Roughly two weeks passed since their trouble in the Great Hall, the punishments were lost to daily life. Thalos spent most of his time by his father's side, splitting wood for arrows and spears. He made a promise to himself that he would try harder to be a better son, spending most of his days lifting a heavy iron axe and bringing it down on thick wooden logs. His hands were blistering, becoming rougher. And no matter how many logs he split, his father always corrected him. The OakHarts had always been fletchers, woodcutters, and hunters. And one day the responsibility would fall to him. Thalos shivered as he sat on a small wooden stool, putting in position another log to split. As he felt the tingling up his spine, he looked up at the sky.
The snow had begun falling heavier, more often. Most months in Frosthelm, there would be small flurries that froze over, blanketing everything in white. But those were not Frosthelm's winters; the winters were worse. Snow and wind would pick up, casting sheets of snow in the air; it was so thick it blocked the view like a heavy fog.
Thalos saw it as he sat in front of his house, the village moved in urgency. Hunters prepared for extended trips, trappers set extra lines, this was common, and food was about to become very scarce. Merchants became more brash and daring, knowing their valuables would become essential in the next few weeks. Yet, something about this year felt different, he just couldn't shake the feeling that it was too soon. He had no way of telling the time, but it felt earlier than normal. The citizens, hunters, and elders were more tense and guarded than they usually were. Even his father was giving him constant warnings, and even hinted at the idea of training.
Thalos swung down his axe, splitting the log in two, he straightened, trying to shake off the tingle in his spine, he slowly flexed his fingers, they felt cold and heavy, and he wasn't sure if he could feel them or not. As he reached for another log, his mother opened the door. "Thalos! That's enough for now, come inside."
Thalos sighed in relief, glancing toward his father who was sitting carving shafts for new arrows. Eryndor gave a small nod and went back to carving. Thalos hurried, put down his axe and rushed inside, he didn't want to be outside a moment longer, and he wasn't going to take a chance if his father changed his mind.
The moment he closed the door, the shift was immediate, from numbing cold, to the warmth of the fire, it made Thalos almost giddy, and he let out a small high pitch noise as his shoulders shivered. Liriel chuckled to herself hearing it, as she sat at the table, a strip of stretched leather in front of her, a thin carving tool already in her hand. "Warm your hands, it's time for your lesson with me now."
Thalos moved toward the fire, stretching out his fingers, rubbing them together, and lightly shaking them, until his sensation returned. Then he joined her, picking up his own carving tool from the table. Unlike the rest of Beloria, Frosthelm had no paper. Despite the forests around them, the knowledge of parchment making had been lost. There had been a few over the years who tried to rediscover the art, most projects left abandoned, as survival took priority.
So, instead they recorded their history and stories on tanned and cured hides, as the hides dried, a small bladed carving tool was used to etch words and pictures into the surface. Once finished, the hide would be stretched over a post and worked slowly to make it more pliable. This required patience; if done too quickly, the etchings would fade. Then using the Glacial weevil, a common beetle found in the north, they would extract oil from it, and apply it onto the hide. The oil preserved the leather and protected it from water and snow.
His mother handed him a new sheet. The surface was smooth, a blank canvas.
"Now, Copy this." She instructed him. Turning her work over so he could see.
Thalos narrowed his eyes, they were more detailed then the ones he had practiced last week, he traced the edges of the symbols with his blade, trying to get them just right before putting the knife to his hide. He worked slowly, his lines uneven, jagged. "Too deep," Liriel said. Inspecting his work. "If you make them too deep, it will tear when cured."
That evening was spent tracing, retracing, retracing the retracing's, until he got so frustrated he ended up carving through the hide onto the table underneath it. He looked at his knife stuck in the table. Blinked once at it, gave a large huff, and in frustration went to push the hide away from him. All that happened was the hide crinkled, held in place by the tool, Thalos's hand slid and his palm grazed the blade, a small wound appearing at the base of his wrist. It didn't hurt as much as he was embarrassed, looking up to see his mother sighing and shaking her head at him.
The morning after Thalos's writing lesson, he had expected to leave for school, but not today. The doors of the Great Hall remained shut. Guarded by a few hunters. There was no class today. Many villagers had gathered inside for an important meeting, Thalos didn't know what was going on. But he was sure that he could find his friends at the outer edge of the market as always. He threw his cloak over his shoulders, reaching for the door.
"Turn around, Are you really just going to leave like that?" It was his mother. Her hands tightened and fastened the strings of his cloak. "You never do it up properly!" He gave an embarrassed smile. "Thank you." And he was gone.
When he reached the usual spot near the outer edge of the market, he could already see his friends waiting.
Brynn leaned up against the side of a wooden stall, arms crossed, grinning about something, her hair was messier than it normally was. "About time!" she yelled out, She looked him up and down, she noticed he looked tired, hunched slightly, and was only giving her a half smile. "If you look any more dead, your father might mistake you for a log!" Thalos rolled his eyes at her. "You aren't looking much better yourself," he muttered. She smiled, "I still look better than you!"
Beside her Orin chuckled, as he turned to the Great hall. "There's no class today… I wonder what's going on?"
Garrick placed a hand on Orin's shoulder and placed himself in the conversation. "Come on guys! They just wanted a break from us!" Orin shrugged his shoulder trying to get Garrick off of him, but he wouldn't move. Elara stood slightly apart from them, watching the people on the paths. "It's not just class. They have been in the meeting since sunrise. Whatever it is. It's serious."
"I hope it's not too serious," Orin said softly, glaring at Garrick who was now grinning, hanging from his arm. Before Thalos could speak, they all saw a familiar creature bolting toward them. A Froststep Lynx. It was sleek, fur of pure white, that almost looked like a soft blue under the light. As it ran, its paws made no sound in the snow. Most Lynxes avoided humans, spotting them was even a rare sight. But Thalos knew this one well.
It came to a stop in front of Thalos and Brynn, Its sky blue eyes looking at them, its tail wagging, head rubbing against their legs.
"Still can't keep that thing under control, Jorn?" Brynn teased him. But she wasn't fooling anyone, everyone knew how much Brynn loved this Lynx. The man walking toward them was a hunter. Nearing his mid to late 30's. He was tall and lean, and wore cloaks that clung tightly against his body. Jorn Skeldr. One of the few men that Eryndor always brought with him during his hunts. He was never in the village long. But when he was, he was always with his lynx, Serren. He was the only person in Frosthelm to have ever tamed one.
Jorn gave a confident smirk to Brynn. "Serren listens better than all of you. I am certain of that." His voice was always soft and kind, his words always felt flowing. Whenever he spoke, it always felt like whatever he said, you could trust him.
Thalos didn't know much about Jorn, but he liked him. He would always see him with his father. And he had memories of when he was little, Jorn would be the one looking after him if his parents were busy.
"Eryndor still keeping you busy, Little Oak?" Jorn asked, the group chuckled, and Thalos's cheeks turned one shade redder. He never liked that. Jorn always called him that, a play from his last name, that always made him instantly embarrassed."
Thalos nodded. His eyes avoided Jorn's. "Every day"
"Good" Jorn's gaze drifted to the Great Hall. Elara was the one who noticed. His eyes narrowed, and his face grew serious. "What's happening?" She had to ask.
Jorn placed his hand under his jaw for a moment. "You've heard the rumors, haven't you?"
"You mean the wolves?" Orin asked.
"If it were only wolves, there would be no need for this meeting… Large tracks were found again further into the forest, and the animals are vanishing."
"A frostbear?" Elara asked, her voice slightly raised as she stepped closer.
Jorn shook his head slowly. "This was much larger than any bear I've ever seen." He paused for a moment looking back over to the Great Hall. "The hunters are at odds with the elders. We want to go find what's doing this. But the Elders won't give us permission. They keep saying that we are needed in the village."
Garrick, who was quiet for a while, looked confused. "Can't you just go?"
Jorn sighed. "I wish it were like that. But anytime we leave the village, we need permission."
Garrick asked, still confused. "Why do you need their permission?"
"It's how it's been for a long time now. Decisions like these need to be voted on. I think it's time for a change."
Serren ran up to Jorn and brushed against his leg. The group became silent. Thalos always felt relaxed with Jorn around. He was the type who would actually tell them what was happening. And during their mischief, he would never stop them. They all remembered one time when they tried to climb onto a snowstrider, and have races of their own. The entire village came to yell at them, as they held up carts, merchants, and even damaged a stall or two. But Jorn stepped forward. Apologizing, and making up a story that he was trying to teach us how to mount and lead the creatures.
Brynn was the first to speak up. "Have you seen anything?"
Jorn thought for a moment. "No, Nothing important yet… Keep your eyes out. Something is happening. If you need anything. You can always come to me"
They stood in silence for a while after Jorn left. They all were clearly trying to process what was happening.
"Well! That settles it!.. We need to go see for ourselves!" Brynn's grin returned… she had, an idea.