Ember tripped and fell face first into the snow, to tired to bring her arms up in time to break her fall. Luckily the snow was soft, blanketing her fall. She'd love to stay down, to sleep, but she knew she couldn't.<br/>"Get up, Ember. Get up!" Pylea's paniced voice urged her on, but she knew it was already to late as she felt a couple of small shapes land on her back, knocking the wind out of her lungs. How had it come to this?<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Pylea grinned.<br/>"Keeper of Gossip? I like that. It sounds like a title we might actually use. I wouldn't be surprised at all if some Freeholds did have a title exactly like it."<br/>Before Pylea could dream about a position at the Court Ember let out a scream, and her startled friend soon joined in.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Hannibal gasped as hundreds of small shapes appeared from under the cover of the snow. This was no army of ice after all, rather they appeared to have let the snow fall on them, concealing them completely. The snow had looked totally pristine and undisturbed when the wagon train had arrived, how were they supposed to have known? What kind of determination would it take to remain still for so long, and to what purpose? Had they'd known the Carnival would pass this way? How?<br/>Hannibal stood frozen as he saw the hidden army advance, a madly gibbering wave of flesh. Hannibal was no lover, but sadly he wasn't a fighter either. Hannibal had always thought about himself as a rather plain but honest hardworking man. Not exactly what this situation called for. This seemed to be a night for larger than life heroes and dashing heroics. If none were to be found Hannibal guessed that a group of vicious, utter bastards would have to do, a group of men and women who'd give as good as they got and would stop at nothing to accomplish their goal.<br/>Hannibal knew of a dozen or so people in camp who fit either category, a rare few fit both. Hannibal fit neither. He expected this was it for him, and he doubted he would meet his end with as much dignity as his friend had. He couldn't even get his legs to move, to scared to even run away!<br/>He heard someone cry out in fear then. Ember, he decided, and soon he could hear Pylea join in with a terrified shriek of her own.<br/>In an instance he had forgotten all about his own fear, and his terror induced paralyzation seemed to drain from his body. He planted his feet in the ground as he turned to face the madness, and the first wave of attackers broke against him like the sea against a rocky shore.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Ember managed to get up on all fours but as she struggled to get back on her feet more of them landed on her back, pushing her down. Tiny hands clawed at her, twisting and pawing, pulling her hair, groping her wherever they could reach.<br/>A wave of heat scorched her back and the weight was gone. She would probably get heat blisters, but she would accept them gladly. She got back on her feet just in time to see Pylea lunge out again.<br/>Ember had to admit she hadn't given Pylea nearly enough credit. There were far more to her whimsical friend than met the eye. At the moment she was shining so bright it hurt Ember's eyes just to look at her. She was shrouded in an armor of fire that burned those foolish enough to to close. Pylea seemed to have a poor grip on what a propper suit of armor would look like; hers were of the Conan "chainmail bikini" variety, an armor more suited to making a woman look foxy than offering any real protection. It didn't seem to matter though, it worked and Ember had to admit that her friend was a damn impressive sight.<br/>Pylea threw another ball of flame that exploded with a roar of fire as it impacted with the enemies.<br/>The attackers were a strange breed indeed. They were small, for one thing, few reaching higher than Ember's knee. Some of them were round and bloated, with big mouths, making Ember think of humanoid toads. Some looked more like what Ember imagined a goblin would look like, thin with rather short legs and long, spindly arms, big sharp noses and rows of small, pointy teeth. Others reminded Ember of the gremlins of the movie with the same name. All of them had brightly colored skin in intricate patterns. There were black mixed with yellow, black and red, red and blue. The only thing similar to it that Ember could think of was the warning patterns of some poisonous frogs down in the amazonian jungles.<br/>The attackers were a mixed crowd to say the least. The one thing they had in common were their massive members. They were of a size that a grown man would have no reason to feel ashamed of. On these small creatures it looked positively obscene. Some were covered by loincloths that flapped about as they ran. Some had made vulgar codpieces out of hollowed out animal horns. The rest hadn't bothered to cover up at all, they ran around naked.<br/>"Ember! Quick, get behind me!"<br/>A couple of arrows came flying through the air and would've struck true if they hadn't burst into flame and incinerated midair.<br/>Most of the creatures had some sort of crude weapon. A piece of wood as a club, a sharpened stick as a spear, bows shooting smaller sharpened sticks. Worst of all, some had blowguns and Ember couldn't help but repeat "poison dart frogs, poison dart frogs" over and over in her head.<br/>Pylea struck out with her hand, once again unleashing her by far most impressive trick. A draconian serpent of flame shot out from her outstretched hand. It hissed with malice as it coiled and twisted through the air, hunting down their foes and vanquishing them by the dozens as it flew right through them like a hot knife through butter. The creatures had the peculiar habit of bursting like waterballoons when you struck them, splashing greenish, slimy ooze everywhere. It was hard to imagine them having a single bone in their body when you saw the result, but that couldn't be right.<br/>Pylea's dragon cleared a whole hillside of the gibbering small monstrosities before disappearing. The problem was that if you killed a dozen a hundred stood ready to take their place.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>"Something is afoot." After staring out into the snow storm in silence for what seemed like hours, Father Frost had finally spoken. That of course made his three companions, huddled around a sorry looking fire, almost jump out of their skins.<br/>"Jesus on a stick!" Jack ó Knives cried out. "What the fuck now?"<br/>"What's the matter, Jack?" snickered Iobacchus the Satyr. "I thought you Autumn types loved a good fright. Not so fun when you are the one being scared, is it?"<br/>"Bite me, you hairy, smelly piece of..."<br/>Fortinbrass tuned them out. Their bickering had gotten old hours ago. He slowly rose, stretching his limbs, an odd metallic clang following the creaking of his joints.<br/>"What's the matter, Frost?" As a self-proclaimed man of the people Fortinbrass didn't have much use for knights and nobility. But he respected Frost, there were no posturing with this knight at least.<br/>"Trouble," Frost said without turning around, "That way." He pointed with his hammer. That he could even get it of the ground using only one hand was amazing, that he could use it to point, seemingly without much effort, well...that was terrifying. Fortinbrass vowed to never get on the troll's bad side, because that hammer would cave in even his metal chest like it had been a milk carton.<br/>"What kind of...hey, wait!"<br/>Father Frost had just walked out into the storm, and the night had seemed to swallow him whole.<br/>"What's wrong with you?" Jack yelled after him but got no reply.<br/>"What's wrong with him?" Jack asked again, this time addressing the people around the fire. "We were told to remain here, to wait here!"<br/>"I don't know," Fortinbrass replied, quickly finishing what remained of his coffee, "but it's not like Frost to do something impulsive. I'm going after him while there still is a trail to follow." He grabbed his musket and quickly set off into the night.<br/>"Fine, be an idiot! Who needs ya anyway, you stupid...peasant!" Jack was fuming now, but Io remained silent, staring into the fire. There seemed to be some inner struggle taking place, of which Jack noticed little. Eventually Io reached a decision and stood up.<br/>"Not you too?" Jack said in disbelief. Iobacchus only shrugged and smiled a crooked, slightly apologetic smile, then he too was gone.<br/>"Piss on you all then!" Jack shouted into the night. He sat down muttering by the fire, that suddenly didn't seem to provide nearly as much illumination as it once had.<br/>"The Queen will know there's at least one knight out here who remembers about duty." He sat there alone for a good long while, then he too left the safety of the fire. That night the Hedge echoed with the longest string of profaneties imaginable.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Ember cried out in fear as she saw Pylea stagger, struck by a long, fierce looking spear thrown with impressive force. It glanced off Pylea's armor, but Ember could see her clutch at her side, her face a mask of pain. She had felt that. The spear was a smoking ruin on the ground, but it had done it's job, the flames in Pylea's armor finally flickered out and died.<br/>"Run!" Pylea shrieked, raw panic in her voice.*