Mistakes had been made.
Possibly even by Evan, though it was too soon to be sure.
After all, his plan had been perfect. The Longdale Pass wasn't supposed to snow up for weeks when he'd set out. And yes, maybe he'd lingered a little too long in Lucena bartering for those diamonds, but he'd made so much money. And there'd still been time.
So, naturally, it wasn't really his fault that he was currently trudging through the Mountains of Despair while one of its infamous blizzards howled around him. Whose fault this was remained a bit of an open question, but he was sure he'd have an answer for it.
Provided he didn't freeze to death first.
Fortunately, he had always been a practical man, and had dressed in the anticipation of being on the road when the first snows hit. And he was... he was utterly confident he was on the right path, despite the whiteout. He just needed to get somewhere warm. Get out of the cold for a bit and recover his bearings.
But that was looking to be a problem.
He squinted through the white of the blizzard. By his calculations, he shouldn't be far from the town of Gibran. Once there, he'd be able to hunker down for the winter, and when spring rolled in, he'd be able to pop through the pass without issue, hit the main road, and be in the capital before the harvest.
And he was sure he was going in the right direction.
Though, it was starting to feel like an awfully long walk...
But... wait.
Was that a light?
Hope bloomed in Evan's breast and he forced his legs into motion again, wading through the rising snow with the urgency of the damned. For a moment the cold receded in his limbs as he struggled through the drifting white banks, his scarf sucking against his mouth with every laboured breath.
It was a light! And more. Buildings formed out of the darkness. Near buried, their eaves covered in snow, yet from frosted windows light spilled out, promising heat and warmth and comfort. One in particular loomed ahead. More a lodge than a home, it spread itself forth in a dark mass, the windows glowing gold with heat. With life-giving warmth.
Evan staggered into the smaller drifts around the building. He trudged about to the front, finding himself before a large door. Elaborate carvings covered it, and twin totems that he couldn't make out due to the snow flanked it. But he paid them little attention as he searched for a handle. He almost sobbed when he found it, turned it, and fell inside.
The cozy heat from within hit him like a golden wave.
Warm.
Blessed, life giving warmth.
He groaned as he went to his knees, panting, head swimming as he swung the door shut behind him, silencing the howling storm. For a moment he could only kneel there, breathing heavily in relief and exhaustion.
"Well wel! What have we here?"
Wearily, Evan raised his eyes towards the voice.
And stiffened anew.
A woman stood before him, and what a woman she was. All curves, she was soft and tall, and not just because she sported a pair of bovine horns. Huge breasts stretched a downy gown while a fur-trimmed cloak draped her shoulders. Amulets and charms hung off her, while pigtails of golden blonde spilled down her shoulders and the curve of her chest. She smiled with a warm delight that made Evan's cock throb in his pants.
But a chill went down his spine at the sight of her nonetheless, for he knew a holstaur when he saw one, and he'd heard the rumours of the mountainous cowgirl breed, as had anyone else.
Naturally, he didn't put too much stock in them. He was a man of the world, after all, but enough stories floated around about the gorgeous cow women who populated villages along the high passes that it warranted some caution. Stories like how their milk was corruptive to those who drank it. That holstaurs were always seeking males to entrance with their breasts and cream, turning poor fools who stumbled upon their homes into happy, obedient slaves who never thought of anything but how to better serve the buxom beauties and pump their heavy, sloshing breasts.
Rumours as far as he knew.
Still...
Evan grunted and heaved himself back to his feet. "Sorry," he gasped. "Just... needed to get out of the cold."
"I imagine so," the holstaur said, her voice thick with a mountain accent. "You look half frozen! Please. Come in. Come in! Let's get you over to the fire."
"I-I can stay here," he quickly said.
"Not at all. You're still shivering! And never let it be said the Bovam tribe left a poor soul to the winter's bite. We must get you all warmed up."
Evan hadn't the will to argue. Not as the stinging ache of the cold buzzed in his extremities. And the warmth deeper in the lodge drew him in like a moth to flames.
He found himself being ushered out of the receiving room and into a large hall. The high ceiling was held aloft by arching wooden beams and the walls were inlaid with elaborate carvings of bovine figures and geometric designs. A huge fire roared in the middle of the room, the smoke sucked up through a chimney and into the freezing night. Benches were arrayed around tables layered with food.
And everywhere were the holstaurs.
There had to be more than a dozen of the bovine beauties about the room, all dressed in the loose, heavy robes that draped their tall frames, curving over their plump chests. Many wore bracers or ringlets made of gold and silver around their horns. More than a few held steins of foaming ale and were deep in merry conversation.
And all looked his way as he entered the room.
He stopped, eyes panning the interior, freezing under the very interested gaze of the assembled cow women.
Then he jumped as his guide's heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "Ladies," the cowgirl beside him declared. "This poor fellow just came in from the cold. Please, I invite you all make him welcome."
Smiles fluttered to soft lips all around the room, and a chorus of greetings met him. Evan felt his face warm under the attention of so many beautiful women and he cleared his throat.
"Ah, hello. My name is Evan. I'm a... ah, a merchant. Just happened to have been passing by and needed to warm up a bit."
"And we're all so pleased you decided to join us tonight," the blonde cowgirl with him said, smiling down at him. "Bellia? Some ale for our guest."
"Right away, Clara," a tanned holstaur giggled, brushing back her fiery red hair as she made her way to some tankards on a nearby table.
"You're quite fortunate to have stopped by tonight as well," Clara said as she walked Evan towards the hearth.
"I am? Why?" he asked, his eyes darting about warily.
"Because it's our festival of the Hollydays. A celebration of our company, and a prayer to the goddess to see the winter is not so bitter, and spring will be long and soon. But really," she said with another reassuring squeeze of his shoulder. "It's an excuse for the village to get together in these frigid months and get pleasantly drunk. Why, one could go mad all alone in their huts during this weather."
"Right," Evan said as he was sat down on a bench near the flames. Wonderful flames. No sooner had he done so than Bellia had plopped down on his other side, pushing a stein of ale into his hands.
