After several days in the castle, I had grown used to the daily routine: Wake up far too early, wander the castle and its grounds for a few hours, return a little late for the first meal of the day, and learn of that day’s activities. It was a pace to which I found myself growing accustomed, and I had to wonder if it would stay the same should I achieve my goal. Even if not, for now each day was revealing new facets of the capitol and nation I had never seen before, and I was sure this day would be the same.

A footman announced the day’s event simply, a manner benefiting a simple task. Visiting a menagerie sounded more like fun than anything else, and since Tarsa had no such buildings, I was rather interested to see what it was like. After donning a simple dress for the occasion, I joined the rest of the women and was led to a warm building, made with glass and filled with plants and animals. It was beautiful, and I admired the beasts and birds. Colors flitted through the air, as if the whole royal garden had chosen to fly about within these walls. Animals I had never heard of moved about in their enclosures, I was amazed by the variety. Yet I felt a bit of sadness, seeing them locked up so far from home. It made me feel a little homesick, compounded by a bit of nausea from the heat.

Irritated by my inability to handle the temperature, I sought out a cool corner, finding my way to a shaded and sunken area by the water. There were less plants around me, and the colorful birds didn’t fly here, but it was cooler here, and I decided to stay a while. I saw a few of the others moving through the warm section, chattering as much as the animals around them, but I turned my eyes to the animals instead. A mountain goat eyed me ruefully, as did a small weasel I recognized. It seemed I had found where they kept the animals from Tarsa and other cold regions. How appropriate, I thought to myself and chuckled a little, then caught sight of something I did not expect.

A large enclosure, tall and cool, sat straight ahead, and the glint of silver fur shone from the top. I drew closer, awed by the appearance of the Moroz Koshka, the frosty beast that filled our folklore with tales of cleverness and loyalty. It was the legendary version of our koshka, already an odd animal to outsiders. With a body that seemed a blend between a cat and a wolf, they had wide paws, good for staying stable on the mountainside as well as clearing caverns of debris. A long tail for balance was a significant part of its length, as it was only about knee high at the shoulder and not even as long as my outstretched arms without counting the tail.

Normally, a koshka would be white or grey in winter, or if it lived in the mountains, which most did. But many packs roamed the lower reaches, and some were even raised in captivity as pets. Those often had a tawny grey color, but not this one. Still the icy white and grey typically seen in winter, additional silvers touched its fur, giving it a bit of shine in the light. And even in this heat, tendrils of ice spread from its paws and jaws, melting away before too long. It was an odd sight, and once more sadness for the animal got to me.

“You miss your pack, don’t you?” I whispered to it, resting a hand on the side of the cage. The koshka was a loyal beast, much like the wolf. Trained ones could be the best protectors and friends, but wild ones watch over their families devotedly. “So far from home, of course you’re anxious. Is that why you cannot disguise yourself?” The Moroz was supposed to be able to disguise itself, and be impossible to tell from a normal koshka unless the pack was in danger. Then it could use its icy magic to find a way to protect its fellows. Without a pack, I was sure the animal was sad, and I couldn’t help feeling the same.

The Moroz seemed to perk up though, slowly climbing down toward me.  I tensed, in case it was angered by my presence. But instead, it came to where I had rested my hand, sniffing it and seeming pleased with the results. Slowly the frost stopped spreading from its paws and its fur darkened. Before long, it looked just like a pet koshka, and a light rumble echoed from it happily. I had to smile, remembering Kiezer’s koshka Rald, but that too gave me a bit of homesickness. “I know the feeling.”

I lifted my hand from the cage, wanting to reach out and touch the animal. Not many could say they’d seen a Moroz Koshka, let alone touched one. It seemed to be willing, sensing my intentions and even leaning forward a bit. But before I could, it hissed, instantly returning to its wintery coloration and sending a spiral of ice over my hand. As it climbed back into its tree I withdrew my hand, looking behind me to see what had spooked it. “Prince Tamd,” I bowed, not sure how long he had been there.

“I apologize, I did not mean to startle you.” He was soft-spoken, giving me a sweet smile and seeming a little timid. I curtsied, as I was becoming more used to doing. “It is alright, there was no harm done.” The ice on my hand had already melted, leaving only the familiar memory of Tarsan winter snow. As the Prince walked next to me, looking up at the koshka, he looked almost awed. “I have never seen it do that, change colors.” I nodded, eyes also moving to the animal. It was wary, clearly preferential to my Tarsan blood.

With a shy glance toward me, the prince asked, “You like this animal?” Again I nodded, content to watch the Moroz in silence, but Tamd seemed to want to talk. “Tell me, why exactly do you like it?” Glancing to the young prince, I smiled slightly. “It reminds me of home, of what is important. The Moroz Koshka is the embodiment of our lifestyle in Tarsa, holding loyalty and family above all else. The Moroz would do anything for a packmate, bending the will of the mountains to match its own. It is an honorable life they lead, and one we try to emulate.”

The young prince responded, then watched the koshka in silence for some time. Finally he spoke again, his voice even quieter than usual, “I wish I could let it go free. It seems so unfair to keep it locked up here for our amusement. But, of course, I’m not supposed to do that. And then, it’s been here in the palace so long, I don’t know if it even could survive on its own.” I had to chuckle at that, “The Moroz is smart, I’m sure it would survive. It has done so here, so once it was returned to its pack, I’m sure it would be fine.” My voice got a little wistful remembering my own ‘pack’ back at the mine.

After a moment, he shook himself, and with a small laugh said, “Anyway, I would miss it if it were gone.” I had to look at him, wondering if he knew every animal, or if this one was special. Considering his temperament, he probably did care for every creature here. He turned to me fully, catching me watching him and smiling gently. “What do you miss most about your home?”

I sighed, the homesickness getting to me at his question. “I miss many things, I am still not accustomed to life here in Bascalin, nor having so much time to relax. I miss the cold and the work, but most of all? I think that would be my family. Not just my Mer, Das, and two brothers either, my whole family. I grew up in the mine, each of those men is like an uncle or brother to me. Here, it is as if I am alone, even as I am surrounded by these other women and all the workers. There is no bond, no trust, not what I wish I had.” I looked up at the Moroz again, “I miss my pack, and I have not yet found a new one here.”

The Prince considered my answer, then responded. With that he left, and I stood by the Moroz for a bit longer, looking into its eyes and wondering how much it understood.