Aryn woke groggily to a slight chill as a draft blew in from the open door. He, too, had fallen into a deep slumber that was more relaxing and satisfying that any from the last two months. Even Kella's gentle shifting in the middle of the night, nestling against him, had not woken him.
As his green eyes slowly opened and blinked in a blurry haze, he unconsciously realized that he was alone on the bed. Turning his head to his side, he could still see the soft imprint on the mattress where Kella's small frame had been. The blanket covering her had been draped over him, but it too had gone cold.
For a while he lay there, wondering where she could have been off to, but after some moments he groaned and swung himself to sit at bed's edge. A brief thought crossed his mind that, somehow, she'd chosen this moment to cut and run from him. That thought quickly evaporated upon glancing to the floor, where every single one of their packs still lay in a haphazard pile. She hadn't taken a single thing with her. She hadn't left.
"By Ansgar, this bed is a miracle," he exclaimed out loud, half expecting a muffled response from the closet or from another room. Only the echoing silence greeted him. With a frown he climbed to his feet and stepped across the freezing stones to the doorway.
"Kella?" he questioned, stepping outside. The corridors were all empty. The main staircase was empty. The main hall was empty. And the manor's front gates were tossed open, the source of the cool chill. Even from up here, he could see the dusting of snow and ice in the entrance way.
Nearing the front door, he could still hear the neighing and snorts of their horse, tied up in the little stable just outside the front door. But at his sight the horse gave a frightened whinny and backed away from the Ironhand. And no wonder why it was spooked.
There, outside the door, a pile of chopped wood lay strewn about, amidst a muddy mess of horse tracks that trailed away from the manor. At the sight, Aryn's heart sank.
"KELLA!" he bellowed into the distance, his voice echoing through the treeline and back at him. "KELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLA!"
There was no response.
He rushed back inside, struggled to throw on his boots over the swelling of his healing leg, and snatched up his sharp axe. He stumbled along in the cold, following the trail for as far as he could, before he realized that the falling snow had swallowed up the tracks. The realization hit him as hard as a biting gust of wind.
She was gone.
