Footprints

Fire flickers in the hearth, golden-red flames casting a dancing glow across the small cottage. Nearest the fireplace is a table. It is nicked and scarred, the worn wood bearing the marks of blades, the stains of ink, water, and polish. A dirty rag and a bowl of oil rest on the wood. Two clay mugs sit nearby, one half full of tea. It steams, still hot, adding the scent of jasmine to the air.

The wall adjacent to the fireplace is nearly covered in shelves of books. Their covers, inlaid with precious metals, sparkle in the flames. Several stacks of larger books sit near a rolled-up rug at the shelves’ base. The stained floorboards are soft with age, smooth grain broken only by a sturdy trapdoor set in the floor, directly in front of the hearth. Overhead, pale rafters stretch beneath the slope of the roof. They are bare, save for a red and brown blanket draped near the chimney, slightly crumpled, as if someone has been perching up there and left it behind.

The windows on either side of the heavy door are wooden, closed, shutters bolted. The window in the wall opposite the fireplace is glass, round, glinting in the double light from the fire and the snow outside. A simple bed is in the corner nearest, thick wool blankets rumpled. Opposite it, a chest of drawers and a small wooden trunk, the wood a soft golden color. The trunk has been left open. Inside, there is a stack of clothes, several daggers tossed on top. A pair of small, light boots.

The fire crackles. The warm air is cloaked in the faint scents of tea, wool, and metal. On the other side of the closed door, two sets of fresh footprints make their way down the snowy path. The first are large with faint impressions of claws, spaced far apart as if the creature is taking long strides. The second are much fainter, barely there. Someone light enough to barely make an impression in the packed, icy snow. The small boot prints are scuffed, as if walking quickly to keep up.

The footprints reach the snowy street and turn left. In the distance, two figures are visible. One tall and lithe, walking with purpose, a child hurrying at its side. The figures continue on, until they are lost in the mist.