The aroma that came from Miss Chambril's kitchen was enough to drive away most of the group's fears, but Chase had no appetite. Since their arrival at Ohmahold, a nagging intuition kept him from ever truly relaxing, and he paced the common room, waiting for Catrin to return.
"She'll be fine," Benjin said as if reading his thoughts, and Vertook nodded firmly in agreement, but even their reassurances sounded thin and weak to Chase's ears, and he continued to fret.
"What do you think will happen next?" Osbourne asked, his voice quivering, betraying his own fears.
"The snows have begun," Benjin said. "The passes will soon be impassable, and I doubt anyone will arrive at Ohmahold or leave before the spring melt. We have little choice now but to settle in for the winter and make the best of the time we have."
"What will we do?" Strom asked.
"Perhaps a visit to Gustad and Milo, as Mother Gwendolin suggested, would be a good place to start. Learn all that you can, for you can never say what knowledge will mean the difference between life and death. Keep me apprised of all that you hear, and somehow we will piece together a plan."
"You go," Chase said to Strom and Osbourne as they stood to leave. "I'll wait here for Cat." Strom looked him in the eye, and they exchanged a silent vow: Somehow they would keep her safe--somehow. Icy wind tore through the common room as Strom and Osbourne pushed opened the doors and leaned into the wind.
When the doors slammed shut, Chase kicked a nearby chair, venting his frustration. Catrin needed him, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Anxious and frightened, his thoughts ran in circles, and still no path became clear. He could only hope that something would show him the way. Until then, he would pace.
Chapter 9
The world is but a pyre of timber waiting for the tiniest spark to unleash an inferno.