Muriel
The wind tore at my gown as I braved the mountain path. The lower I descended down the mountain, the colder it grew. The sun was shining when I left the cabin I shared with my mates, but here each gust held a tinge of winter, even a few flurries of snow.
I frowned. It was not even autumn. Why was it so cold?
When I reached the foot of the mountain, a fog, thick and vile-smelling, draped over the path. Shadows grew from the mist and I shrieked, almost dropping my basket.
“Stop.” Two large warriors stepped into my path, blocking it. “What are you doing here?”
I felt their eyes on me as I answered, keeping my gaze on my feet. “I’m here for my mate.”
A long pause passed, but I didn’t raise my eyes.
“Muriel?”
I turned at Wulfgar’s deep voice. My mate hastened up the path, his gre
