Aysel had predicted the time of the snowstorm's beginning correctly. It seemed as soon as the sun fully sank beneath the mountainous horizon, the dark clouds overhead released a flurry on the ground. The flakes were large and as fluffy as a rabbit's paw, the kind that could be molded into balls and thrown at an unsuspecting friend. But there is no time for games tonight, thought Aysel as she followed her friends through the dark trees. Only deception.

Their disguise needed to be perfect if they were to fool the Westbridge Letters into letting them cross without suspicion.She could still see the flaws, and if she could, so would they. Dunyasha's back wouldn't stay straight, Enrick's scarfed face still appeared to protrude a bit too far, and of course, there was nothing Aysel could do about their depthless, yellow eyes. She just hoped that the cover of this blessed snowstorm would be enough.

She would find out soon. Even the heavy snow couldn't hide the the two tall stone towers lining either side of the bridge, or the many low buildings surrounding them. Everything was lit by flickering torches, so even from afar and in the snow-flecked darkness, Aysel could see the many people milling about.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Ancient Ones, first of our line, look down upon me with pity, she prayed in the formal style in which she had been taught. Bless me with your protection, and give me the strength to keep my friends safe.

"What are you doing?" Dunyasha asked.

"I'm praying," she answered simply.

"Does praying help?"

She hesitated. Hours and hours of prayers and countless drops of blood had done nothing to save her brother... but then again, she was here, fighting to save him. Was she part of the Ancient Ones' plan? Or had they abandoned them all? "I don't know," she said finally. "I hope so."

Dunyasha smiled softly beneath her scarf. "I hope so too."

They walked in silence the rest of the way to Westbridge. As they draw closer, Aysel started to hear the sounds of the city. It was indeed a city; it was louder and more alive, even at this late hour, than Aysel had seen before. The city rang with voices as people talked, shouted, laughed, or said quiet prayers to the Ancient Ones. Beneath the voices were the quieter sounds of the red fabric everyone wore swishing together as they walked through the snow-covered lanes, and the crackling of the torches that lit them.

It was a wondrous place, and Aysel would have fallen to her knees and whispered a happy thanks to the Ancient Ones for letting her see it with her own eyes... if not for the sinking feeling in her stomach telling her all would go wrong.

On her right side, Dunyasha walked stiffly through the snow, looking out from above her scarf with watchful eyes. Her brow was furrowed, and Aysel knew that beneath her scarf, her teeth were bared.

She put a gentle hand on her arm, making her jump and clench her fists. "Sorry," Aysel whispered. "Just wanted to see if you were all right."

Dunyasha moved the strands of Aysel's hair further forward on her face. "I don't like this," she said. "Let's leave as soon as we--"

"Welcome, travelers!" a loud voice boomed behind them. Enrick, Dunyasha, and Aysel jumped. They turned to see a tall, heavy-set Letter man, his pale cheeks flushed from the cold. He beamed at them brightly. "I hope the Ancient Ones blessed your journey?"

Dunyasha prodded Aysel in the back, and she found her voice again. "Yes, thank you. Their blessings were upon us, as their blood is within us." Slipping back into the formal speech was as easy as putting on a well-worn pair of boots.

The man smiled wider, his eyes taking on an almost fanatic light. "Indeed it is, my friends." He clapped his gloved hands together. "You look half frozen. Where did you travel from?"

"We all came from Crossing," said Aysel without thinking. She didn't need to think, she realized; it was easy to lie when you were only lying a little.

"Our neighbors upstream," he said with a nod. "Welcome to Westbridge. What are your names?"

"I am Aysel, daughter of Aydin and Elrel, and this is--" she hesitated, but only for a moment; she would use the names of the hunters who had been killed. "This Ilkal, daughter of Ilren and Emdal, and Enton, son of Enfol and Oyron."

Dunyasha nodded her head politely, but Enrick, panic in his eyes, gave a formal bow. Aysel winced; Letters didn't bow except during the old, traditional dances. Her eyes flicked to the man, looking for any sign of suspicion, but he merely laughed. "You're falling over from exhaustion, my friend. Please, stay for the night before you continue your journey."

The offer was tempting, but Aysel didn't need Dunyasha's sharp poke in the back to know they had to refuse. "Thank you, friend, but we cannot. We hope to be over the bridge by morning."

"You are dedicated indeed, to travel through this storm. If you change your mind, know you are welcome here." He gave them one last smile before walking away.

"Funnily enough, I don't feel welcome," Dunyasha said darkly. "Has anyone noticed what we're standing beneath?"

Aysel looked up and felt her heart freeze in her chest. Above them was a large arch stretching between buildings, hung with golden baubles, red ribbons, and dried skins. They moved stiffly in the fierce wind, swaying from side to side like ghosts. Her mind jumped backwards to the smell of flayed People flesh, to blood on the ground, to slowing heartbeats. She put a hand over her mouth to keep bile from coming out.

"We've gone under a few of them," Dunyasha said. "I didn't say anything."

"Stars, a few? With what, ten People each?" Enrick said, looking as disgusted as Aysel felt. "I think I might be sick."

As if he his words had predicted it, Aysel vomited, retching the contents of her nearly-empty stomach into the snow.

"Ay! You okay?" Enrick asked. "Are you feeling...?"

She took her hand from her mouth. "I'm fine. It's just... not long ago, this would have all seemed normal to me. I would have seen them as trophies instead of corpses. It's..." she let her voice trail off as she stared at the skins.

"I know," Dunyasha said softly. "Let's go."

They set off through the snow-swept streets. Dunyasha and Enrick kept their hooded heads down, but Aysel couldn't stop staring at all the wonders and horrors of the city. The buildings here rose far above her head, as if they had been stacked three high, and richly dyed red cloth hung from every window. Behind them came the warm, wavering light of countless fires. It would have been a paradise, if not for the displayed trophies hanging in the streets. She had always wanted to come to Westbridge, but now she wanted nothing more than to get out of it, even though her freezing fingers and tired feet urged her to plop down on a sooty hearth, curl up, and go to sleep.

When she saw the next building, though, it seemed for a moment that her fingers and feet would overrule her common sense. It was a bath. The wooden door was open a crack, letting out plumes of perfumed steam into the frigid air. Inside, Aysel could see deep pools of heated water set into the floor. Her mind brought unbidden images of slipping her aching body into the hot water and taking breaths of sweet steam. She closed her eyes, as if she could block out the thoughts. It was far too dangerous. Besides, if she voiced her desire, she would sure Dunyasha would think it was indulgent nonsense.

"What's that?" Dunyasha asked.

"A bath," said Aysel miserably. "It's warm water where you wash yourself--"

"I know what the concept of a bath is," Dunyasha replied irritatedly. "What's it doing open, in the middle of a city?"

"It's probably public," Aysel suggested. "But you're right, it's much too dangerous for us. We need to keep going."

Dunyasha raised a thick eyebrow. "I never said that."

Behind her, Enrick began to grin beneath his scarf. "Come on Dunya. You deserve it."

"We really should keep going..." she said.

"Yes, we really should," Aysel sighed.

"But we've been walking for days without getting properly clean. A bath would be healthy at this point," she said with a shrug. Aysel's eyes widened. Her dream of relaxation would come true, apparently. If her sore feet could talk, they would be singing in joy at the prospect of being immersed in hot water after days and days of torment. "Wait, is anyone in there? Can't exactly undress in front of Letters," she said, cautiously looking around the empty street.

Enrick skipped past her and pushed the door wider. "No one."

"Perfect. Oh, one of us will have to stand watch."

"I will," Aysel volunteered, looking down at her feet. Although she had seen nearly all of both Enrick's and Dunyasha's body, she wasn't sure if she was ready for them to see hers yet. The thought of those yellowy eyes on her bare body made her stomach quiver.

Enrick eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Lovely. Come on then, Dunya. Bliss awaits us."

But Dunyasha crossed her arms. "I think I'm going to stay here. You can go first and then watch for Aysel and I. You can have a nice bath all to yourself."

Enrick raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you want nice things for me?"

She shrugged. "I'm a good person."

"Mm-hm. Or maybe you just want to be alone with Ay, hm? Just the two of you in the hot water, the steam on your bare skin--"

"Tsh!" Dunyasha scoffed. "That's-- you're an idiot."

He leaned in close to her and fluttered his lashes. "And you'we in wove, dawing Dunya. It's a cute look on you."

She shoved him away as he laughed. "I'm not in love, you-- you moronic layabout. So shut up. You're probably making Aysel very uncomfortable," she muttered without meeting Aysel's eyes.

Aysel, in fact, was uncomfortable. The feeling of unease in her stomach had intensified to an almost painful extent... but underneath, lower down, there was another feeling that had been ignited by Enrick's talk of heat and skin. It was uncomfortable too, but in a different way. A pleasant way.

"I'm just joking," Enrick said, pinching Dunyasha's scarved cheek. "But if you're so insistent about me being alone, I'll take my private bath." He pulled off his pack and handed something to Dunyasha. His voice turned serious again. "Hold these for me. Keep them safe."

It was several of the little pouches Aysel had seen used for coloring smoke. "What?" Dunyasha asked. "Why?"

"Just do it, okay? Protect them."

"Is this what you got from Beyrn?"

"It doesn't matter, Dunya," Enrick said with a meaningful glance towards Aysel. "Now, put it out of your mind and go back to flirting or whatever." He give them a little wave and slipped inside the building, closing the door behind him, leaving Dunyasha standing in front of Aysel.

"Sorry," she said stiffly. "Enrick can be awful sometimes. Obviously we don't have to go together if you're not okay with it. You can go, and I'll go afterwards."

"No, it's fine," Aysel replied. "It's quicker if we both bathe at the same time."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel nervous."

"Why would I be nervous?" Aysel asked, trying to ignore the tumultuous feeling in her stomach. "I mean, we're both women."

"Right. Both women."

"So it's no big deal if we see each other."

"No big deal," Dunyasha echoed.

She shrugged. "We have the, uh, same parts."

Dunyasha cleared her throat. "Right. I won't look at you anyway. I know Letters value privacy when it comes to their bodies."

"Well, in most places. Public baths are different."

"Different how?"

"Well, I've never been to one myself, since it's only big cities like this that can spare the heat and the perfumes, especially in the winter. But they're supposed to feel... safe. Everyone can be as they are, and you don't have to be ashamed."

Dunyasha shook her head. "I'm sorry. I won't go with you then."

"What?" The strange feeling Aysel's stomach twisted. "Did I say something...?"

Dunyasha stepped back and wrapped one hand around her other arm. "I know we've been traveling together for a while, and it's clear your attitudes towards me and my people have changed. But still, you were taught to see us as dangerous, violent monsters for nearly all of your life. I don't want my presence to make you feel in danger in a place you're supposed to feel safe."

"I'm not afraid of you," Aysel said, and she meant the words.

Dunyasha shifted her weight back and forth. "Sometimes when I get too close to you you cringe away. When I hugged you earlier, when we fought those Letters, you were shaking in my arms. I asked if it was okay for me to touch you and you said yes, and it seemed like you liked it, but I never asked you how you felt afterwards. I'm sorry if I made you upset."

Aysel laughed once. "That wasn't because you were touching me! That was because I was crying! In fact, you--" She hesitated, then said quietly, "You made me feel like I was going to be okay."

"I did?"

"Yes. And if that ever happens again, if I get one of those panic attacks, I want you to hold me. It helps to know that someone is there. And because you--" Aysel stopped herself before she could continue.

Dunyasha shuffled her foot in the snow. "I what? You were going to say something else."

"You're very... warm." Aysel said, feeling a blush heat up her cheeks.

Dunyasha began to smile. "I'm warm?"

"Yes," Aysel said, still blushing furiously.

"No one's ever called me warm before. Frigid, yes, but never warm."

"You can be a bit harsh," Aysel admitted. "But you're soft on the inside. And kind. Although I was talking physically."

"I'm physically warm and soft?" she teased.

"Yes!" Aysel said defensively. "You are. Your skin is warm, and your hair is..."

"As soft as a newborn marten?" she said with a snorting laugh.

"No! Well, yes, actually," she said to yet another snort from Dunyasha. "It feels nice. And it's a pretty color." The words were spilling out of her mouth without much thought or direction at this point. She figured that if she was sharing her thoughts, she might as well share them all. "You're pretty."

She took a step closer and playfully pushed Aysel's shoulder. "Who knew you could lie after all? Aysel, I think the cold is addling your brain, because I'm not pretty."

"I'm not lying," she said. She remembered the way Dunyasha had looked with the sun streaming through her mane, illuminating every strand in warm ochre. "You're not pretty like a flower, though. You're pretty like a lynx at night, or a low elg watching you in a clearing."

Dunyasha tilted her head and looked down at Aysel. "I'm not pretty like the things that are actually pretty, but I'm pretty like dangerous wild animals? I think the cold is getting to you."

"No, listen," she said. She grabbed Dunyasha's hand and spun her around to face her. "You're dangerous. And harsh. And wild, yes. But you're also..." Dunyasha's golden eyes were fixed on her. "You're beautiful."

Dunyasha pulled her scarf down with her free hand to show her snout and her wide mouth, which was curled up in a gentle smile. "Sweet Aysel, driven mad by the snow, thinking that this is beautiful."

"You are." Her stomach purred at Dunyasha's hand on hers and her lovely eyes so close, but her mind revolted. Beneath the glove, Dunyasha's hand was clawed. The mark of a monster. Why was she letting it touch her? Why wasn't she already running away?

Because she's beautiful, Aysel answered the intruding thoughts in her mind. And she's not a monster. The feeling in her core agreed.

Dunyasha lowered her eyes and bit her lip. "Come. Let's see if Enrick is done with his bath." She raised her hand to knock on the door, but it opened, and Enrick walked out.

"You girls have got to try the soap. It smells like..." he trailed off as his eyes fell on their entwined hands. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it, and smiled instead. Dunyasha wordlessly handled him the packets again, and while Aysel knew she should be curious, she had too much on her mind to worry about what was inside. She let Dunyasha lead her through the door, still not sure what she was doing, still not sure what she would do.

"I'll keep watch," Enrick said from behind them. "You girls have a... nice bath."

"We will," Dunyasha said, and shut the door.