Long Winter's End

Long Winter's End by Katica Locke

 * Genre: Erotic Fantasy Romance/Easter fable
 * Length: 12,800 words
 * Price: $3.75
 * Warnings: M/M sexual content
 * Link: Long Winter's End by Katica Locke

Summary
When Myrran's tribe arrived in the beautiful valley, it was a veritable land of plenty, until winter came and refused to leave. Desperate for spring to return, they leave an offering upon the ancient stone altar deep in the woods, a sacrifice to appease the spirits. Myrran, not at all happy to be left in the woods to die, is shocked to meet Ilevet, a giant talking rabbit and the true spirit of the valley.

Ilevet is not the vengeful demon Myrran's tribe imagined him to be, nor is the winter his fault. After speaking with the spirit, Myrran sympathizes with the lonely being and sets out to redeem his people for their ignorant mistakes.

After an unspeakable act of betrayal, Myrran alone holds the key to ending the long winter and saving all their souls.

Intro
His breath billowing thick and white above him, Myrran strained against the tough cords that bound him, hand and foot, to the large stone slab. Small, dry snowflakes drifted down from the low clouds, brushing against his face and settling upon the thick elkskin robe that covered him. This was wrong; this was so wrong. Choking back a sob, he closed his eyes, pulling against the braided sinew until it cut into his wrists, sending splinters of pain dancing through his frozen fingers. Myrran cried out, a hollow, desperate sound that echoed through the empty forest. He waited, holding his breath, hoping, praying, listening, but there was no answer. They had left him to die.

A quiet despair settled over him, much like the thin mantle of snow that had already collected upon his body. In a few hours, the only evidence of his existence would be a slight lump in the snow and an empty place at his mother's table. Even though Myrran was old enough to have a lodge and a family of his own, his refusal to take a wife had kept him under his mother's roof--a shameful situation for a warrior. Secretly, he didn't mind that much. With his father dead, she needed someone to bring wood and meat home, and he enjoyed helping to look after his younger brother and sisters. Who would take care of them now?

He should have taken a wife. What did it matter if he didn't have any interest in any of the tribal maidens? A man was supposed to start a family. It was his sacred duty. And he wouldn't have been chosen for this ridiculous sacrifice to some made-up forest spirit.

Myrran let out an angry white sigh. His people had their own gods, but his tribe had wandered far from their ancestral lands, perhaps too far for their gods to hear their prayers. It certainly seemed that way, as the beautiful woodland valley that they had moved into approached the end of a full year of winter. What had been a land of plenty lay hidden beneath a perpetual blanket of snow. Only the surplus that they had collected right after their arrival had allowed them to survive, but the granary was empty, the cellars bare, and the game had long since vanished from the valley. His people were beyond desperate, proven by his current situation. He didn't know what they would do when this didn't work. Retrieve his frozen carcass and eat him, he supposed.