Tirmi vanished into the woods, and Ravu struggled to keep up, his friend's tail the only thing keeping him from losing sight altogether. The wolf had never acted like this before, and was he always this fast?
Or had the Bearman simply grown slow?His thoughts blurred as his lungs burned, and his heart thundered painfully in his chest. His thighs screamed, his feet numbed, and every breath stung. He was not built for this!
"TIRMI!"
His roar bellowed through the forest, shaking frost from the branches, but the wolf didn't stop. It just kept running, deeper and deeper into the white blur, until finally, mercifully, it halted.
"Oh… thank the Beast God…"
Ravu collapsed to his knees, clutching at his chest, his breathing a mess. The world swayed, stars flickering in and out of his vision. After a few moments of gasping, he lifted his head, only to see Tirmi furiously digging into the snow.
"Just… why?"
The Bearman rose, confused and wary, taking in his surroundings.
'A clearing? In a forest this thick?'
He'd lived in these woods his entire life, yet he'd never seen this place. It was too open, too deliberate, as if the forest itself had been torn apart. And then the scent hit him, sharp, cold, and wrong.
"What is that smell…?"
Tirmi kept digging, snow flying in thick clumps. Ravu gripped his axe, instincts screaming, eyes darting about for signs of life, or worse. Then Tirmi howled.
Ravu turned, his blood running cold. The wolf's jaws clamped around something pale, something human.
"...!"
A hand, crimson red at the wrist and pale blue at the fingertips. Ravu rushed over, stumbling through the snow. He threw his axe aside and knelt beside his companion, gripping the hand with trembling fingers.
It was stiff, but not brittle. With a grunt, he pulled, and a body came free from beneath the snow. A youth, no older than twenty, skin marred with frost, barely clothed in a thin shirt. Ravu pressed his ear to the young man's chest and froze.
A heartbeat.Faint, fluttering, but alive.
His mind reeled. How could he still be alive in this cold? Where had he come from? And above all, why here? The air grew heavier, the sky darker. The blizzard was gathering its wrath.
Then a single thought cleared his panic.
'Alive... He's still alive!'
Ravu took off his heavy jacket and wrapped it around the youth, hoisting him onto Tirmi's back. He tied the sleeves tight, securing himself against the wolf's fur.
"Tirmi! Run to the village! Don't let him fall, I'll follow!"
The wolf barked and darted off into the storm, its white form vanishing into the veil of snow. Ravu turned to grab his hatchet, only to find it gone.
"Where...?'
He scoured the snow in desperation, heart pounding. Seconds mattered; the blizzard's scream was rising. Then, a glint, a hilt, half-buried. Without thinking, he snatched it and ran.
But as he fled, he realized the weight was wrong. The balance, unfamiliar. It wasn't his hatchet. It was a sword, long, cold, and ancient in design.
'DAMN IT!'
Ravu swore under his breath and pressed on, his figure soon swallowed whole by the storm.
---
Irima's heart trembled with unease as she gazed through the frost-covered window. Beyond it, there was nothing, only a churning wall of white. The entire village had taken shelter in the town hall, huddled near the great fire. All but one.
Her husband was still outside, in that storm.
He should have been back by now. The fool must've lost his way again.
"It'll be alright, Irima."
A friend placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, but the comfort barely reached her. Irima turned toward the village chief, her voice filled with worry and fear.
"We should send a search party. We can't just wait!"
The Chief, a massive Wolfman, his frame nearly rivaling a Bearman's, sighed as every eye in the hall turned toward him. He needed to answer, and he understood Irima's fear. But sending men out there was... suicide. He had never seen a blizzard this intense!
Still… they couldn't afford to lose Ravu. The man was important to the village; he was a skilled carpenter, and
With a grim breath, the Chief, Ian, donned his heavy jacket. He would have a better chance than anyone in the blizzard.
"I'll go. Everyone else stays inside."
"There's no need. Just rest assured."
A calm voice interrupted.
The Chief turned. The priest sat by the fire, his body marked with strange sigils, draped in hides, and wearing a crown and necklace of beast bones. His gaze was steady, and there was a small smirk on his face.
Then, a distant howl cut through the storm.
"Tirmi!"
Irima cried, rushing to the window. The wolf was there, battered, Ravu's jacket hanging loose from its back.
The Chief, Ian, threw open the doors, ushering the wolf inside. The warmth of the hall rushed to meet them, but no Ravu followed. Instead, as Tirmi stumbled forward, something slid from its back.
A body, a young man, crimson and blue with frost, hitting the wooden floor with a lifeless thud.
Gasps erupted.
"What are you standing around for?!"
The priest barked, rising to his feet.
"Bring him to the fire, now!"
As the villagers scrambled, a mystical light began to swirl in the priest's hand.