The first attack came on a night that looked almost peaceful. The snow on the walls had frozen into a smooth crust that glinted under the moon.
A light wind moved through the village, not strong enough to bite, just enough to make the torches flicker and the fur banners shift lazily.
The village had already adjusted to winter's grip.
On the outer walls, men in thick cloaks walked their patrol routes, their footsteps steady, their eyes used to the way the forest's shadow lay over the ground.
From inside the stone palace, soft laughter of women and children could be heard now and then, mixed with the crackling of fires. It was the kind of calm that made people drop their guard, just a little.
Isabella struggled up from her bedding with a low groan. Her stomach felt like it had grown again in the short time she napped. She pressed her hand against the firm curve and glared down.
