Shadow and Snow - a Halloween short story

Hey all, it’s been a hot minute. Sorry it’s been so long since my last post, but I promise it’s for a good reason! This is the offical announcement that I’m working on my NEXT BOOK! This will be my third, and hopefully best (so far). I don’t want to reveal too much, but it’s set in the world of The Whispering Depths, and will follow two siblings, the children of a powerful lord in a time of turmoil, unrest, and war. I’m approximately half way through my first draft, so don’t hold your breath, but it’s on the way. So expect fewer posts here as I dedicate my writing time to that. And, if you want more updates regarding that project, be sure to subscribe below to stay in the loop.

Now, with that out of the way, I hope you enjoy our festive, Halloween themed, spooky short story ‘Shadow and Snow’. This is also set in the world of The Whispering Depths, just like some of our other short stories, like ‘The Corsair and the Coin’, ‘The Fortune Teller’, ‘The Tale of Halfast the Woodsman’, and ‘The Archivist and the Mirror’!

So, without further ado, grab some witch’s brew, a handful of your candy of choice, and enjoy this festive short story, ‘Shadow and Snow’.

Photo credit - Sašo Tušar on Unsplash

Shadow and Snow

It was Waneveil’s Eve in the hills north of the Pass. The snows had begun to fall and hearths were lit as the families of Crakehall huddled together in their homes, shying away from the dark.

Not far to the east, in a white-covered wood, there lay a small hut of rotting planks and mossy stones. The children of the city had often run through this forest, but even the foolhardiest of them knew not to go near that hovel, for a horrible witch called it her home.

“Tonight’s the night, my dearies!” she cackled as she danced across the mud floor.

Most who hear the word ‘witch’ think of an old hag with a crooked nose, covered in blisters and boils. This witch, however, was a beautiful young woman, with hair of black silk and lips of polished onyx.  She wore simple, tattered robes and a wide straw hat that hid her eyes behind its brim. There hung a frayed noose around her neck, and a thick red line where it had bitten into her skin, though she seemed not to notice it as she skipped and stomped through the mud.

“Tonight’s the night, tonight’s the night!”

Two cats sat on the windowsill, one black and one white, and watched the young woman.

“Have you any clue what she’s going on about?” the black cat asked, turning up his nose.

“She’s just excited,” said the other, “let her be.”

The witch, for her part, seemed not to notice the two cats as they whispered to one another.

“It’s all going to happen tonight, isn’t it, my little Snow?” she babbled, plucking the black cat from the sill and twirling him around.

“Put me down, woman!” he hissed, batting at her with his paw.

She giggled and dropped him.

“Mistress?” asked Shadow, the white cat. “What exactly are you talking about, if I might ask?”

“Don’t bother,” said Snow, the black cat. “She’s off with the faeries.”

“Oh, hush you,” the witch said, shooing Snow away. “Tonight is the night where it will finally begin!” she beamed. “Waneveil’s Eve! When the curtain that holds back the realm of spirits is lifted, when I can finally summon and bind my first Ealðerpríns! Tonight, I become a real witch.”

“See?” said Snow. “Faeries.”

“Quiet, little one, or I’ll stuff you in a sack and drown you in the stream.”

“Oh? And I’ll be back here eating the rats in your hair by the stroke of midnight.”

“Curse whatever creature stuck me with you for a familiar.”

“That would be your mother, Mistress.”

“Don’t remind me,” she moaned.

“At least you have me, Mistress,” said Shadow as she rubbed her head against the witch’s leg.

“Of course, my little sweetling. I could never be mad at you.”

Shadow stared at Snow and smirked.

“You never threaten to drown her in the stream,” Snow mumbled and padded away.

“That’s because she doesn’t talk back. Enough, now,” the witch said. “It’s time to begin the ritual.”

She pored over her table, pricking her finger and draining the blood into a small bowl filled with herbs and dead insects. She smeared the mixture out in a pattern, and touched a candle to the dried blood.

She chanted the old words, and the light fled from the room as the fire grew, cold and black. The shack began to rumble and quake, the windows slamming closed and the beams wobbling and flexing.

“Here he comes! Here he comes!” Snow heard the witch laugh with ecstatic excitement amidst the shattering of glass and the quaking of the hut.

“S—Snow?” Shadow called out. He turned and saw her backing herself into a dark corner beneath the table, staring up at the ceiling. He looked up and saw, peering from the darkness, the eyes of a great hound, its jaws curled into a cruel smile as it stared at them.

The witch closed her eyes and continued chanting, and with each word the hound’s eyes burned brighter and brighter. It opened its maw, as if to snap out at them.

“Shadow!” Snow yelled. “Run!”

He bolted toward her, four legs blurring as he raced. He grabbed the back of her neck in his teeth, and began to drag her toward the door as it slammed open and shut.

“But the Mistress!” Shadow cried, trying to break free of Snow’s grip.

“Forget her, save yourself!” he cried, and bit down firmer into her soft coat.

The door threw itself closed, then the violent shaking flung it open again. If it trapped them inside with that Thing… he would only have one shot at this.

It swung open, and he dove through the gap, throwing Shadow ahead of him. As he darted through, he heard a loud crash as the door slammed shut behind him. A jet of pain shot up his tail and he hissed and leapt away, spraying blood across the cold, white snowfall.

The two cats disappeared into the forest, scampering as quickly as their short legs would carry them. Behind them, in the distance, they heard a thundering boom and the crash of debris as the ramshackle hut finally gave way, collapsing in on itself.

Finally, when they could run no further, the two huddled together inside a fallen log.

“Mistress…” Shadow said. Snow could feel her shaking faintly, so he pressed himself closer, pushing his coat into hers.

“Snow, your tail!” she cried, only now noticing the stump that had once been his tail.

“It’s alright,” he said. “It’ll grow back.”

The pain continued to shoot up his back, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“Do… Do you think the Mistress is hurt? Should we go back and help her?”

“I don’t know, Shadow. We don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

“If…” Shadow began, then stopped herself.

“What?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“What, Shadow?”

“Well,” her voice had shrunk. “If she’s… dead… What happens to us?”

“I really don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we turn into regular cats. Or maybe some other witch will take us in. I’ve heard there’s some that live on islands out west.”

“I don’t want to live on an island,” she sulked. “I want to stay here, with Mistress.”

They sat in the dark, listening to the sounds of the forest at night. They could hear nothing from the direction of the witch’s hut. Not a creak nor a groan nor a peep.

Then, with unnatural speed, a creeping fog slithered its way over the forest floor. It rushed into the hollow log, smothering the two cats in cold and mist, like fingers of ice reaching in to drag them out.

Snow pushed himself on top of Shadow, shielding her as best he could from the freezing mist.

There was a faint light, now. Pale red and orange, like sickly flesh.

All sound died in the forest.

“My, my, my, what have we here?” a child’s voice said.

A great eye peeked from around the edge of the log, peering deep inside.

“Stay down, Shadow,” Snow whispered, his eyes wide as he stared out at the great creature.

“It’s alright, little one. I won’t hurt you,” the eye said. Snow could see now; it was not an eye at all, but a mask of porcelain made in the image of a monstrous gazing eye.

“Who are you?” Snow hissed.

“I’m a friend,” the mask said. Three pairs of hands, dragging themselves by their far-too-many fingers, reached into the trunk with blinding speed. Snow recoiled, but was far too slow.

He was dragged out into the cold air, flailing and scratching as the hands held him.

The masked creature stood in the snow, just tall enough that its mask would brush the lowest branches. It had a torso with no arms, though seven more limbs sprouted from its back like ruinous wings. Its body was formed of countless thumbs, like a suit of armour made of interlocking fingers. Where its face should have been there was only the mask, an eye of porcelain with radiating spokes of gold pointing in each direction. The bottom spokes pierced the skin of fingers, and slightly-too-red blood dripped from the wound.

A wolf’s head was suspended above it, as if hung on invisible thread. It faced down, its mouth wide open and threatening to clamp down on the figure. Its eyes were fixed too open, and its pupils followed Snow like a hawk tracking a hare.

When it spoke, it was the wolf’s mouth that the sound came from, though its jaws were frozen in a gaping snarl.

 “I was called here, little Snow.”

“How do you know my name?”

“It is not your name, silly; it is What You Are. And this one, the little Shadow.”

One of its hands darted into the log, and came out holding Shadow in its grasp.

“Snow!” she cried, but there was nothing he could do.

“What do you want?” he asked the mask.

“I told you; I was called here. But your Master made a mistake. And, when a worm tries to kill a God, it better not miss. She’s gone, for now, but I can still smell her. You two are a part of her, small pieces of her own soul.

So, if I can’t take what I want from her, I suppose I’ll just have to take it from you.”

The wolf head snapped shut as it growled its final word, consuming the masked head, and embedding the spikes in its jaw. The golden spokes stuck out from the wolf’s fur in all directions, but it did not seem to care.

The hands released the pair of cats, who landed on the forest floor with a dull thud.

“Shadow, run!” Snow screeched, and the two blurred away into the night.

“Run, run, run,” the sing-song voice came from behind them. “Run through the trees. Run, run, run. I’ll take you as I please.”

Shadow could feel the cold fog closing in around her, could see the pale light growing brighter as it neared.

She turned back, and saw the monster running away from them, but with every step away it seemed to grow nearer, as if its feet were sliding over the snow.

It was Wrong. It was almost an optical illusion, running away but still coming closer, the forest bending to let it through, as if the world itself shrank away from touching it.

Sound and space and light bent as the Ealðerpríns ran its backwards run. The forest was nothing compared to this Thing. It was larger than the world, and smaller than a gnat.

She felt her heart stop for a beat, before racing on.

She heard a whisper in her ear.

“Shadow, my little Shadow,” the witch said.

“Mistress!”

“Run, Shadow! To the realm of spirits. Find me, and I can bind the Príns!”

“Snow!” Shadow called over the rushing wind and echoing voice of the Ealðerpríns. “Follow me.”

“Where?” he called back.

“Do you trust me?”

Snow looked at her as they ran, and saw the determination in her eyes.

“I… I do.”

“This way then!”

She led him over boulder and under brush, the two cats blurring as they fled from the nightmare behind them.

They passed the ruined hut, fleeing west towards Crakehall, and toward the stream that marked the boundary of the forest.

Snow heard the rushing water ahead, and almost faltered, but carried on as he saw Shadow charging ahead, unafraid.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“The Mistress. She’s trapped in the realms of spirits. If we can reach her, she’ll have enough strength to bind the Ealðerpríns.”

“Reach the… realm of spirits,” Snow gulped, staring down into the black stream of flowing water. “Please, Snow. We can’t let that thing catch us.”

“We’ll die! And without the Mistress, there’ll be no coming back if you’re wrong,” he said.

“We’ll die if we stay. That Thing will consume us!”

Snow stared down into the black, then back towards where the monster had been.

“I really hate drowning. This will be my fifth time!”

“Please, Snow. For me?”

Snow paced back and forth, swaying the stump of his tail.

“Fine...” he finally said. “I trust you.”

The pale light poked out from behind the trees, bathing the two in pink, fleshy light. The Ealðerpríns faced away from them, and with each step forward it took it slid across the snow, towards them.

The two cats stared into the stream, before taking each other’s paws.

The Ealðerpríns was almost at them now, its arms flailing out to grab them.

They closed their eyes, and leapt.

The last thing Snow felt was the cold seep in, he felt his limbs scream out in pain and then go numb.

Then nothing.

Only blackness, in every direction.

Then, beside him, a faint white light. It grew and grew, until he felt a soft warmth encompass him.

He vaguely recalled the sounds of a great struggle, of binding wards and slithering curses being cast back and forth, but it was almost as if he half heard them in a dream.

The warmth continued to grow, until he peered open an eye to see the sun shining down on him. He stood and stretched in the sunspot, yawning away the fatigue.

Shadow was curled up beside him, still sleeping.

He looked about, confused. Hadn’t he been running? Wasn’t there…

He jolted up, looking around for that pale, sickly light.

But he found nothing, only the tranquil light of daytime in the forest.

“Shadow!” he smacked her with his paw. “Get up!”

“Hmm?” she grumbled. “What’s…? Nap.”

“Get up! What happened with the Ealðerpríns?”

“Ealðer…?” She opened her eyes. “Ealðerpríns!” She, too, jerked up, hissing and arching her spine.

“My lovelies!” The voice came from behind them, a voice Snow was sure he’d never be so happy to hear.

“Mistress!” Shadow leapt up onto the witch’s shoulder. She would have cried, if she weren’t a cat.

“Mistress, I’m so glad you’re back! What happened?”

“You happened, my little love. You found me in the other world. You both did. With my soul fully reformed, I had just enough power to retry my spell, and bind the Ealðerpríns.”

She held up a small porcelain figure of the Príns’ masked face. For a brief second, Snow could see the golden spokes of the Príns’ wheel gleaming in her eye.

“That’s him?” Snow asked.

“That’s him. Bound and under my control, now. Part of me. Thank you, the both of you. We wouldn’t have made it if you two weren’t so brave.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” Shadow beamed.

“I only did it so I wouldn’t have my soul taken,” Snow scoffed, turning away. “The fact that it saved you as well is merely a byproduct.”

“Well,” the witch laughed, “thank you, Mr Brave.” She scratched his back with her fingernails.

“Don’t call me that. And you better not drown me in the stream again after what we just did for you.”

“Snow,” she said. “I promise that for freeing me, I’ll give you all the good rats I find, and I’ll never drown you again. Unless you’re particularly annoying.”

“No fair,” he whined. “I prefer mice.”

“Come on, you two,” she said, scooping up the two cats.

“We have lots of work to do, now that I’m a true witch.

It’s time we went home.”

Snow looked back to the stream as they set off through the woods. Behind him, for just a moment, he thought he saw a pair of wolven eyes staring out from beneath the rippling water.

But, just as suddenly, they disappeared, fading beneath the waves.

———-

So, that’s all for this time, everyone. To stay up to date with books, short stories, writing advice, and behind the scenes updates, be sure to subscribe to our mailing list below. You can check out more short stories here, and you can find all of my books here (or on Amazon)!

I really appreciate everyone who reads and subscribes, and I can’t wait for you all to see what I’ve got coming.

See you next time, and, as always, thanks for reading!