The Hunt: Northwinds

A cold blue sky gave respite to the land of Luparrov which had been besieged by a brutal snowstorm for the past three days. The sun gave little relief from the cold that bite Castius’ exposed skin. He could feel hundreds of icy fangs sinking into the flesh of his face. The layers of furs that Castius had wrapped himself in gave him adequate protection for the rest of his body. Castius’ brown eyes were locked on the ground as he scanned the snow-smothered trail for tracks. It was easy to spot the hoof prints of what Castius gaged to be a large deer. He rubbed his left eye, the white of which had been crimson since his birth. There was silence in the snow swept forest. Even the wind seemed to be muted by the cold. Castius nocked an arrow in his bow and followed the tracks. Going to be hard for this one to hide. Too big and the fresh canopy of white snow. Castius smiled. An easy kill.

Excitement pushed Castius onward. Snow crunched beneath his brown bearskin boots. Castius surveyed his surroundings. His smile widened as he spied his quarry in a clearing digging through the snow in vain for whatever grass there may be to feed on. Castius gave a quiet prayer to the Great Wolf for the fortuitous luck. He drew the bowstring back as he eyed the kill spot. Suddenly, the deer picked its head up. Their eyes met. Then, in a blur, a large white wolf appeared from behind the deer and sank its fangs deep into the animal’s throat. Hot blood splattered from the gruesome scene staining the snow. The deer went limp in the wolf’s jaws.

Yellow eyes glared up at Castius. The deer fell to the ground as the wolf stepped forward with a snarl, fur standing up.

Castius considered letting the arrow loose. Movement behind the snarling creature caught his eye. Three scrawny pups and the wolf’s mate entered the clearing. Castius turned his gaze back to the wolf and eased the tension in his bowstring. He lowered his weapon and gave the wolf a small nod. Castius backed away. The wolf seemed to relax but kept its eyes locked on Castius until he left back down the trail that he came from.

Best to take the omen for what it is. Castius chewed his lip. Still, even the animals struggle to survive up here. It won’t be long until we’re the ones scrounging for food and the clans will be back at each other’s throats. Castius continued the journey back to Pine’s Point. As luck would have it, or perhaps as some small offer of gratitude from the Great Wolf, Castius was able to claim three plump rabbits on his way home. It wasn’t long before he would emerge from the forest to be met with the sight of a sea of tents surrounding the small island of buildings that was Pine’s Point. The tents were study. Not even the recent storm would have been able to disturb their inhabitants. Castius fixed his gaze on his father’s mead hall which stood above all the other structures. It stood like a monument, the greatest structure his people have built, and it was nothing in the face of what was built in the south. Cities whose hovels were made of wood and stone instead of hides and poles ringed by walls of stone built five times the height of a man. Not to mention proper roadways and the capability to farm. His father’s mead hall was a monument. A monument to his people’s failure.

As Castius contemplated his people a cry of victory bounded over the camp. He turned to find his cousin Braelen returning from a successful raid. His warriors held trinkets and weapons high for all to see. Behind them were several carts full of food and plunder. The crowd cheered and applauded the group. Castius’ thoughts once again turned to Luparrov and the eternal winter that has come across the land. A gift from the Great Wolf to make us strong or so the Fanged Prophet says.

Castius did not notice a hand slip into his pack and remove one of the rabbits. A familiar, feminine voice teased him, “Great warriors return with food and plunder, and this is all the son of High Chieftain Curraldan can bring to his people?”

Castius eyed his woman, Aera whose grey eyes were fixed on one of the rabbits. Castius smiled at the playful barb. “And what have you brought this day? Or were you too busy waiting for my return?”

Aera smirked and punched Castius’ shoulder, eliciting a laugh from the man. “If you really want to know I helped deliver a pair of twins. Two strong boys who will grow up to help retake our lands to the south.”

A mournful frown drew across Castius’ lips. “To join the bodies in the mass grave we’re digging, you mean.”

“Careful with those words. You may be Curraldan’s son, but such a thing is dangerous to say.”

“Is it so dangerous to point out that we’ve made no progress in taking back our homeland. Perhaps I’m braver and smarter than everyone here.”

“Or stupid. You can’t just go spouting off against what the Fanged Prophet tells us. He is the one the Great Wolf speaks to, and through him speaks to us.”

“As if I didn’t know that.” Castius continued his walk.

“All I’m saying is that people aren’t going to appreciate you speaking against the Great Wolf.”

“I’ve said nothing against him, I’ve simply pointed out a truth that either nobody sees or refuses to see, and I can’t wrap my head around why that is.”

“Well, most people won’t see it that way,” Aera countered. She sighed. “Look, just try to be more cautious about it in the future alright?”

Castius smiled. “I’m plenty cautious.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Aera held out her hand.

Castius looked down at the hand then back at Aera. “What?”

“Give me the other rabbits. I’ll take them to the kitchens. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.”

Castius reached into his pack and gave her the rest of his catch. “I appreciate it.”

Aera planted a kiss on his lips, then pulled back. She smiled. “I know.”

Castius watched her as she made for the kitchen. Of all the women I could have ended up with, I’m glad it was you. He turned on his heels and made way for the mead hall. It’s likely that father is still holding court. No doubt it’s still the mundane hearings. There’s never anything of interest. Still, I doubt he’ll miss a chance to talk my ear off about not being present. Castius hurried through the maze of tents. There were few bodies to stand in Castius’ way. The cold had forced many people to remain in their shelters. It wasn’t long before Castius was standing before the worn-down wooden doors. He slipped into the building. The backs of a crowd met him. As he crept around the outside of the mass of bodies towards the head of the hall, he could hear the deep voice of his father addressing the man who came to plead his case.

“You mean to tell me, Gundrik, that this woman from the south saved your life? Are you a man of Luparrov?”

“I am a man of honor, High Chieftain. A warrior from the south wounded me and I would have died were it not for her mercy. I owe her a great debt.”

Castius found a spot where he could get a good look at Gundrik and the woman with him. They were both older, around the same age by Castius’ reckoning. Gundrik’s beard danced up and down his fur covered chest as he spoke. The woman at his side stood beside him with arms crossed, she was also clad in thick clothes, though not nearly enough to protect from the northern winter. Castius looked to his father whose brown eyes flicked to him, them back to Gundrik. There’s little that gets past you, isn’t there father?

The High Chieftain leaned forward in his seat. Even hunched over, he was still a large man. “What makes you think she would want to live among us after you laid waste to her home? And why should I or anyone else here abide such a thing?”

To the surprise of everyone in the room, the woman stepped forward to answer. “You just answered your own question. I don’t have a home. You lot destroyed it and Gundrik has told me you plan to go farther south. I’m old, not stupid. If I go south how long would it be until another raid comes and kills more? Would I survive it a second time? Not likely.”

High Chieftain Curraldan laughed. “You’re a woman of the south but you have the boldness and pragmatism of anyone from Luparrov. What is your name?”

“Orella.”

Curraldan seemed satisfied. He addressed Gundrik, “What is it you wish? For her to be your thrall? I don’t see much honor in such a thing.”

Gundrik was silent for a long moment, until Orella gave his arm a sharp tug. He cleared his throat then said, “I would ask that I be allowed to marry her. To take her as an equal, to be safe from anyone’s unwanted advances and to be treated as any other man or woman of Luparrov.”

A large, toothy smile appeared on Curraldan’s scarred face. He rose from his seat. “My fellows, let all here bear witness! This woman is living proof that while we may be separated by arbitrary borders now, we will soon be reunited with our long-lost brothers and sisters of Luparrov!”

A cheer rose from the crowd.

“I give you my blessing Gundrik, take this woman Orella as your wife, and treat her well, your life debt does not end at the marriage ceremony.”

Gundrik nodded. “Thank you, High Chieftain.”

Curraldan addressed the whole room. “I will not be hearing from anyone else today. I must have words with my son.” Curraldan turned his attention towards Castius.

Castius momentarily recoiled as his father’s gaze met his. His father motioned for him to follow into the back of the hall. Castius did as his father commanded. “You know how to spot your son in a crowd,” Castius said as he approached.

Curraldan stood above his son who stood taller than most men. “What kind of parent would I be if I couldn’t?” His tone was stern, but not without warmth.

“I take it something important has come up?”

“Correct.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the pair. Castius blinked. “So, what is it?”

“I understand your cousin has returned with spoils from the south.”

Castius rolled his eyes. “He plunders the lands that rightfully belong to us. If I am to lead any force south, it would be to take back our lands. Not pillage them.”

Curraldan massaged his temples. “I understand the sentiment, but the Great Wolf has deemed this to be the time for plunder and thralls, not conquest.”

“The Great Wolf or the Fanged Prophet?”

Curraldan grabbed Castius’ by the collar and pulled him close.

Shocked by his father’s action, Castius said nothing.

“You need to watch your mouth when it comes to the Fanged Prophet. It could stir terrible trouble, for us, and all Luparrov. It has taken so much effort and blood to unify our people. The clans have been divided for so long.”

“It makes sense for them to be that way for so long. Without a central leader among the chieftains the Fanged Prophet held the most control and always had the clans vying and competing for his favor.” Castius grabbed his father’s arms. “If we take back our lands, give our people homes it would put you in control. No one could dispute it.”

“You’re right, but right now, the Fanged Prophet still has his power, we need to play his game for now.”