Phoenix had to all but lay down over the beast’s shoulders to keep from being smacked in the face with branches. The hood pulled up over his head and the beast’s warmth aided in his shivering lessening but his foot was becoming far too painful to bare. It had gone past the state of numbness. He didn’t know how much time had passed as it was hard to see the sky under the thick trees but they even continued through the darkness of night tirelessly. The beast’s gentle swaying eased him into sleep and he succumbed to it. He had a strange dream where he was back in the Spring Court but he was leaning his cheek on the knees of a fae he couldn’t remember. They were humming softly, stroking long gentle fingers through his white locks. He felt warm, happy and safe there. But then, that person was ripped away from him by the clear face of King Midas. He laughed at him, kicked at him and dragged the other away by their hair. He was left cold and shivering on the floor as it grew dark around him. The scent of the other had disappeared and he was left cold, alone and terrified. 

But then, he was being enveloped in the scent of a winter forest, of cedar and pine, of fresh fallen needles and a gentle layer of snow. Despite the chill of the scent, he felt warm and safe once more. Though he could not see this person, he could feel them leaning against his back, rough warm fingers gently running fingers along his neck but then almost immediately, those hands gripped his neck and squeezed. He cried out but nothing but a gargled gasp for air escaped him. Before him, King Midas appeared, pointing a finger at him and laughing, cursing him for being born, cursing his future and that of all the fae. 

He woke abruptly and immediately leaned over and threw up. It took several heaves before he emptied his stomach and was able to sit up and take in his surroundings. What he found surprised him. They weren’t in the middle of a cold, frozen forest but instead, in a small hut. Drying herbs and spices hung from the ceiling and a warm crackling fire burning in the stone fireplace. He was laying in a cot beside the fire in fresh warm clothes and Prince Aspen’s heavy fur cloak had been thrown over him for warmth. The place was homey enough and warm but small. One whole wall was devoted to shelves and shelves of books, scrolls and various vials of ingredients. On the other side of the room, a small kitchenette and a single table and chair took up most of the rest of the space. Above the kitchen, a loft showed a straw stuffed skin for a bed. 

“Oh dear, I hope that’s not a sign of fever.”

Phoenix jumped in surprise as a surprisingly younger female fae knelt beside him and began to clean up his vomit. She was very pretty with long flowing brown hair as soft and touchable as a fawn’s fur and a thin frame barely contained beneath her homespun cotton dress. She wore boots made of rabbit skins and hanging by the door, a thick fur cloak much the same as Prince Aspen had.

“Please, I’m sorry!” He quickly reached out to stop her as he flung the cloak back. “I can do that! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-!”
She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him, and smiled. “You need rest. Prince Aspen pushed you too hard and that foot took a long time to heal. Frostbite is no joke. Even your wound was infected.” 

Phoenix relaxed back onto the cot with a curious look as she finished cleaning up and stood back up. He had heard of Wytch’s before, especially the one who had both cursed and blessed them but she didn’t seem to fit the criteria of what he had been told. She seemed far too young, in fact. He couldn’t get a scent from her. One of the rare Betas perhaps? Or a mated Omega. It would be far too rude to ask. 

“How… How long have I been sleeping?” he asked her, aware that his stomach was now starving after having thrown up what little had been in there.

She hummed with thought from the kitchen where she was busy cleaning the brush she’d used to clean up in a bucket of water. “Three or four days I would say.”

Three… or four days?! Oh, Prince Aspen was going to be furious!  All because of his stupidity with his foot! “Prince Aspen-!”

“Prince Aspen has been properly chastised for his poor treatment of you.” She didn’t sound angry, in fact, she sounded amused. “He’s… repenting by scouting out the Autumn soldiers and finding a quick path into the Winter Court. You are to stay until I release you fully healed.” She set the brush down and, instead, picked up a bowl and brought it over to him. “Hungry?”

His stomach growled in response to the offered bowl and he took it with a mumble of thanks, staring down into a stew. Different winter vegetables and herbs floated around in the mixture and he was sure he saw small pieces of meat. His mouth watered. As a Slave, he’d never been permitted this type of meal before. He eagerly dug in as the woman sat at the end of the cot and revealed his foot. He flinched at the soreness and swallowed. 

“Ow…” He whined, flinching where her finger had prodded. 

She only smiled at him as she unwrapped the bandage and inspected the bottom of his foot. “I managed to clear up the frostbite and get your blood pumping back into the foot again but this nasty infection in your foot is taking a bit longer. Even with magic. I had to use a variety of herbs until I could stop it. You must have stepped on one of the more dangerous plants in this forest; Muskweed.”

Muskweed. It was a plant he’d only ever heard whispered about. Used by poisoners for a slow, painful death. He’d never seen it, didn’t know where people found it but he had seen what it did to people. The infection was the easy part; if he had gone any longer without being treated, his skin would have started to die and rot off piece by piece. 

He must have turned white as a ghost because she gave him a kind, reassuring smile as she patted his ankle. “Don’t worry. I stopped it and reversed it. A Wytch’s secret.” she winked at him before standing from the cot and moving back into the kitchen. 

He considered her words a moment, staring into this bowl of stew. He had been taught from a young age to not ask questions, to keep his head down and just do what was ordered to do. But, free from the tyranny of the Spring Court, he just couldn’t help himself. His curiosity to the outside world was ever growing. 

“When you say Wytch…”

She was busy searching through a book laid out on the table when he spoke. She looked up then, giving him a knowing hum. “Yes, I’m related to the Original Wytch, the one who cursed you all. Some say blessed but I suppose it depends on the person.”

Something about her words didn’t make sense and his brow furrowed. “You speak as if you are not a part of those she cursed…”

Here, there was a mysterious look in her eyes. “Mysterious, isn’t it.” She leaned her palm on the table beside the book, her hip jutting out. Her long brown braid shifted on her shoulder as she considered her words. It was almost like she was playing with him. “I am a direct descendant of the Vlair Wytch. I was born after she cursed our kind to never be able to conceive. She was pregnant with me when it happened. You could say I was something of an enigma. Neither cursed or blessed, Betas, as you call them.” She waved her hand around, as if the information was neither here nor there. She wiggled her fingers over the book and the page automatically turned for her. “Its why you can’t scent me.” She gave him a knowing look with her strange silver eyes but they weren’t judgemental, more gentle. “Prince Aspen told me of your background, as a Slave for the Spring Court. It’s old news, unfortunately. King Midas has been hoarding Omegas for himself since the moment they came into existence. A waste of an Alpha if you ask me.” 

She leaned back up and was immersed in her book once more. Phoenix took this time to finish his stew and contemplate everything she had told him. Wytchs were rare, Betas even more so. But hearing that she was both. “Are all Wytchs Betas?” His thoughts left his mouth before he could stop them, flushing when he realized he’d spoken aloud. 

Despite her obvious concentration in her book, she didn’t seem annoyed with the question. “Hmm? Oh, yes. If you were in the womb at the time the curse was placed, you were called a Beta and received special magic when born. Being a ‘Beta’ as you call it, is just another term used for Wytch. Beta has just been far more accepted among the social elite than ‘Wytch’, no thanks to my mother.” 

It was at that moment that the small cabin door pushed open, bringing with it a burst of cold air that made the flames in the fireplace dance erratically until the door closed once more and they calmed. Prince Aspen appeared, throwing back the hood of another fur cloak and his eyes immediately settled on his form by the fire before immediately shifting to the Wytch. “Good, he’s awake. We need to keep moving.”

The Wytch ‘tsked’, clearly free to speak to the Prince of Winter so casually. He wondered if they had history. “Calm yourself, Aspen. Need I remind you of the destructive poison of Muskweed? He will need a few more days of rest before he can even walk.”

Prince Aspen removed his cloak and Phoenix breathed in the Prince’s scent that smelled so much like the forest outside the cabin. He found himself gripping the bowl tightly, his mind and body warming at the comfort of the scent. Thankfully, neither Prince or Wytch had noticed and he was quick to push away those feelings and return to his stew. Nothing good would come from imprinting on the Alpha. Especially when he had no idea what his life had in store for him. 

“Ezra, I have Mongue. He can ride on his back and keep warm. Do you understand the problem I’m in? It’s not the damn Autumn soldiers I’m worried about.” Here, Prince Aspen lowered his voice and Phoenix couldn’t understand what was being said. Not that he felt it was right to eavesdrop in the first place. 

Ezra’s gaze shifted from Prince Aspen to Phoenix on his cot and frowned. “If he dies through the Pass, do not use my name when you blame someone.” Phoenix didn’t think Ezra was capable of a voice that cold and full of anger but Prince Aspen didn’t seem to care as he turned to face Phoenix. His face was beautiful in the firelight. He was all polished marble and sharp eyes. Despite their circumstances, he still appeared regal and confident but the cold look he gave him still made Phoenix feel as though ice had seeped into his very blood. 

“Finish up, We’re leaving.” He turned to Ezra. “I’ll require a bag of supplies before we leave.” He didn’t give the Wytch any time to answer before he was pulling on his cloak once more and disappearing back out the door.