Chapter 23: Arrival at Dragonwood

  By the time they finished their midday meal, the visibility had cleared significantly, the world around them sharpening into crisp, frigid detail. Guided by the map and the faint, snow-obscured ruts of a forgotten road, the team finally found the true path to Dragonwood Village. Their pace quickened, the sled dogs, sensing the proximity of shelter and warmth, pulling with renewed vigor.

  Still, the journey was as grueling and protracted as initially predicted. Even without the disorienting blizzard, the final stretch consumed the better part of the day, the endless white landscape blurring into a monotonous expanse.

  As evening approached, ink-black clouds, heavy with unspoken menace, rolled over the distant peaks, pressing down on the forest canopy like a suffocating blanket. Wolf looked up, his jaw set, a deep furrow etched between his brows. His instincts, honed by years of surviving the unforgiving North, screamed that this was no ordinary dusk. This was a prelude.

  "A blizzard is coming," he muttered, his voice a low growl, imbued with the mercenary's characteristic vigilance. "A big one. If it hits while we’re still out here, we’ll be trapped in the village for days, perhaps even weeks."

  The wagon pushed deeper into the thinning Frostwood, the silver trees gradually giving way to more open terrain. Soon, faint signs of human habitation began to emerge—scattered footprints, a distant, almost imperceptible glow. By the time they truly approached the village, the last sliver of daylight was being swallowed by the horizon, leaving only a bruised purple and orange smear in the west to dimly illuminate their path.

  The village was small, a cluster of a few dozen timber houses scattered haphazardly in the snow, their roofs capped with thick, pristine white crowns. A waist-high, rough-hewn fence meandered around the entrance, a fragile boundary between the wild, untamed world and the settled, if desolate, human outpost.

  But what truly caught their attention, drawing their gaze like a magnet, was the figure waiting just outside the gate. A massive, spectral snow wolf lay in the snow, its fur blending almost perfectly with the drifts. And reclining casually against its broad, powerful back was a woman, her posture so relaxed, so utterly at ease, that she and the giant wolf seemed to melt into a single, harmonious tableau.

  It was Emma.

  The wagon came to a halt a respectful distance from the fence. The sled dogs, usually boisterous, whined softly, exchanging wary, curious glances with the giant snow wolf. Ronen, though he didn't speak 'dog,' could clearly discern the profound surprise in their interactions—the dogs were sniffing the air frantically, their noses twitching, as if trying to reconcile the scent of a formidable predator with the familiar, almost domestic presence of the woman.

  Emma stood up, brushing stray flakes of snow from her dark, practical gear as she walked toward them. Her gaze, sharp and assessing, swept over the group, lingering for a moment on each face before finally settling on Wolf, her expression a mixture of impatience and thinly veiled annoyance.

  "You’re late," she said, her voice crisp, cutting through the cold air. She then glanced pointedly at the single wagon. "Where’s the other one?"

  "The storm made it impossible to keep both together. We split up," Wolf replied, his eyes searching her face for any subtle tells, any hint of what she might have encountered. "Vivian’s team isn't far. We made contact recently; they should be here soon."

  He took a step forward, lowering his voice, a note of concern entering his tone.

  "And you? You vanished into the white. We thought you were gone, lost to the blizzard. Yet, here you are, ahead of us. How did you manage that?"

  Emma remained utterly unruffled, her composure as solid as the ice beneath their feet. "After we got separated, I headed straight for the designated outpost. I waited for a while, but no one showed." She reached down, her fingers gently stroking the snow wolf’s thick fur, a gesture of quiet affection. "I figured as long as you hadn't abandoned the mission, you’d end up here eventually. It made more sense to wait where the warmth was, rather than wander aimlessly."

  "The outpost..." Wolf’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion in their depths. "You mean the North Jade Outpost? The one with the broken shack where mercenaries usually rest?"

  "The shack that barely stops the wind," Emma added dryly, a hint of disdain in her voice. "I waited there. Not a soul passed by. It was deserted."

  "But we heard—" Ronen started, a question forming on his lips, but Wolf raised a hand, a silent command for him to hold his tongue.

  "Emma," Wolf said, taking another half-step forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper, his gaze piercing. "Do you have a sister? Or perhaps you know another woman who rides a wolf?"

  Emma arched an eyebrow, a subtle flicker of警惕 (vigilance) crossing her face, quickly masked. "Why the sudden question? Snow wolves aren't exactly common mounts, Wolf. They aren't exactly 'tame.' There aren't many people in Glory City authorized to keep them. I only have mine because of my status with the Enforcement Squad." She paused, her eyes scanning the group, a new edge to her voice. "Did you... encounter someone else?"

  "No," Wolf said, his gaze fixed on her, unwavering. "But we heard reports that about ten days ago, a woman matching your description, following a similar route, was seen."

  "They must have been mistaken," Emma said, her eyes dropping, her fingers unconsciously tracing the snow wolf’s ear. "Perhaps they aren't common in the city, but out here in the North, a snow wolf is a practical and resilient mount. It wouldn't be that strange to find another rider."

  "Perhaps," Wolf said, though his tone remained unconvinced, his gaze still probing. "But it seems your speed far outstripped ours. You’ve been here a while, then?"

  "One person moves faster than a caravan," Emma replied smoothly, meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression. "A snow wolf outpaces sled dogs any day. I didn't get lost. I arrived before sunset, while there were still people moving about." She gestured toward the village with a slight tilt of her head. "I figured you’d be arriving soon, so I decided to wait at the gate so we could enter together. For mutual safety. I didn't expect to be waiting until dark."

  She paused, a subtle, uneasy shift in her demeanor, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

  "Though, I have to say... this village is strange. Very strange."

  The group followed her gaze. The village was deathly silent, a tableau of frozen stillness. Every door was shut tight, every window a dark, unseeing eye. Only a few scattered windows emitted a dim, flickering yellow light, casting long, ghostly halos on the pristine snow. The streets were utterly empty, as if the entire settlement had been sealed shut by some unspoken, chilling rule the moment the sun dipped below the horizon.

  "What now?" Ethan asked, stepping out of the wagon, his breath pluming in the cold air. He gave Emma a brief, unreadable glance before moving directly to Wolf’s side. "Do we wait for Vivian, or go in? We need to find a place to stay, and this village doesn't exactly look like it’s putting out the welcome mat." He lowered his voice further. "The atmosphere... it's unsettling."

  "Doesn't look like we’ll be getting a warm reception," Wolf agreed, crossing his arms, his gaze sweeping over the silent, foreboding village. "We might have to prepare for a few nights of camping, or worse."

  He thought for a moment, then made a decisive call. "Alright, here’s the plan: Mary, you stay here at the gate to intercept Vivian’s team. The rest of us will go in and see what’s going on." He turned to Shen, who had been standing silently, an inscrutable smile on his face. "Mr. Shen, your thoughts?"

  Shen smiled, his expression as calm and unperturbed as ever. "I shall accompany you." He glanced at Mary, adding almost as an afterthought, his voice soft, "Though, leaving the young lady here alone might be... unsettling for her. Perhaps a companion?"

  Wolf nodded, then looked at Ronen. "Ronen, you stay with her. Two are better than one, especially in a place like this."

  "I’ll lead the way," Emma said, her voice cutting through the tension. "I know where the village chief lives. Or, at least, where he used to live."

  As the others disappeared into the deepening gloom of the village, their figures swallowed by the encroaching shadows, Ronen and Mary were left alone by the wagon. Ronen looked at the girl beside him. She was standing so close to him, almost pressed against his side, practically in his shadow, her small frame trembling almost imperceptibly.

  Seeing her obvious fear, Ronen couldn't help but let out a soft, reassuring chuckle. "It’s not that scary, Mary. It’s a tiny village, and we’re right here. It’s not like a monster is going to jump out and carry you off, is it?"

  The apprentice gave him a shy, awkward smile, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Over the last three days, she had grown comfortable with Ronen, finding a strange sense of security in his presence. His teasing, gentle as it was, helped the tight knots of fear in her stomach loosen their grip.

  "I’m just... I’m afraid of doing something wrong," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rising wind. "I don't want everyone to be angry with me."

  "Why would you think that?" Before she could elaborate, Ronen, with the effortless grace of a seasoned hunter, vaulted onto the roof of the wagon. From this elevated position, he had a clear, commanding view of the surroundings. He looked down at Mary, who was still standing in the snow, her eyes wide with apprehension, and offered his hand with a faint, encouraging smile.

  "Want to come up? The view is better, and it's warmer up here."

  Mary’s cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, but she reached out, her small hand trembling slightly, and gently took his. A second later, she let out a small gasp—the mercenary’s hand was warm, calloused, and incredibly strong. With a single, effortless pull, he hoisted her up onto the roof beside him, her landing surprisingly soft.

  Ronen sat down, his movements fluid and natural, then patted the spot next to him. "Relax. I checked. This roof was built for sitting. It’s solid. And it gets you out of the wind."

  Mary sat down, her posture stiff and polite, her skirt rustling softly as it brushed against his leg, a small, almost imperceptible contact.

  "Instead of worrying about making mistakes," Ronen said, turning his head to look at her, his voice softer than the falling snow, "think about how much you’ve already helped. And how much more you can."

  "I... what have I done?" she asked, her voice small, filled with genuine bewilderment.

  "You lit the way in the caves before anyone even asked. You kept the biting wind off us with your barriers. And you’ve been the one keeping us connected to Zoe, so we know Vivian’s team is safe." He smiled at her, a genuine warmth in his amber eyes. "That’s more than most. Honestly, you’re more attentive and thoughtful than your 'strict' mentor sometimes. You notice the small things."

  Mary looked down, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her cloak, a shy smile playing on her lips. "You’re amazing... we’re about the same age, but you know so much. You’re so brave."

  "It’s just different skills, Mary. Different paths," Ronen said, his gaze drifting toward the flickering, distant lights of the village. "Wilderness survival is what mercenaries do. It’s our trade. But the legends of the Snow-Blind Demons, the history of Dragonwood, the inner workings of the Lapsus Circle and Schr?dinger's Cat... we only know those things because you told us. Your knowledge is invaluable."

  "I just wanted to be prepared," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I thought... maybe then I could be useful. Not just a burden."

  "You already are," Ronen said, his gaze warm and steady as it settled on her fluttering eyelashes. "You’re a pure person, Mary. A rare thing in this world."

  "Pure?" she repeated, the word a question.

  "Yeah." He paused, searching for the right words, his gaze sweeping over the silent, snow-covered landscape. "I can feel it. You’re the only one in this group who’s here because you truly care about the mission, about doing what’s right. Not for the gold sovereigns, not for political gain... you just want to help. You just want to do good."

  His vision shifted back toward the village, where the silhouettes of Wolf and the others had vanished into the encroaching darkness. He didn't know most of the people in this team well, but he knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within him, that the girl sitting next to him was a quiet, unwavering light in the cold, harsh world.

  "That’s enough," he said, the night wind ruffling his hair. He suddenly raised his hand, very gently, and ruffled her hair, a gesture of unexpected tenderness. "Don't be afraid. Protecting mages is what we warriors are for. It’s our duty."

  He leaned back, his voice dropping to a quiet, solemn promise, a vow whispered into the vast, indifferent night.

  "And protecting you... that’s my responsibility. So relax. I’ve got you. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

  Mary didn't look up, but a genuine, happy smile, radiant and pure, spread across her face. For a girl who asked for so little, a small moment of kindness, a simple promise of protection, was all the warmth and reassurance she needed.