustion from all the magic casting.

Art chewed his last bite and climbed up onto my shoulders. I refreshed the strength rune on Arlene's shirt, too.

Following my husband's steps, we reached the narrowing in between two heels. It seemed unnatural how old oak cut the path, landing from the top of one hill right on the top of the other one. The biggest beaver I ever saw peeked from behind the split trunk.

"Stupid witch," he barfed at me.

Tracing my husband's footprints with the corner of an eye, I stopped. Talking animals were rare, but not unheard of. Of course, only people with powers could hear them. My mother's cat was the chattiest animal I knew. And he appreciated a good listener. From his words, all our neighbour cats were loudmouths.

"Hey, dummy."

Bever jumped on the log and run until he reached and sat staring right into my eyes.

"Yes..."

"No witch should pass this log—trust me."

"Why is that?"

"It's dangerous, silly. If you value your sound mind, you will not go any further!"

"Just let me find my husband and we will go back. This will only take a moment. Now please go back to the river, dear Beaver."

"Stupid, arrogant witch. Maybe you deserve what is coming for you in the village."

"Village? There is a village ahead?"

I realized why Atti might have called for us: dry warm bed, food and community that could host us for a winter.

"You will remember my words, silly witch, but it will be too late."

Beaver's tail hit the wood, knocking out chips of old bark as the animal turned around to run away.

It took me ages to get Аrt and Arlene over the giant body of the fallen oak. The forest on the other side had many more frosty bites of white.

I looked up, wiping off the sweat, and couldn't believe my eyes. The gray heavy clouds that were baring over my head almost every day of my life were gone. Clear piercing blue sky was blinding.

Arlene nagging on my sleeve woke me up from amusement and we continued walking.

The more we walked, the more I actually wondered if the beaver was right. It was unlike Atti to leave me with two kids, walking on the slippery road all on my own. But his footprints were sharp and clear.

Finally, I saw him. My husband was walking toward us with a face full of relief.

"They will take us in, Airic! Can you believe it?" he started yelling miles from us. "And they need a blacksmith! So we'll even make some money!"

I wrapped my arms around my husband, feeling his fast heartbeat against my chest. He squeezed me back, elevating from the ground.

"Put me down," I laughed. "Let's go see what you have found."

He took Art and some of my bags, so I could support a tired Arlene. As we came closer, I noticed a massive wooden arch in the distance. Power radiating from it was reaching far ahead, making my skin itch.

I slowed down. This can't be what I think it is? Atti grabbed my hand.

"Well, they are a little prudent, so, well, cover your hair and mark, all that… But it should be fine. Just a safe spot for winter. All we need, right?" He jabbered in hushed voice.

I began to suspect that this gift of faith wasn't up to our hopes. And I got a chance to make sure of this when we got close to the arch. Scared, I called my force back, sealing it inside in a rush. I curled my long braid and wrapped a scarf around my head. Not a single brown lock was allowed to peaking out. Than I did the same to my daughter. She was still young, but I preferred to weigh on the safe side.

The wooden surface of the arch was covered in thousands of the Sun Congregation signs.

I wanted to stop. I wanted to turn around and run away screaming. Back into the forest, back to stupid beaver, bury myself into a deep hole and sleep through the winter like a bear.

The Sun Congregation did so much evil to the witches: hunting, defaming, exterminating. What would they do to me if they were to discover that I have powers?

I tightened the grip on my daughter's hand and dug my heels into the ground, as Atti kept dragging me forward. And I was ready to yank back when Art looked at me from his father's shoulder. My poor boy was smiling, bright blue eyes sparkling, lips stretched ear-to-ear, a dimple showing on his right chick. He was so excited to finally sleep in a warm bed, to eat freshly cooked food, and to not shiver from the cold at night.

Paralyzed by that look, I sent a prayer to Dagda and, fell through a powerful film covering the arch.

As we stepped through, the sheer surge of power ran through my nerves, blinding my senses. Both of my children gave out a surprised cry, and I squeezed Arleen tighter in my arms.

I glanced around, expecting to see an angry crowd shouting "witch". But the surrounding space was almost empty. Blinding sunlight was reflecting off the serene, fresh snow.

Only one man, in a traditional long unbleached linen robe and a warm coat, was standing right in front of us. He was looking at Atti with a father-like kindness. His long beard, the matching shade with the robe, was swinging on the wind. Cold shiver stiffened my shoulders.

"Children of the Sun, I trust your path here was clear and botherless," he opened his arms, like he was inviting us into a hug.

Behind him stretched out a village. An even layer of snow made distant buildings almost unnoticeable. I squinted, trying to estimate the number of houses: at least a thousand people. In this wilderness?

"My name is Pastor Dion. Welcome to Slotem. What is your name, my child?" the pastor looked at Art, who jumped off his father's shoulders and now was huddling his hip.

Art looked at dad then turned to me. He was very shy, my little Dunnock.

"His name is Art."

Pastor's bushy brows converged to the bridge of his nose, when he frowned at me before looking back at my husband.

"Would you like to introduce your family, Atti?"

"Sure, Pastor Dion. This is my son - Art and my daughter—Arlene. And please accept my apologies for my wife, Airic. Art is a little bashful."

Art blushed and hid behind Atti, but Pastor brightened up with an approving smile.

"Sure, my child. The Sun pritches forgiveness. Let me guide you to the village. Enoh will prepare a house for you by the time we arrive. Our previous blacksmith left the congregation two summers away. The building might be a little damp, but the smithery is still solid."

Pastor turned, and without checking if we were following, headed down the path.

We made it to the village in no time. Definitely some kind of cult magic.

The hypocrisy of the Sun Congregation was astonishing. They called for the destruction of all witches, but gladly appropriated our artifacts and created their own "holy items".

Houses and streets were disturbingly clean. The wood in buildings on the outskirts was fresh. The settlement must have recently grown in size. Few women on the streets looked down and something about the way they moved sent chills down my spine. Their steps were jerky and insensate at the same time. I looked down, my legs aching to run fast and far.

We reached the main plaza, already filled with a small crowd, mostly consisting of men and boys. People parted, making a way for their leader. After ascending the steps to the church, the pastor turned to us. Golden rays of sun created an aura of grace around his grey figure.

"Children of the Sun, let me introduce you to our new villagers, family of good lad Atti."

His hand directed the audience's attention toward Atti. And once men studied him, I felt how their disapproving attention fell on me and Arlene.

I pressed my daughter closer to my side.

"He is a smith," the pastor continued. "And it is none other than a Sun given premonition that he appeared at our arch so soon after Olof's family left us. Let's all help them to restore their new home and become an obedient part of the Sun Congregation."

A moment of silence shuttered with an array of enthusiastic claps. A tall thin man appeared from somewhere behind the Pastor. A woman dressed in all dark grey, with neatly covered hair, followed one step behind him.