Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 185
11
When Jordan awoke again, it was to the sound of a flock
of geese honking their way south. He climbed stiffly out of
bed and went to the window to watch them. Calandria was
already up--or she had never returned to bed at all.
Autumn was coming. The smell of woodsmoke pervaded
the estate, and the dawn chill reminded him of waking at home
to find snow on his blankets. He would drag his clothes into
bed--icy and stiff, they would start him shivering immediately.
Better to warm them under the covers, than to step into the cold
air of the loft and put them on there. Quickly he would stomp
downstairs, carrying his chamber pot like a lamp to set near the
fire if its contents had frozen, otherwise by the door. And then
to the chores, and breakfast.
Sleepy winter. He felt a sorrowful ache, remembering
and knowing things would never be the same. Resting his head
on his hands, he stared out at the brooding sky.
He heard movement near the fire, where they had lain
August. He was awake, staring at the ceiling with a puzzled
expression on his narrow face.
When Jordan walked over to him, August said, "It doesn't
hurt," in a thin voice.
"It will if you move," Jordan warned. Axel had coaxed
him on that point. August was almost completely healed.