A Burden of Ice and Bone by Kyra Whitton

Author:Kyra Whitton [Kyra Whitton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sword and Silk Books
Published: 2024-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

My muscles ache, but at least the floor is clean.

I stare at the freshly swept room. Little has changed about it, yet nothing is as it was when I finally rolled awake.

No longer does the bed sag in one corner, thanks to a box of rusty tools I found in one of the rooms downstairs. With the help of some floorboards I pried up from an unused closet on the first floor, I was able to fix the bed so the mattress lays flat. And each of the screws was also tightened, so it doesn’t shift when I sit on the edge to pull on my boots.

I bounce on it, testing its strength. The mattress is thin, but mostly goose down. Soft and warm. I imagine Valemon setting up shelters for the geese like my mother does each spring. The birds prefer their nests to be hidden from view, and they line them with their own down feathers. When they move on in the fall, Mom goes through and pulls the feathers from the nests, cleaning them and using them to stuff our pillows and mattresses, quilts, and parkas.

Yes, the bed is much better. The mattress could use more stuffing, but it’s softer than the floorboards. And with the added furs and quilts…

Pride pulls my lips into a smile, even though no one is there to see it. My skills at keeping house likely rank somewhere right around my ability to cook, and I’ve avoided it at every turn, leaving that to my sisters and Mom. But seeing everything so clean, the cobwebs brushed away from the corners and the glass wiped clean of a thick layer of dust and soot, instills an odd sense of accomplishment in me.

Humming an old work tune under my breath, I slap my thighs and stand to collect the tools. I dump them into an equally rusty toolbox, shove it under the bed, and swipe my palms down my hips.

There has to be more in this drafty old place I can use. And if I am going to live here for the next who-knows-how-long, I am going to need more than a bed, a metal can for a fire, and a hole in the roof. Especially to survive the winter. By the darkest night of the year, breath can freeze on one’s upper lip. Mustaches turn to icicles, and the wind chaps the skin right off exposed cheeks.

And even if I do manage to get this place warm enough for the winter, what am I going to do with myself? There is only so much to clean, and I may have already reached my limit there.

Best to leave on a high note, right?

Valemon will only worry or try to talk me out of it if he knows I’m traipsing around the wilderness looking for the real bears, so I have to convince him I will never leave the building. I’ll give myself a few days, let him believe I am staying put, and then explore more once he’s satisfied I will stay right where I am.

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