The Recluse

She held her cloak as tightly as her frostbitten fingers could, ensuring no snow got past her woolen barrier. Winter may have just passed, but the Dragon's Crest Mountains didn't seem to know that yet. Each step she took required great effort, having to shove a pile of freshly fallen snow to the side with nothing but her feet. She wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep. She hadn't slept for days after all. But her wants could wait for later. She's always been like that.
'He must be close now. He has to be. I can't have taken a wrong turn.'

She doesn't know how right she is. A few more steps and she might see through the blizzard. Though obscured, the flurry of flakes flicker revealing his front door, slightly buried behind a sheet of ice. The sizable cottage is dark and no footprints break the smooth layer of snow, but smoke billows out of the few chimneys and the gentle smell of vegetable soup tickles Eena's nose. Despite not having eaten anything more than premature berries for days the smell does little more than prick at her stomach.
Her first and final quest was finally at its end.

She rushed through the snow as best she could until she reached the door. Her hands finally let go of her cloak and exposed themselves to winter's chill winds, but they were already a ghastly blue. She couldn't even clench it into a fist anymore. With her elbow, she banged on the door as hard as she could over and over and over.
Her shrill voice cursed the owner. "Gotthard! Please! Open the door!"

Finally, locks began to unlatch and the ice sealing the door shut began to crack and splinter. A moment of creaking later, and the door flung open to a crack, blasting small ice shards through the air. The snow poured into the newly formed crack like water through a jug. With a few grunts of effort the door heaved the snow out of its way to open and reveal a woman stood in drab but heavy dress.

'Finally. I can rest a bit now.'
Eena fell forward. Her eyes fully shut just as the servant caught her. The woman stared at my young daughter with her mouth agape in shock. She glanced over Eena's deathly blue hands and gently carried her inside. "Master Gotthard! Come quickly! Your healing magic is needed!"
After a mere moment of silence ensued, she screamed again. "Gotthard! Now!"
Her husband came rushing around the corner, sword in hand, ready to slay any ne're-do-wells attacking the cottage. She flung her finger at her husband. "And you! Fetch blankets!"

He nodded and ran off. Just as the servant laid Eena near the fire, the stairs to the second floor groaned and cried with each step. "Damn it girl. I said no distractions 'till lunch. What could be so damn important?"
The ancient, nearly blind eyes, of a renown mage glared at the grey heap occupying his couch. His once bronzed skin, now pale and wrinkled. His head now bald and after all these years he still keeps that stupid goatee. After a long moment of glaring, he asked. "And? What's this?"

Damn it Gotthard. This is your niece.