Flame Song opened the door for the third time and stared out into the night. It had only been dark for an hour or so, but she had expected Aidan to be back before sunset. Outside the wind was starting to howl. The storm that she had predicted was indeed blowing in, but this once she wished her weather sense had been wrong. With a sigh she shut the door and went back inside. She picked up Littlespark and rocked her. The baby gurgled and said “Da, da, da.”

“Yes, da, da, da. I wish your dada was here right now, Spark. I hope nothing is wrong.”

As the hours passed, Littlespark dozed off, but Flame Song stayed awake, waiting for Aidan to return. At last, when midnight had long since come and gone, she decided that waiting would do her no good. If Aidan came home, he could find her in the bedroom, and if not… well she would rather not think about “if not.” She took the baby to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. She closed her eyes, but sleep was long in coming. When at last she drifted off, her dreams were filled with vague foreboding.

When she awoke the next morning she was still alone. Littlespark, who had started sleeping through the night, (thank heavens!) was still snoring softly. Flame Song got up and went to the door. From the other side she could hear the wind howling fiercely. She opened it anyway, but at the end of the entry tunnel there was nothing but swirling white. A gust blew inside the house, bringing a few flakes of snow and a great deal of cold air in with it. Quickly she closed the door. Aidan would not be coming home through that. The only thing Flame Song could hope for was that he had found shelter and was waiting the storm out.

And that was all she herself could do. The storm blew all that day, all the restless night while she tossed and turned, and was still blowing when she got up the next morning. She tried to distract herself with household tasks, but her worry wouldn’t let her alone. What if he’s out in that? What if he’s already frozen to death? What am I going to do? Even once the storm blows over I can’t leave Littlespark to look for him. What can I do? She fretted all that day and the next night her sleep was still fitful and full of nightmares. The third morning the storm was beginning to lose force and by noon it had blown over entirely. Flame Song had, in the mean time, decided on a course of action. Maybe I can’t go and look for him, but I know somebody who can. She bundled up Littlespark as warmly as she could and set out to Coppertop.

The walk wasn’t more than a mile or so, but it felt like forever as she trudged through the fresh snow. At last she reached the dwarven fortress/town. She wanted to see King Ironbottom, the current dwarven leader. He had lasted longer than most dwarven kings did. They tended to get killed by goblin raids or die in accidents. Dwarves didn’t hold with leading from behind. A king ought to be right in the middle of things. Slade Ironbottom hadn’t been exactly thrilled to be crowned, (rumor was that they had actually tied him to the throne in order to perform the ceremony,) but he seemed to be doing a good job. She made her way to the main castle and told the gatekeeper that she needed to see the king. He showed her in and directed her to the throne room, sparing an odd glance for the strange baby in her arms. Flame Song strode into the room and walked directly up to the king. She knew that the best way to get his attention would be to be bold.

“King Ironbottom, I need your help.” He looked a bit surprised at her directness. Once could expect fellow dwarves to be blunt, but humans?

“What is it you want?” he asked.

“My husband Aidan, I’m sure you know of him, has gone missing. I can’t go search for him myself, so I appeal to you. Will you send out your dwarves to look for him?”

“I er…” Clearly he was again taken aback by her directness. Glancing around at his counselors and seeing no sign of disapproval he waved a hand magnanimously and said “Of course, my dear. I shall send out patrols immediately.”

Flame Song bowed and said “Thank you, Sire. If… if there is any news I shall be at the craftsman Belak’s home.” Then she turned and strode out of the room. She made her way through the town to where her friend’s workshop and home were located and knocked.

The stocky dwarf opened the door. He looked at the woman standing alone on his doorstep with her baby in her arms. “Flame Song? Where’s Aidan? What’s wrong?”

“He’s missing,” said Flame Song, and as the tension of the past days finally caught up with her she burst into tears.

“You had better come inside.” Belak opened to door further and motioned Flame Song in. He led the way through the workshop area and into his home beyond. When she was sitting in a chair by the fire and Spark crawling around on the floor Belak said, “Now lass, tell me the whole story.”

So she told him how Aidan had gone out to check the trap line, and about the storm, and how he hadn’t come back. She told him too that she’d gotten King Ironbottom to send out scouts. “Well then lass, you’ve done the right thing. If he’s to be found, we dwarves are the ones to find him.”

“But what if they don’t? What can I do?”

Belak looked at her and said gently, “Lass there’s naught you can do. Only wait.”

And so she waited. She took care of Littlespark and helped Belak out as much as she could, but she all too much time to think and to worry. Early on the morning of the next day Belak came back from an errand with a grave expression. Flame Song’s heart dropped, had they found Aidan… dead? Belak saw her look and said. “They haven’t found him lass, but they found two of the scouts that didn’t come back last night, dead. The signs are that they were killed by vampires.”

Flame Song’s heart skipped a beat. Vampires. What if they had found Aidan? There was a twisted irony in the thought. Aidan, who for a brief span of time had been a vampire himself, killed by vampires. She shook the thought off. Let it not be true, she prayed. Let him be alive. She didn’t know that miles away Aidan was calmly preparing to die.