Snow had met Twilla before she had lost her sight and from what Sorrell had told her, the old woman hadn’t changed much since then. She was old but saucy with long sliver hair she kept in a braid, rail thin, though not for a lack of a hardy appetite, and dark blue eyes with the keen sight of a hawk.

“I’m doing well, Twilla, and this pup is Thaw,” Snow said. “And how do you fare?”

“At my age, as long as I wake each morning, I’m good,” Twilla said with a laugh. “I heard Lord Tarass found you in the snowstorm and brought you straight here.”

“And how lucky was I that he did,” Snow said, going along with Tarass’s explanation so that no one knew they spent time alone together in the cottage. It would make for a difficult situation, neither of them wanting to be forced to wed.

“No doubt you’ll be with us a few days with this endless snow,” Twilla said.

“It was a light snowfall when we arrived. Has the snow grown worse?” Snow asked, having hoped it hadn’t since she wanted to return home as soon as possible.

“It’s raging out there again,” Twilla informed her, “but you’re safe here now so no need to worry. Eat, you must be hungry.” She leaned past Snow and grabbed foods, from different bowls and boards, to place in Snow’s bowl. “There’s some salted hake and cod, tasty bread, and stewed kale. What’s this ale doing here? Go fetch a pitcher of the freshly made cider, Nettle.”

Nettle was up and off in a flash.

“If you’re wondering about Nettle, she’s a good lass, though pokes her nose where it doesn’t belong at times. She’s ten and seven years and by all rights should be wed with bairns of her own by now, but she’s a plain one and not built too sturdy so the men Tarass brought home with him don’t favor her much and there aren’t many Highland men that visit here. She’ll probably spend her days serving here in the keep, but at least she has shelter and a clan to look after her.”

Snow felt a kindred spirit in Nettle, like her, she was destined to be alone.

“Now eat and tell me about Sorrell and Willow and their new husbands,” Twilla urged as she took a seat across from Snow.

Nettle returned with the cider and the three women talked and laughed and for a while Snow felt herself at home.

“What are you doing here, Nettle?”

The lass jumped and almost fell off the bench at Tarass’s demanding question. “Fasta gave me the chore of helping Snow, my lord.”

“Go get Fasta and return here with her,” Tarass ordered.

“You need to eat and get some rest,” Twilla said.

“I need no coddling, Twilla,” Tarass snapped.