Private Tales The Blessing of Loyalty

[Angela]

The morn was cold and brisk outside the tentative warmth of her tent. She rolled about in her quilted sleep roll, luxuriating in the warmth of the fur lined interior. Her stirring bothered her companion, who lifted his great white head and shook it, ears flapping against his skull.

Angela didn’t wish to wake just yet. Her body urged her to wake before the crack of dawn each day; a trained habit from her previous enslavement. But she kept wishing she could rest, sleep longer, and simply laze about. But even now, she couldn’t afford to waste the day.

Pouting, she shook off the last vestiges of sleep and rose from her bed roll. Methodically she donned her layers of clothes and pulled on her too-large boots over her layers of socks and hose. The Spine was quite cold, though she found herself easily acclimating to it. Possibly a trait of her Avariel heritage.

The white shepherd dog beside her huffed and grumbled but rose as well. He slipped out of the tent before Angela had finished dressing, likely to relieve himself or scent the area curiously. She was ever thankful for her companion, left to her from her saviour. Dog would protect her through the night, help her hunt, and fight to defend her with his life. She could never repay his loyalty enough.

Rolling up her sleep roll and securing it to her pack, she started her day. First, she knelt and prayed to her deity, Maskat. Next, she stoked the fire back to flames with a few careful prods and some fresh, dry timber. Then, she carefully maneuvered her wings through the slits in her clothes. Four wings, one pair smaller than the other, arched from her back, snow white and gleaming.

Next, she tended the horse. The black mare wore socks and a thick blanket through the night, and Angela untied the strings around them. After the horse was brushed and tacked, Angela secured a bag of oats about the mare’s head for her to graze on.

The sun rose slowly, turning the snow capped mountains blinding white. Angela sat down and the now crackling fire to begin to cook. She was excited, because her and her other companion had scavenged two bird’s eggs from the mountain side. They had agreed the eggs would make a great breakfast.

With a scrap of metal they had scavenged, Angela cooked the two eggs over the fire. On sticks, she skewered bits of meat her companion had hunted to cook. As she waited for the food to cook, she stretched her wings out behind her as far as she could and flexed the delicate muscles there. T’was a daily exercise; trying to gain strength in the limbs that had been neglected all her life. Since her enslavement had ended, Angela had began to learn to preen her wings. The feathers were not filthy any longer, but a dim white that mirrored the gleam of snow. One could suspect that a thorough bathing would bring them to a bright whiteness that would rival the brightness of snow, but that was yet to be proven. There hadn’t been any movement from the other tent yet, but Angela suspected the other half of her party would wake soon, now that the sun had risen.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The Spine was high, wide, and vast. Crossing it was a difficult task for those with experience across its shorter width. Trying to cross its much greater length was exponentially more challenging unless one took the river routes. Weylin had agreed to take the snow nymph through such a trek and the river route was not an option for them. Neither had the coin for it and she seemed to be worse around people than he was. It was going to be a long journey....

The hunter and his faithful companion were up before the sun rose. Dawn was a prime time to hunt. The animals of the night were tired and about to find their bed for the night while the animals of the day had just woken and were still shaking off the effects of sleep. Neither would be as alert as they would be in the middle of their periods of activity. He wanted to take advantage of it while he could and stock up on some food for the journey ahead. It was hard to say when an opportunity to do so again would come.

After a few hours in that odd period of darkness and light mixing together so imperfectly in balance, Weylin head back to camp. A couple of hares was all he managed to catch. They were almost about all he had seen. Outside of them all he had caught sight of was the blur of a fox and a squirrel that had rushed off high into the trees away from him. It might be better to find a large enough river to fish from than hunt with his bow this high up. Not enough game to be found. White didn't seem too bothered either way and just padding along excited.

As the two approached the smell of cooking eggs and meat met their noses. It was strange how familiar yet alien it was to him now. The scent of food being cooked by someone else was a daily event before his parents died. Fresh bread, sizzling yokes, and gravy made from the evening before's lard. It was the scent of his childhood. Yet after they died the scent of his adulthood had become that of blood both fresh and old, burning wood, and pine sap. It was both sweet and sickening at the same time.

Weylin had stopped not long after the smell met his nose. His mind had drifted off into memory. Renewed to reality, he returned on his way. Into the camp he soon came. Not a word was spoken. He just immediately sat down and began to prepare the rabbits to be quickly smoked. They had some time for that before they began. A nod of greeting was given to Angela which paused his work then back to it he went.

 

[Angela]

She glanced up at Weylin’s and White’s approach, worried until she saw their familiar figures through the trees. So the hunter hadn’t slept in after all. Perhaps he was compelled to rise early, too. He had brought back game, so probably he’d been up long before her.

Behind them was Dog, who had been patrolling a loose perimeter whilst Angela was relaxed and not on guard. He was intelligent enough to not alert on them, though she could see his hackles were still a bit fluffed up from when he’d likely noticed the two and then realized who they were after.

Angela clicked her tongue for Dog, who galloped over and took the bit of half-cooked meat from her hand before cantering off, doing another protective loop. She suspected this was because he was a guard dog, and a war dog, first and foremost. He was no mere cuddle partner or space heater.

Out of their entire party, she probably trusted Dog the most. His loyalty was unwavering, and his devotion couldn’t be questioned. Ever since she had earned the trust and devotion of Dog’s old master, the beast’s loyalty had never wavered. The hunter, although kind and charitous, had not even offered his name… Which she assumed he had. And the hunter’s dog still didn’t take her eyes off Angela or Dog when possible.

Angela herself couldn’t say she was called anything but what people called her. She’d answered to anything between ‘Angel Girl,’ ‘Wings,’ and ‘Slave’ for her entire life. Bitter, she kicked at the kettle she’d placed in the embers, previously filled with fresh snow, with a bit more malice than warranted. She heard a faint bubbling, so she picked it up and dumped its contents into one dented metal cup, and one chipped ceramic one.

She had always had a green thumb, and could grow plants just about anywhere. Even in little burlap pouches of dirt, carried in the saddle bags of the horse. She had two plants successfully growing at the moment: a mint plant and a sprig of chamomile. She hoped to get more medicinal herbs to carry with her soon, but resources in the mountains were fairly scarce.

Since it was the morning, she had dropped a few mint leaves in each cup, and let them sit close to the fire a bit to steep. After a little while, Angela had deemed the eggs cooked enough to eat and prodded each of them onto a different platter. For the hunter, who was dutifully preparing his kills from the morning, about three quarters of a plate made of ceramic; and for Angela, a greasy napkin that had seen better days. After pulling the cooked meat from the skewers and dividing it, giving Weylin an extra piece for White, she handed him their only fork as well, just a bit of pronged metal which she had used for cooking. Angela was used to eating with only her hands, if she was ever allowed to eat at all. She also passed him the dented metal cup of steaming peppermint tea.

Once they were out of the peaks, Angela hoped they could find different food. She found herself quite missing mushrooms and onions for once. Unfortunately, she was not quite as skilled at foraging as her hunter companion. She would have to rely on his judgement, but at least she could cook for him. She was constantly searching for ways to repay his charity, whether it be cooking or setting up the most luxurious and comfortable place to lay a bed roll, assembling his tent and the fire. Whatever she could get away with when he wasn’t looking.

She had a lot to repay, after all. For the hunter had offered to lead her and journey with her to Kor Gorum.... Where her late master had come from. Where she would be safe. Hopefully.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The hares didn't take long to skin, gut, and get set up on skewers to smoke over the fire. By the time Weylin had finished Angela had the food ready. The plate with the fork and metal cup were set in front of him. She was being too generous again. They were here supplies and so she should be the one getting to use them. He was use to just using natural supplies around him anyways. It helped keep the weight down while he traveled. This was something he needed to do something about.

Without saying a word, Weylin moved the plate and fork back in front of the ice fairy and picked up the napkin from her hand. He went back to his spot and began to eat with his hands. It was good as was the warm tea she had made for them both. He liked both so much that it didn't take him long to finish it all off.

Wiping the grease off his hands Weylin said, "It was very good. Thank you."

A thought had developed in Weylin's mind while he was out hunting but it wasn't until now that he realized it. Slow it surfaced and while working through the details of it his eyes had idly settled onto Angela. He wasn't so much staring at her as she was just the most interesting thing in the area, which naturally caught his attention. For several moments he worked through things in his head as he just looked at her.

Finally Weylin said to her, "I'm teaching you the bow." With that he stood up and went over to the hare fur. He needed to turn them into armguards for her so she wouldn't end up destroying her wrists. They did have some time after all until the meat was done smoking.

 

[Angela]

Her brow furrowed in confusion and frustration when her own serving of food was taken from her and switched with the hunter’s. She didn’t argue, and begrudgingly allowed it, but didn’t understand it. Sighing through her nose, she clicked her tongue for the hunter’s dog, holding out the bit of meat from the broken plate in offering. If he wouldn’t give it to her, Angela would.

Agarwal had been a good man, and a better warrior. He had also recognized her for what she was: a dirty street urchin he had picked up in charity and fascination. He had generously given her food cooked by his own hands, served on a spare napkin. He had not beaten her when she broke his plate as she washed it in a stream. In fact, he had been gentle and kind, using his words to teach instead of his hands to punish. He had allowed her to fetch water and dig the pits for their campfires, but also let her sleep in his tent wrapped up in his extra blankets, even wearing his spare shirts and socks for warmth.

Back then, there had been a clear and definitive understanding of Angela’s position in their relationship. And to her benefit, it had been a familiar one. At least, she had been beneath the one helping her, and doing what she could to serve him in return. That hierarchy was familiar.

What wasn’t familiar was being treated with honest-to-Maskat chivalry. Angela had no frame of reference for this, and was merely confused. She’d never seen such behaviour in all her unfortunate life, so she had no name for it. She was unsure if it were kindness or rudeness or good manners or anything but pure insanity. She simply didn’t understand it. Maybe he just preferred to eat off of napkins? Maybe he didn’t know the plate and fork was better? She had no idea. But she would always allow him to do what he wanted, whether it benefitted him in the end or not.

Nearby, she could hear the trotting footsteps and panting breaths of Dog. She clicked her tongue twice and rasped, “Come!” in a small, unused voice. She cleared her throat and took a sip of tea. “Come!” She called again, clearer now but voice still rather soft.

Dog barrelled through the underbrush and snow, panting and winded. He collapsed directly on Angela’s booted feet, sprawled haphazardly and panting heavily. She blinked down at him and shook her head, before giving the silly beast her last bite of egg and the plate to lick clean. Angela was in the habit of eating her food as quickly as she could, before any other unfortunate but stronger slave could come by and steal it.

She began to stretch her wings for the last few times before she would tuck them away for the day. The muscles were still weak and underdeveloped. They often hurt, and felt like weak, dead weights on her back more often than not. She had never met anyone like her, and no one seemed able to advise her on their proper care. It was like she was the only one of her kind to exist sometimes. Like she was some kind of freak.

The first words of the day were Weylin thanking her for the food. Bashfully, she dipped her head in a nod, her one visible eye shining slightly with glee. She stared down resolutely at the flames as she felt eyes suddenly boring into her. Having spent a few days with Weylin by now, she had grown used to this, and ignored it. She scratched Dog’s exposed tummy instead as the shepherd dog rolled around in the earth thawed by the campfire at her feet.

As Angela drew her wings tight to her back and threaded her arm through the sleeve of her heavy leather jacket, Weylin spoke the second time for the day. It seemed he had concluded his thought and decided to verbalize it. Her brow furrowed once more at Weylin’s sudden declaration that he would teach her the bow. Her baffled gaze followed him as he abruptly stood and went over to the bloody mess of rabbit fur he had skinned not minutes ago.

Agarwal had managed to teach Angela the slightest bit of swordplay with a small dagger, doubting her ability and strength with a sword. And surely enough, she struggled to heft and swing the sword left to her upon her master’s death. It was made of pure silver, and much heavier than an iron sword of the same size.

Only in moments of life or death did Angela find it easy to heft and swing the sword. In those moments, she felt as if her Goddess was with her, strengthening her limbs and lightening her burden.

The wraith-like Avariel rose from her seat and scurried over to Weylin, eyes already searching for a way to help him with the furs.

“Why?” came her choked out whisper. “Why try to teach me?”

She wondered about many things in this same vein concerning Weylin. Why bother helping her? Why guide her? Why hunt for her? What did he have to gain from all this?

Angel Girl was a burden, and she knew it. This was no city where she could devote herself to retrieving linens from the town laundry or wealthy house where she could scrub his floors until her knees were bruised black. Here, in the wilds of the Spine, she was useless. Completely, and utterly, and she knew it very, very well.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The hare fur was quickly becoming prepped to be tanned. There might not be a whole lot of supplies for the more industrious form of it, but he had some juniper berries and other natural materials that could be used to tan them as they traveled. It would also give the leather a much more pleasant, earthy smell rather than the racid, foul odor of the town folk's. For now Weylin just needed to scrap the fur so it was ready for the softening.

As Weylin was doing this Angela came over and began to try to help. Yet again. She needed to stop doing that and find something for herself to do. Then she asked him why he was doing it in that squeak of her's. She reminded him of a tiny bird that constantly felt a hawk was around. She seem confused about why he was going to teach her to use the bow. The reasons seemed obvious, but that was probably just to him. He grew up hunting in the Spine so why someone needed to know how to use a bow was part of his every day. She was new to this life and this land. He should probably explain.

"You need to learn." Weylin responded as he finished up the first fur and got it into a square frame made out of sticks lashed together. He then began to work on doing the same to the next fur.

"Hunting, protecting yourself, and enjoyment. Archery is good for many things. It will be good for you and useful."

With that said Weylin just went back to his work as if that explained it all. It didn't. After moment he said, "Do you know trees? Can you tell the difference in their types?"

 

[Angela]

Her callused little fingers dropped to her knees when it became clear she wouldn’t be able to help. Weylin took over the task and left her nothing to do. His look was disapproving, and Angela shrunk in within herself, shoulders hunching up toward her pointed ears. She listened dutifully as he insisted learning the bow would benefit her when it came to hunting, protection and… enjoyment? What did that have to do with anything?

She was slowly becoming aware of an anxiety within her. She felt good and accomplished as she set up fires, tents, and cooked for another person. These things she had been doing most of her life, for owners and masters. Once the part of the day came where she would usually be given tasks to complete for her masters, she became anxious. Her stomach would drop to her feet and her palms would sweat. An instinct inside her would tell her she had to do something, something, something. But no one would tell her what to do.

A logical part of her mind told her this was a habit beaten into her while she was a slave. She had learned this to be true when Sir Agarwal had told her such. Her instincts and logic were constantly at war these days, and so far instinct had been winning out. She felt as if she were just as stressed and anxious as when she was before she escaped Molthal, if not more so. There, her position was clear. She was given direction. Here, now free, she had no direction.

She reached up and rubbed at her damaged eye, which had begun to bother her. There were times it grew dry and sore in her eye socket. The scars over her brow and cheekbone had no hope of fading. She’d never see out of her right eye again, and it was clouded over milky white now. Angela noticed a warmth on her thigh, and looked down to see Dog leaning against her right side. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears.

At the hunter’s next question, her brow furrowed. She sent a cursory glance around the trees surrounding them. Sure, some were bare and leafless, others were covered in green needles, but she had no idea what their names would be. She shrugged in answer, gaze drooping to the cold ground in shame at not knowing another likely basic thing. Then she glanced back up to Weylin curiously, wondering if the hunter intended to teach her.

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Silence was all the response Weylin needed to know her level of knowledge. It was none. As he worked on the fur he thought over how to approach the lesson of trees. The Spine had all kinds of them after all. Teaching her about them would be helpful for her later on but it also was about her bow they would be making for her to use.

After Weylin got the fur finished up and into its own square of sticks, he said, "Evergreens. The name tells you they are ever green." He set the square down next to the other one then pointed at a pine tree. "That is one. They have needles or flat leaves with spines. Pines are light woods and filled with sticky sap. The sap is useful for pitch and gluing things together."

Weylin stood up and walked over to a tree lacking any leaves. "This is birch. Look at the bark." He peeled a bit off and held it out. "These trees are plentiful and extremely useful. It would take too long to explain them all at one time."

After Weylin headed over to another larger tree. He tapped it while saying, "Oak. Very good wood. Hard and heavy. Nuts are good to eat." After that he looked at her. There was too much to teach. He had thought it would be easy but it wasn't. Years of experience had taught him about these trees. How could he teach it all in minutes? He rubbed the back of his head a bit then sighed to himself.

"Need to teach better and more." Weylin said. "We will find elm wood for your bow and need to find a deer or elk. You will make your bow and learn to use it after. If you understand every part of something then it will become a part of you." He placed a hand on the sleeping oak tree and looked at it.

Angela

 

[Angela]

Once the hunter completed his task, setting the frames of sticks and skins aside, he leapt into teaching her about trees like a bird for a berry. She watched him with wide mismatched eyes as he moved about the cluster of trees amongst them, describing each simply for her to understand.

She listened half-heartedly, wondering if he would describe the uses for each. So far, she couldn’t discern the uses for them. Which ones were useful for healing? Which ones were poisonous?

Something tickled in the back of her mind. The prickly ones were bad for burning. They made too much smoke and let others know of one’s position. That, she’d learned from Sir Agarwal. But if a branch had dried upon the forest floor long enough to be brittle, it was good to burn. She knew how to make a good fire, at least.

Abruptly, the hunter broke off. He said they would find elm and craft her very own bow, then teach her to use it.

Whilst he stared lovingly at a tree he was touching, Angela’s gaze wandered to another green thing, small and tucked into the underbrush in their vicinity.

“And this?” she inquired, gesturing to the short tree struggling to reach the canopy. “This is an evergreen?” It was a small, white barked tree with very strong wood and firm, broad leaves. The leaves were flat but stiff, bright green against the white of the snow, and prickled with nasty spines all along them. The tree was decorated in vivacious red berries.

“I’ve seen birds eat from them,” she murmured, referring to the berries the trees bore. “But they are poisonous.”

She went over and deliberately pricked her tough little fingertips over the spines of the tree’s leaves. The spines were adorably pointy. “What’s it called?” she asked curiously. After a while she added, “Can any of these trees be used medicinally?”

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

It was hard for Weylin to figure out the snow sprite. She was just so alien. In the Spine freedom and independence were not just taught but key to survival. Well it was for those not in the towns and settlements along the river, lake, and well traveled roads. For those out in the heart of the Spine, such as the old folk, those qualities were core to identity. But for her it was not. It also seemed as if she was utterly dependent on whoever she was with by her very nature. It was frustrating for him trying to wrap his head around it.

But that frustration was paused when Angela pointed out a plant and asked him about it. Weylin looked and immediately knew the answers to her questions.

"Holly. It is poisonous but helpful medicine. Be cautious with it. Very cautious."

Weylin had ended his little lesson there figuring that was good enough. Of course she would know what he meant.... But he remembered she wouldn't. The knowledge of the plant life was in his blood, his people's blood. She wasn't from here and didn't just understand near instinctively what he knew or meant with his brief and vague explanations. He was going to need to use more words here.

"It is poisonous. You will throw up and have waste running out of your backside. That will lead to dehydration and starvation. The berries do this the most and only grow during winter. The leaves are not as bad but cause the same problems and also make your gut hurt. Eat too many berries and leaves and you will die from it. Eat a handful and it can help you with issues involving your guts and having eaten things you shouldn't have. As I said. Be very cautious with it."

There. Weylin had gotten the information out there for her. Hopefully this made the ice fairy satisfied and helped her later on. He went to check on the meat to see how it was doing over the smoking fire. It was important to keep their food stock as large as possible and able to last as long as possible after all. And here in the Spine the best way to preserve meat was by smoking it. A lesson he needed to show her as well later. For now it was best to keep it to a few lessons at a time.

 

[Angela]

She listened raptly to the answer to her questions. She looked closely at the bright colors of the tree, and found it quite pretty. There was a little tingling in the back of her head telling her to take a sample, so she drew a dagger and did. She affixed the holly branch to her pack, where it looked almost like a decoration.

“Thank you,” she whispered. This was another thing she had learnt recently. Slaves were never thanked, and ever silent. “For explaining,” she added, speaking to Weylin.

A natural purging berry. That was good to know. And it also put the ‘poisonous’ quality of the plant into a different mindset. Even harmful things could be good if the situation was bad enough. She only hoped she’d never have to use such knowledge.

Without any words between them, they mutually began to pack up camp once the meats were almost completely smoked. She lashed as much of their burden as possible to her horse, then lifted herself to sit astride it. She knew better than to offer the horse to the hunter, for he would surely deny it.

Following Weylin’s lead, Angela directed her stead in a lazy walk flanking the hunter. Dog flanked her as well, keeping an eye on the back line. After a long, long bout of mutual silence, the elf piped up,

“Do you know much about medicinal herbs? And are there such thing as medicinal… animals? ...Or… parts?” She wonder nonsensically.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

When Weylin was thanked he gave Angela a nod in response. The packing up of his stuff was very quick. He hardly had anything to worry about. When she wanted to put some of his stuff on her horse as well he found it unnecessary but let her put his tent and bedroll there. It was not much weight but would free up his movements. With that done he got the furs and meat all put up.

They were lucky currently that she could still ride on her horse. The terrain was not very friendly to the animals in many places, especially higher up the peaks. Rams were best or your own feet. Too many rocks and thick undergrowth for the hoofed beasts that dominated so much further below the clouds.

Along the way the snow sprite eventually asked Weylin about other medical herbs and if animals could be used for healing. Seemed she had a subject that interested her. Good. It was knowledge that was useful.

"Animals never help with healing. Their meat is to be eaten and parts used for clothing and others matters. Healing is reserved for plants. People from the towns sometimes think differently. They are wrong." Weylin said to her as he and White continued to walk. "Many herbs can help with healing. I will point them out."

 

[Angela]

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Angela muttered hastily, face red. When the hunter said he’d point out medicinal herbs, she perked right back up. “Oh! Yes, thank you,” she exclaimed in that whispery voice of hers.

As the day went on, slowly trekking through the unfamiliar wilderness that was the Spine, Angela wondered silently about the world around her and the path she walked. Everything seemed so new and yet familiar, common yet unnatural, all sorts of contradictions that made her head pound. She could scarcely think through her headache. This had been the case for several weeks now.

So much of her mind was occupied with thoughts now that she didn’t have to pay attention to her surroundings. It was incredibly unlikely that something would surprise her with Dog and the hunter nearby. Both of them were so very perceptive. It left Angela’s thoughts to wander, unhindered by responsibility.

It seemed that more and more frequently the worry of her purpose in life came into thought and question these days. Now that she was no longer a slave, emancipated from her previous purpose, she was quite unsure of what to do. She was desperately grasping for direction, for some kind of task she could set herself to. But she was terrified, now, without the structure that had encompassed her life thus far. She’d been sent adrift with no direction. Like a leaf on the surface of a lake. Or an untethered raft in the unforgiving ocean. Simply destined to sink and decompose on the bottom.

A small, terrified corner of her mind hoped she wouldn’t get to that point. If she never received that purpose, she hoped she wouldn’t realize it would never come. She’d rather unknowingly face the black expanse of eternity than face a life filled with the directionless anxiety she currently felt for the rest of her pathetic life.

The day was waning, and the frigid night encroaching. Wordlessly, the hunter and freed slave set up camp and settled down for the night with supper warming their bellies. With their ever-alert dogs by their sides, they laid down in their shelters and rested for the night.

--

Without warning, strange sound prickled the back of Angela’s neck. Or was it a sound at all? Or just a feeling? She bolted awake in her sleep roll, on her hands and knees in an instant.

Something dark and sinister was raising the fine white hairs on the back of her neck. The avariel scrambled into her boots and out of her lean-to in only a moment, scabbard clasped in her frail white hand.

The dogs were barking, now. Nearby, the horse began to shriek in terror. In the night, hindered footsteps dragged through the icy snow. Without warning, several unknown beings were suddenly upon them. And every sense of Angela’s screamed that they were evil, not of the living, and sent to kill them.

Her sheath fell, muffled into the snow.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Weylin had enjoyed the silence that rested between him and the snow sprite. It was a pleasant change to how those he guided through the Spine of late tended to be. But while as welcome as it was, it also felt strained. It was not entirely a relaxed silence. There was plenty of tension behind it. Yet only words could break it and he had none he wished to say. So the two just went off to rest after their day's journey in silence.

A noise immediately woke Weylin. It was unfamiliar. That was bad. Very bad. Unfamiliar meant dangerous out here so deep in the Spine. It was not a creature nor a person. It was similar to a person but not one. Far less care or purpose in the step. No attempt to keep the noise down. A person would not be like that, even one two kegs into their cup.

The hunter silently was up with hatchet in hand. It was too dark for a bow still. His vision in the low light might be better than most humans but even he could not operate without the aid of the moon. As quiet and stealthily as possible, Weylin got out of his tent. White was with him and wanted to growl. But she didn't because he had placed a hand on her to prevent it. He had gotten himself to a tree and quickly up into its branches as White found a snow covered bush to hide under. The two were completely hidden and waited.

It was not long before the sound grew stronger and the horse began to startle as the other dog barked. Angela exited her tent with the sword she could not swing. Pulling it out of its holster she just waited. Weylin frowned at the sight of it. It was not good to be so obvious, especially with her level of physical strength. As the things came into view, the hunter did not wait for them to have a chance to rush the ice fairy. He dropped out of the tree onto the first to come under it. Landing with a roll as it crumbled under his weight, he came back up and tried to bury the edge into the nearest thing's body. White burst forth out of her bush and began to maul the thing her human had fallen on. The two needed to keep these things away from the female or else she might not make it.

 

[Angela]

She had but a moment to absorb the sight of the hunter dropping from a random tree onto an unfamiliar monster and his own hound rushing to his aid. Not a second later, another shambling figure came into her peripheral.

Her gaze swung towards it, her single functioning eye trained on it as her senses screamed that it was evil. Angela could barely make out the details with her one eye, which could still see quite well in the dark. It was clearly the corpse of some humanoid being, frostbitten and nearly mummified from the cold.

What was it from? Some necromancer with a vendetta? An enemy of the hunter's? She thought it was more likely to be an enemy of Templar Agarwal. Although, it didn't matter. The shambling lich was no friend, and need to be destroyed before it or its' comrades harmed her unsuspecting party.

Maskat, she prayed. Preserve us! Grant me the strength to protect them!

And with that, she bolted forward. She hefted the heavy silver sword over her head, and brought it down across the lich with a choked cry. Her voice broke over the volume of her screech. She was so unused to speaking over a whisper.

The slash from her holy sword arched a slash of light through the undead creature, and then it went down with another simple swipe. It collapsed into the snow, now motionless. Her sword suddenly felt light in her hands. She turned her gaze towards the next lich that was far too close to her horse.

"Raahhhhhh!" she cried, voice graveled from use as she charged the next one. Her next swing went wide, and her sword's tip buried itself into the snow and dirt. The sudden strength that was invigorating her limbs, unfortunately, did not grant her much finesse. Thankfully, Dog launched into the fray, knocking over the zombie looming over her. Angela recovered her stance and readied for another strike with her sword.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Two of the creatures had already gotten past the hunting pair and were after the ice fairy. Weylin would have berated himself for the slip up, but it was unavoidable. His hatchet had dug into the thing's body deep yet it did not slow it down. White mauled the other one and had already gotten it ripped up. It continued to move as well. At least it had until its head was removed. That must be the key.

Abandoning the hatchet to the thing's mass, Weylin got a bit of distance as he pulled out his hunting knife. With it in hand he rushed it as soon as it attempted to follow. The blade dug into its skull with some resistance, but made it all the way in. The thing thrashed about trying to grab him or claw him or some unnatural action with a hatchet in its chest up until the knife blade was all the way in. Then it just lost all tension and dropped like a heavy sack. He let it and then pulled his knife free. The hatchet still wouldn't budge.

The faint sensations of more things approaching the sounds of survival did not set well with Weylin. He let the copse have his hatchet and rushed back into his tent. Within a moment he was back out with his dad's sword on his hip and his bow readied. It was still too dark to see properly, but he was going to try to shoot based on sound instead. Not like it was the first time he had tried it. Didn't work on the hares as well but it might on these human sized things.

Listening carefully, Weylin notched an arrow and drew the string back. Crunch. Crunch. Snap. Faint. Too faint. Crunch. Crunch. Snap. His fingers released. The arrow went flying out into the darkness. Thump... thud. He hit his target in the head. Good. Now it was time to try again.

Three more arrows were shot, but his luck had been exhausted. He hit those things twice and a tree once. None of the arrows hit a head. The more he listened to the situation the more anxious he grew. The sounds were growing and becoming more numerous. He couldn't get a good count on how many either. It was like trying to sort out the size of a moving deer herd in the dark. Should they run?

THUMP!

Weylin grunted as an arrow dug into his shoulder. They were shooting arrows now?! He panicked a bit. The shaft was hindering his ability to draw the bow. He just couldn't put the strength needed into the heavy string like he needed to. Another arrow came hissing by his head narrowly missing it. Then the first sight of the new arrivals showed up. Unlike the original ones these ones were carrying clubs and wood axes with them. Simple weapons that only required the ability to swing to be effective. Another arrow came hissing out of the dark and cut his thigh. With a sneer he made up his mind. Time to leave.

"Grab your pack, leave everything else. We need to leave now!" Weylin said to Angela . He could live without his tent and bedroll. They were luxuries to him anyways. He just moved as best as he could into his tent and grabbed his pack. White had narrowly missed being hit by an arrow and dodged one of the things trying to club her. She had knocked it down and was tearing it up. It just flailed there trying to get up but not able.

Weylin drew his dad's sword and stabbed it through the head. It stopped moving. He whistled a command to run to White then looked over at the snow nymph. "Let's go!" Another arrow hissed by and cut his arm.

 

[Angela]

She roared and swung again at the creature pinned by Dog as the mare screamed in terror. Her sword lobbed its head off in one go, and she watched it roll into the snow as she panted from the exertion. Her hearing was berated from the cacophony of sounds around her: the quiet groaning and dragging footfalls of the undead attacking them, the shrieks of her horse, the furious barking of Dog, and the shouted commands of the hunter, bading her to retreat. It was chaos.

She looked around the perimeter of their camp, calculating as quickly as she could. Maybe three or so had been felled by the hunter, two now by herself -- an arrow whisked by her ear. Archers?! Her limited vision could only see sixty feet or so, and the trees obscured her view further. How many were there? Could they handle such an assault?

She realized there was no way to survive this ambush. The hunter was skilled, but he could not see in the dark, and Angela had no skill with a bow. Making a decision, she rushed over and slashed through the ropes tethering her horse with a grunt. Angela sheathed her sword for a moment to dart into her lean-to, where she snatched up her pack and bed roll. She threw her pack over her shoulder, tossed the bedroll over the horse's saddle, and leapt astride the mare. There, she dug her heels into the horse's sides with a commanding, "Hyeah!" And sent the spooked beast scampering into the underbrush.

Apparently, they had been surrounded on all sides. Angela drew her sword again, heart pounding frantically in her chest. As the black mare swerved through the trees, Angela cut down what creatures she could reach, hopefully carving a path ahead. Dog saw to the few that survived her initial cuts, mauling them with no mercy as they struggled in the dirty slush.

She cut down three before she looped back around to look for Weylin. She spotted him, wounded, and reached out to him to draw him into the saddle as well.

"Hunter!" She cried desperately, her frail white hand extended to him. And then an arrow caught her in the other shoulder, and she gasped. Gritting her teeth, tears in her eyes, she strained for his hand.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Running as best as he could while dodging arrows, Weylin was cursing internally and externally at once. What were creatures like this doing in the Spine? They smelled of rot and death. Not the kind due to a hunt or accident either. It was the smell of graves and stalled decay. Something that should not be. Only the graveyards and barrows of old should smell of it. Places were death was proper and expected. This was the wilds. The place of nature and life. The dead had no place here and whatever was causing them to poorly mimic life was unnatural. He wanted to put an end to it but survival was more important right now.

More arrows came flying out of the dark. The ones shooting them clearly were not aiming. They could not. The randomness of it was an advantage surprisingly. There was no way to predict where or when arrows came and there was no concern for if allies were hit. More than likely it would not kill them and they had no fear of death nor sense of pain. They only felt their unnatural drive to pursue whatever goal was before them.

The sounds coming from all around told Weylin they had been surrounded before Angela had discovered this fact on her horse for herself. His father's sword still in hand, he considered making a last stand or possibly trying to force his way through the situation. As best as he could at least with one arm still being weakened. But that plan was abandoned when the ice nymph came back around and held out her hand for him to take. He did not hesitate to do so. The snow sprite was not strong however so he made sure to do as much of the work as he could himself.

Coming up behind her in the saddle, Weylin wrapped his weaker arm around her waist. Thankfully the arrow sticking out of his shoulder was higher than her body and pack. It wouldn't pose a problem. He made the whistled command for White to follow and she was more than happy to keep pace with the horse as close as she could.

"Focus on riding. Close on creatures on my sword side. Distance on the other." Weylin told her as they rode. An old lesson from his dad about mounted combat. He never thought he would ever need to remember it. He never thought he would need to use his father's sword ever either. A frown came to his lips. One of the things tried to reach out to grab the snow fairy. It crumbled after the tip of his sword struck its head.

 

[Angela]

The arrow protruding from her shoulder kept jabbing her in the face as her horse bounded through the trees. She swallowed past the knot in her throat and reached up with one hand to snap the shaft in two. The aggressive movement hurt, but it shortened the arrow to a stub. That would keep it out of the way.

Her blood was still pumping with adrenaline, heart singing with the blessing of her goddess. It gave her focus, and guided her movements. She leaned forward against the mare's neck, and at the hunter's bidding, focused entirely on their escape. Undead hands grasped towards them, and with carefully aimed trajectory from Angela, and calculated swings from the hunter, the pair evaded them or cut them down.

Thankfully, the path she'd carved had held to a point. There was slightly less resistance the second time carving through. The hoard of strange undead monstrosities was apparently focused on one point, likely close to their caster. After a few minutes of defensive riding and no sign of undead, Angela pulled the frightened mare into a walk, stroking her neck and muttering soothing words into her straining and flickering ears. There, she clicked her tongue and called out, "Dog!" in her clearest voice. Then she closed her eyes, and prayed. There was a moment of utter, still silence.

Dog came bursting out of the underbrush, panting and coughing in exertion. His white maw was stained brown and black with ichor-like blood from the lich he'd torn to shreds. Angela made a mental note to feed the beast some healing herbs to cleanse any possible infection.

Over her shoulder, she whispered to the hunter, voice apparently spent from screaming, "I'm sorry. Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Her breathing was heavy, and the cold stung her throat fiercely. Warmth seeped through her tunic and inner layers, the blood completely concealed by the dark leather of her overcoat. It would only be a few moments before blood would trickled down her sleeve. She wrapped one hand around her wrist to hopefully soak the blood into her sleeve before it trickled into view along her hand.

Weylin Kyrel