Chapter 7 — Winter’s Gauntlet

The first blizzard arrived before dawn, smothering Ironclaw in white silence. When Captain Thorn unlocked Cell Nine, snow flurries spilled across the threshold.

“Up, moon-maid. Kennels froze in the night; the dogs need water.”

Ophelia swung stiff legs off straw. “The well is half a mile.”

“Then step twice as quick.” He hissed aside, “Keep hood low—your face is too pale for these winds.”

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#### Bitter Fetch

Outside, gale-driven snow slashed like claws. Two warriors shoved a yoke onto Ophelia’s shoulders, twin buckets rattling.

A guard scoffed. “Bet she lasts five paces.”

Ophelia met his grin. “Count carefully.”

She trudged through drifts, every step a fight. At the frozen well, her breath burst white. An older soldier—scar from ear to collar—watched.

He muttered, “Water’s solid.”

She eyed the iron crank. “Show me the hammer.”