Submission (#548) Approved

The wind howled like a wild beast across the rocky path that led into Northchill. Ice cracked beneath heavy boots, and pale sunlight did little to cut through the biting cold. Nadira dragged herself up the final slope with clenched teeth and frost layering her shoulders. Her breath steamed from her nostrils like smoke from a forge. Every muscle ached, her ears stung from the sting of the wind, and her tail—coiled like a snake behind her—kept flicking irritably in the snow.
She reached the wooden post marking the edge of the village and paused. Northchill sat below her, nestled in a quiet basin of snow-covered pines, lit with the faint glow of lanterns and the haze of woodsmoke. The place looked too peaceful—like a painting, not real life. A faint chorus of laughter and cheer drifted on the air, mixed with the aroma of roasted meat and cinnamon.
"Tch. Figures they’d be playing house while the rest of us are getting torn apart up there," Nadira muttered, narrowing her eyes. Her voice was low and gravelly, shaped by exhaustion and irritation. Her tail, which had been silent for most of the climb, finally stirred.
“You could at least act like you’re not about to pass out,” it said, snaking around to nudge her gently. “You’re limping.”
“I am not,” she snapped, though she very clearly was.
Despite her pride, Nadira’s legs trembled beneath her, and her cloak was crusted with ice. Her tail hissed in concern again, but she waved it off and trudged down into the village proper. A few townsfolk noticed her right away—a lone Tatsukoi, scorched in places and half-covered in frost, striding in like she was ready to set something on fire. And maybe she was.
“Whoa there, miss,” said a kindly-looking older Tatsukoi who stepped forward, concern in his eyes. “You alright? You look—”
“I look like I made it, don’t I?” she growled, not even slowing her pace. “I don’t need a medic, I need food and a place where no one talks.”
“Well, we’ve got a tavern just down the—”
“I’ll find it,” she snapped again.
She marched straight past him, ignoring the stares and whispers, and made her way toward a building that looked warm and smelled edible. The tavern door creaked as she shoved it open and was immediately met with a blast of warmth, laughter, and the smell of fresh soup. Several heads turned toward her. She glared at all of them until they looked away.
The barkeep—a stocky, pale-furred tatsukoi with tired but kind eyes—offered a cautious nod. “You here to cause trouble or rest your feet?”
“I’ll do both if I’m not left alone.”
She dropped onto a stool with a grunt, her tail curling protectively around her shoulders like a scarf. The room fell awkwardly silent before the barkeep set a bowl of thick, steaming stew in front of her. “On the house,” she said.
Nadira eyed it with suspicion. Her tail gave her a flick to the cheek.
"Don't be rude."
She muttered something under her breath, then picked up the spoon and shoveled food into her mouth with the intensity of a soldier raiding an enemy camp. When the bowl was scraped clean, she shoved it back toward the barkeep with a gruff nod.
“Not bad.”
“That’s as close to a compliment as we’re gonna get, huh?” the barkeep said, smiling faintly.
“Don’t push your luck,” Nadira grumbled.
She leaned back, letting her shoulders relax just slightly, her eyes drifting toward the frosted window. Snow drifted lazily outside, and distant music echoed from deeper in the village. She was still aching. She was still exhausted but she’d made it.
Her tail tapped her shoulder again. “Admit it. You needed this.”
“…Shut up.”
By the next morning, the storm that had haunted Nadira’s arrival had passed. Thin rays of light filtered through the clouds, catching on the icicles that hung from the rooftops of Northchill like crystal daggers. Snow crunched beneath her boots as she stepped out of the tavern, her breath forming clouds in the crisp morning air. She had rested—begrudgingly. Her tail had nagged her into sleeping properly, and now it was flicking with alert energy behind her as they stepped into the main square.
The village was already coming to life. Merchants were unpacking crates of supplies, villagers were preparing decorations for the upcoming Midwinter Giftings festival, and somewhere nearby, a small group of children were throwing snowballs and shrieking with laughter.
Nadira pulled her scarf tighter, trying to ignore it all. She was only here to restock and leave. No celebrating. No small talk.
A young merchant—barely past adolescence—ran up to her with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Excuse me, miss! You’re one of the Tatsukoi trying to reach the sixth layer, right?”
She stopped. Eyed him. “What gave it away? The burns or the frostbite?”
The kid faltered, but didn’t back down. “Sorry! It’s just—my sister and I, we run a small forge just outside the village. Our shipment of enchanted ore was supposed to come in two days ago, but the courier never showed. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you’re headed east to the cliffs anyway…”
“You want me to go dig your lost courier out of a snowbank?” she asked, crossing her arms. “What makes you think I care?”
The boy hesitated, but nodded. “Nothing. I just thought someone as strong as you might be able to help.”
Her tail whispered by her ear. “You’ve faced monsters three stories tall. This is one kid.”
“Ugh, shut up,” she muttered, turning away. But the kid’s words had stuck. Not the flattery—she didn’t care about that. It was the way he said it. Like he actually believed she could do something useful, just by being herself. Annoying.
She found herself at the supply shop next, thudding a small pouch of coins on the counter. “Give me two days’ worth of travel rations, a fresh lantern core, and flint that won’t die the second I breathe on it.”
The shopkeeper, an older Tatsukoi with frost-dappled fur and a missing horn, looked her over carefully. “You planning to head back out already? Storms’ll pick up again in a few days.”
“I’m not waiting for a golden invitation,” she muttered. “Just give me the gear.”
As she packed her supplies into her worn satchel, her tail flicked her nose. “You’re going to help him, aren’t you?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re not already halfway convinced.”
She exhaled sharply. “I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it because I can. And I’m not about to leave some poor idiot frozen in a ditch if I can drag his sorry tail back here.”
Her tail wrapped affectionately around her shoulder. “Spoken like someone who cares.”
“Bite me.”
By late afternoon, Nadira was halfway to the ridge where the courier had last been seen. The wind whipped at her cloak, and sleet danced along her path, but she trudged forward with purpose. Her steps were firm. Her eyes were sharp. She wasn’t doing this to be thanked. She wasn’t doing this to be liked.
She was doing it because she was Nadira—and she never left things half-finished.
The sun had begun its slow descent behind the mountains by the time Nadira found what she was looking for. A broken sled, half-buried in snow and tangled in the roots of a crooked evergreen, marked the end of the courier's path. Fresh snow had masked the trail, but the scratches along the rock face nearby told her there had been a struggle—one that went downhill.
She spotted the body slumped beside a crevice, wedged between two boulders. For a moment, she thought he might be dead. But then he groaned, weakly, his eyes fluttering open at the sound of her boots crunching the snow.
“You’re alive,” she muttered, crouching beside him. “Stupid, but alive.”
He blinked up at her. “Who…? Wait… you’re not from the town.”
“Does it matter? You’re freezing and half-dead.” Her voice was gruff, but her hands were already moving, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a thick thermal blanket and a small heating crystal she’d just bought. “Here. Shut up and stay still.”
The courier winced but didn’t argue as she carefully packed the crystal under the blanket and began to bind his injured leg. Her tail steadied the supplies, flicking her hair out of her face with an exasperated sigh.
“You could’ve said no,” the courier whispered, clearly dazed. “Didn’t think anyone would actually come.”
“I almost didn’t.” She cinched the bandage tight. “But lucky for you, I’m not completely heartless.”
The climb back was rough. The sleet had thickened into snow, and by the time she dragged him through the gates of Northchill with her tail bracing his weight from the other side, they were both soaked to the bone. But the villagers had seen them coming, and someone rushed out to help her get him inside. She didn’t linger for thanks. Not really. She slumped on the porch of the supply shop, breathing hard, steam curling from her lips in the cold. Her tail curled around her shoulder.
“...You did a good thing.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”
Moments later, she heard light footsteps crunching in the snow. The boy from earlier—the courier’s brother—stood before her, bundled up in a wool-lined coat. He didn’t say anything at first, just held something out toward her. A pair of dark-furred gloves. Pawmade, simple, and durable.
“They’re not much,” he said softly, “but they’re warm. You’ll need them if you’re heading up to layer six.”
She looked at the gloves. Then at him.
“…Tch. Fine.”
She snatched the gloves, tugged them on, and rose to her feet. As she walked off into the evening light, the townsfolk behind her began lighting lanterns along the streets, soft golden glows pushing back the shadows. Laughter rang out faintly from the center of town where the Midwinter festival was starting to pick up again. Nadira didn’t stop to join them. But just before the hill dipped and took her out of sight, her tail gently tugged her hood down so she could feel the snowflakes as they fell against her scarred, fire-warmed cheeks. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t scowl either.

Reward	Amount
Storm Chest	1
Gold	7