Even in my enchanted jacket, I still shivered because the rest of me could feel the cold. We came to a steep spot on the path where the slope had at least a 15 percent grade. I stared at the descending trail.
“Dude, I’m not sure I can navigate that without falling flat on my butt. My boots have good tread on them, but that’s a steep slope and I’m not exactly the most graceful person in the world.”
Kipa grinned, shaking his head. “True enough. Tell you what,” he said. “It would be easier on both of us if I shifted into my wolf form and you rode on my back.”
“That might be best, since you seem to have good traction when it comes to snow.” I stood back as Kipa shifted into his wolf form. It was like watching a movie that had been sped up, to where his movements were almost a blur. The gods didn’t have to disrobe before changing form, which was a definite advantage.
A moment later a great gray wolf appeared, almost up to my shoulder. Kipa’s eyes were an intense blue when he was in wolf form, and he was both beautiful and terrifying. When we went on camping trips, he would transform and I would ride on his back like Ember did on Herne’s back when he was in stag form, and we would traverse the back paths of the forest where most hikers never set foot.
He lay down beside me so I could climb aboard his back. I took hold of the fur on his neck to brace myself and then swung my leg over his back. As he rose, I held on to the fur. It didn’t hurt him, and it gave me a way to balance. Kipa let out a bark. We had established a way for me to understand him, and I knew that meant he was asking me if I was ready.
“Ready, love,” I said.
And then, we were off. He ran so fast the snowbanks to the side of the path were a blur, shimmering like crystal as we raced along. I leaned forward, holding on tight, the wind and snowflakes gusting past me. The slope was daunting, but Kipa’s paws were surefooted and his stride even. When we reached the bottom, he kept going.
Instead of heading through the village toward the palace, he turned to the right and we ran parallel to the town. The houses were made of stone, and smoke rose from their chimneys. Their yards were covered with snow, but barren oak trees were plentiful, as were conifers, and it reminded me of the rural areas back home, with more of a magical feel.
A few people were out and about, but they hurried along, the chill of the winter keeping outdoor interactions at a minimum. Most of the villagers were Elves, with a very few humans in their midst. From what Kipa had told me, over the millennia, some humans had migrated to Annwn and set up their homes here—usually at the behest of friends who were Fae or Elven.
We continued past the village, running parallel to the great trees of Y’Bain, through the open clearing. A small thicket up ahead loomed. It wasn’t part of the forest, but a copse separate to itself, and was a mix of fir and cedar, birch and oak and maple. The barren limbs of the latter spread like webs through the sky, and the white bark of the birch stood in stark contrast to the trunks of the other trees.
Kipa paused at the trailhead and at first I thought he wanted me to get off, but when he didn’t kneel, I said, “Are we almost there?”
He let out a warning bark. I stayed where I was and didn’t try to scramble off. It would have been difficult to get off his back anyway, since he was still standing. He raised his muzzle to the sky, his nose twitching as he tested the scents in the air, and then, after a moment, he began to walk again, giving me time to once again grab hold of his fur before he took off, running along the path, lightly jumping over root and branch and stone.
The first thing I noticed about the copse was that the snow was thick here as well, but the path seemed fairly clear. Which meant either someone came out here and shoveled it, or some magical force was in action. Snow didn’t decide where to drop by itself. I made a note to ask Kipa once he had shifted back.
As we loped along, we saw other animals in the thicket. I saw a great deer to one side and it made me think of Herne and his father. And we also passed foxes chasing rabbits, and dozens of birds who were hopping from branch to branch, looking for food.
I began to wonder how long we’d keep going when another clearing up ahead caught my attention. There were two houses in the meadow, with smoke swirling from both chimneys, and the cottages looked snug and well-made. To one side of the meadow was what I assumed was a shed, and next to it, a fire crackled beneath a frame that held row after row of fish, skewered on metal sticks. The fire bathed the fish in smoke.
Kipa came to a stop in front of the first cottage and knelt so I could slide off his back. I winced—his form was so massive that it always strained my thigh muscles when I rode his wolf form. I was standing on a path that had been shoveled clear. It led to the other cottage, then to the shed, and in the other direction it led back out to the path through the thicket.
As Kipa emerged from the mist that always swirled around him when he transformed, he motioned for me to take his hand. “Hey love, what do you think of Thicklewood?”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, looking around.
“Yes, it is. Y’Bain is an ancient forest, and Thicklewood is a remnant of it, divided from the main woodland. Once Y’Bain covered this entire part of Annwn—a sprawling woodland, until Cernunnos moved in and took over, building his palace and the villages surrounding it. The forest pushed back, and he made an agreement with the massive devas of Y’Bain that he would keep his people from destroying more of the woodland, and he and the other gods would stay out of its borders.”
I frowned. “So the gods can’t enter? What happens if they do? Is Y’Bain an entity in itself?”
“Exactly. Y’Bain is more than a forest. The entire forest is an entity, and it’s capable of acting through any of the smaller woodlands around here. Through the animals, through the trees, through other, more sinister methods. Y’Bain has eyes and ears everywhere within its borders, and it’s an ancient and crafty soul. If the gods enter, Y’Bain will make it rain hell on their followers.” He stopped at the door and knocked.
A few seconds later the door opened and the man standing there looked at us, then he clapped Kipa on the shoulder. “Kuippana, what are you doing here? Come in. And who is this?”
“Dek, how goes it, you old salt?” Kipa grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a hug, in the way brothers in arms hug each other, giving him a thud on the back. “Let us in out of the cold, man.”
Dek ushered us in, then shut the door. Kipa immediately aimed me for the fireplace where there was a cushioned bench in front of the flames.
I glanced around the cottage. We were in what looked to be the living–dining area, and it was spacious, with the massive stone fireplace as the focal point. A table to one side looked like it could seat ten, with long benches replacing the chairs, and there were two sofas along with a rocking chair near the fireplace. There were three other doors that led to what I assumed were other rooms, and through an open archway I could see what appeared to be the kitchen, with a massive wood cookstove.
“Dek, this is my mate, Raven BoneTalker. Raven, this is an old friend of mine, Dek. He’s a bear shifter, and has lived out here for years.”
“How do you do, miss?” Dek said, scrutinizing me. “You aren’t an Elf.”
“No, I’m not,” I said with a laugh. “I’m one of the Ante-Fae.”