A yearly tournament had been arranged in the following week and a bounty was offered by the Lalumiere family.
After a brown bear weighing near four men was killed, Yvain had the skin paraded around town. What I did hear of the 'grand adventure' was that Yvain had killed the bear and shared the prize money with the other men.
I was glad for him, but a terrible knot worked itself into my stomach thinking of the animal skin sitting on the polished hardwood floors of the Lalumiere's lodge.
Yvain had also yet to act upon the information I had given him at my own expense, and at first, I thought he never would. Not until one day when I slipped outside to see him walking up the street with a bouquet of daffodils.
I ran up to him, my cape twisting in the wind. "Do you know where Cosette is?"
I hadn’t seen her since nearly a full week ago when her father had dragged her out of the Picouxs’ home.
"Your sister is awake I presume?" Yvain smirked and proceeded to walk around me.
I grabbed his coat and tugged him back.
"Now see here," Yvain said as he teetered on the backs of his black heels and pulled it from my hands, "that's an expensive coat you just yanked on–"
"You didn't answer," I said, grinding my back teeth.
Yvain relaxed and smoothed out the long, fashionable winter coat. "She’s at home, probably minding her chores as you ought to be. Not off to the stables again."
He had been warning me it was getting trickier to keep the stable hands silent. However, I was certain Cosette would feel better when she got to see Sylvan in his new pen.
“I was going to help her,” I lied. “Régine’s inside, I’m going out.”
I pounded down the front stairs of the Picoux’s porch and made a straight line for the ominous house on the other side of the street.
I noticed it the second my body was eclipsed by the enormous shadow, the feelings of fear and pain. Everything was shrouded in grey, the lattice windows were covered in dust, drapes were drawn tight across them and the empty presence throbbed against my ear.
Cowering, I scuttled to the rear of the property. Little paint flecks were chipping off the panels lining the home and snow piled high where it had not been swept hinting to a general disuse of the place.
However, eyeing the outside of the building, I spotted a shock of bright red against the colourless void.
She was dressed in rags that didn’t suit the chilly weather and sat under the back stoop of her home.
“Cosette-“ I whispered timidly, encroaching a little on her space.
She was immediately startled and stumbled to her feet.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
Her large eyes were the colour of the fjords in Artois when they flooded the beaches in spring, but her cheeks were ruddy pink shores.
She cast her gaze to the frozen wasteland that stretched onwards to the forest and I offered her my hand.
“Would you like to visit Sylvan with me?”
Her limbs creaked as she waded towards me, her movements wooden.
I took a look at her shoes and removed my cloak. “But you’re going to have to take my cloak and we’re going to have to trade boots.
Cosette’s brows knotted guiltily, and her hands clasped to her collarbone as I tied the strings above them.
“But won’t you-”
I flopped over and kicked my warm, leather-bound boots off my feet and quickly flapped my arm at Cosette for her to do the same.
She eventually gave in and removed her worn shoes which fit my feet well enough, but were snug and perforated with holes in an uncomfortable number of places.
I was just going to have to ask for a pair for my birthday which was coming up soon anyway.
“Are you ready?” I asked, impatient to get my freezing toes running again.
Her red curls bobbed as Cosette sluggishly returned to her feet, but she hedged towards the clear-cut field before the forest edge.
"It's a shortcut," she encouraged, drawing me towards the towering pines.
She pointed to a breach in the trees. I squinted at the dark path, my heart beating a little faster.
I grabbed her hand, and we were engulfed by the thick forestry. instantly, it was dark. The pale winter sunlight could barely filter through the pine trees, bare branches and snow which had created a thick canopy above our heads.
"I like to visit Gaston this way," Cosette whispered as we quickly skipped through the forest. The icy shell encasing the wind-whipped snowdrifts crunched underneath our feet, trumpeting our arrival in the glorious hall.
Cosette marvelled at the wintry palace of trees and the glistening jeweled icicles that hung from their make-believe archways. Behind us, the grey windows of the Bonenfant home were glinting in the evening light as they loomed outside. "I always felt safe here."
The chirping of thrush birds had ebbed away and their voices no longer reached us through the branches. A much bigger trespasser distorted the frost-bound hush with a single beat of its wings and the black bird gave a cry of warning.
A crow whistled over the fallowed path, gliding effortlessly with the bends in our ice castle.
"How eerie," Cosette gasped as the bird dove out of sight. "Should we follow him?"
She giggled, forgetting her sorrows and ran ahead of me.
"Cosette!" I yelled as her red hair disappeared in and out of the trees like flickering firelight.
The 'Old Crow' was often used as a euphemism for death. It was said to appear as a great, black bird. It wasn't terribly lucky to go following one through the forest.
"Cosette!" I shrieked, my eyes darting across the path.
We almost fell when I collided with her, chest heaving, arms wrapped tightly over her abdomen.
The rapid flapping of bird wings and the throaty caws of the crows drew my attention. I peeked over Cosette's shoulder.
There were at least thirteen birds circling a massive shadow in the shade of the inner forest. For a moment it looked like a bear hunched in the bushes.
Cosette flicked her pinprick pupils to me.
"It's alright," I said, touching her arm, "I think it's... dead."
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