Her mind ran around in little circles, like a frightened mouse-and it was that image that enabled her to get hold of herself Stop that, she told herself sternly. She forced herself to sit and think, as Need had taught her; to use all that energy that was going into panic for coming up with answers.
The first, and most immediate problem, was how she was going to get down out of the tower to hunt in the first place.
And she had already come up with one possibility; she just hadn't done anything about it Yet. Well, now she was going to have to.
We have plenty of rope, and no one is going to cross all that snow without leaving tracks a baby rabbit could see, so there's no harm in using a rope to get up and down with. No one will get in here to use it without my knowing.
I can just secure one end of the rope up here and climb down that way. That isn't perfect, but then, what is?
And as for game, well, whatever hampered her would also hamper the game. In fact, as cold as it was, she could even think about creating a hoard for emergencies; if she hung the carcasses just inside the tower, they'd stay frozen. If she put them high enough, they'd be out of reach of what scavengers were brave enough to venture inside with her scent all over everything. She could even take deer, now, and not worry about spoilage.
And since she hadn't bothered the deer yet, they did not yet regard her as a predator. Snow would be at least as hard on them as it was on her.
I can pull the carcasses easier through the snow, too; I won't have to try to cut them up to carry them back...With a plan in mind, at least for getting into and out of her shelter, and the possibility of new game to augment the old, she looked down on the forest with curiosity rather than fear.
She had never seen snow before, not like this. Falconsbane had copied the Tayledras, whether he admitted it or not, keeping the grounds of his stronghold free of ice and snow, and warmed to summer heat. He had hated winter; hated snow and ice, and spent most of the wintry days locked up inside his domain, whiling away the hours in magery or pleasure.
The only time she had ever seen snow was when she had ventured to the gates, and had looked out on a thin slice of winter woods and trampled roadway from the tiny and heavily-barred windows. She was not permitted on the tower tops, lest she attempt to climb down and escape, and the windows in wintertime were kept shuttered and locked against the season.
She had always dreaded the coming of winter, for during the winter months her father often became bored. It was difficult for his creatures to move through the snow; even more difficult for them to slip into the Hawkbrothers' lands unseen. And of course, Falconsbane would not venture outside unless it was an absolute emergency, so his own activities were greatly curtailed. Humans tended to keep to their dwellings in winter, and the intelligent creatures to band together, so the opportunities for acquiring victims were also reduced. He dared not be too spendthrift with the lives of his servants, for there were only so many of them, and fewer opportunities to get more. They were trapped within the walls, too, and if he pushed them too far, they might become desperate enough to revolt. Even he knew that. So Falconsbane's entertainments had to be of his own devising.
When he grew bored, he often designed changes he wished to make in his own appearance, and worked them out on her, an activity that, often as not, ranged from mildly to horribly painful. And when that palled, there were other amusements in which she became his plaything, the old games she now hated, but had then both loathed and desired.
No, until now, winter had not been her favorite season. Spring and fall had been best-spring, because her father was out of the stronghold as often as possible, eager to escape the too-familiar walls, and fall, because he was seizing his last opportunities to get away before winter fell.
But this year, the coming of winter had not induced the fear that it had in the past.
Odd. I wonder why?
Then she realized that all the signs of winter that she had learned to fear were things Falconsbane had created; the increasing number of mage-lights to compensate for the shortening days, the rising temperature in the stronghold, and the shuttering of the windows against the gray sky.
Any mage might do those things-there were other signs in Falconsbane's stronghold that marked the season of fear.
Forced-growth of strange plants brought in to flower in odd corners, creating tiny, often dangerous, mage-lit gardens. Many of those plants were poisonous, some had envenomed thorns, or deadly perfumes. It was one of her father's pleasures to see who would be foolish enough to be entrapped by them.
More slaves in the quarters reserved for those Falconsbane intended to use up, slaves usually young and attractive, but not terribly bright.
Her father tended to save the intelligent, warping their minds to suit his Purposes, keeping them for two or even three years before pique or a fit Of temper brought their twisted lives to a close.
Strained expressions on the faces of those who hoped to survive the winter and feared they might not. Sometimes, usually in the darkest hours of the winter, her father's temper exceeded even his formidable control- though most of the victims were those former 'favorite' slaves ...There had been none of that this year. The shortening of the days had not signaled anything to her, and she had simply reacted to the long nights by sleeping more. There had been no blazing of lights in every corner to wake old memories, merely the flickering of her own friendly fire. There was no tropic heat to awaken painful unease, only the need to move everything closer to the firepit, and to build up a good supply of wood.
This place that she lived in could be called squalid, compared to the lush extravagancies of an Adept's lair, but it was hers. She had made it so with pride, the first place she could truly call her own, unfettered by her father's will. The wood and rope and furs were placed by her desires alone, with the advice and help of Need, who had become a trusted friend. Taken as a sum of goods, it was insignificant; taken in its context, it was delightful.
The view from her window surprised her with unexpected beauty; the ugliest tangles of brush and tumbled rock had been softened by the thick blanket of snow.
It was astonishing; it took her breath away. She simply admired it for many long moments before turning her thoughts back to the reality that it represented.
It could also be deadly to one who had no real experience in dealing with it.
