A spell. This made sense, though it made Corvi nearly shiver to think who could have the power to do this. It had to be an act of the gods, surely. But what the man described—the unnatural, choking snows—did not sound like an act of light.

No, she could only think of one being with the power to do this. The fires, whatever their purpose, surely were Her work as well. She resolved to give them a wide berth.

It is the work of the Deathless Mother, Corvi concluded with a shudder she could not suppress this time. Thank you for the warning.

The strange wolf seemed remarkably unconcerned. Corvi could respect that. After all, all mortals were fated to die, sooner or later. Only in death could one join their ancestors across the sea. At his offer, she flashed a toothy grin.

Very well, she agreed. If we should both fall today, we will not go out on an empty stomach.

With that, she turned away to search for where the hens had taken roost.

She returned not long later with one trapped in her jaws. Two had gotten away from her, taking shelter in the branches, but this one had been too slow. Two successful hunts. What a name she’d make for herself. Chicken-stealer. Ha! She ripped the carcass in half, tossing the larger part to the stranger.

I am Corvi of Somovo, she said, realizing she had yet to introduce herself. What do you call yourself?