“Ugh, I’ve heard it a hundred times. Honestly, that might be underestimatin’ it.”

“So have I. Mom and Dad told it to us every winter, and then the neighbors, the town leaders, the old farmers.”

“Come on, I’m new to all this. Humour me.”

Ann held up a flyer for a show. A burly man wrapped in mountains of pelts along with a woman in the same wear were artfully depicted under big letters spelling out “The First Everfrost”. Below described “a historical recreation and retelling of the legendary winter which forged our Kingdom. Live performance by the illustrious Reneday Chaustane and Intedo Paulfrey. Shows at the first, fifth, and eighth bell after noon. All ages welcome.”

“I will never turn down someone looking to learn about history. We should go. Perhaps the performance will be entertaining despite the repetitive nature of the narrative.”

“Thank you, Bren,” Ann sighed. “Not gonna put up a fight too, Lucia?”

“No. Plays not me. Avoided.”

“Even with your whole tribal situation? Thought you had your own festivals.”

“Did. Just didn’t care for plays,” Lucia shrugged, then picked at a tusk as her eyes darted. She was avoiding the questioning, or at least didn’t want to be pressed. Ann let it drop.

“Well, I’m in the minority, but I reaaaly wanna go see this. If you three want to go do something else, that’s fine. Bren and I can go.”

“Will go.”

“But I thought…”

“Will go,” Lucia said firmly.

Ann stood there, surprised at the sudden blush she was seeing on Lucia’s green cheeks. “I… Lucia. I’m not gonna steal your man.”

“Not mine.”

“Uh huh. You’re blushing. Anyway, you two wanna join?” Ann asked Kat and Rosalyn.

“Fine,” Kat groaned. “Just remember I’ve been tae these things fer fifty freezin’ winters. I know this by heart.”

“We all do,” Bren said. “Let us go.”

A short while later, they arrived at a decent sized tent. It was large enough to fit about fifty to a hundred people and a small stage. Entering past the sign, they found the seating to be a free-for-all with benches arranged in an arc, elevated slightly for each row. It was only half full, with plenty of spaces for the group to sit together. As they sat, Ann breathed in the slightly smoky air and was sent back to old carnivals from her childhood, where magicians would ply their trades, or animal keepers would show off their exotic pets. It was a calming memory, and she felt herself relax. Deep blue curtains covered the stage, and her keen hearing picked up quiet conversation behind them, along with clanks and thuds as props and decorations were set up. They were a little early, so the actors were still getting ready.

“So, did you have any winter traditions, Ann?” Bren asked, leaning forward to see past Kat’s natural bulk.

“Boy, did we. Off the top of my head, we had the Winter Solstice, Boxing Day, Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, New Year’s, Chinese New Year’s… I think there were more. Probably smaller ones, or things in countries I wasn’t familiar with.”

“Winter Solstice?” Bren prompted.

“Easiest one on the list, and hilariously the least religious besides New Year’s. It was a celebration of the shortest day in the year, which happened in the middle of winter. That still happens, right?”

“The Long Night, yes,” Bren confirmed.

“Pretty literal name.”

“Eh, better than Everdark. Early people didn’t seem like the most creative bunch,” Kat shrugged.

“Well, that night was host to many celebrations from everywhere in the northern half of the world. Most of them were celebrations of light, ironically. Since it was dark for pretty much the entire day, and most other days weren’t much better, they focused on the return of the light, and that the worst had passed. It’s an oversimplification, but that was the trend.”

“Sounds lovely. How did they celebrate?” Rosalyn asked.

“All sorts of lights. Initially, it was things like bonfires that were kept burning, or personal fires in homes since those were the easiest ways to make light at the time. As we advanced, we started using lanterns and better light sources until we got to electric lights. Once we got there, things got a little crazy. People would light up their houses with huge strands of the things in all colours late into the night. Some of that tradition got rolled into Christmas, but that’s where it started. God, I remember our neighbour being a nut about it. He had this whole shed where he’d store this stuff during the year and drag it out when it started getting cold. Dad used to help him when he had time, and us kids would watch. Never heard Dad cuss so much as when he was working on that house. Good times.”

“Can’t say I relate,” Kat said.

“Me neither.”

“That’s because you two are city kids,” Rosalyn said, rolling her eyes. “That sounds exactly like something my Pa would do. Ma would be baking or something inside while he was working with the neighbours.”

“Oh, did you all have people over for dinner?”

“Eh, not as much having them over as guests, but we all brought food to the town hall and had a meal there.”

“Close enough. We weren’t as pressed for food or money, so we usually invited friends and family over for the holiday. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, family friends. It was fun and stressful at the same time. I liked my alone time, much like you, Rosalyn, but that was a stretch that I had to give it up. Ugh, Jimmy. My younger cousin was way too into hentai, and since he knew I drew art, this meant he could drop his filter with me and just talk about this demented shit. Hated that little booger.”

“His parents never corrected the offending behaviour?” Bren asked.

“Nope. Kinda a problem with that family. They just let their kids do whatever, and we could all deal. They were family, and I kinda liked my uncle, but his kids were nightmares.”

“Can’t choose family,” Rosalyn said solemnly.

“Damn right. Oh, sounds like they’re getting started.”

“How?” Lucia asked, and Ann tapped her ears. The Thrundol gave a bashful look and nodded.

The torches around the room dimmed and turned a flickering blue, throwing long dancing shadows up the tent walls. Idle chatter died on the audience’s lips as the curtains pulled back, revealing two people centre stage.

“Greetings, one!” the man called.

“Greetings, all!” the woman replied.

“I, Intedo, welcome you to this recreation of a dark winter long past.”

“And I, Reneday, hope to bring you the souls of the fateful survivors.”

“Without further ado, so begins the tale of The Everfrost.”

The pair bowed to polite applause as a third member of the troupe stepped up to a podium off to the right. “I will be your narrator this evening. My name is of no import, as I do not exist. A man outside of time, bringing you a glimpse into the past.” As he gesticulated, the other two bustled to their marks, hampered by heavy furs. “We begin our tale early in the winter. A missive has been received by an outpost to the south. Urgent is the need, for a large town has grown sick. With no healer to provide aid, and running low on medicine, they sent their strongest man on their strongest horse south to seek out help. His name was Devdan of Kornun, and he rode hard for several days. He arrived in the dead of night, to empty streets and shuttered windows.”

“Help, help! Our village requires your help!” Intedo cried, trotting out on a mock horse. Ann stifled a giggle at how reminiscent of fairground plays this was. Fitting. “A sickness has befallen our people, and we are without a healer. Medicine stocks are in the pits, and we’re not going to make it through the winter. Don’t leave us hanging!”

“Wait, I thought you guys didn’t know my slang,” Ann whispered to Bren.

“What do you mean? This is an ancient dialect.”

“Way to make me feel ancient,” Ann groaned, returning to the story.

“Alas, none answered. Exhausted, our hero made his way to the only source of light, the local tavern.”

Intedo stomped across the stage. A pair of stagehands brought a door up to him, creating the illusion of him nearing the building and entering. What wasn’t a practical effect was the background. As he entered, and the stagehands scurried off with the prop, the image shimmered into muddy colours before resolving as a tavern. Making a show of shivering, he shucked the heavy cloak and tossed it to the floor. “Barkeep, how is this town so quiet? I don’t expect it to be hopping, but more life than a grave.”

“It’s the middle of winter, son,” the barkeep, who was clearly Reneday cross-dressing with a magnificent fake moustache, said. He polished a glass in the most cliched bartender acting Ann had ever seen and set it down before Devdan. “A drink to warm you, on the house. Looks like you’ve been through it. What brings you to town so late in the year?”

“I’ve got bad news,” Devdan sighed, taking the glass. “I’ve just made it down from Kornun and we’re in desperate need of a healer. A sickness has taken our people, and we’ve run out of medicine. I’ve been running my old mare ragged for days to get here. Not sure she’ll be able to make the return trip.”

“Ah, a shame. Well, I know the mayor, but she’s not going to wake up until morning, and you need sleep. Your village will stick around for a few more hours. They also don’t need you kicking the bucket here and now, or on the way back, because you exhausted yourself. Take the room behind the bar. I’ll wake you up at first light.”

“Thank you kindly,” Devdan said. “Mind if I get a bite, too? I’m starving.”

“Now that’ll cost you.”

“Really?”

The audience rippled with laughter as Devdan gave them an aghast look.

“Nah, I’m pulling your leg,” the barkeep chuckled. “I’ll bring it back.”

Curtains pulled across the stage as the actors set up for the next scene. Once again, the narrator was illuminated in a beam of light.

“Devdan slept fitfully. Dreams tormented his exhausted slumber. Visions of his family and friends, sick and in need of his help. Little did he know that this was only the start of his long quest.”

The curtains pulled back to reveal the bar once more. A few extras occupied tables as Devdan sat at the bar. In front of him was a new actor dressed up in wealthy looking clothing. The mayor, apparently.

“A sad story, to be sure,” she intoned. “It would weigh on me to lend a hand in your troubles. The issue is that we don’t have much to offer you. Our food and medicine stores are needed here, and if you somehow brought the disease with you, we would be losing our valuable healer until he returns.”

“No worries about the sickness,” Devdan waved her off. “I’ve made sure to avoid contact with the sick. It sucked to not be around the old ball and chain, but it’s what needed to be done.”

“I appreciate the assurances. Still, taking our only healer would mean risking our town for yours. It’s not a decision I can make lightly.”

“I feel you. I brought money and a promise. A promise that our town would lend its aid if you ever find yourself in a sticky situation. We’re all people, and working together is our greatest strength.”

“I heard the news!” Reneday called, bursting into the bar with a new outfit. She wore a heavy coat over a clean white shirt and a heavy leather apron. If Bren looked like a fantasy healer with his robes, this healer appeared to be an actual old timey doctor. He even had pockets in his apron with medical equipment sticking out of them. Forceps, a mallet, a book, the works. Despite having to play a man, Reneday’s body didn’t make it entirely convincing. “What is this I’m hearing about you sidelining me when people are sick? Wallace?”

“Doctor Connors. I have a town to look after. I need you to stay here.”

“You done need me happy is what you need,” Connors cut her off. “Didn’t your pappy tell you not to get between a healin’ man and his patients?”

“Connors, we’ve talked about this.”

“And I’m not listenin’ to something what don’t make a lick o’ sense. I’ve been trainin’ little Germain, and the kid’s good enough to look after you lot. So, stranger, what’s the sickness you’ve got tearin’ yer folk apart?”

“That’s the issue,” Devdan said. As the focus of the play shifted, Wallace’s actor faded off to the side. “We don’t know what’s got our people all down in the dumps. They’ve got fevers, headaches, and either shit their guts out, or can’t. After a few days of this, they get all out of it, and start swelling up. The weirdest thing is their skin starts breaking out in black spots, and once that starts they get confused and loopy. Never heard of anything like it.”

“Sounds like a fever run amok. Could be viral, maybe bacterial. Won’t be sure until I see ‘em myself. Alright, bucko. You ready to ride?”

“Need to get food for the two of us to make it, and a fresh pair of horses.”

“Well, you go do that, and tell ‘em Doc. Connors sent you. I’ll grab my tools and another damn coat. Meet you out front?”

Devdan offered a hand to Doc. Connors, who took it in a firm shake.

“I can’t thank you enough, Doc.”

“Don’t thank me until your town is safe, son. Now get!”

Devdan bolted out the door as Doc. Connors shuffled in the same direction.

“You sure about this, Doc?” Wallace asked, appearing again from behind the counter.

“Girl, child, I’ve never been sure in my life. That’s the greatest lesson. You never know what’s gonna happen until it does. Take care of yourself, kiddo. I’ll be back in the spring.”

Curtains once more.

“And so the pair set off. Connors and Devdan rode as hard as they dared on their return trip to the isolated town of Kornun. As they travelled, the winter grew harsher.” Onstage, Devdan and Connors made an exaggerated effort to walk against a raging wind. Snow blew past them in flurries and over the crowd as they grunted and groaned.

“I think we’re lost! I can’t see anything in this blizzard!” Devdan shouted.

“We should make camp! Shelter for the horses! Build somethin’!”

“The mountain! There might be a safe cave there!”

Connors nodded, and they trudged on.

“It would be an hour before the barest of respite they reached,” the narrator sad, voice grim.

“This is it. One dark, dank cave, but a blessing in this white hellscape.”

“Makes me wonder if we wandered into one of them Hells the priests go on about,” Connor said, shaking off his coat and setting up a small fake fire. “The howlin’ll haunt me ‘til I’m dead and buried.”

“Gotta pray to Illdall that we’re kept safe for this whole blizzard. Even with cover, we only have so much food.”

“Not to mention heat. This keeps up, an’ I worry for our critters. Ain’t gonna make it long.”

“Same,” Devdan nodded. “At least the wind can’t reach us here. All we can do is wait.”

“And so they waited. They waited for hours and hours. Eventually, Connors had enough.”

“I need to go drain the ol’ lizard,” Connors said, standing. “Be back in a minute.”

“Shout if you need something,” Devdan said, huddled by the fire.

“And so,” the narrator continued, “Connors made his way deeper into the dark cavern. Some time passed, and it was growing dark. Devdan, having heard no word from Connors, grew worried, and left to search.”

“Connors, you old fool! Where’d you wind up?” Devdan shouted as he walked across the stage. “Taking a leak doesn’t take that long!” As Devdan walked, he made a show of tripping over something. “What in the Gods’ names?” Crouching, he pulled a black blanket off what was revealed to be Connors.

The crowd gasped, kids sitting up and bouncing in their seats.

“No. No, no, no!” Devdan cried. “You were supposed to save us. What happened? How? A wound.” Devdan turned the body, showing the audience a bright red spot on Connors’ shirt. “Stabbed, but nothing like anything I’ve seen. Too large to be a sword or knife. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Devdan, pausing in his fear, listened closely to the silence of the cave. Slowly, he crept backwards, hand going to the pistol he carried for just such a time. The gleaming weapon shone in the darkness as he retreated, but its cold light offered no comfort. Small skittering echoed off the cavern walls.”

Devdan whirled, aiming the prop gun wildly around the stage. “Come out! Show your face, murderer! You didn’t off one man, but an entire village!”

“The scitterers quieted, and larger sounds approached. Thump, tik tik tik tik. Thump, tik tik tik tik. A shadowy form pulled its way forward, face still obscured from Devdan.”

“What… what are you?” Devdan asked, his gun shaking comically at the prop.

On the shrouded figure one gleaming red eye opened, and a roar broke the quiet as the curtains fell.