North Cave

Yulla had seen snow before. Where she grew up, it was snowing almost as often as it didn’t. Her tribe would travel farther north when the snow became too deep and animals started hiding away, but they never completely left the snow.
Yulla had no particular opinion about the snow. She remembered finding it wondrous as a young child, but its beauty had melted away as she had gotten older. Food was often scarce, and they had to travel farther to avoid freezing to death. They always made it through though, and comfortably too. The snow was never a thing to worry about.
However, Yulla had never been this far south before. She could understand why they called it The White Lands. Everything was white. It was disorienting. No dirt, no plants, no animals, nothing but ice and cold could be seen. For the first time, Yulla had found an enemy of the snow.
The cold sunk deep in Yulla. Only once had Yulla ever felt as close to the cold she felt now, when she was a small child, and had a fever that brought her to the brink of death. She was on the brink of death now. She could feel it. Her bones were cold, the air was hard to breathe, she hadn’t eaten in nearly half a cycle.
The only thing that kept her going was the village on the other side of the hill. She could feel it. Yulla had always been proficient in tactual magic. At her best, she could feel the ants marching back to their home. It just took a little concentration. Thankfully, a village was easier to sense than an ant hill.
As Yulla reached the top of the hill, she sighed with relief. The light from the village was now visible to her, shining out of a cave in a nearby hill. Part of Yulla had feared it had been a mirage before she laid eyes on it. Feared that her magic had tricked her into sensing what she wanted to sense.
The cave was far still and with the sun now gone and winds gusting hard, Yulla didn’t see walking to be an option. With the little energy she had left, Yulla willed the darkness that was around her close.
As the darkness retreated, Yulla felt the last of her energy seep away as well. She dropped, landing on the cold, hard snow, unsure of everything going on around her.
She could hear voices inside the cave, but couldn’t focus enough to make out their words. There was a figure, she thought at least. It was hard to tell what was real and what was in her mind.
She could feel the warmth of the figure’s body as he lifted her up out of the snow and carried her into the bright, loud cave. She could hear as people got close, their feet scraping against the floor. Slowly, everything went black.
When Yulla awoke, she was laying in a strange bed, wrapped in a blanket. A fire crackled nearby. She tried to remember where she was and how she got there, but the pain in her head prevented her from pushing.
“Hey there, stranger,” a voice said. A familiar voice.
Yulla turned to face the figure. He was a sprite, like her. His skin was also pale, like hers, but his hair was dark, while Yulla’s was light. He had a kind smile, a trusting smile.
Memories started flooding back. How he carried her to safety, how she wandered The White Lands, nearly freezing to death, how, how…
“Oh, oh no, it’s alright, you’re safe,” the sprite said as he walked to her bedside. He held out a hand for her to take, but she ignored it.
“My name is Ceil, he/him, you’re in a little village called North Cave. We don’t see travelers when it gets this cold. Can you tell me why you were out in this weather?”
Yulla stayed silent as she continued to cry.
“Could you tell me your pronouns at least?”
Again, Yulla didn’t say a word.
“Do you understand me? I assumed you spoke a Northern Tribe’s tongue because of your clothes. They’re similar to what my mam wore, she was from the West Stone Tribe. She taught me the tongue. She taught much about the culture, actually.”
That was Yulla’s tribe. She didn’t expect to find kin this far south.
“I know not to ax your name, you don’t have to call me Ceil if you don’t want, you can call me whatever. We don’t treat names as sacred as West Stone Tribe do, so most here will call me Ceil.”
What a strange concept, Yulla thought. She wasn’t going to refer to the sprite as Ceil, she didn’t know him. He had a scruffy beard that stood out on his face. She would refer to him as Beards instead.
“I’ll call you Stranger, is that alright?”
Yulla didn’t answer, but her tears had begun to dry up.
“You’re probably hungry, food is being served in the dining hall. I’ll take you there.”
Beards led Yulla through the cave. She could smell food before they walked into the dining hall. Yulla’s stomach twinged with hunger. The hall was filled with people. Some were seated at one of the many tables, but most stood in a line. Yulla followed Beards into the line.
“I hope you like stew, that’s what was made. I think it’s good,” Beards said.
When they moved to the front of the line, a troll was in front of them. He stood behind a large pot, holding a ladle. Beards grabbed two bowls off a table to his right and handed one to Yulla. He then held out his bowl to the troll who poured him a scoop of stew. Yulla copied Beards and received a scoop of stew as well.
They walked towards the tables, grabbing forks off a nearby table as they passed.
“You can sit with me and my feres,” Beards said.
He led her to a table towards the middle of the dining hall. An assortment of characters were sitting there: a giant, a nymph, two trolls, a leprechaun, and surprisingly someone who appeared to be a wingless faerie. Beards took a seat on the bench and Yulla followed suit.
“Is this them?” one of the trolls axed, curiosity lacing her voice. “The sprite from the storm.”
“Yes,” Beards said.
“What’s your name and pronouns?” the nymph axed.
“They don’t talk,” Beards said.
“Shame, I was wondering what brought someone down here in this kind of weather,” the troll said.
Yulla looked down at her stew.
“Let’s not talk about it, it’s in the past after all,” the other troll said, seeing the discomfort in Yulla’s face.
The group ate and talked, seeming to have a good time. Yulla stayed quiet, eating her stew and listening to the group's tales.
The trolls, who Yulla elected to call Curious and Kind-Heart, were siblings from The Great Forest who came to The White Lands in search of riches. Curious claimed it was a treacherous journey with many close calls to death. Kind-Heart claimed she was exaggerating.
The way Beards and the leprechaun - who Yulla called Blue-Eyes, because xe was the only one at the table with blue eyes - were kept interjecting the story, adding in their own bits of knowledge told Yulla this story had been shared a great many times before. Yulla would occasionally sneak glances at Wingless, the faerie at the table. As she took another glance, she saw Curls, the nymph, whispering to Wingless, pointing to Yulla. Yulla quickly turned her attention to her stew.
“Is it the lack of wings?” Wingless axed. “It’s the first thing people notice.”
Yulla looked over to him, but didn’t speak a word.
“I found my wings impractical up here, they aren’t easy to cover, which leads to frostbite, so I got rid of them.” Yulla's surprise quickly faded when Wingless’ hair changed from the dark black he had been sporting to an oaky brown. “I’m a changeling you see. I get the luxury of choosing what to keep and what to change, unlike most.”
“Quit showing off,” Curious said.
“You’re just jealous that you aren’t a changeling,” Beards said and everyone at the table - aside from Yulla - laughed. “Oh, stuff it,” Curious huffed, putting a spoonful of stew in her mouth.
They continued to eat and tell stories and laugh. As the night grew late and the bowls grew empty, everyone decided it was time to retire for the night.
“We have a few empty chambers,” Beards told Yulla as they left the dining hall. “We also have empty beds in chambers that house other residents, it’s your choice as to what you find more comfortable.”
Yulla stared at Beards, unsure how to answer. Beards stopped in the middle of an intersecting hall.
“Don’t worry, I know you can’t speak, just show me. To the right there are chambers with others, to the left are empty chambers.” Beards pointed down each corridor.
Yulla looked down both, taking her time deciding. Finally, she walked down the left hall. Beards walked down the hall with her, taking lead. He led her to a nearby door.
“Here, this can be yours for as long as you need it,” Beards said, opening the door.
Yulla walked in. The chamber was small. Most of the floor space had been taken up by the three large cots and large dresser. “It can get cold here,” Beards said. “And you can’t start a fire back here, the smoke has nowhere to go. If the cold gets to be too much, go to a chamber with other people, body warmth is the best way to keep away the cold.”
Beards walked out of the chamber. Yulla stood in the middle of the chamber for a while, trying to process everything that had happened. With tears in her eyes, Yulla crawled under the blankets and fell asleep.
The days passed by and Yulla started to feel like she found a place to call home. She ate her meals with Beards and his feres and started to learn a bit about them. Apparently Beards and Curls were both born in The White Lands and had grown up together. Blue-Eyes had followed love here, and while that love didn’t work out, the love for North Cave persisted.
Beards had given Yulla some of his old clothes so she could have something other than the clothes on her back. They were big on her, but they kept her warm. Curious and Kind-Heart offered to sew Yulla new clothes when merchants came in the warmer weather. Yulla didn’t need them to, she knew how to sew, but she was delighted at the offer, which made her feel guilty. She didn’t deserve their kindness.
“Stranger, Stranger,” Wingless said, waving his left hand to get Yulla’s attention. “Did you hear what I said?”
Yulla looked at Wingless blankly.
“I was saying, the Festival of Kellum is tomorrow. I don’t know if you worship Kellum, but you’re welcome regardless, Kellum welcomes all travelers.”
Yulla smiled at Wingless. Wingless smiled back.
“Is that a yes?” Blue-Eyes axed Curious.
“I think so,” Curious said.
“I’ll escort you,” Beards said. “All new people are offered an escort.”
Curls yawned, causing the others to yawn as well. “I think we all need some rest.”
“You’re right,” Beards said, standing up.
He walked Yulla to her chambers, as he often did, and wished her a good slumber before leaving for his own chambers. Yulla went to sleep happy for the first night in a while. She could see this place being her new home.
She woke up with a smile that morning. Yulla always loved festivals. They were a way to bring one’s tribe together.
Yulla laid out every piece of clothing she owned. She wanted to look nice. Her goldhorn pelt. It was one of the only things she had brought with her. There was nothing particularly special about it, but it felt right. It was a part of her, and that’s what this festival was about, the combining of various customs.
She decided a simple brown shirt and matching pants she had gotten from Beards would be nice with the pelt, both were soft and warm. She pulled off her shirt. As she reached for the other shirt, she heard the door open. “Stranger, are-” Beards stood frozen in the door, Wingless behind him. His face hardened with anger. “Leave. Now. Don’t ever show your face here again.”
“Ceil, what’s wrong?” Wingless axed.
“That.” Beards pointed to a symbol burned into Yulla’s shoulder, a triangle encompassed by a circle with a line down the center. Yulla covered it with the shirt in her hand. “That is The Plains Tribes symbol for a child murderer.”