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KANELLA DIDN’T PLAN to be gone long, but there was no way of knowing how long it would take her to reach this temple or find the flower.
If either of them was real.
The path ascended quickly behind the house, and she was forced to slow her steps as the trail grew steeper. The warm air and spring sun faded away too quickly, the grass disappearing to be replaced with scrub and gravel, then small pockets of snow between the rocks. Her every nerve stood at attention, listening for any sign of danger—or monsters—in the mountains around her.
And then, as she made it to the first ridge, a storm moved in.
Snow crunched under Kanella’s slippers, and the wind howled around her, blowing snow and frigid air through the thin weave of her clothing. She clutched the too-light cloak tighter around herself, but it was a futile effort. While fine and new, glimmering with gold embroidery and gleaming teal fabric, it hadn’t been made for the cutting winds and biting snow of the mountains. It had been made for traveling around the village. For the light winds of spring. Not these blizzard winds.
It had been her first gift from Batsal.
She couldn’t think of that now. If she let herself falter, let herself stop for even a moment, she might never make it before freezing to death out here.
The snow strengthened to a white blur, obscuring the distant peaks and even the cliff face a mere twenty paces in front of her. Maybe she was a fool. Maybe she should turn back now.
She pulled the cloak up higher, until it covered most of her face. It still did little to protect her, but at least she had a brief respite when her warm breaths filled the cloth.
She forced herself to step forward. And again. And again.
The earth gave way beneath her foot, and she leapt back, heart hammering. She had ventured too close to the edge of the cliff. And in this weather, she had no way to know how far down the drop would have been.
She took several steps back, pressing her eyes closed against burning tears. What was she doing out here?
The wind gusted, pushing her a step forward, and she opened her eyes, squinting against the whiteout. Something dark stood only a few paces away. She took a few steps closer, snow crunching under her thin shoes. She could no longer feel her toes.
The thing grew clearer the closer she came, resolving into a wooden post supporting what appeared to be a suspended bridge over the valley. The mountain dropped away below, though she couldn’t see far. The bridge was taut and stable, disappearing into a blur of white.
The wind howled again, and she froze. This howl seemed different from the wind, lacking the push toward the edge of the cliff. The howl sounded more animal, like some sort of beast, far off on one of the other peaks, echoing several times before fading into obscurity.
It had to be the wind. She couldn’t accept there really were monsters out here.
Monsters weren’t real.
But she’d grown up with those stories. If Temple Choden could be real, couldn’t the monsters be, too?
She whimpered and placed a shaking hand on the rope railing of the bridge, stepping foot onto the first of the slick planks. She shook with the fear, yes, but also the cold creeping into her bones. In a way, she was glad for her hand’s shakiness. It was when the trembling stopped that she really had to worry.
She gripped the rail as the storm raged around her, desperate not to fall into the white below. It wasn’t ideal, but there was nowhere else to go on the other side—other than back down. Which wasn’t an option.
The crossing seemed to take eons, each step painfully slow and precarious. Her heart pounded too hard, both from her terror and to keep her moving through the freezing storm. The wind—or animal—howled again, and she nearly slipped off the bridge. She stopped for a moment, closing her eyes to steady her nerves. Then, she took her next step.
How much farther could it possibly be? How long had she been out here already?
Finally, her foot hit the soft, cold crunch of the snow on the other side, and the cliff opened up in front of her, a dark, looming mouth into the mountain.
Maybe she should just take a quick break. Gather her wits, her courage. Get out of the biting wind for just a few minutes. Then she could set off again.
Kanella hunched against the wind and pushed through to the small cave, really nothing more than a cleft in the rock.
But it was enough to cut back the wind. And she was so, so tired.
She sat on one of the rocks, shivering even though her body was too numb to feel how icy cold it really was.
Maybe she could rest her eyes for a moment. Then she’d get up. She’d keep going.
The snow raged on just outside the mouth of the small cave, and she thought she saw a hulking figure, almost too big to be a person.
But who else would be stupid enough to be out in this? It had to be her mind playing tricks on her, filling something in where she could only see the white of the blizzard.
She let her eyes drift closed. Just for a moment.
She wasn’t shaking anymore.
***
KANELLA WAS WARM.
It took several long minutes for her to fully wake up, but the first thing she noticed was how warm the room was, like a late spring day on the cusp of summer. The surface under her was soft, nothing like the ice-cold rock she remembered from before she fell asleep. Resisting the urge to snuggle deeper into piles of what had to be cushions and blankets, she opened her eyes and pushed herself up. Her knotted hair swung into her face, and she swept it back out of the way. The wind had done a number on her once plaited locks.
But all thoughts fled her mind as she took in the splendor of the room around her.
As she’d suspected, Kanella was nestled into a pile of white and red cushions and covered with a fluffy wool blanket. A fire crackled nearby in a free-standing fireplace, its flames small but enough to warm the room. Tapestries of repeating patterns ranging from flowers and vines to suns and stars and snow covered the walls, their designs soothing and calming. And in front of her, only a few feet from where she’d been sleeping, a low table held a wide assortment of fruits, cheeses, breads, and covered tureens that radiated heat.
Her stomach growled. How long had she been asleep?
She scooted closer to the table, taking in the variety of foods both familiar and foreign, pulling lids off of tureens, sniffing the contents of silver pots. Then, before she could think the better of it, she piled food on one of the silver plates, poured herself a steaming cup of spiced chai, and settled in for the finest meal she’d had outside of Batsal’s family home since... well, since her father’s business had collapsed.
She drizzled honey over slices of juicy red fruit on a thick piece of bread, then bit into it with a satisfying crunch. The bread was fluffy and warm, somehow, as if it had just come out of the oven. And the fruit was fresh and sweet, a perfect complement to the honey. She closed her eyes in bliss. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed such an extravagance as this?
Something scuffed against the floor, and Kanella froze mid-chew, eyes flitting to the sound. One of the tapestries floated like someone had just passed by or moved it aside, but the room still appeared empty. The tapestry rippled, making a single snowflake woven into the tapestry glitter in the dim light.
Until the first flake of snow touches skin... a voice seemed to whisper.
“Hello?” she said. She swallowed, glancing at the smothered bread in her hands. Maybe she’d been too eager to eat. Maybe the food hadn’t been for her at all.
Silence met her uncertain greeting, and she opened her mouth for another bite. Then something leapt onto the table, a blur of red and fluff that resolved into a... a red panda?
Kanella fell back, startled, but she recovered quickly as the small beast looked up at her with inquisitive black eyes. Its white ears were tufted, standing out brightly against the rusty fur that covered most of its body, and it sat with its black-stockinged legs lined up together primly.
She smiled. “Well, hello there, little one. Where did you come from?”
The creature cocked its head at her, watching, and she settled back onto the cushion. Where was she that wild animals roamed so free, letting themselves into rooms and startling guests?
Kanella picked up a slice of the unfamiliar fruit she’d put on her bread. “Would you like a piece?”
The red panda didn’t move, just continued to stare, and she wiggled the food in what she hoped was a tantalizing way.
“Well, all right then,” she said, setting the fruit in front of it and returning to her bread. “If you don’t want any.”
“The master feeds me well enough,” came a voice, “that I do not need to mooch off of visitors.”
Kanella froze and snapped her eyes back up to the panda. Did it just... talk?
The panda stared at her with wide, innocent eyes, and she stared right back, waiting for any hint that she hadn’t just hallucinated a talking animal.
“Yes, that was me,” the red panda said. This time, Kanella saw its mouth move.
The bread dropped from her frozen fingers to the table below.
The panda clicked its—her—tongue. “Now we’re going to have to clean up all that honey.”
“I...” Kanella couldn’t seem to get more than a word past her stunned brain.
The panda’s face softened. “I’m sorry, dear. The master did warn me you might be disoriented when you woke. Think nothing of it.”
“You... talk.”
The red panda’s tiny chest puffed up and then down in what seemed to be an exasperated breath. “Yes. Well. Perhaps I should have introduced myself. You can call me Rose, or Rosie, whichever suits you. And you are?”
“Ka... Confused.”
Rosie’s face softened, though Kanella wasn’t sure how she could tell beneath the bright white fur on Rosie’s cheeks. “Your name, dear? Don’t worry, you are quite safe here.”
Kanella swallowed and sat up straighter. Last she remembered, she was about to freeze to death in the middle of a snowstorm. Now she was here, wherever here was, surrounded by warm spring air, a soft bed, more food than she ever could have imagined, and... a talking red panda. She wasn’t sure any of that could be considered safe. It was all unexpected, new, almost too good to be true.
“Kanella,” she finally managed.
Rosie’s mouth twitched. “Very good. Kanella. The master will want to see you, but of course you should take your time. Eat to your heart’s content, then just call for me, and we’ll get you cleaned up.”
“Cleaned up?”
Rosie’s eyes traveled up and down Kanella’s rumpled form. “You could do with new clothing and perhaps a hair brush. Unless you’re not interested.”
“No!” Kanella blurted, rising halfway to her knees. “No, of course I’m interested. Thank you. I think... I need to speak with your master as well.”
After all, she ventured out into the mountains, into the snow, for a reason. For a single, perfect, magical flower that might not even exist.
“Oh, there is no doubt of that,” Rosie said. “After all, he is your master now, too.”
