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Rover gently knocked on the door to Aemeath’s room but there was no response. Placing his ear to the door, he could hear someone sniffling on the other side. Rover then sighed and raised a hand to knock one more time.
“I’m sorry for yelling, Aemeath,” he called out, “Please open the door.”
“No!” a small voice shouted indignantly from the other side.
Rover’s shoulders fell at such complete rejection. Perhaps he should back down for now and let her have her space. It was his fault anyway, he thought dejectedly. If he hadn’t been so quick to anger then he wouldn’t have yelled at her for letting an undomesticated animal from the frostlands to make a mess of the cabin. It wasn’t like the soaked floorboards couldn’t be easily dried off, and at least no one got hurt. Also, Aemeath was only six years old. She could be so mature and wise for her age sometimes that Rover forgets he still needs to be a parent to her, and not assume that she should have known better.
“Alright then,” Rover sighed, leaning on the door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
He then made his way down the stairs, sparing a glance at the dark splotches on the floor of the living room where puddles of ice water had sat for the better part of the afternoon while he was attending lectures at the Academy. He then slunk towards the desk where he had left a book opened. It looked thoroughly well-read, with dog-eared pages in nearly every chapter. Sitting down, he took a pen in hand and wrote on the margins.
Aemeath brought a Snowfluff Seal inside to play. Soaked the floorboards. Ended up yelling at her.
Rover grimaced at the memory of yelling at Aemeath; the tears that started silently streaming down her cheeks; and her eyes full of fear. It was the first time she had looked at him like that.
He groaned, burying his head in his hands before writing another note.
Need to work on my communication.
Aemeath pressed her face into her pillow and willed the tears to stop.
There was only silence behind the door, until finally she heard a pair of footsteps retreat from her room and down the stairs. A small, stubborn part of her felt victorious for not opening the door. But the larger part—quieter and more painful—felt awful and guilty.
She hadn’t meant for the Snowfluff Seal to make such a mess. It had barked so softly when she called out to it. Aemeath usually saw three or five seals at a time whenever she went out to the coast so it was unusual for one to be alone looking so lonely out in the frost, its whiskers heavy with ice. She only wanted to warm it up for a little while.
But it made Rover upset.
And she never knew he could look so scary when he was truly upset.
It’s been a year since she started living in this cabin with Rover after being saved by him. And it was the first time he ever raised his voice at her. He has reprimanded her before: when she had stayed out late after a day of playing; when she rode a Flora Reindeer unsupervised; or when she had pushed off doing her homework in favor of getting a new high score in Space Fantasy. But he had always been gentle despite being stern. The sound of his booming, angry voice had scared Aemeath so much that she had started tearing up uncontrollably.
Her stomach growled as the smell of smoked meat stew drifted faintly through the cracks of her door. Getting up from the bed, Aemeath wiped at her tear-stained cheeks with her sleeves and quietly walked towards the door. Opening it a crack, she could hear the faint clatter of dishes being set on the table downstairs.
“Aemeath,” Rover called gently from below, making her gasp and almost slamming the door shut. He must have heard it creaking open. “Dinner’s ready.”
The little girl frowned as her stomach growled in response.
“I’m not hungry!” she shouted back and slammed the door.
She hurried back to her bed and hid under the covers, burying her face into her pillow once more. A part of her—the guilty part of her—was scared that her outburst just made things worse. What if Rover gets tired of her and decides to send her back to Bjartr Woods? Who would want to take care of such a hard-headed little brat anyway? The thought made her tear up again as she reached out to the black cat plushie she had kicked aside on the bed.
After a while of quiet sobbing, Aemeath suddenly tensed at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Aemeath?” came a muffled voice from beyond her bedroom door.
There was a long pause.
“I’ll just leave this in front of your door,” the voice sighed. “Don’t forget to eat dinner, okay?”
There was the sound of dishes being laid down on the floor, followed by footsteps taking their time going down the stairs, pausing after every step.
Silence settled over the house once more. The evening wind outside howled against the walls of their small cabin, snow pelting the windows like thrown pebbles. It seemed like a blizzard was brewing in the frostlands tonight.
Aemeath curled tighter under her blankets. Her nose was stuffy. Her throat felt scratchy. Her head felt oddly warm. And her stomach was painfully empty.
But she refused to get up from the bed.
The next morning, the storm had worsened.
Rover, having been awakened from his listless, guilt-ridden sleep by the strong winds wailing against the walls of the cabin, made his way upstairs with a bowl of hot porridge on a tray. He thought Aemeath would appreciate something hot for breakfast, and was hoping that a good night’s sleep helped improve her mood towards him.
But as he reached the landing of the second floor, he noticed that the tray of food he had left at Aemeath’s door last night was still there, untouched. For a moment, his frustration with her started flaring up again before he caught himself and breathed a sigh. Shaking his head, he stood outside the door, one hand raised to knock.
“Aemeath?” he called softly.
No answer.
He frowned and knocked again.
Still nothing.
He pressed his ear to the door. Instead of silence, just underneath the howls coming from outside, he could barely hear uneven breathing—too fast, too shallow.
The blizzard shook the walls and a chill that had nothing to do with it crept down his spine.
He hurriedly put down the tray on the floor and grabbed the doorknob—a small amount of relief washed over him to find it unlocked. He turned it and stepped inside.
Aemeath lay tangled in her blankets, cheeks flushed a frightening red. Her bangs, damp with sweat, clung to her forehead. Her small hands were fisted in the sheets, trembling.
“Aemeath,” he breathed, crossing the room in three long strides.
Her eyelids fluttered but did not open.
Kneeling by her bedside, Rover could already feel the heat emanating from her tiny body even before he could put a hand to her forehead to gauge her temperature. Burning.
He hurried to fetch some warm water and cloth, almost tripping over the trays of food he had left outside the door. Sparing only a moment to thumb through his Cassette to send out a call, Rover all but ran up and down in a panic.
She had always been in great health ever since Rover took her in, and so he wasn’t experienced in taking care of a sick child. The dial tone of his Cassette could be heard behind him, as he tended to her. He was dabbing her forehead with a damp towel when her lips started moving faintly.
“Cold…” she murmured, shivering.
Rover paused and swallowed hard.
A winter fever.
And in the middle of a blizzard.
“Hello?” a voice amidst static suddenly sounded from behind Rover.
“Luuk!” he exclaimed, turning towards his Cassette.
“What’s the matter, Rover?” Luuk asked, concerned. “You sound out of breath.”
“It’s Aemeath,” Rover answered, even as he crossed the room to Aemeath’s wardrobe cabinet to take out a change of clothes for her. “She’s come down with a fever. High body temperature…”
“Oh, dear.” Luuk paused before asking, “Have you tried giving her a bath with warm water?”
“I did,” replied Rover, going back to Aemeath’s side to help her out of her damp clothes. “But she started shivering so I stopped.”
“Good call,” remarked Luuk. “How’s the room temperature there?”
Rover spared a glance on his Cassette’s interface to check.
“About 21 degrees,” he answered.
“Okay. How are you for medicine?”
Rover stopped, another chill going down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. He had always kept his cabin well-stocked, especially since he took Aemeath under his care. So he should have some medicine. Except that he had shared any and all medical kits in the house to a group of Startorch Academy students who had gotten lost around Mount Gjallar a week ago. He had been meaning to stock up, but he had been preoccupied with the end of term himself.
Who knew that Aemeath was going to catch a fever? Or that an unforecasted blizzard would envelop the frostlands today? Which is why you should always be ready, a stern thought from the back of his mind reprimanded him.
Maybe if he had taken the time to check that Aemeath was okay instead of flying off the handle and shouting at her for being a child. Maybe if he insisted that she had dinner, or ensured that she was properly dried off before sending her to her room. Maybe if he was any good as a parent to her then perhaps she wouldn’t be suffering right now.
“Rover? Are you there?”
Luuk Herssen’s voice quickly snapped him out of his spiral and Rover had to stop the urge to kick himself any more than he already had. For Aemeath, he needed to focus on the now.
“Yes,” Rover replied. “And no, I don’t have medicine in the house right now.”
There was a pause and only static could be heard through the Cassette. He could only imagine Luuk pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
“Well,” the voice broke through the static. “Your best bet would be Edelschnee. Your cabin is situated at the Ginunngamere, correct? There should be a cluster of them by the ravine near the shore.”
Edelschnee. A white, fibrous plant that grew along the coast a few miles west of the ravine that holds the Ginnungamere lake below, stubborn enough to bloom even beneath snow. It was an essential resource for the Roya as its fluffy fibers are often used for textiles and medicine—especially medicine. The problem is…
“You’ll have to step out into that blizzard to gather them though,” Luuk said. “That’s not something I’d recommend. Word around here is that a Void Storm’s causing it.”
Rover looked toward the window, where the world beyond was a swirling wall of white, even here, under the peaks and walls of Mount Gjallar. Then he looked back at Aemeath, her cheeks red, her breathing shallow.
“Sorry, Luuk,” Rover said immediately.
“I knew you’d say that. And I can’t really stop you,” Luuk sighed through the Cassette. “So just follow these instructions first before heading out then.”
Rover got off the call and quickly patted Aemeath dry with a clean towel. And then wrapped her in a light blanket, careful not to leave her with the chance of overheating. He made sure the home system was maintaining ventilation and temperature. And set fresh water and cloth within arm’s reach.
“I’ll be back,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against her hot brow. “I promise.”
The wind nearly knocked Rover off his feet the moment he opened the door.
Snow surged inward like a living thing, swirling across the threshold before he hurriedly forced the door shut behind him. The world outside was a roaring white void. Despite the shelter Mount Gjallar should have provided them, the wind and snow still stormed and made visibility close to nothing. The landscape was reduced to shifting shadows behind curtains of blowing snow.
Rover pulled up the muffler he’d worn and began moving.
Each step sank deep into powder that swallowed his boots nearly to the knee. The wind howled so loudly it seemed to vibrate through his bones. Each breath filled his lungs with ice.
Follow the ridge. Don’t lose the landmarks, he reminded himself.
Except the landmarks had completely vanished in the storm. And he could no longer make out the edge of the ridge that was supposedly somewhere in front of him. One misstep and he’d come tumbling down the ravine. He’d probably survive though; more likely to fall into the lake down below. But he shuddered to imagine what could happen to Aemeath in his prolonged absence.
He leaned forward against the gale and pressed on.
The path he knew so well in clear weather had become so treacherous. More than once, his foot struck hidden ice and he lurched dangerously before catching himself. At one point, a violent gust staggered him sideways, and he dropped to one knee, glove plunging into snow to keep from falling completely. The cold bit instantly through the dampened fabric.
For a moment he stayed there, breathing hard.
Aemeath’s flushed face and shallow breathing rose in his mind. And then came unbidden the memory of her tears and fearful eyes.
With a grunt, Rover pushed himself upright and kept walking.
Time became difficult to measure in the storm. Minutes felt like hours, and distances stretched endlessly. But at last, he could start to make out the silhouette of the slumbering Exostrider in the distance. That meant he was nearer the coast.
Relief washed over him, though it was tempered by the task ahead. He advanced carefully, boots sliding on packed and exposed stone. He was barely beyond the shelter of Mount Gjallar, whose walls protected the ground from the worst of the storm, and there—clustered along an icy outcrop where frost clung in feathery layers—grew the Edelschnee.
The delicate white fibers shimmered faintly, almost luminous against the darker stone.
Rover exhaled in relief and knelt, brushing snow away with numbing fingers. He harvested carefully, remembering Luuk’s instructions: take only the outer fibers, leave the stem and roots intact so the plant could regrow.
He wrapped the gathered Edelschnee in the oilcloth he had brought and secured it inside his jacket, close to his body to keep it dry. Then he turned for home.
The return was harder.
Fatigue had begun to set into his muscles, and the wind seemed stronger than before. Snow stung his eyes, and the world blurred into a tunnel of white and gray. More than once he had to stop and reorient himself, searching for the faint outline of the ridge that led back toward the cabin.
His fingers ached despite his gloves. A chill crept steadily inward, settling deep in his chest.
But he kept moving.
It was a moment later that Rover realized that the winds had indeed gained strength as each step forward barely moved him from one spot. The gale somehow no longer made sense as it lashed at him from whichever way. And the howling of the storm had only grown louder around him.
“Trying to save your daughter?”
A voice echoed around him. It whispered against his ears and screamed at him from a distance all at once. Rover stood still, trying to see this phantom. For whatever it was he heard could not have been human, not in this blizzard.
“Who goes there?” Rover shouted through his muffler, but it was unclear whether his voice could even carry in this maelstrom.
“Let me take her,” the voice howled around him. “With me she’ll no longer suffer.”
“Stay away from her!”
He didn’t know what manner of phenomenon this was, but Rover did not like what it said that he shouted at the winds almost on reflex. “You stay away from Aemeath!”
What sounded like laughter reverberated around him, bouncing against the icy walls of the mountain. If laughter could sound like crashing snow or falling boulders, that is.
“But she’s already mine,” the voice whispered. “If only you were any good as a father. Maybe she would have chosen to stay.”
Rover circled around following the voice whenever it spoke, but he could not pinpoint where it was coming from anymore than he could tell where this wind was blowing from. But just as he turned south once more, he saw it.
Through the veil of white he could barely make out the silhouette of what looked to be a woman, long black hair visible against the backdrop of white. Judging from its frequency, however, Rover knew that it was not human. It was a Tacet Discord.
Without any hesitation, Rover drew his sword and charged at the creature. A single slash exposed its true form—an Iceglint Dancer—just as his foot caught nothing but air behind it. He twisted his body to keep himself from falling off the ravine and into the waters of the Ginnungamere, driving his sword into the ground.
“Maybe you’ll make a great father yet,” the voice giggled in his ear as the TD disintegrated, its frequency blown away by the storm.
“Good luck.”
Rover clambered to his feet, finding it painful to breathe as if his lungs were frozen and could no longer expand to take in air. But he paid it no mind as he hurriedly—but carefully—made his way back to the cabin. To the place where Aemeath was waiting for him.
“Aemeath,” Rover murmured, gently lifting her.
Her eyes fluttered weakly, unfocused. He coaxed the draught steeped from ground Edelschnee between her lips, supporting her carefully until she swallowed.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Just a little more.”
He had been so rattled by the encounter with the TD that he had run upstairs to Aemeath’s room the moment he got back. She was still breathing hard, but she was breathing. And before Rover could breathe a sigh of relief, he had gone back downstairs and prepared the medicine as Luuk had instructed him.
After administering the medicine, Rover laid her back down and replaced the cloth on her forehead. There he sat beside her, watching anxiously.
Hours passed.
Slowly, her breathing eased. The harsh flush of fever faded, replaced by the pale warmth of ordinary sleep. The trembling stopped.
Rover hadn’t realized how tightly he had been holding himself until the tension finally left his shoulders. He rested his head beside her hand and closed his eyes from exhaustion.
When Aemeath awoke, light from the window had softened into the amber tones of late afternoon as the blizzard was starting to lose strength.
Her head felt heavy, but the burning heat was gone. She turned slightly and saw Rover slumped in the chair beside her bed, fast asleep, still wearing his outside clothes, melted snow dripping from his shoes. His hand rested on the mattress near hers, as if he had fallen asleep reaching to check on her.
“Pa–,” she paused, her throat feeling hoarse. “...Rover?”
His eyes opened almost immediately.
“Aemeath?” His voice was rough, but relief filled it. “You’re awake. How do you feel? Are you okay? Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable. Do you feel cold?”
“I feel…better,” she said quietly, smiling at the sight of Rover all flustered.
Rover let out a long breath, the sound almost a laugh.
“I’m glad,” he said, and gently brushed her hair back from her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” Aemeath murmured after a moment. “About the seal…”
Rover shook his head softly. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Aemeath reached out and took his hand. She gripped it weakly with both hands, as if hugging a plushie close to her heart.
They stayed that way for a while, neither speaking, the quiet warmth of the cabin settling around them.
A couple of days later, Aemeath was sitting at the dining table, carefully finishing a bowl of porridge, when a tremendous sneeze echoed from right beside her.
She looked up at Rover sitting next to her with a sheepish look on his face.
“I’m fine,” he said seemingly in response to her questioning look, before sneezing again.
Aemeath tutted while shaking her head theatrically as she slid down from her chair.
Five minutes later, Rover found himself firmly escorted to bed despite his weak protests. Aemeath tucked the blankets around him with determined precision, just as she had seen him do.
“You need to rest,” she said seriously.
Rover gave a faint, helpless smile.
Aemeath dipped a cloth in cool water and placed it on his forehead, concentrating very hard to make sure it lay straight.
“You’ll feel better soon,” she assured him. “Also, I’ve called Uncle Luuk and he’s coming by later to check on you.”
“He’s such a worrywart,” he groaned.
“Oh please, I can see you smiling,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “Now sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
“I’m very lucky to have you, Aemeath,” he murmured.
Aemeath smiled, herself feeling incredibly lucky for the family she had now.
Outside, the storm had passed. Sunlight glittered across the frostlands, and the cabin—quiet, warm, and alive with small, ordinary sounds—felt more like home than ever.