Maeve

The village was buzzing with activity as I followed Mom into the center of the rows of cottages and buildings housing the shops and market. Gretchen had bundled her up in a thick, heavy red wool coat and a matching hat, the color a stark contrast to the snow and white-washed buildings. Mom was barking orders to the warriors who had surrounded a group of a dozen or so weary-looking people, strangers.

“Who are they? How did they get here?” I turned to Gemma, ...