The human was excited to reach the holding. Del had described for him the accommodations they had for the winter. The dalhari’s house owned property east of the city. It was used to house members of the house who were in Aver for extended business. Normally the place would be occupied by several dalhari, but this winter there was only Del, and now Spike.

Del greeted the guards at the holding’s gates with a warm smile. Unlike the f’lh they’d encountered at the last two holdings, she knew the guards in Aver, having visited here many times. Spike was introduced all around, a first for him. Del carefully glossed over exactly how she’d met him, as well as where he was from.

Spike was pleasantly surprised at being included. He’d grown accustomed to being kept silent, even obedient, around Del while traveling. In Aver, however, the orth treated him like Tisk had—as a normal person, not an extension of Del. He chalked it up to species difference.

After a few minutes of visiting, Del and Spike made their way into the city. She pointed out shops and markets where everything one could ever want, well everything one could want on this world, could be found. They stopped in several places, ordering what Spike thought were incredible quantities of food and other supplies. Instead of carrying them, which would have been impossible, Del asked for them to be delivered.

“I promise we’ll come back. In fact, I know we’ll be back,” Del said, smiling at Spike’s renewed interest in the goings on of the holding. He’d missed a lot at the last holding but was making up for it now.

“And why should I believe you?” Spike said lightly.

“Because we’ve been invited to visit, and eat, at more than a dozen homes. That’s a minimum of twelve trips to the city proper.” Del laughed at the look on Spike’s face.

“When? I don’t remember you getting asked,” Spike replied.

“Let’s see…there were the four guards at the gate, three different venders and two old friends we ran into at the market,” Del counted back.

“That’s only nine.” Spike said.

“Those are the invitations I received. Two guards and the vegetable merchant invited you.” She grinned at his obvious shock.

“When?” He gasped.

“Do you remember someone saying to you, ‘my door is open’?” Spike nodded. “That’s a common orth invitation for dinner.”

“Oh. What should I have said?”

Del smirked. “Nothing. Orth don’t require a reply. In fact, trying to come up with a reply would probably get you in trouble.”

Spike noticed that they’d left the city proper and were fast approaching the outer edges of the walled holding. Del turned left onto a path paralleling the wall. They crested one hill, then a second. As they began to descent a third hill, Spike saw a single-story building come into view.

It was a largish, square stone structure with a gently sloping roof. A low wall surrounded the house, providing some protection from drifting snow. A series of outbuildings dotted the land around it, spread across the farmland.

“That it?” Spike asked, pointing. Del nodded that it was.

Del pushed open the gate and walked up the short path to the main doors. The entranceway was clean, as was the front hall. She was pleased; whoever had stayed there previously had left it immaculate.

The dalhari moved through the rooms, checking carefully that all was secure. Spike, too, prowled through the rooms, getting a feel for what homes were like on this world. He was inordinately pleased to find soft beds and piles of pillows everywhere. Their presence made up for the lack of stuffed, padded couches and sofas. A rumble and screech brought Spike’s attention back to the present. He hurried to the main door, only to see several orth unloading a wagon. Apparently their food had arrived.

Del directed the merchant’s sons into a storage room, carefully cataloguing all the items. Satisfied, she gave the laborers a generous tip, and then bade them be on their way. The process was repeated several times, until all the supplies they would need to last a long winter were carefully stored within the house. It had been close; had she been on her own she would have returned to the freehold with a considerable amount of leftover money. Having Spike with her had slightly more than doubled her expenses. No one at home would fault her, however. Had she not intervened, Spike would have died long ago.

•••

“Cozy, Del. Very cozy,” Spike said lazily, sprawling down on a bench in the kitchen. The house was huge for just the two of them, and he said so.

“It is meant for more. We’ll stay in the front rooms, next to the kitchen. It will be easier to heat that way.” Del showed him the well house and the bathing rooms and indicated which sleeping chamber he was to occupy. He busied himself with unpacking his bag, glad to be rid, at least temporarily, of the annoying burden. The task took little time and he was soon back to exploring the house.

Evening found Spike wandering back to the kitchen in search of food. He encountered Del sitting at a table there, surveying a meal she’d obviously just finished preparing.

“If you’d told me you were going to cook, I would’ve helped,” Spike said, seating himself at the table.

Del snorted. She’d experienced Spike’s attempts at cooking; they left something to be desired. “Perhaps not.” The dalhari pushed several dishes toward the human, and then returned to her own meal.

Spike was pleasantly surprised at the fare. Gone was the Spartan traveling food. In its place was a plate of grilled vegetables and meat, drenched in a mildly sweet sauce. A huge platter of bread practically begged to sop up the broth, and the human’s mouth watered at the sight of fresh fruit covered with sweet cream.

The dalhari watched Spike inhale supper. They’d become comfortable traveling companions over the last three weeks; by the time they’d arrived Spike had ceased getting on Del’s nerves and in return the dalhari stopped setting a brutal pace designed to wear out the human. The only thing that bothered Del was the growing attraction between them. It wasn’t something she could deny or ignore, but she wasn’t sure it was something to be pursued. It wasn’t his species that worried her; he was intent on returning to his own dimension. Dalhari were not fond of casual, brief relationships, and she was no exception.

Spike joined Del by the kitchen fire, enjoying the radiant warmth. The weather had turned colder rather suddenly a few days before and now the nights were cold, reminiscent of their brief foray into the treetops.

“Del?” Spike said quietly.

The blue-green woman hummed in response.

“What’s the freehold like?” Spike had been very curious about their final destination. “Is it mostly dalhari?”

Del scooted her chair around until she could see Spike. “Most of the people are dalhari; but then La’iv is a dalhari freehold. Freeholds are larger than the holdings we’ve been through so far; they’re the political and trade centers of the region.”

“You grew up there?”

The dalhari shook her head, smiling. “Not in the city proper. The village I’m from is further east and south, at the base of the far range.” Del stood, stretching, and left the room. Spike stared after her, wondering why she’d left so suddenly. Maybe asking personal questions was a bad idea.

Del returned a few minutes later, carrying a large rolled up paper. She cleared off the table, unrolling it flat and weighting down the corners with mugs. Spike went over, curious. It was a map.

“This is where you showed up.” Del pointed at a small dot in the middle of a forest. “And this is Fartha, where you met Tisk.”

Spike traced the distance between the two villages. There was no road between them, which was why they’d hiked through the forest. “Where are the f’lh holdings?”

Del’s hand swept over a large expanse of the marked forest. “All of this is f’lh-knhavli—the f’lh forests. Grumdkaim, the first holding we visited, is in the southwest,” she pointed and Spike placed a finger on the holding. “Puzraim is here.” Spike placed his other hand on the second f’lh holding, tracing his eyes over the two roads that connected them. The deep gorge they flew over separated the two roads, which were nearly parallel. The map had no key, but Spike got the impression that they’d traveled a rather long distance.

“We’re here now.” Del indicated Aver, which was in the eastern part of a large orth region that reached far to the north and south. It was bounded on the east by a mountain range—the one they had to cross in the spring. “The near range separates orth and dalhari lands. The dalhari live in the mountains and the valleys between them.”

Spike looked at the expanse of land between the two mountain ranges. “That’s one region?”

Del laughed. “No, several. We’re traveling to La’iv. Freeholds are typically named after their regions. The f’lh region was f’lh-knhavli. We’re currently in Ranver.” Spike continued to study the map after Del finished talking, noting the locations of various regions and freeholds. The species seemed to stay clumped in groups, although there were often multiple regions of the same species together. The dalhari lands expanded east past the far mountain range, ending at the banks of a wide, north-flowing river.

Spike carefully rolled up the map, handing it back to Del. “Thanks.” The blonde yawned, scratching his ribs tiredly. Weeks of continuous travel had left him exhausted, and the prospect of uninterrupted sleep was a welcome one. “Think I’ll turn in then.” He looked over at the dalhari, who was once again studying the fire. “We, ah, don’t have anywhere to go tomorrow, right?”

It was several minutes before Del answered him. “No, I’m not going to wake you up before sunrise,” She said, still focused on the crackling flames. Spike waited a moment, then shrugged and left her to her thoughts.

Spike built a fire in the hearth next to the bed, refusing to spend one more night shivering in his cloak. Groaning in exhaustion, he pitched his clothes over a chair and climbed between thick blankets, sinking into the mattress. He was asleep within minutes.

Del watched the fire dance along hardwood logs, slowly burning into ashes. Despite Spike’s complaints to the contrary, the weather was mild, suspiciously so. Winter had already settled on the mountains and most predicted that Aver would see its first snowfall within the week. Del knew when she started out on this trip that there was a good chance that she’d be wintering alone, and had relished the prospect of spending a season in quiet solitude. Her newfound human companion, however, appreciated silence far less than she did. His questions didn’t bother her; they reminded her of a child’s curiosity. It was a sign of Spike’s acceptance of his fate—he was probably here permanently, so learning all he could was his best choice.

And Spike was generally good company. He told wild stories, many of them gory and violent, but some heroic ones as well. Del couldn’t complain; she’d been stuck with worse many times, both on the road and at home. Still, she couldn’t help but mourn the loss of a winter’s rest.

Shaking her head at her brooding, Del pulled a screen across the dying fire and retreated to her own chamber. Like the human, she had no intentions of greeting the sun the next morning. Actually, she suspected that neither of them would be worth any count for several days. Besides, sleep would keep her from thinking about the growing attraction between them.

True to her word, Del left Spike alone. He took advantage of the situation, sleeping all night and half of the next day. The next week was spent doing little besides resting; Del sharpened every blade in the residence while Spike explored the property around the house. The weather turned cold quickly; by the end of the week a heavy frost greeted them every morning.

•••

“Spike, get out here,” Del yelled through the door. “I’d rather get there for dinner. They won’t hold it for us.” It was the first of their many dinner invitations and for some reason the human was being difficult.

Spike flung himself on the bed. He didn’t want to go out; the last week had been bliss after so long on the road. The human had gotten used to being around just Del and the idea of actually interacting with others, particularly a room full of huge orth, scared him. “Go by yourself.”

The dalhari snarled, then went to her room, retrieving the door keys. She unlocked his chamber door, swinging it open as Spike launched off the bed. “Bloody hell, woman, you don’t go barging into someone’s room like that!”

Del growled menacingly. “Up. Dressed. Now,” She spat out, slamming the door behind her. “If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m carrying you there however I find you.”

Spike smirked. He could lie on the bed, buck naked, just to see what she’d do. Probably just what she said. The blonde reluctantly changed clothes, unwilling to take the chance that Del would pitch him into the frigid weather with no clothes on, even if it would make her blush. What color does a blue person blush?

He refused to speak to the dalhari as they walked into town. Their destination turned out to be a small house attached to the marketplace. One of the merchants. Del had told him where they were going, but Spike couldn’t remember which person was which. A tall, black-haired orth greeted Del warmly at the door, ushering them inside.

Spike was quickly drawn into the cheerful atmosphere of the orth household. The enormous species were far less aggressive than he would have expected, preferring humor and large quantities of a slightly sweet beer. Dinner was an equally casual affair, all of them scattered around the kitchen in small groups, talking at least as much as they ate. Spike soon forgot his bad mood and let go, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, Del was once again cornered by an old and curious friend. “So, Del-syralia, how was your journey?” Zaf, her host, asked, staring pointedly at the human across the room.

Del rolled her eyes. “You have no idea, Zaf. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d gotten on the bad side of a witch.”

“That bad?” The orth merchant asked.

“Let’s see, I have to journey for trade, which I hate; I stick myself with a human from another dimension; get attacked by maith; and strand myself with that man for the entire winter,” She recounted. “So humor me.”

Zaf cracked up. “He can’t be that bad. Besides, you’re used to humans.” For all her complaining, he’d seen the affection she showed the wiry human. Del wasn’t accustomed to hiding attraction, since she wasn’t attracted to others very often, thus such things were easy for the orth to see.

“I guess not. But you try recounting everything there is to know about our world to a complete stranger. He’s lucky that the trade tongue is one he knows.” Del refilled her mug, savoring the weak beverage. It was yet another luxury she’d missed while traveling. “So, when are you going to send your son over to La’iv? When I left, there was a serious shortage of competent brewmasters.”

“Oh, the same time your forge sends us a decent smithy.” Zaf grinned with Del. It was an ongoing argument—Del begged for one of Zaf’s expert brewmaster relatives and Zaf demanded a blacksmith in return.

Zaf introduced the dalhari to a newcomer, one of his relatives from a distant village. The three chatted for several minutes before the younger orth left to find a friend he’d brought with him. The older merchant pulled Del into the pantry, isolating them from the crowd.

“What?” Del asked, wondering why Zaf had brought her here.

Zaf smiled, chuckling at the dalhari’s aggravated tone. “What are you going to do about it?”

“About what?”

He snorted. “The human.”

Del squinted. “Keep him alive for the winter, and then take him to the witches.” Why were they going over this again?

“No, I mean the other…” Zaf said, waiting patiently for the oblivious dalhari to catch on.

“Other?” Del asked.

“You’ve been watching him all evening, keeping track of everyone he talks to, glaring at anyone young enough to interest him,” Zaf accused lightly.

Del stared at him. “I am not!”

“Mm hmm. And he hasn’t been following you all night either,” Zaf said, grinning. “It wouldn’t do you any harm, you know. You’re alone too much as it is. It’s been years since Gaihi, Del.”

The dalhari paled, snarling harshly at the mention of her former betrothed. It was not a name many uttered in her presence, despite the amount of time that had passed. “Zaf, it’s none of your business.” She spun around and stomped out of the storage room, her good mood ruined.

Del spent the rest of the evening discussing grain prices with one of Zaf’s acquaintances, avoiding her friend’s concerned gaze. Spike noticed the tension that overcame the dalhari after her brief disappearance with the orth. He tried to ignore the irrational jealousy he felt when he’d seen them leave together.

Eventually guests started drifting off to their respective homes and Del retrieved Spike. They hurried down the road, anxious to return to the house and get out of the freezing weather. Unbeknownst to the pair, someone was simultaneously plotting out the course of their winter rest.

Zaf cornered one of his guests just inside the main door. “Ruisk?”

The guard stopped, turning back to the merchant. “Yeah?”

“I need your help.”

•••

Spike spent the next two days avoiding Del. Ever since dinner with Zaf, the dalhari had been in a black mood. She spent hours on end practicing with her swords and daggers; the evenings were filled with the sounds of blades on whetstones. Whenever the human tried to engage her in conversation, the woman either ignored him, growled, or in some other way made it obvious his presence was unwelcome. Eventually he gave up and left her alone.

Del knew she was being unforgivably rude to Spike, but ever since Zaf’s comments she had been immersed in memories. Leave it to the well-meaning but sometimes thick-headed merchant to bring up the one thing that could cause her pain. Casting aside the weapon she’d been staring at, Del stood. She needed to find Spike, to apologize for being such a bitch.

She found him outside, studying the turning leaves. He was standing under a tall, widely branched tree, running his hands through the still-thickly laden branches. Spike’s white-blonde hair stood out in sharp contrast to the bright, rich colors of autumn. A soft breeze rifled both the leaves and that pale hair. Del turned her face into it, sensing the changes that promised snow.

The sound of footsteps caught Spike’s attention. Releasing the leaves he’d been admiring, he turned to see Del watching him from the corner of the house. She looked sad, her eyes closed against the wind, shoulders sunk down.

“Hi,” Spike said softly, hoping Del’s mood had improved.

“Hiya yourself.” She took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them.

“Is it always like this?” He gestured toward the trees.

Del looked out over the gently rolling hills. “It is, at least until the first snow.” She breathed deeply, savoring the clean, cold fragrance of autumn sunset.

Spike studied the dalhari. “Del,” he began. “What happened? You’ve been a complete wretch for two days.”

The dalhari stared out on the horizon, choosing her words carefully. “Zaf and I…disagreed. It put me in a foul mood,” She said. “I apologize for that; I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Even if it has to do with you.

“What was it about?” Spike asked.

Del shook her head. “Nothing.” She turned back to the house. “We’re expected at Ruisk’s this evening. Am I going to have to unlock your door again?”

Spike laughed at the reference to his irrational behavior. “Nope, just gimme a few minutes.” He watched Del return to the house, wondering what the argument had been about. He realized that he knew little about the dalhari—what made her tick, so to speak. She was friendly enough, candidly answering just about any question; at least, until they got really personal. Even after a month, there was so much he didn’t know.