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Mere months ago, Minthara would have concluded that Waterdeep's endless chain of festivities was a consequence of its largely human population. The short-lived and the desperate, they were trying to grasp every fleeting distraction from the reality of their sad and dangerous lives.
She still thought her theory had some merit, but she was quickly learning that incessant festiveness was not confined to just one group of people.
Gale and Ruby had been doing nothing but preparing for Simril for the last tenday. There were shifting arrangements, dinner plans of ever-growing complexity and, of course, the monumental task of figuring out Ruby's lucky star.
(Gale offered to find out Minthara's lucky star as well. She scoffed at the suggestion. She had no intention of begging for luck from a fickle human goddess.)
This morning, the plan was at last clear. They were to teleport to the mountains, and spend the night at the cabin there, as Gale insisted that the view of the stars would be better further away from the city. Like that, Minthara found herself in an almost charming little shack on the mountainside, watching the snow fall down in lumps and covering up the path from the door that Gale had cleared out with magic.
The door behind her opened, and Minthara flinched.
"It's only me, no need for hostilities" an amused voice proclaimed from behind and heavy cloth landed on her shoulders, "Just worried you might get sick."
Some part of her wanted to explain, no, repeat, that sickness was not a danger to her, that the power of her oath made her all but immune to the inconvenience of common cold, but she simply sighed. Needless concerns were a way of expressing affection for her lovers.
And, truth be told, the throw that Gale wrapped around her was nice.
"If you wish to worry, I am not the one you should be fretting about," she said instead.
The movements on the edges of the courtyard were only noteworthy if you knew what to look for. Minthara and Gale both knew to look out for the small shapes moving chaotically at the edges of one's vision. They saw now that something — someone — was moving under the snow.
Gale chuckled.
"You're right," he said to Minthara, then called out into the snow, "Ruby!"
The movement was obvious now, a small shape burrowing towards them until a rat jumped out and turned into a gnome mid-leap, crashing into Gale, and knocking him a step backwards.
It was Minthara's turn to be amused.
"I am glad you're enjoying yourself at least," Gale chuckled, finding his footing.
"There's so much snow!" Ruby exclaimed, clinging to Gale's jacket, "There's never this much in Waterdeep, they clean it too quickly. And it's not even that cold! There were colder days at Shinyshoreside, but no snow at all, only the lake freezing over."
Minthara watched Gale rest his palms on Ruby's slight shoulders. He whispered something under his breath, and a spell sparked on his fingers. Ruby stuttered, then grabbed onto his hands, clinging to the magical warmth.
"I understand that you two are used to subterranean cold, but we have a long night ahead of us. Come back inside," he smiled and raised his eyes to Minthara and the way she held onto the throw.
Minthara couldn't help a smile herself. Ruby's enthusiasm was infectious.
"A moment longer," she nodded, as Ruby led Gale back into the cabin, already asking about dinner.
Alone once again, she looked over her surroundings. Pallid grey skies flowed into the white expanse of snow, with only dark spots of exposed rock and occasional bare tree standing out in monochrome landscape. She quite liked it — certainly better than the assault on the senses that was the heat and gaudy colours of the summer. Yet something worried her. The wind was picking up, the snow was falling harder, and somewhere far, on the edge of her hearing, a howl could be heard now and again.
Maybe she should have worn her armour after all.
Watching the dinner being prepared turned out much more amusing than Minthara could have predicted. Gale was a good cook, there was a practised ease to his movements, but today he had to juggle the preparations with watching Ruby as she fluttered around the kitchen. He gently refused most of her suggestions and tried to stir her away from the stove. Ruby was perfectly content to leave all the "boring parts" of cooking to their lover (as if there were any other parts.) She still had opinions on how things should be done.
As Gale turned to wipe down the counter, Ruby added a heaping spoonful of salt to the pot of boiling tubers. Minthara smirked.
The dance continued for a while. Gale managed to catch her before she added more timber to the wood-stove. Ruby pocketed one of his spice bottles while he wasn't looking. The argument on vegetables ended with a compromise. Minthara was starting to get curious about the eventual faith of their dinner, but not enough to intervene.
"Alright, my love, I can take it from here," Gale muttered, steadying Ruby with his hands on her shoulders, "You should rest. We have a long night ahead of us."
"And you? You should rest too."
"I will, as soon as I'm done with dinner."
This was convincing enough for Ruby, and she scurried towards the worn sofa where Minthara sat. Minthara reached out her arm and lifted her up in one practised gesture.
Ruby settled next to her, curling into her side. She ran warm, and Minthara found it soothing.
"Did you pack a dress for tonight?" Ruby asked, her excitement not at all diminished.
"We will be outside for most of the night. The coat will suffice."
"Yes, but it's fancier if you wear a dress under the coat."
Minthara chuckled and reached out to play with a strand of Ruby's hair.
"Perhaps. But not tonight.”
"Well, you should still pretty up. It's a holiday!"
Minthara watched Ruby smile and glance up at her as she spoke. The pale grey eyes flicked down from her ears to her neck, as she followed the strands of hair out of place.
She sighed and wordlessly pulled the pins holding her hair up and let it fall down her shoulders. Like I am a doll to her, she thought. The thought had no real bite behind it — she was quite used to Ruby's quick hands brushing her hair and braiding it, grew to enjoy it. Ruby settled on the armrest and pulled Minthara to lean against her.
She felt quick fingers in her hair immediately, teasing apart the tresses and pulling slightly.
"That's better," for a moment Ruby was quiet, twisting the strands together, "Are you not excited at all?"
"I do not have a habit of stargazing."
She felt a quick punishing tug on her hair.
"You know it's not just stargazing."
"Oh, she does. Therein lies the problem," Gale sounded from the kitchen.
"Don't get distracted," Minthara called back to him, then turned her attention back to Ruby "I do not worship Tymora and do not need her blessing. I'd rather rely on myself and those around me."
"Everyone needs some extra luck now and again," Ruby answered, picking up one of Minthara's pins, "And Gale said the stars here are prettier than in the city."
"Indeed! The nighttime illumination in Waterdeep is quite impressive these days, but it does drown out the starlight. No such thing here."
Minthara shifted, crossing her arms over her chest and received another tug on the hair as a punishment for fidgeting.
She changed her tactics.
"We have seen the many wonders Dark Dominion has to offer, Ruby, as well as everything we've encountered on our travels. Night sky is not so impressive after all."
Minthara could hear Gale sigh all the way from the kitchen.
"Nothing's impressive to you! I like the stars," Ruby pinned up some of her hair and started braiding another strand, "Have you seen any before we got wormed?"
"A few times," Minthara answered, "Whenever I was on a raid to the surface, it was at night. The raids provide little opportunity to admire the scenery, but enough to see it."
There was a pause at that, which, Minthara would guess, was accompanied by an eye roll. She looked back and brushed a finger against Ruby's face: from her ear to her cheek to her lips.
"I will watch the stars with you either way," she said, her voice softer than she meant, then added, "If we manage see any through these clouds."
Ruby groaned and Gale cleared his throat.
"The overcast skies on Simril night are considered a good omen, actually," Minthara heard heavy footsteps until Gale showed up at the edge of her vision, "If your star shines bright enough to be visible through the clouds, then Tymora has blessed you indeed."
Minthara raised an eyebrow, but decided that any further comment would earn her a stab of a hairpin from Ruby. She didn't need to ask anything to see that Gale was unhappy with the weather.
Ruby set the last pin in place and was admiring her work. Gale caught Minthara's questioning gaze and conjured a small illusion — her own bust, face bearing the slightest frown and her hair done up in a wreath of braids.
"You look beautiful," he said softly.
Ruby beamed in response.
The sun set at last, leaving only a strip of violet on the horizon. Gale had already levitated a table out of the cabin and cleared out a space in the centre of the yard for the feast and the skies-watching.
Skies-watching, as the stars were yet to show up in the cloudy sky.
Minthara watched Gale look up with a frown every time he walked out of the cabin with another dish in his arms. She was about to make a comment, something about lucky stars and omens, when Ruby took off, wading through the snow.
"Something's here," she muttered, before Minthara could ask.
Cold worry rose in her chest. The eerie quiet, the lonely howl, all the little signs of danger from earlier today came to mind.
Ruby slowed down, peering out into the dark, moving her head in jerky little motions.
Minthara looked out as well, moving slowly to follow Ruby's footsteps.
White snow against black skies. Quiet. Too quiet.
"Minthara!" Ruby called out, a desperate shriek in the darkness.
She heard the snaps and crackle of twigs breaking a moment later, and before she knew, she was running towards the call.
From behind the old tree, clambering through the dead underbrush, a giant figure emerged. It towered above them, a powerful form covered in matted fur, white as snow, inexorable as an avalanche. At first glance it looked as if the barren landscape around them rose and stepped forward. Then the pale blue glow of two eyes became visible and for a moment Minthara couldn't move.
Ruby screamed, a single high note snuffed out, like the air was knocked out of her lungs. Minthara saw her freeze, her endless fidgeting stilled under the frigid gaze of the creature.
Minthara screamed as she ran. The time slowed down around her.
The monster, the ugly furred thing, was raising its arm, vicious claws glinting in dim light. Any moment, within a heartbeat, within a breath, the claws would come down, shred through wool and skin, and Minthara would not make it in time, would not reach them, would stumble in the snow—
"Ignis!"
A mote of fire carved the air above her shoulder and collided with the figure. She smelled singed fur and the monster stumbled half a step back.
Enough.
Minthara closed the distance, leaving her coat behind in the snow, sword already in hand. A shortsword, hardly more than a dagger but it would have to be enough.
She swung. The blade glanced off the thick hide. She pulled and thrust instead, the point piercing the skin. Another flash of magic flew above her, a reassurance, support. The creature bellowed, the air filled with smell of rot, blood and ash.
"Fire, use fire!" Gale yelled behind her.
Fire. Good.
She whispered, old drowic words falling from her mouth, words of malice and retribution and pain. This thing would fall, this thing was dead the moment it tried to hurt what's hers, hurt her loved ones. She would cut it open and leave it to die in the snow.
The shortsword lit up in her hand. She swung again, carving a blackened stripe against the fur, the smell of burnt hair now overwhelming.
The creature howled, an ear-splitting, painful sound, just enough of a distraction. Minthara noticed the paw coming down a moment too late, and it sent her flying towards the path.
She landed with a sickening crack, sharp pain echoing from her mangled arm to her whole body. For a moment, the world was only the pain, the blinding white, and her desperately trying to catch her breath.
The reality returned in flashes. Gale's scream. The biting cold under her hands. Sharp pain at her side. Bright orange light at the edge of her vision. A spark of a single star above her.
She rolled over, grabbed at the damaged arm. Too early, she still needed to protect them, to kill it, but it took time for bones to mend even as she poured healing under her skin. The courtyard was now illuminated in fire, a large sphere of flames ramming at the creature's side. Gale was wading through the snow, arms outstretched and directing it. Good. She could still make it.
The monster screamed again just as something aligned in her arm, making her flinch. It turned to Gale and roared, blizzard rolling out of its maw in waves. The flaming sphere flickered and dissipated to Gale's pained scream. Even from her side of the yard, Minthara could feel the air getting colder.
Bile rose in her throat. She looked around, searching for her sword, willing her magic to flow faster. Glancing back, she saw Ruby step back, heard a faint whistle. Whatever magic held her, it stopped at last. Small mercy — she still had no weapon, no armour, no instrument. They lost whatever advantage they had. The creature swiped at her, and she saw the small form dodge out of the way.
Too close, too close a call, she needed to get near—
A clear glass-like laughter echoed in the air. The sound so out of place, it made even the creature stop.
Ruby moved, outlined by the faint light from the windows. Minthara saw something shift in her form. The silhouette changed. It took her muddled mind too long — until the unnaturally white teeth flashed in the light — to truly understand what was happening.
A wererat never was truly unarmed.
Ruby — different now, faster, sharper and less humanoid — lunged at the monster in a quick blur. The creature groaned, then screamed, a bloodstain bloomed on its fur.
Ruby bit, and bit, and bit, her silver-grey fur marred with blood, her sharp teeth tearing at fur and taking chunks of skin. Her claws sunk deep, held tight, drawing more blood, wounding more. A small vicious predator on a desperate hunt.
She was beautiful.
Minthara snapped out of her reverie and extended her magic. To bolster Ruby's attacks, to aid Gale shaking off his pain, to make her own senses sharper.
Another cantrip hit the beast's hide. Another wound opened, marring the white fur. It thrashed and howled and still it couldn't hit the rat clinging to its neck.
The tide was turning.
Minthara finally saw where her sword sank into the snow and lunged towards it. They could seal it now if she hurried. She saw Gale from the corner of her eye, casting with shaking, frostbitten hands. She dove into the snow, palm tightening against the icy handle. She rushed towards the creature, when a shriek pierced the air.
The monster got its claws on Ruby at last and swatted her away. In a heartbeat she was gone from view, the scream interrupted by an awful thud somewhere behind her.
"Ruby!" Gale screamed.
Minthara stumbled. She was face to face with the beast now, could see saliva glistening on its enormous teeth.
Vengeance.
Vengeance first.
The whole strength of her convictions, every single drop of malice, of rage, of hurt poured into her blade.
It would not get away.
With a shriek, she drove the short blade into the creature's stomach. A flash of brilliant, blinding light tore through the night, the smell of burned meat hit her nostrils, blood sprayed on her chest.
With a deafening howl the monster toppled.
For a moment it was quiet.
Minthara inhaled the cold air. Wiped the blood from her face. Then ran.
Ruby laid there on the ground, a gnome once again, and red seeped into the snow at her side. Her pretty little dress torn and stained with blood, her glasses lost somewhere.
She groaned when Minthara knelt near her and reached out her arm weakly.
"Stay strong," Minthara whispered.
She scooped her from the snow, holding the small body close to her chest and pouring the last of her healing into the wounds. Ruby nestled against her.
Gale hobbled over, still wincing with every move.
"Ruby—"
"She's fine. Wounded but she'll live."
"And you?"
She scoffed, then softened.
"I am fine as well. I healed myself."
He sighed with relief.
"Let's go inside. I have some potions in the bag."
They walked back into the cabin. Minthara set Ruby down on the worn sofa, propping her up with cushions. She saw the extent of the damage now — a bloody streak in her hair, bruises ripening on her face, the wounds still dripping scarlet on the throw blanket. She held Ruby's hand, trying to scrape the last of her magic and help her mend. Only now it hit her how tired she was.
Gale walked out holding little red vials, downing one as he neared. His hands almost stopped shaking.
"It's going to be alright," he mumbled, kneeling next to the sofa, "It's going to be al-right, I'll make sure of that," he said while lifting Ruby's head and bringing a vial to her lips.
Minthara wasn't sure who he was telling that.
He poured the potion slowly, giving Ruby time to swallow. The bruises paled on her face, the scratches closed. The clawmarks at her side were scabbing over.
At last Ruby sat up and took the vial into her hands.
"Feeling better?" Gale asked.
She nodded.
"Good. Keep drinking," he stood up with a creak somewhere in his joints, and Minthara itched to reach for him with a healing spell she lacked, "I'll get the table from the outside. And… I'll clean up in the morning."
"We didn't get to see the stars," Ruby said, quiet between the sips.
"It's cloudy anyway. I don't think we will see anything tonight," Gale sighed.
"Didn't you say that cloudy Simril is a good omen? For luck?" Ruby pressed.
Minthara smirked. That was definitely a good sign.
"Yes, but…" Gale started with a sigh, but Minthara interrupted,
"I have all the luck I need right here."
She tucked a strand of hair behind Ruby's ear, feeling Gale's eyes on the back of her head.
"If I said that, you would accuse me of being overly sentimental," he responded, his smile obvious through the paper-thin mock offence, "But I completely agree."
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Ruby's cheek, then Minthara's.
"You are a bad influence," she muttered.
"No, he's not," Ruby smiled, "You agree."
As Gale stood in the doorway, beckoning the furniture in with the remains of his magic, Ruby tugged at her hand.
"Sit with me."
Minthara obliged and immediately Ruby climbed in her lap, the warm little body curling into her.
The rest of the night was warm.