Ride the Wind: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales Book 3) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

  Other Books by the Author

  Edited by Jennifer Melzer

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2015 Starla Huchton

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ASIN: B015YIN7GQ

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Starla Huchton, SH Productions, LLC

  Editing by Jennifer Melzer

  Book design by Scott Huchton

  For Scott.

  Here’s to second chances.

  Chapter 1

  I’ve never been one to give second chances. Not many people I knew held with the idea. Life in Valmyr was full of hard work, and failure to do your duty was too costly to others. One mistake could mean lives lost, and we all depended on one another.

  Those lessons were drilled into me from the day I was born. Family, friends, and country were my foundations. Our bonds formed the web of life we all depended on to survive, and one loose tie could spell disaster. When we stood together, neither bitter cold nor relentless ice could drive us from our mountain homes. Many snows had tried, and many snows had failed. And by my nineteenth year, I’d seen almost every kind of snow there was.

  My first word was ahmi— our ancestors’ word for the soft, peaceful kind of snow that falls silently without wind. Ahmi is a feeling, more than an object; it’s a welcome snow, and some say it’s the spirits smiling on the mountains. My mother liked to tell me that, even as she’d tried to coax a “mama” out of me hundreds of times, my captivation with the snow falling one morning was enough to prompt the word from my lips the moment she said it.

  It was ahmi that greeted me as I opened the cabin door that winter morning. Ax in one hand, shovel in the other, my first task of the day was replacing the many logs my family had used weathering a blizzard that lasted four days. I welcomed ahmi with a smile, happy the day would be pleasant for catching up with the work we’d missed. As I strode into the unusually bright morning, I ran through my list of tasks to complete in the few hours of sunlight that day. Replenishing our stock of wood was the most important thing, but I’d also promised to check up on our neighbors. The old couple two miles away weren’t in the best of health, and my mother was concerned they might not make it through the season.

  “Lukas!” my mother called from inside. Moments later, she appeared in the doorway, the mittens she was mending for my sister in one hand. “Lukas, make sure you clear the snow off the entire tarp. We can’t have it melting in the sun to freeze over into ice later.”

  “I’ll do my best, though I’d rather make sure we’ve enough logs first,” I replied. “There’s no telling when the weather will turn again, and we can’t last another storm like that with what we’ve got now.”

  “Take your time with it,” she said, a proud smile beaming at me. “I’ll check the traps myself when I’m done here, so that’ll give you another hour at least.”

  I bent and adjusted the strap on my snowshoe, as the thing had come loose again. “I can see to it. There’s no need for—”

  “Oh nonsense, Lukas,” she said, fist on her hip. “It was my job long before you were born, and I dare say it will be again soon enough. Off with you. No use wasting what light we’ve got.”

  As she disappeared back inside, I frowned. She’d said checking the traps would be her job again soon enough, but there wasn’t any reason it would be. With the blizzard over, my father would be on his way up the mountain again, returning with supplies he’d traded for in the village below, and I had no plans for travel, high demand for animal pelts aside. The winter had been a rough one, and few people dared leave their homes for long with such uncertain weather.

  Shrugging it off, I turned my attention back to my task. Around the side of the house, I dug out the mound of snow covering our surplus of wood, exposing as much of the tarp as I could before lifting the lower edge. Shovel left against the pile, I selected a large section of a tree trunk I’d cut with my father the summer past and kicked the snow off of the chopping stump. I set into work in earnest, hefting and cleaving and stacking each log as it was finished. After the better part of an hour, my arms ached from it, a sure sign winter was taking its toll on my stamina. My breaths came in giant puffs of steam, and I paused, taking a moment to rest and appreciate the tranquility of ahmi as it floated down from the sky.

  “Lukas, have you seen Mama?” Hanna said, stumbling through the drifts as she found me. Her red braids never looked so lovely as they did against the winter snow, and always made me smile.

  “Has she gone to check the traps already?” I said, sticking the ax in the chopping stump.

  Hanna fidgeted with her mittens. “She did a while ago, yes. You haven’t seen her? It never takes you so long to check them. Do you think she’s having trouble? Maybe a larger animal found its way into one of them. Mama’s strong, but not so much to carry an elk or bear herself.”

  I chuckled and made my way to her, rubbing her knit cap into her hair. “I doubt there’d be any bears about this time of year, but if it’ll put you at ease, I’ll go and look.” I turned as I wound around her, back to the front of the house, and headed for the buried trail off in the trees. “Be a good girl and bring in the logs stacked there, would you? I’ll be back to chop more in a minute.”

  It wasn’t difficult to find my mother’s tracks in the snow. I followed her long, dragging shoe prints due east, eventually headed north, up higher on the mountain. I came across two empty traps, bloodstains the only traces of the small animals caught in them, but no sign of my mother outside of that. After twenty minutes of searching, I paused, slightly worried at the sudden change in her tracks. The prints were hurried, more widely spread as though she’d been running. They carried further up the mountain as I traced their path with my eyes.

  A sudden blast of icy wind knocked me back a pace. There was something abnormal about the gust, as it came from an unexpectedly western direction. Wind coming down from the mountain wan’t unusual, and occasionally in summer it blew up from the valley, but across the slope? I shivered, tickled by a growing unease with my mother’s absence, and darted up after the footprints.

  “Maeha!” I called up the mountain. “Maeha, are you there?”

  Lack of an answer pushed me harder, and I ran as fast as my snowshoes would allow. The wind kicked up again, slowly burying the trail I’d been following. The farther I went, the harder it blew, and I knew my mother was in trouble. Only a fierce spirit could cause such a gale, and I r
efused to let her face that power alone.

  Through the blowing snow, I made out a human shape crouched near an overhang of rocks.

  “Maeha, are you hurt?” I called to her. “We must get out of this storm!”

  Through the blur of snowflakes, she stood and turned for a moment, but made no move to leave. Each step I took towards her was more difficult than the last, and I worried the increasing wind might blow me off of my feet. Never before had I experienced such a force coming on so quickly. The weather on the mountain could be fickle, but never so inexplicable as what I faced in that moment.

  As abruptly as it began, it stopped, and my momentum carried me forward, stumbling up to my mother’s side. Her hands steadied me, helping me regain my feet with a reassuring smile.

  “I’m all right, Sowah,” she said, “but I need your strength.”

  Straightening, I stared at her, confused. Not so much as a single snowflake stirred around us. “Maeha, what’s happened?” I looked back the way I came. “Where did the storm go?”

  She took my gloved hands in hers and gazed into my eyes. “You’re the finest son I could have wished for, Lukas. You always do as you’re told, and never falter in your duty to the family. If I ask something of you, will you do it now?”

  Before I could answer, the rough snuffle of an animal broke her hold on my attention, and I jerked. Not ten feet from us, an elk as white as the purest snow and larger than any I’d ever seen stared back. Its frosty blue eyes bore into me, examining each inch of me down to my soul, and even its fur had the pale, crystalline look of ice.

  “Maeha…” I said, my words barely audible. “What have you found?”

  “A spirit in trouble,” she said, breaking away from me. Cautious, she approached the animal, head bowed and hands hovering by her side. “She’s trapped here, Sowah. Even if I could free her, she’d be unable to walk. I need your help, and I need your promise.”

  When I took a step forward, the stag jerked, trying to wrench its leg free from between the crevice dividing two boulders. It must’ve stumbled into the crack, unable to see the danger lurking beneath the snow. It struggled and bayed plaintively, but to no avail. With a sickening crack, the animal collapsed, its foreleg broken from the struggle.

  “Shh,” my mother said, undaunted. “He’ll not harm you. He’ll see you safe, on that you have my word.” She knelt beside the elk, its ragged panting broken only by soft whines of pain. Gently, my mother stroked the brilliant white fur of its neck, soothing it as was her natural gift. Quiet as the trickle of a melting stream, she hummed a lullaby she’d sung to both me and my sister when we were young, to ease us into sleep when we’d been woken by nightmares. With her free hand, she beckoned me closer, and I kept my approach slow and steady, as not to spook the animal again.

  “Easy,” she said. “Can you free her?”

  Keeping a close eye on the elk, I glanced down to assess the situation. Part of its hoof was wedged beneath a sharp crack in the rock. “I think so, but I’ll need to use my knife to pry it. Can you keep her still? If she struggles any more, there may be no saving the leg or her life.”

  As if the animal understood me, the elk instantly stilled, closing its eyes. At first afraid it was dying, its steady, deep breaths told me otherwise.

  “It’ll be fine,” my mother said. “Do as you must.”

  I considered her for a moment. While she was never much for questioning herself, there was a distinct surety in her words. She’d never led me astray before, so I pushed through my own hesitation. I began by digging around the rock, hoping to loosen it in the ground, but I barely managed to budge it at all. What little room there was did provide enough space to wedge my knife parallel to the hoof, however.

  “When I pry it free, you’d do well to back up quickly,” I said to my mother as I gripped the knife handle. “This blade has never betrayed me, but this rock might have other plans.”

  She nodded once, as not to interrupt her humming, and I squared my shoulders, setting my feet in a more stable stance. With one last deep breath, I pulled with all my strength. The elk was free in seconds, staggering back only to crumple in a heap within a mere foot. It rolled to its side, hoarse gasps extruding from its lungs as the snow beneath its leg turned crimson with spilled blood.

  Without any hesitation, my mother ripped a long strip of fabric from her skirts and knelt by the wounded animal once more. Though its back legs spasmed in powerful kicks, the elk made no move to harm my mother as she set the bone and bandaged the broken foreleg.

  “It’s all right now,” my mother whispered. “The worst is over.”

  “The worst?” I said. “She’ll not survive a night with such injuries. If not the weather, the wolves will come for her soon enough.”

  “Which is why you’re going to see her up the mountain.”

  “I’m… I’m what?” I gaped at her.

  She tied off the bandage and stood, smiling pleasantly at me. “I’ve promised her, you see. She can’t make it up there on her own.”

  “Promised an elk? Maeha, you can’t—”

  She scowled. “You see too much with your eyes, not enough with your heart, Sowah. This is no animal. I heard her cries for help. She spoke to me, and I agreed to help her. Denying a spirit of magic will bring disaster on everyone who lives on this mountain.”

  While I’d never held much with my mother’s beliefs in old magic, I was too wary of the possibility of her being right to risk putting so many lives in danger. “Why me? And why can’t we bring her to our home? There’s room enough in our barn to—”

  “I’m not strong enough to manage such a trek on my own, you know that. And this one needs shelter high up the mountain, away from human eyes.” She crouched down and stroked the elk’s shoulder again before continuing. “Your hands are fair at healing, and your father will be back soon enough to resume his chores.”

  Staring at her, I couldn’t fathom why that would make a difference. “You speak as though you don’t expect me to come home anytime soon.”

  My mother shrugged. “In truth, I’d expected you gone a year by now— married and starting your own life. Hanna and I can manage things well enough.”

  I laughed. “Married? To who? I’d travel for days to find women my age, and few willing to live as we do. I’ve no care for towns, Mother.” Sighing, I scratched the back of my mitten along my chin. “Even so, this pilgrimage for an elk is ill-advised. The weather could turn at any moment.”

  Her eyes filled with determined reprimand, my mother stood before me, setting her palm against my cheek. “You’ve always been such a good boy, Lukas, keeping your word whenever I’ve asked you to, and I’ve never told you an untruth. When I say to you that this is perhaps the most important thing I’ll ever ask of you, I mean it with every shred of myself. This task will define the man you become. Will you trust me, or will you run from it?”

  Looking into my mother’s eyes, the sincerity of her plea fully registered. Whatever she thought of the animal, she believed with all of her heart. Moreover, buried in her words was a need to see me out in the world. The entire past year she’d tried to send me with my father on his trading trips, but my concern only ever lay with the well-being of her and Hanna. I knew she wanted more for me, as most parents do, but I never understood her conviction until that moment.

  “You honestly wish me to go? Even knowing the mountain may keep me away for months?”

  Sadness colored her expression, but she nodded all the same. “I wish for you to see more of the world before you decide this is all you want for yourself. All children must leave their homes eventually. I love you too much to shelter you any longer.”

  I looked back at the elk as it struggled to stand again, with no better results. “Perhaps our old sled might be of some use. The reindeer harness might be broken, but I think I can manage the trip with what’s left.”

  She lifted up and kissed my cheek. “Best hurry and fetch it then. Take what supplies you can carry, and the
bundle meant for Johannes and Norah. I’ll bring them something else tomorrow.”

  Hiding my concern, I decided it was far better to indulge my mother’s request. At most, I gave the elk a week to live before it succumbed to its injuries, but if that would give her peace of mind, I could spare that much. As I trudged back to the cabin, a warm breeze caressed my face, rather than the scathing wind I’d endured on my way up. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d heard a whispered “thank you” as it whistled through the pines.

  Chapter 2

  “And you’re sure about the direction?” I asked, skeptical as I studied the terrain in the way my mother pointed. “I’ve been all over this mountain and I’ve never seen more than a shack or two on this face.”

  “I’m certain you’ll find shelter there,” she replied. “Head that way until you see the entwined pines, then head west until you reach the gorge. She’ll help you if you get lost.”

  I grimaced. “An elk unable to walk is going to help if I get lost? Exactly how will that work?” The more my mother said about the animal, the closer I came to reconsidering the journey. There were tales of bad weather causing madness and delusions, but by all other counts, nothing in her behavior, outside of the elk issue, had given me pause that winter.

  “The spirits have their own secrets, Sowah. I’m privy to a scant few.”

  Sighing, I bent to check the sides of the sled were secure against the weight of the white elk resting inside them. Confident they’d hold for at least the one trip, pending that wasn’t more than a day, maybe two, I straightened to tighten the buckles of the makeshift harness crossing my body. My pack tucked safely beside the elk and serving as a pillow, I felt satisfied I was as prepared as I could be.

  “Remember,” my mother pulled up the collar on my coat and adjusted my hat over my ears, “you must stay with her at least until she can walk again. If she can’t fend for herself, all will be lost.”