Free WinterMaejic by Terie Garrison Page A

Anazian had made me mute, too. Unable to cry out for help. And what else might he have done?
    The minutes crawled by. I soon became completely numb with cold. At least I could no longer feel the excruciating pain in my hands. I couldn’t feel much of anything at all. Eventually, my thoughts themselves seemed to go numb.
    The night passed with the agonizing slowness of a painful death.
    Then, just after dawn, I heard a gasp behind me. I tried to look around, but I couldn’t see anyone. All I could think of was that Anazian had returned for some horrible purpose, perhaps to gloat and watch me die.
    “Is this what you meant?” a soft, deep voice asked. “I can see why you were so upset.” I tried harder to see who was approaching, and I felt the muscles in my arms pull. “Stop struggling, before you hurt yourself.” And the owner of the voice stepped into view and stood a few feet in front of me. It was definitely not Anazian.
    A young man, probably in his early twenties. He wore buckskin leggings and tunic, and soft boots that let him walk silently when he wished. A mass of wavy black hair fell past his shoulders. Several knives of various lengths hung sheathed from his belt, and he leaned a long bow against the beech tree. But it was his grey eyes that drew and held my attention. Somehow, they conveyed a wealth of concern with a simple gaze.
    He raised a hand slowly, as if he were trying to calm a frightened animal. “You’ll be all right now.” His voice was gentle. He took a step or two nearer, and I flinched. If I could have, I would have backed away. But trapped like a fly in a spider’s web, I was completely helpless. At his mercy. Whoever he was, he could do anything to me. Absolutely anything.
    He looked deep into my eyes. “It’s all right. It really is.” My breath eased the tiniest bit. “I’m going to help you. Look.” He raised his other hand, so that I could see them both. He came a few steps closer. His eyes made me want to trust him, but I was simply too afraid.
    He came yet closer, and he was now too near for me to maintain eye contact. He placed his hands on the trees, over my hands buried deep inside. I could feel his warm breath on my forehead. We stood that way for several moments, and then I felt my hands slip free. I collapsed in shock, and the young man barely caught me before I fell.
    He carried me away from where I’d been imprisoned and set me on the ground next to the long-dead fire. I cradled my hands in my lap and bent forward, almost in a fetal position, while he hastily started a fire.
    Soon its warmth began to thaw out my seemingly frozen flesh. But with the return of feeling to my limbs came also the return of pain to my hands.
    I heard a snuffling sound, and before I could look up to see what it was, a cold, wet nose poked through my hair and touched my cheek. I sat up in surprise to find a white and brown hound looking at me, ears perked in curiosity.
    “Leave her alone, Chase. Come with me now.”
    The hound looked at its master and back at me a few times, then sat down next to me, actually leaning against my thigh.
    “Have it your way, then. By the way, I’m Grey. I mean, that’s my name.”
    I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I looked away, embarrassed.
    “I’m just going to get more wood. You stay here and get warm.”
    As if I could move anywhere. He left, and I felt panic begin to return at being left alone. The dog rubbed its head along my arm, as if it understood and was trying to reassure me. I raised a hand to pet it.
    And found that both hands had balled themselves into tight fists. Nothing I could do would budge a single finger. I held my hands out to the fire, hoping that the warmth would loosen the joints. If anything, it just increased the pain.
    When Grey returned, he found me rubbing my fists together furiously. He dropped the load of wood he was carrying next to the fire and knelt down beside me, taking my hands in his. He examined them