You'll be fine

Fern rinsed the last plate, dried her hands and gathered her stuff. She was already wearing long johns under her leather pants and crochet sweater, so she traded her slippers for wool socks, another sweater, scarf, coat, trapper hat and mittens. She had snow pants and heavier lambskin mittens in her duffle bag just in case, but riding in Embla’s truck wouldn’t be as cold as the bus. More than once, she’d seen her breath on the bus, and it was supposed to be equipped with two heaters.

Last, she strapped on a thigh holster. In warmer weather she preferred a shoulder holster, but there was no quick way to access it under her layers, and it was necessary with all the monsters about.

Not that it would be any help against a storm hag.

She brooded as she looked out the window of the truck. Snow berms rose high on either side of the road, making a sea of bumpy white broken by the occasional farm house. Most wild things, natural and otherwise, would be burrowed down for the coming storm.

Most things.

Storm hags were dingy gray, like dirty snow. Particularly violent blizzards brought them, riding storm winds like howling banshees, clawing anyone exposed to shreds, leaving frozen corpses behind.

Stone, metal and thick wood were proof against them, wards even better. Unfortunately, as Embla pulled up in front of Fern’s stone apartment building, she was reminded that her building couldn’t afford wards.

“Good, thick walls,” Embla said, surveying the building grimly. There was just a hint of doubt on her face. “You’ll be fine.”