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Anyu booted in the door of the log cabin and the snowstorm invaded the sanctuary of the the modest home--she was deathly cold and more than willing to shatter the glass of formality to survive. Even though the red circle on the cabin door bade welcome to the weary mountain traveler, she darted in with her longsword drawn and eager to slay. Her steel gaze found no threats, just an old man near a smoldering fireplace. She heard tale of hermits like this that tamed mountain Geroks for protection, but there were none to be found.

She forced the door shut, not feeling badly about the broken latch. The warmth of the room hit her in a burning wave and she finally felt the pain in her frozen cheeks.

At a glance, the cabin was tidy and almost typical of a mountain lodge. The floor was made of flat, gray stone. The walls were giant peeled logs set tightly together and insulated with pitch. The roof was covered with a thick layer of thatch and wooden planks as a base. The fireplace was built of the same gray stone as the floor and the odd shaped rocks gave it a rugged look that fit the feel of the place--not perfect, but sturdy and useful.

The main room was five paces wide by twenty deep. A small iron pot that hung over red embers in the hearth brewed a thick brown stew. The food's rich aroma swept through the cabin and made Anyu's stomach beg. A teapot and two cups sat near the edge of the fire keeping warm.

In the near corner was a basket filled with smooth, black river rocks that were all about the size of her palm. In the opposite corner was a tall wooden box with knurled walking sticks and wooden training swords stuffed haphazardly inside it like a vase of wooden flowers.

A low dining table made of fine angel oak wood beckoned Anyu with two clay bowls, two clay cups, and two wooden spoons. Soft seats made of animal pelts gave comfort from the hard stone floor to sit, or kneel on.

Anyu sheathed her sword and wiped the running snot from her nose. "Old man. I am in need of fire, water, and meat."

The codger knelt in front of an easel set at a low angle painting with a single dark color onto a pallet of white wood. His brush strokes never ceased at the intrusion of his...surprise guest, nor did he stop at her command of basic needs.

Anyu shook her head at his stubbornness. He's been eating Gavyan berries way too long, she thought. The berries were said to give pleasant dreams to the sleepless, but could be abused to the bored, or those longing for a short escape.

She pulled back her hood and let her head breathe. Her long, blonde hair was held back from her face in intricate braids. Ice and snow clung to the her head in large chunks and fell to the floor as she picked at them. Her face, normally tan like that of the rest of her Tushkar tribe, was so pink and red one could not see her true color.

Her winter armor was made entirely of Bakaari fur, which was short, thick, and white with the occasional gray spot (this particular beast bit her brother, but maybe that is a story for another time). The heavy hide coat was complete with a large, floppy hood and many redundant buttons made of the beast's bones. Her hide breeches, boots and gauntlets were made of the same fur. It was necessary here in the bitter cold peaks of the mountains. The woman was adorned with necklaces and bracelets made of the claws, and teeth, and colored bones of the beast. Her long, curved sword hung at her waist in a scabbard on her left, and a simple hand ax was strapped firm to her right. Her precious longbow was strapped to her spent quiver across her back, but her bowstring snapped days ago. She unfastened her frozen garments until she was down to a thin wool tunic and breeches cut to her thighs. One by one she hung them on pegs that protruded from the wall to let them thaw and dry next to her weapons.

There was warmth here and not just from the fire. An aura of spiritual calm emanated. Kind of like she was back home, yet without the boredom of her life she left behind.

"Do you hear me back there, old timer?" Anyu persisted shouting a bit louder. "Perhaps you are deaf. If that is the case, you are forgiven."

The old man kept on with his painting. He moved his brush smoothly and stopped still with great precision like a stick lizard amongst the trees avoiding its prey. He wore a simple brown wool tunic and breeches. His feet were bare and the soles of his feet were hard like boiled leather. Tufts of gray hair hung at odd angles from the top of his head. His beard was was rough, but trimmed. His eyes were archaic and yellow, but darted in all angles seeing and knowing everything around him.

Anyu marched up next to him and collapsed on a pelt next to the fire with a painful wince. "Don't let me interrupt! It's not like I could use a hand here." She took in the warmth and her pains became more noticeable. Her damp clothing clung to her beautiful, yet violent figure as she moved. Her lean muscles spoke in volumes of the rigorous training she endured. A tattoo of an arrow ran down her left arm.

The woman grabbed a clay cup from the tea set and made move to lift the small teapot. She was so thirsty she swore the mouth of the spout talked to her and told her to do so.

It was then that the old man moved with precision and grace, driving the wooden point of his paintbrush down into her forearm and pinning her to the floor.

A scream beckoned to leave Anyu's lips, but she locked the pain down. Her arm went numb and the feeling slowly left the entire right side of her body. She tried to kick at the hermit, but he pressed the brush down just a bit harder and she exhaled through her teeth and surrendered to his will.

It was then the old man spoke. His voice was kind, yet strong and as firm as his grip over her. "An honorable guest...enters. The guest thanks the spirits and the honorable host. The honorable host...shelters and feeds the honorable guest. That is the way of things."

He looked upon her face with his yellow eyes and she gave him a curt nod. With that he removed the paintbrush from the pressure point and feeling returned to her body.

She opened and closed her hands and rubbed her sore arm. She feigned further agony and struck at him with a raging kick to his odd head. She blurted a sudden war cry, "RAAAH!"

The old man eyed the move easily and allowed the leg to pass over his head as he dipped a bit. The breeze of her powerful attack fanned his hair and stoked the embers of the fire--she was indeed powerful.

He saw that the young woman had little thought of what to do if the single attack failed and he smiled at her innocence. In that moment, he entered swiftly with a well-placed strike from the edge of his hand to the back of her head. The moment she went limp, he caught her and lowered her gently as her mind fell into darkness.

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Anyu blinked back to consciousness. She was so comfortable she could have rested for hours longer dwelling in the warmth. A black bear pelt was her temporary bed, with a thick woolen blanket her only bedding. When she saw the old man stirring the brown stew, her left eye closed a bit and her lips pressed firm. The codger was egging her on. He was daring her. The nerve! She came seeking solace and in her weakened state--perhaps her weakest since the battle of Agmalar--and this ancient troll-humper needs to get all high-and-mighty about the honoring the old ways. If she had been at war she would have rather died than be bested this way. Better to fight on her feet than die on her knees. For now, until her belly was full and her strength regained, she would allow the old man his small victory.

Anyu peeked under her blanket. She was still in her clothes and they were dry now. After a moment of contemplation, she thought it best to talk to him like he was one her village elders. She sat and folded her legs under her. She wrapped her gray wool blanket around her shoulders and covered herself completely enjoying the warmth of the fire.

Anyu cleared her throat. "May I make a request to the honorable host?"

The old man stopped stirring, glanced at her, then slightly nodded.

Her eyes fell to the stone floor. "I request water from the mountain spirits, food from the long harvest, and warmth from the hearth of your humble home."

"Your request...is granted. Allow me to serve you." He pointed to the table. "Please...have a seat."

Anyu replied with a shallow bow. She stood and floated to the table as her thick blanket dragged far behind her like a humble train of a majestic gown.

"My name's Anyu."

The old man handed her a cup of hot tea. It was dark green and muddled with leaves. "I am Tu-Tahn."

"Tu-Tahn," Anyu began, "my actions were of desperation--"

The old man held up his hand and shook his head. His heavy lids lowered over his yellow eyes. "Let us speak of other things."

Anyu blew the steam from her tea and let the clay mug warm her hands. Her blonde braids rested on her shoulders. "Many thanks for your hospitality."

"You are most welcome." He nested the two clay bowls and filled them with stew from the pot at the hearth.

He returned with warm bowls and they shared the meal together.

Anyu's mind whirled from the flavors of the hearty stew and perked up from the strong, bitter tea. "You know," she began, breaking the silence, "it is said you can tell a lot about someone by their cooking."

Tu-Tahn nodded. "If so, what does my cooking...say about me?"

The woman stirred the stew and speculated. "The meat, is of a finer cut. It is tender and the potatoes and vegetables are soft as well. You have taken your time with the stew. If not, the meat would be tough and the vegetables crunchy. You have patience."

The codger took a small bite of his stew and shrugged his shoulders. "Which could be said of any man of age."

"The spice," she continued, "is foreign to these lands. This means you are from another place, or you are well traveled."

"A gift?" He argued. "Or, perhaps I know this about cooking as well...and I have deceived you purposefully."

"Possibly, but I don't think so. You didn't know I was coming."

Tu-Tahn's eyebrows raised. "Didn't I? You seem sure of that." He took a sip of the leafy tea and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

That made Anyu smile and he intrigued her. It was then she noticed the storm had subsided and the birds were chirping. She changed the subject. "Storm blew over."

"Yes," Tu-Tahn nodded. "Not the first, but surely not the last in these parts." He took a spoon full of the stew. "I see you were in the King's army."

Her eyes raged for but a moment then remembered her tattoo. She acknowledged him with a nod.

"Your tattoo...looks to be six, or seven years old," he noted. "You were just of age when you entered...I imagine."

The King's army took any man, or woman over the age of eighteen. If you were calvary, you wore a horse head mark. If you were an archer, the mark of an arrow. If you were a spearman...

She didn't want to talk about it. "Were you in the army?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Did you kill many men?"

Tu-Tahn nodded, "Yes, but you are asking questions...to which you already know the answers."

"True," said Anyu. If he was a soldier, and that old, he must have killed many men. She looked down at her bowl of stew and it was empty.

"Let me get you another," said the codger, "and we can talk further." He walked her clay bowl back to the hearth, refilled it, then brought the bowl to rest in front of her.

She ate the second bowl in silence. Tu-Tahn finished his stew and tea and collected the crockery, placing it next to a wash basin opposite the fireplace. He picked up a wooden pail and stepped out the front door into the frigid mountain cold with nothing but his thin wool clothing. His bare feet found firm grip in the snow and he walked many paces into the woods. Anyu watched in amazement as he waded into the knee-high snow and scooped a bucket full of the powder from a fresh snowbank. He came back in and closed the door. Tu-Tahn stomped his feet to knock the snow off and set the pail of snow near the hearth to melt.

"Did you win, or...did you lose?" asked the old man.

"T'was a slaughter," Anyu said. "The southern tribes, you know, they just cannot handle our winters."

"Yes, I know," the old man nodded and he chuckled a bit at that.

"You in the king's army?" she asked.

Tu-Tahn nodded. "Amongst others." He returned with the small teapot and topped off their cups. He sat across from her once again.

"Now you just live up here on your own and talk to the birds." Anyu sipped at her tea. "Sounds pretty dull."

"Do you think that is all I do? Talk to the birds?"

"No." She knew better. She observed the way he physically handled her with ease. The way he walked and painted. His hands were never empty...he always held something he could use as a weapon. The little things she was told by her father to look for. "Did you drug me with your tea?"

"No," said the old man. "Not this time."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, you are a good fighter, but a great warrior would be able to tell...if the tea was drugged, or poisoned...by smell, or color alone." Tu-Tahn thought for a moment. "Why, may I ask...are you here?"

"I was cold," Anyu began, "I saw your cabin with the red circle..."

"I mean, why are you out here?" He tilted his head to the sky and raised his hands. "In the mountains."

Anyu paused for a long moment. She breathed in through her nose and relaxed her tight throat. It was easier for her to fight back the tears now--she had few left. "Nine days ago, our battle with the south went farther than planned. General Kress led us deep into their territory. We were to send a message. We burned the villages. Killed the families and mounted their heads on our spears. Men, women and children...entire families." She took a moment and sipped her bitter tea. "We returned, I resigned my post, started walking north. Father always came north when he needed to clear his head."

"Perhaps the spirits have plans for us, Anyu."

"I'm lost, but not that lost," she smiled at her own jest and locked her sorrow back into its box. "What's with the rocks?"

Tu-Tahn stood and lifted one of the black river rocks from the basket and handed it to Anyu. "Like fighting, it is simple, yet difficult. Three days trek from this doorstep atop the highest peak of the mountain there is a pile of stones like this one."

Anyu stared at the rock and felt its minute imperfections.

"Stand from your seat as you are, climb the mountain, bring one of the rocks back to me, and I will train you..." The old man pointed back to the basket of rocks that represented his past students. "...as I trained them."

"Without my gear, are you crazy?" Anyu asked wide eyed. "No thanks, old man." She stood from her pelt and tossed the rock back in the basket and it landed with a loud clack. She let the wool blanket drop as she stood and began to don her armor.

The old man looked at her with kind expression. "You do not need to leave, Anyu," Tu-Tahn assured her. "I'm just an old man...telling stories. It was your Bakaari coat that stirred my...imagination. Come, we will sit by the fire and talk of...simple things. You can rest...return to your life when you are ready."

She grasped the heavy white Bakaari fur coat--the beast that killed her brother. I was not fast enough...not skilled enough to save him. I need to get better. The moment of clarity was like jumping into an icy pool.

Anyu hung her coat back on the peg then swallowed the rest of her tea in one gulp. She opened the front door and the bitter cold bit hard and turned her skin to gooseflesh.

"I'll be back in six days," she said to the old man.

The old man nodded. "We shall see."