Chapter Text
The cold winter breeze sliced through the trees, a flurry of snow landing next to the unsuspecting white-haired woman’s head. She swiftly dodged the incoming flood of cold and retreated to under the evergreen pines that gave shelter from the harsh stormy winds.
Winter was unforgiving. Unforgiving and unsympathetic to the unsuspecting villagers that ventured into the white forest. The white-haired woman knew that. Most hunters in the village and in the surrounding landscapes were experienced, trained with previous hunters or mercenaries who knew how to track and hunt down prey.
So as she stared down at the collapsed child with a bow in hand and quiver with only one arrow, she wondered how the girl had managed to be miles away from the village with nobody to accompany her. The child of brassy brown hair was still and her skin had turned white, lips blue with snow resting on the girl’s lashes. However – that wasn’t the alarming indicators but instead, it was the scarlet hue spreading across the snow.
The white-haired woman studied the young girl’s path, concluding that she had fallen from a tricky hill and had tumbled down, eventually smashing her head on an intruding rock or branch. There were creases in the immaculate snow and branches unturned by the falling weight. The bleeding was substantial but most head wounds were. She walked up to the unconscious girl, hand caressing the swollen part of the head. The swelling was considerable and she would most likely have a concussion in the best situation and a rupture in the worst.
Her body was cold too if she didn’t die from the head wound her lowering body temperature would. Sighing, the woman leaned down grasping the girl by her shoulders and under her stick-like legs, holding her to her chest.
She was small. Too small. If the woman didn’t know any better and could smell the difference between a child and a developing teen, the woman would have originally thought that she was only 10 winters or younger.
Walking briskly, she headed in the direction of her house, coincidentally even further into the pine forest. All she could hear was the whistling of the winds running past while she had quickened her pace into a sprint.
She arrived at a small cottage. It was a modest thing and held up well despite the fact that she had been living in it for the last 30 years. The walls had ivy vines climbing into the breaking rocks and the windows at frozen over. A slight smoke emerged from the chimney and dyeing the air a slight grey.
Quickly pushing into the house, she moved the girl to the couch that rested in front of the fire and with a wave of the woman’s hand the fires soared twice as large as before, swelling with the presence of the homeowner.
The woman’s mocha hands decorated with black claws on her nails held a hand to the side of the girl’s head, white light glowing from them. The light immersed itself into the wound, healing the swelling that would incapacitate the girl. The scrape remained - the only remnant that she was hurt.
She stripped the girl, inwardly grimaced at the sight of a malnourished body, ribs protruding and hipbones that looked as they were a whole other body part. Retreating to her room, she grabbed the heaviest clothes she could find – made of wool’s and leathers rather than the flimsy cotton she was wearing – and layered the girl.
She needed to raise her body temperature or she would die. Picking up the girl she placed her in her lap, using her latent powers to warm her own body temperature so she could pass it on to the hurt girl. Holding the girl tightly made her starving body even more apparent.
She laid there until the girl’s temperature had stabilised and once she was confident she would not slip back into hypothermia she rested the girl on her couch, returning to the kitchen to make some food that she was sure the half-starved girl would appreciate.
***
Feyre felt warm. It was a strange feeling, most of the time the heat being stolen by her older sisters who pushed themselves in front of the fire. Feyre also felt heavy, like she had been layered in the snow - however, this snow was soft and felt suspiciously like wool.
Her blue-grey eyes peeked open to spot an unfamiliar hearth. With that discovery, Feyre’s body froze and her eyes shut again, scared of whoever had saved her from that fall. A small headache had worked itself into Feyre’s mind and now throbbed in a controlled sequence.
Feyre’s heart rate sped up exponentially and her breaths became fast and worried. Where was she? Had she been kidnapped? She would be surprised if she found out that someone had rescued her from the incoming snowstorm.
Footsteps sounded from her left and her head jerked in that direction, blue-grey eyes widening as she took in her rescuer. An older woman, Feyre would guess her to be around 50 or 60 with the number of wrinkles that the woman sported. She also held a strong stance, straight-backed and physically proud. Feyre didn’t find any signs of malnutrition on the woman and wondered how she had remained so healthy in the dead of winter.
The woman stepped closer, her pure white hair and mocha skin contrasting with the woman’s blue eyes which Feyre swore flashing purple in the firelight. Feyre let out a small noise of fright as the woman strode right over, no hesitation in her stride.
“Girl” The old woman’s voice was low, orotund and had a husky tone to it.
Feyre flinched at the sound. The woman continued.
“Most people don’t appreciate when somebody yells out in fright at seeing the person’s face – especially after that said person saved the other life” The old woman snapped, her face gaining a disdained expression.
Feyre’s stomach clenched in slight guilt.
“Sorry” She mumbled. Feyre brought up the woollen blanket closer to her face as if to hide from her misdeeds. The old woman noticed and her expression softened slightly as she turned.
“Get up girl, you have been resting for a few hours now, I will fix you something to eat”
Feyre’s head popped up at the mention of food and tried to wrestle her way out of the blankets. The old woman smirked slightly and gestured to her small dining table. It had intricate carvings in the top circling the edges. If you took a closer note it told a story. Feyre was just about to look deeper when the woman cleared her throat.
Feyre looked in her direction and swiftly sat in the chair offered.
The woman walked around and placed a steamy hot bowl of what looked and smelt like vegetables and rabbit. Feyre could feel herself salivating a little bit at the smell. She took up the fork and with questioning eyes looked at the woman.
The woman raised an eyebrow and gestured at the hot bowl of food. Feyre dove in like a rabid animal completely forgetting her mannerisms.
“You enjoyed I presume?” The old woman questioned. Feyre meekly nodded and looked at the empty bowl.
“You shouldn’t have any more. I have a feeling that if you do you might spew it all over my clean floors” The old woman chortled.
“Thankyou,” Feyre said. The old woman hummed in response. She decided to try and break the silence.
“Um… I was wondering-” Feyre trailed off.
“Spit it out girl” Feyre jumped a little in her chair.
“Who are you? Where am I? How did you find me in that blizzard?” She blurted out. The woman just huffed a laugh.
“I don’t know if you listen to the village chatter but I am that crazy old witch who lives with her seven cats and eats children” The woman gave her a toothy smile that sent shivers down her spine. After a few moments, she spoke again.
“Just kidding, I don’t eat children. The names Zhysa” Feyre mouthed her name. It was odd and kind of foreign, similar to Feyre’s own name.
“Kind of strange name, isn’t it? My mother liked exotic names” The old woman tilted her head.
Feyre nodded. “I’m Feyre. I live close to the village and of course, I had heard the rumours…” The old woman cut her off.
“To answer you other questions, Feyre, you are currently in my house where I have lived for most of my life and I found you while trekking back to my house to see if my snares were damaged after the storm” Feyre nodded, pleased at the woman’s straightforward answer.
The old woman leaned forward, a dangerous twinkle in her eyes.
“Now the real question is why a young girl like yourself was out in the cold with a simple arrow and a broken bow - not that you would’ve noticed” Feyre pursed her lips and wondered whether to tell the woman. She seemed trustworthy and was starting to joke around a little more. Feyre wondered if she was just uncomfortable before.
Feyre took a deep breath.
“My family is very poor. My older sisters are spoiled and dependent and my father nurses an old injury and is unable to walk very far. We have been struggling to survive so ever since I was 11, I’ve been following hunters and trying to learn from a distance. I have been doing that for 3 years, however today I was following someone but he disappeared from sight when the storm hit and I got lost”
Feyre took another deep breath.
“You’re not telling the whole truth” Feyre looked up abruptly in shock. The woman gaze was scrutinizing and made her feel very exposed. It was as if her blue eyes had shifted and now a bright purple was gazing in.
“Tell me your whole backstory” Feyre frowned.
“Are you sure you want to hear it?” The woman nodded.
So Feyre did. She started with her life in luxury and then her mother’s sudden death of typhus. Her father's slow descent into despair and independence on loan sharks which eventually after the event of her father’s ships being lost at sea, came to collect.
They took the house and their belongings and soon her father’s leg. Told her of life in poverty, her sister’s selfishness, Nesta’s cold demeanour and Elain’s innocent and naïve selfish demands. Her father falling into a hole and by the time she had turned 13, only reacted to massive events.
She told her fully of her experiences and how when she hunted she missed more often than not and constantly went home with an empty stomach, only for Nesta to ridicule her. As Zhysa listened her sympathy for the girl rose and anger for the impurity and selfishness of human beings.
It was not often that Zhysa commented on the imperfections of human nature but their selfishness compared to her kind seemed abysmal. While her kind only wanted to rule for the sake of being the strongest creatures, humans had always seemed to fear what they couldn’t understand. As Feyre finished her story an uncomfortable feeling had started welling up, something she hadn’t felt in almost 30 years. A silence overcomes the house as Zhysa thought about what she was told.
“You know, in my younger days, I was a mercenary. A hired killer didn’t matter if it was a monster or a monster wearing a human skin” Zhysa gestured to the lines of blades lined up near the kitchen.
“I still retain a lot of that and being told all of this really wants to make me slaughter your family” Feyre’s eyes widened.
“But – I would be willing to help you. Help you hunt I mean. I can teach you all the basics of hunting, tracking and killing. All the skills you will need to support your family” Feyre’s jaw dropped at the offer.
“Bu-but y-you barely know me!” Feyre exclaimed.
“So? I am not one, in particular, to leave a starving girl without any skills to call her own so she can die an early death. You need to realise that you are still a child and a child shouldn’t need to shoulder the responsibilities of an adult. It’s honestly shameful”
Feyre looked down and started tearing up, a salty whiff assaulting Zhysa’s nostrils. Her nose flared slightly as she smelt them.
“Okay, don’t start tearing up. I’m not that good at dealing with crying people” Zhysa muttered to the sniffling girl. Feyre nodded and started wiping at her eyes, a small smile crawling onto her face.
Zhysa stood from the chair and patted down the ebony pants she was wearing.
“I will lead you home in a few hours and if you can remember the path, come back in three days. We will start your training then”
Feyre grin became blinding and Zhysa had to turn to stop herself from responding with a bright smile of her own.