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Yawn’s dreams had been playing tricks on him. Or . . . or Yawn hoped they were. One could only forego sleep so long. Sooner or later . . . sooner or later. But always . . . but always with certainty, oblivion would catch you. Would drag you down. Would wraps its arms around you, soft and sweet and welcoming, before dashing you against the inside of your own skull. Yawn had to sleep . . . had to. Had to keep up appearances . . . All eyes were on him. Any mistake . . . and the rare talent he’d shown would vanish. All that work.

All the blood, pain, and effort, gone in a breath of anger.

Yawn tapped his pipe clear . . . at last relenting to his bed roll.

How quick the night’s embrace came.

Yawn. Yawn needed to work. He needed to work fast. He was hunted. But first . . . first the task . . . then. His fingers stitched something supple and wet. He did it without the aid of daylight . . . just a flickering candle. His fingers knew the trick of it.. His fingers, damp and slick but working, the wet turned gummy now and then, and with each stitch and pull to tighten the thread . . . stout stuff, whatever it was, the needle very fine, bringing pain. He didn’t stir, save for his task. As he felt his fingers dance, a quick, precise, practiced stitch . . . and at last, the seam finished, his nimble fingers flicked the needle end over end, looping the thread over itself, the needle through, pulling the stitch taught, tying it off. With a hard pull, his left hand snapped the thread . . .

Why was he stitching with only his left hand?

He worked the needle into a spot on his tunic . . .

Why wasn’t he using his right hand to hold the work steady?

Why didn’t the work need to be steady?

When had he learned to mend with a single hand?

“Why?”

His hand took up the needle again.

A voice came from the dark, trembling – not with weakness, but with roiling hate.

At once . . . at once his heart broke, the pieces swelling and filling his chest.

“Why keep fighting? Everything you’ve ever loved is dead.”

The voice questions him. Yawn’s hand begins tying off the thread’s end . . . tough, wet . . . sinew?

It was sinew, and he was starting a new line – the light came into better focus, his eyes finally taking in the faint glimmers of light.

“Why why not end it all? You can’t win?”

Yawn knew what he was binding.

There in the pale light, he was stitching the skin of his right arm back together . . .

Not his skin, not his arm. His now? His arms were the stuff of nightmares, with patchwork skin stitched together in a mad pattern . . . the fingers on his left . . . disjointed, freakish things, stitched at each knuckle, bony but impossibly quick. Clever. Had he been experimenting? Binding the dead to himself?

He felt this dream of himself blend with who he was now. The reasons . . . the loss. The grief sticking in his throat.

“They killed Siren.” the voice came flat. Empty of hate or sadness. Hollow. His rage had always burned cool, but this was something different. “They killed Stannrick. They burned Onsallas to the ground. They killed Rill.”

His fingers did the dance with needle and thread . . . as sensation returned to his right arm, he saw . . . no, felt . . . no, something between sight and feeling, a knowledge, a certainty that the fingers of that one were whole. How many times had he done this? By the lines and patches on his body, more times than he could count . . .

“Grief has driven you mad, Yawn.”

“As it did you when my brother died.” Again . . . flat, hollow.

A third voiced joined “Weren’t you the one to speak of pyres and bodies, Yawn? You wanted to protect, to defend, to save. This is vengeance, Yawn . . . It will kill you.”

At last, the alien body that he knew as his, but not at all his, looked to those addressing him.

Ysla, the first voice . . .

Magrat, the second . . .

Ysla had grown fit… Magrat looked as ever herself, save for her eyes – hollow, haunted eyes . . . Yawn was grateful not to see himself . . . Great Wolf only knew what this version of himself did to rest of his body
.
“Yes, yes, it is vengeance . . . b-but. But you will tell my story to the Great Wolf . . . “ he spoke, stuttering and hesitating at first, but gaining strength with each word. “He may yet know my name . . . I may yet join my sisters, my brothers. And my mother . . . for I know my father has no place in the Great Wolf’s longhouse.”

He rose. Took up his shield and mace, and a familiar single-edged blade . . . untouched by time . . . its edge still true and unbroken, no signs of use or any clues to what drove him. “There isn’t time to argue . . . go . . . make my death mean something . . . ”

“All this . . . all this to slake your taste for blood, Yawn?” Ysla called.

His dream body faced the door and, without turning, replied. “I just can’t die knowing he’s still drawing breath. I will show them what it is to suffer.”

The trap door slammed behind him. He hardly noticed over the blood pounding in his ears. He had a task . . . “Gaia, forgive me for what I do.”

The first was through the door, ax raised. Yawn’s hand lashed out, a quick precise thrust to the throat, the steel an extension of this alien body, the familiar weight and balance highlighting the horror of this vision . . . in came the second and third . . . again, Yawn’s arm acted of its own accord., and his enemies pressed in through the door . . .

“So, here you die, Yawn,” called a voice. A voice that filled Yawn with hate.

“Oh, I will . . . but will there be any left to cry out your name to the Great Wolf?”

The room burst with laughter. “He’s gone mad, finally snapped. When started stitching himself back together, I knew he was gone, but the last thread tethering him has snapped,” came that hateful voice, finishing with a low chuckle.

“Oh yes . . . yes, you can certainly kill me,” Yawn felt the mana burning in his hand as he let his shield drop away. “But tell me . . . can you kill them?”

The three fallen rose . . . The . . . no, his tools of vengeance . . . He’d had given all. He would give all. He would burn the Greytide, the Grimward, and the White Oak from the world. Screams and war cries filled the room. Each fallen warrior rose again, another tool guided by his hand . . . Yawn smiled as his foe found himself in the snare he’d meant for Yawn trapped him instead . . . a gift that affirmed his vengeance.

“Once you used my own mace against my friend,” Yawn started as he strode over, blade in hand, mace in its loop . . . no other words but his own rang out, now only screams and moans, the gnashing of teeth, filled the room. Only the voices of the dead and dying. Besides himself.

“Now. . . now, I will scour you and your packs and your clans from the face of Gaia. But, you – you will be there for all of it. You will see all of it. You will be my first great work. These,” he gestured to the shambling figures, once Ulven – now his monsters to command. “These are simple, mindless . . . hungry dead.” He leaned in, placing the blade under his foe’s throat. “You will be my first attempt at raising something worse. And I pray you will be awake in that shell I use to witness every last thing I have it do.”

The blade sunk in, and the eyes opened.

Black eyes . . .

Knowing eyes . . .

Yawn woke up in a cold sweat. Heart pounding, he fumbled for the water skin. Drinking deeply, he glanced about . . . good, he hadn’t disturbed the camp’s watch. His hand slipped into his pack, pulled his pipe out and filled it. Hands were numb. He paused as he fished out the fire stick, whispered a silent prayer to Gaia, and lit it. As he drew deeply on his battered cherrywood pipe at last, his heart slowed its pounding. He drew again, and again . . . blowing great, billowing cloud of May’kar burly smoke.

Nix whispered in his ear. “None it is true, Yawn . . . worry not, I would never let you give yourself over to that.”

He answered quietly. “Thank you, Nix.”

He didn’t see it, but he knew Nix was smiling. At times like this, he felt a small weight on his shoulder . . . Nix’s favorite perch, her spirit bringing him comfort.

“Now maybe if you listened to me and emptied your skull before bed, you’d have fewer of these dreams. Yawn, think of that when next you feel awkward meditating among Ulven.”

He replied in a soft whisper. “Why would I say that of my father?”

Nix brushed her whiskers against his ear. “You know naught of him but what you’ve heard, Yawn. Perhaps those you love protect you from the truth. You may find it, but once you know, Yawn – as you learned you could cast – there is no way to go back, to not know . . . finish you pipe and do see about doing something useful. Knowing you, you won’t be falling asleep again this night.”

Tomorrow, he’d trudge closer to his new home. His new pack.

Selena Stargazer

Selena pauses at one of the bridges that connects the two territories together. She is quietly surprised that it still standing. She turns and looks behind her back into Nightriver territory then up the river with a sigh. Its only taken her a few days to get here from New Aldoria… quicker then she was expecting. She hope her letters made it as she shifts her packs on her back. She takes a deep breath… “Time to go to work” she mumbles as she starts across the bridge.

As Selena crosses the bridge, she knows that she is leaving behind the safety of her Clan Nightriver escorts. Knowing that crossing with her would be suicide, the handful of Ulven disappear back into the woods. She looks down, noticing the long dried and old blood spatters. It is obvious that the bridge has been a place of numerous battles recently since the civil war broke out.

As she nears the end of the bridge, a handful of Ulven on the Clan Grimward side of the bridge move forward to greet her. They make their presence known but stay far enough back so that any Nightriver archers cannot launch an arrow at them. These warriors are dirty, gruff and battle weary. Several of them are adorned with scratches and dents on their armor as well as dried blood and fresh bandages. A warrior with intense predator eyes, a shaved head and a large braided beard steps forward.

“Either you have a death wish, you are crazy or you have a purpose for crossing this bridge alone. State your business.” says the bearded warrior.

Selena sighs.

“Most think I am crazy for coming back this way but either way, I am Selena Stargazer, Truth Seeker for Clan Spiritclaw. I am looking to meet with Khulgar Graytide.”
The bearded warrior looks over the Ulven female in front of him and sizes her up for a moment.

“We have been expecting you. Come with us.” he says as he turns and begins to walk away.

As the Clan Grimward warriors leave, Selena walks beside them. They make no attempts to converse with her and are not even remotely friendly. They do not give Selena the impression that they will hurt her though and for that she is grateful.

The small band escorting Selena passes by several groups of heavily armed and armored Ulven. These groups are stationed close enough to the border between the two clans that they can react and join in on a battle or reinforce a line. From what she can see, most of the Ulven on both sides are dug in and appear to be waiting. Selena feels that both sides will not yield to the other peacefully and this civil war could last for a very long time.

After a long and grueling walk that takes most of the day, Selena and her escorts reach a small village. The village is alive with movement as warriors and villagers move all around. Stacks of weapons and armor are being tended to feverishly by a small team of blacksmiths. A triage unit has been established where a number of Ulven villagers and several Daughters of Gaia are tending to wounded Ulven. In a farmer’s field nearby lay hundreds of small tents as warriors tend to cooking fires and do combat practice and drill battle lines near them. The entire village has been transformed into a support station and supply line for the Clan Grimward army.

As Selena is taking in all the sights, she realizes she is being watched. She snaps out of her observation to realize that before her stands Khulgar Graytide. She hadn’t noticed that her escorts have taken her directly to the command tent at the heart of the village and that she had reached her destination. Standing in his padded gambeson, large predator furs adorn his shoulders and his blood red eyes and intense gaze give Khulgar a very dangerous and cunning quality. Selena knows this man has faults and is capable of reason, but the months of war have been turned him into a hard veteran warrior. He was not wearing his helm at this time, allowing him to converse more easily while in the village.

“Selena, I am pleased to see you again. Come, sit and we can discuss. I received your letter detailing your arrival. You have questions for me, no doubt, given your role and title.” says Khulgar as he turns and takes a seat near the outside of his command tent.

“It good to see you again as well, Rhya.” Selena smiles and replies. She is careful to use the honorific title as she can see people watching her out of the corner of her eye as she takes the seat offered. She slowly reaches into one of her packs knowing she is being watched by more than just Khulgar at the moment and pulls out a bottle carefully wrapped in cloth and offers it to Khulgar.

“As is customary, a gift for you for letting me stay in your territory.” she says courteously as he takes the offered bottle.

She sighs and crosses her arms under her chest.

“Yeah, I seem to have more questions then I do answers currently and everyone has a different story to how something happened. It makes my job difficult. The biggest one that is on my mind currently is the failed peace summit. The ending everyone can agree on… that it went bad quickly. No one is disputing that. The question I have is was it planned that way from the start and if so by whom or did they do something that triggered the slaughter.”

“Well, you want to dive right into your questions, now don’t you. I have a feeling you had a long road and plenty of time to think about them before this meeting.” says Khulgar as he pours himself a tankard of water from his leather water skin.

“The summit at the great hall of Clan Grimward was what… a year and a half ago? It seems like it was so long ago. So much has changed since then…” said the Ulven as he was lost in thought for a moment.

“Before the summit, violence broke out in Clan Grimward territory. A pack of humans moved into Grimward lands and settled there. They were warned to leave and ignored the warning. When Pack Graytide went again to remove them, violence broke out and many of the villagers were killed. It was unfortunate that it happened but tell me of a Clan, other than the pathetic Nightrivers, that would allow such a trespass on their lands? Tell me, Selena Stargazer, would your Clan be so neutral if it was their land that the outsiders moved in and took from you?” spoke Khulgar as emotion began to fill his voice and his blood red eyes took on a fierce look. He continued before giving Selena time to respond.

“Clanleader Haygreth Grimward wished to hold a summit and discuss peace with the Watchwolves, the voices of Nightriver, and the leaders of the outsiders. There was a lot of talk leading up to the summit of what to do. I will tell you honestly what I told Haygreth… I told him that we should go to war. I told him that we should cast out these vermin and push the outsiders back into the sea, that we need to be true Ulven and defend our lands and Gaia from these intruders. Haygreth values my opinion highly but he is wise, he called for a summit as a last chance to talk and discuss the terms in which the outsiders were to be dealt with.” said Khulgar as he took a good long drink of his water tankard.

Selena shifted as she considers his words.

“During the summit, I admit that I was worked up. I called out Raskolf’s honor and said things that I should not have said. The entire great hall was in a heated argument and members of both sides were losing composure… food and plates were being thrown, oaths of vengeance spoken in anger… even our High Priestess was involved and attempted to tell Raskolf and the others of the dire portents that her wisdom had seen. When news of the dead walking on Mardrun reached the hall, Haygreth asked Raskolf if he knew of this. He blatantly admitted to it! He kept this secret from his own people!” roared Khulgar as he slams the tankard down on the table, caught up in the emotion of reliving that scene.

“Haygreth had heard enough. Raskolf had thrown in his lot with Clan Nightriver, whose leader I personally witnessed had bowed down to appease the outsiders at the so called political dinner from earlier, and Haygreth saw the honor and pride of our people slipping. The infectious lies being told by the outsiders were poisoning the minds of some of our leaders and he would hear no more.” Khulgar seemed to calm down a bit and lean back into his chair.

“Haygreth drew first blood. He declared his intention for war and nearly cleaved a fat outsider priest in two after the man offended him. He then ordered me to remove the heads of the other outsiders and send them back to their leaders in sacks. A bloody battle broke out as Clan Grimward warriors and those traitorous Ulven following Raskolf drew steel on each other. We killed each other with ferocity unmatched as Ulven killed Ulven for the first time in our history…”

“Does my answer satisfy your question, Selena Stargazer?” says Khulgar grimly, waiting for her response.

She is quiet and reserved and just watches his every move as he relays his story. The only reactions she shows is she does jump a little when he slams his tankard down. When he finishes, she sighs.

“One starts with the uncomfortable questions first so one can move on to lighter topics later and try to mend the wounds from the heavier topics. Yes Rhya, your story does satisfy the other half of what I was looking for.”

She shrugs and says “To answer your earlier question… If it was our land, if they are just coming in and taking it without respecting the territory of another then probably not. We would remove them at blade point as well. It comes down to if they are being respectful to the people that actually care for the land once they learn whose it is. I don’t expect the outsider to know whose territory they are on until someone goes to greet them. If they are respectful and we can determine their worth, like do they make new products to trade, do they grow a food source unique, what new building techniques do they know. They don’t get to use the land for free they have to contribute like everyone else. In the end though its not me who makes that call it would be the Clanleader of Clan Spiritclaw. You did ask them to leave and they didn’t, so they brought it on themselves I suppose. ”

She is quiet for a view moments as she contemplates where to go from there. “I suppose the next story I wish to hear about was about an honor duel with Freya Rev Anda.” she shakes her head

“I spent a week at the Outpost and when I told them of my desire to come back this way they one looked at me like I was touched in the head and when they couldn’t persuade me otherwise they told me to have you tell me this story.”

At the mention of the honor duel, Khulgar shifts in his seat. He contemplates for a moment, reliving that memory as well. He is obviously hesitant in answering.
“I am not sure how this topic is relevant to this discussion. You came here asking about the war we are currently in, did you not?” Khulgar snaps back at Selena.
Realizing that his reply was a bit harsh, Khulgar sighs and then continues.

“The honor duel was two years ago. I was traveling with Ekaj Graytide and a few other hunters. We had some supplies that we had promised to deliver to the Onsallas village. While we were there, the mordok were more active than normal and were attacking the Longfangs. A number of outsiders had traveled to the Outpost as well. After helping them drive back some mordok, we rested in the outpost. I then discovered that Freya Rev Anda was there. The bitch was responsible for the death of my brother, one of Pack Graytide’s best warriors and next in line to become Chieftan, so I challenged her to an honor duel. I lost. Next question.” replies Khulgar in a somber tone.

She raises and eye brow at getting snapped at though she remains calm and shrugs.

“I also heard as part of that story is that you supposedly cheated during that fight and drew a dagger and tried to kill her even though apparently that wasn’t the terms of the honor duel. I don’t necessary understand what this story has to do with anything either. They just said I should ask. I don’t get to decide what is relevant, my job is just to collect the information.”

Khulgar sat and sized up Selena for a moment. He waited just long enough for the pause to be uncomfortable before continuing.

“During the duel, I do admit that things got out of hand. I am shamed to admit that I indeed did draw a knife, but I did not intend to kill her. Perhaps you should ask your source about how the outsiders disrespected us both by interfering. They stepped in and tried to stop the honorable duel. A fight almost broke out between Ekaj and several of them and even Kragen Bloodmoon tried to interfere. I lost the duel. I admitted defeat. It should have ended there, but Kragen continued and pushed it further. He even threatened violence against me and drove us out of the Outpost. I swore that he would regret his actions that day. He brought dishonor to his Clan be allowing outsiders to interfere.” said Khulgar as he stood and moved to an armor stand nearby. Hanging from the stand was his oiled chainail and breastplate.

“And where is Kragen now? The mighty Warleader of the Clan hides behind Branthur’s skirts and calls for claims of peace yet allows blasphemous acts to be committed on our soil. Kragen’s time has come to an end, along with Branthur’s, for the true Ulven of this continent will not stand idly by and allow Gaia to be savaged in such a way. True Ulven warriors do not sit idly by and allow such transgressions.” said Khulgar with venom in his tone as he began to don his armor.

Several warriors moved to the tent. They made an obvious move to ignore Selena as they addressed their leader.

“Chieftan, one of our scouts has reported that the Stormjarl emissary is here. He wants to talk directly to you.” said the smaller of the two warriors.

“Has there been any word on the Clanleader’s daughter? We heard reports that her ship disappeared as it moved down the coast.” replies Khulgar as he finishes sliding the chainmail onto his torso.

“No, Chieftan, she is still missing. I checked in with the other packs, some of our war bands moving through the area and even the scouts from units stationed along the Stormjarl border. Nobody has reported in seeing her or has any knowledge of her disappearance. No warrior loyal to Grimward would dare interfere with or attack a Daughter of Gaia sent on behalf of Clan Stormjarl.” replies the warrior.

As Khulgar continues to equip himself in his armor, he turns back to Selena.

“Tell me Selena, when in the history of our people have any of our emissaries disappeared when traveling by boat? Clan Stormjarl are master sailors and we have had no ill weather recently. Since Mordok do not sail ships, what do you think happened to her since she was reported to be heading towards Nightriver territory? I also need to know how much longer you plan on questioning me. I have things to do.”

“None to my knowledge. None have ever disappeared that hadn’t fallen victim to storms.” Selena frowns unable to keep the concern from her face that a fellow Daughter is missing.

She slides her hand into a small cloth bag at her side. Stones rattle as she pulls one and studies it for a moment.

“Nothing good that is for certain but which group is responsible is yet to be seen. I can think of two off the top of my head that may be responsible. One would attack a ship, the other has been causing problem in this area in the past but I was unaware they could attack ships on open water.” She absently rubs the blue stone between her thumb and finger.

“Last question, who is the Witch in charge here? I have a ritual that needs to be passed on to her. Anything else I can ask others about.”

Khulgar tightens the belt around his mail armor but keeps his gaze fixed on Selena.

“The witch that you should see is Yohla Grimward. She oversees the daughters that are supporting the clan’s warriors in this area. She is very skilled and studied directly beneath our High Priestess. She is at the village northwest of here, about a half a days journey. Whatever it is that you need her for, it must be important.” says Khulgar as he puts his breastplate to his chest and holds it there. The warrior who had spoken to him earlier moves forward and begins to buckle him into the last of his armor.

“You traveled all this way through a civil war to inquire about the past, questioning my honor in the process whether you intended to or not, and then simply ask me where to find the nearest Witch? I am not sure if you playing a game, Selena, but I would recommend that you not. We are at war. Clan Grimward has had emissaries meet with numerous Clans to discuss their involvement in this war. Clan Stormjarl is ready to join our cause. Clan Whiteoak already has. The Watchwolves are being ground to dust, we continue to bleed them and take their lands. What is the decision of Clan Spiritclaw?”

She leans forward and rests her arms on her knees and she keeps her gaze fixed as well. Her voice is hard but tired.

“You think I am playing games? Fine, then I’ll just speak plainly then. I have been back and forth more in the last six moons then most Ulven travel in a year. I’ve been hearing stories that your some sort of damn nightmare and will kill your cousins at the slightest provocation. I seem be one of the few people left who doesn’t want to believe that. I have seen you fight remember, I know better. I traveled this way not because I am looking to disrespect you, in fact quite the opposite, I traveled all this way in this Gaia forsaken War because I wanted your side because I do respect you and didn’t want to believe all the stories I was being told. ”

She rifles in her bag and pulls out two sets of papers and set them on the table next to her. “I am looking for a Witch because Witches are the next highest ranking than a Daughter. If I thought I had the rank to walk up to a Priestess or High Priestess, I would do that but I know I don’t. While you are so busy worrying about who is taking a shit on your land, the Mordok are getting stronger. Warriors are spread so thin or so concentrated on the lines that Mordok are running rampant. I spent the better part of the night with people I didn’t really trust helping decipher this ritual from the Old Runic language so Fritha Stormjarl and I could cast a ritual in time. Feel free to read it if you like. I translated it into Common and made copies of the runic as well for your Clan. This goes beyond the civil war… this is beyond who is pissed at whom. Fight the corruption however you can is one of the tenants both Pack Stargazer and Clan Spiritclaw uphold and while it is my duty to try and figure out the damned war as a Truthseeker, my duty to THE PACK and to Gaia as a Daughter is just as important, maybe more so. Protecting Gaia has been and will always be our duty. ”

“While you worry about where your next victory is, Clan spirit claw has a square full of refugees from both side of the war. We will give hospitality to them until they can go home. They are family no matter how distant. I wont lie this will probably put a strain on our winter food stores but we will not abandon them or let them go hungry. Though I am guess we aren’t the only ones going to be struggling this winter either. With most of the able bodied males in the lines, farms are short handed. production isn’t as good as it should be. With war ravaging some of the more prime hunting grounds, game is harder to come by for the hunters.”

She takes a moment to take a deep breath to calm herself.

“You are so worried about who is on what side when you forget that we are all supposed to be on the same side. The hawks are still flying. A decision hasn’t been reached yet.”

Khulgar listens to Selena’s words. He was calm and obviously taking in what she said. Although his exterior shows a calm and collective leader, Selena knew that her words bit deep and rattled him. How could any leader of the Ulven denounce what she had said as truth?

“These are indeed dark times for our people. That is why Clan Grimward has made a stand and a line has been drawn. If we sit idly by, our entire race could be at risk. What kind of future do we hand over to our children and their children? Are we the generation of Ulven that will admit that we allowed such transgressions against our people, our culture, and to Gaia herself to go unnoticed and unchecked? Would you not defend your family if an intruder entered your hearth and home? What is worse, Selena… peace and the slow rotting decay of our people… or war because we refused to bear our throats to the change? When we die, do you think the Great Wolf will hear our name’s if we were to allow such things to pass?” Khulgar says surprisingly without emotion as he walks over to his armor stand. He picks up his rhunic decorated metal helm and stares into the eyes of it. The dents and scratches from previous battles glisten in the light.

Selena sighs and looks at the ground.

“What are we teaching the children when we draw steel against our own with out the call of a honor duel? What are we showing the children by killing entire packs, families, who weren’t even at the political dinner… or signed the treaty… who are just trying to work the land and survive but happen to be on the wrong side of the river.” She leans down and picks up a handful of dirt and lets it fall between her fingers.

“I would defend my home if someone broke in but stay my hand in killing them until I could find out if they meant me harm or they broke in because they where just cold and hungry. Maybe I am just soft like that though.”

Selena brushes her hand on her pants and looks back at Khulgar.

“You are forgetting the great law of the Woods. Adapt or die. Stagnation and refusal to adapt to change causes just as much death as invasion and sudden change. The Outsiders brought bad habits with them that is truth. Most of them have changed to adapt our ways not all but most. But would you kill and entire pack because one member offended you? Or would you challenge that one person to a honor duel and be done with it? Traditions, we are forgetting them. You have every right under Gaia to chase them, even kill them if they are on your land and you have asked them to leave and they have not. Respect the Territory of another… the law is pretty simple. Though lets be clear here though, the Outsiders did not cause this Civil War. We did. They are just the excuse being used to continue the fight. We have to be the ones that end it one way or another. This fighting is not something I want to pass on to our children. What would Gaia and the Great Wolf think of us if we left this mess for our children to clean up?” says Selena.

“My warriors will escort you to the nearest village. Meet with our ranking witch and if needed, I will approve of your counsel to any priestess that you need. I will not allow your work to be impeded and whatever food and supplies you need will be granted to you. Take whatever time you need and a boat can also be arranged to hasten your travel when you are done here if you wish, although you would have to travel west to the coast in order to board.” Khulgar replies as he turns the helmet over and slides it onto his head. His sudden shift in topic shows Selena that he is done with this conversation.

Selena picks up the papers and places them back in her bag at the mention of an escort to the village.

“Thank you, Rhya. I think I will take the long way home though.” she says as she looks up at the trees.

“They are almost to full color. I think I need to make one more stop at Onsallas for Pineed Sap before it stops flowing for the winter.” She looks up and frowns as their gazes meet and the meaning isn’t lost on her.

“What your Clan is doing with the refuges is amicable, Selena… but in this war of our people, neutrality is not an option.” says Khulgar as he locks an intense gaze on Selena, obviously to let the meaning of his words to sink in. After a few moments, Khulgar turns and walks away in his full battle dress and armor, his strides confident as he walks toward his gathered warriors.

Selena sighs tiredly and hikes her stuff up onto her shoulder and heads in the opposite direction towards the village.

Stanrick Longfang

It was about midday when Stanrick found himself near the banks of the river. He had been wandering for over a day now hunting: not for food or Mordok, but for something else. He knew that he was not far from the village and luckily what he was hunting for did not allow for him to travel far.
“A rock? Really, I’m looking for a rock? How in the name of Gaia am I supposed to find a rock that is most like Selena?”
Instead of getting supplies ready for his journey in to the darkness of the Dirge Swamp, he went hunting for a rock. He had turned over thousands of rocks, if not more, looking for the right one. He found brown rocks, gray rocks, black rocks and white rocks. He picked up big rocks, small rocks, round rocks and sharp rocks. None of those rocks even closely resembled Selena. Ulven mating was a strange matter, but not as strange as courting. Males would do the oddest things for females once courting began. Courting would start with a male attempting to gain favor with the female. This in itself could be strange. Some males would sing, some would dance, and others would fight.
Selena, however, chose Stanrick because of his little brother’s stupidity. Yawn saw Stanrick leave Selena’s tent the morning after the fair in New Aldoria. If he would have talked to his older brother about it and not let it fester like a splinter in his mind then he would have known that Stanrick and Selena did nothing but discuss her dreams. The whole fight could have been avoided. If Yawn had not attacked him, Stanrick would have been trying to impress Selena on his own. The elder brother had made a drawing of Selena by firelight as he kept watch while he was escorting her from the Graytide’s land to the Long Fang outpost. He had planed to use the picture to impress her. He felt an attraction to her at the outpost months before, and it only grew over time. Finally, he did give her the drawing, after she pulled the glass from the back of his head. It was that night, under the full moon that the courting began.
Stanrick had done strange things before. He had climbed a tree to get an egg out of a bird’s nest. He once captured a live rabbit by hand. Yet here he was, in the middle of the woods looking for a rock. This was by far the strangest thing he had done. He stopped and sat down. “Ok Gaia, I am listening. What can I do to find this?” He listened to the wind, the birds and the water. He looked up at a cedar tree: the sunshine was coming through the branches and a beam was shining in to the stream. He got up and walked over to look. The roots of the tree were twisted in knots over rocks and dirt, growing into the water. He looked into the stream where the sun light shown, and he saw it… a small smooth stone. It was blue like Selena’s eyes. It sat there, in the middle of the rushing water. Reaching for the stone, Stanrick fell into the stream, thrashing around and trying to keep his head above water: Ulven were not made to swim. He started to panic, not thinking straight. This is going to be it, he thought. I am going to die in this damned river. The Great Wolf would laugh at him, and eat him for this death, all because of a female.
It made him smile and he stopped his struggle, the water flowed over his legs and he sat up. “Oh Great Wolf damn it!” It was only about a foot deep and cold as winter. He got up and turned to look for the rock, which was still sitting in the stream. He reached down and picked it up, it was smooth and had different shades of blue. A smile crossed the veteran’s face, for he knew he had found the stone. He got out of the river and sat on it’s shores looking at the stone, turning it around in his hand, content with his find.
The walk back to the village was short, but gave him time to reflect on the crazy thing he was about to do. He was going to go deep into the swamp. He knew it was crazy and he had begged his friends not to go. He even saw to it that Yawn and Siren were sent elsewhere so they would not follow. He could not do that for Selena, for she had not listened to him. This would not be the first time he went off deep in a place that did not want him. But for her, he was glad to go; if even to just to keep her safe. They would get out just fine. He saw the gate to the village and Selena sitting and waiting. He smiled and looked at the gift in his hand, but as he looked at the stone a thought crossed his mind.
“Why is this stone like Selena?”

My Dearest Larina,

For far too long I have not seen my beloved mate, I have lost track of the days. We have been defending the main bridge over the river that protects us from Clan Grimward. It is unnerving, every night we hear the songs of their warriors and we see their hunters on patrol during the day. We do the best to keep our warriors in fighting shape. Yesterday I sparred with one of the humans from Vandregon. He was part of a patrol that had stopped by to warm himself by our fire. The weather is turning for the worse. The last of the leaves have changed and the chill in the wind cut into the cloak that you gave me. I will write more after my patrol.

Sorry Beloved, I meant to get back to this sooner but this war has different plans. One of the younger warriors was foolish and went to the river bank for a drink. The river is less than two hundred feet across here and one of the hunters on the other side of the river likes to take pot shots at us. It’s clear that he is just toying with us because he only shot a hole in the pups water skin. From the cries you would have thought he was hit in the gut. We ran down only to see the hunter sink back in to the bushes. We pulled the pup back and hopefully he learned his lesson. I wish I had more time to write you but I am lucky if I can sleep… I miss you and our son. I hope he is not being too much of a handful and helped with the harvest. I must rest and will write more soon.

It is now mid morning and about an hour ago I saw one of the war boats from the Order of Arnath’s fist. I have seen it come and go more times then I can count and I don’t know if it is the same boat or if they have more then one. Every time they look more and more damaged. But today is the worst I have ever seen it. It looked like some one had tried to burn it down, the once dark brown timbers are now chard black. The soldiers on the boat are not afraid of the hunters on the other side of the river. The first few times the hunters tried to take shots they received more arrows than they sent but it was not until the boat used it’s catapult that they got the hint. Now whenever the war boat comes up or down the river the Grimward pull back just far enough that they can’t hit them.

It is a little warmer today but the leaves will be falling soon. I hope that I will be home to see you before it snows. But I fear that dream is slipping away. Last night a fight broke out and its not the first time this subject came up. What if the Great Wolf is angry with us? What if this is not the path Gaia put us on? Why should we kill Ulvens to protect the human and syndar? And like time and time before the questions lead to fighting. It is getting so bad that even some of the Daughters cant stop them till some one is hurt so bad they cant go on. But now I find my self wondering if we are right? I mean, will the Great Wolf even know any of our names? Or will he be so mad that he won’t care what our names are? I keep losing sleep over these thoughts and I don’t know what to do.

Bodil tells me that as warriors, even if the war displeases the Great Wolf, we should not fear it because we are loyal to our clans and that loyalty will please him. Her words only help so much. She misses you too and sends her love and also dreams of the day we can all be together again. Sadly this will have to be my last letter for a while we don’t have much paper here. And I want to send this with the next hawk. May Gaia be with you, beloved.

Your loving mate,
Thaer

I shiver as I sit propped up against the back of the bed in small hut. Its been the better part of a week, most of which I barely remember as I’ve been in and out of awareness due to a fever. Even though we had a healer and his kit and a mage that could supply me with mana I still wasn’t able to keep the corruption of the swamp from effecting those of us with open wounds. The wounds were closed by the surgeon the best he could while we moved and I was purifying the blood regularly but we were too far in and it was too strong for me in my weakened state. I am still not entirely sure how we got back to the village, it took us twice as long to get home as it did to get us in and the last few hours of the journey getting out are still a blur. I remember seeing the village in the distance and much like the last time i was poisoned I remember swearing as the blackness filled my vision. At least this time I wasn’t unconscious for days, only a few hours, and I didn’t have any visions. I awoke in the hut I am currently in being tended to by a couple of Daughters and a skilled healer. They told me that Ylsa and Rhodi of the Watchwolves got myself, Stanrick and Bryech back to the village. I just nodded and whimpered as they removed the stitching the surgeon put in so they could clean the wound better now that we were safe. I think I passed out again at that point. This was the game we played for the better part of a week. They would come in cleans the wounds. I had a deep one on my side along with broken ribs and one from my hip down along the top of my left leg almost to my knee. Not as bad as the one in the side but it did require a lot of stitches. They wouldn’t let me cleanse myself as they said I needed to save my strength. Fever would spike on and off so I was only conscious for a few hours at a time during that week. I am feeling better now. Fever is still there though I am spending more time awake than asleep, which is a good sign. It is still going to be awhile before I can travel again though with the ribs being broke.

I stare down at the blank piece of parchment and writing board in my lap. I still haven’t told my clan nor my pack what happened. Really how could I, how does one explain what a failure one is? The plan was simple. Go in, find a book, and get the hell out. Things were going wrong by the third day. I knew we had no idea where we were and the wooden supply cart had broke down and we were unable to carry all the supplies at this point. Getting out took precedence in my mind so I thought what I was divining for was the exit. Turns out Gaia or someone else had other plans. I never got a vision of what I was divining so I was going off instinct and faith like I normally do. I can feel the tears sting my eyes as my mind relives it all. I had just sent a scout up over the berm to check the other side while I scoured the area in front. I was positive whatever was pinging my divination sense was nearby, yet whatever I was latched on to I failed to detect it when it walked five feet behind me in someone’s pocket. Worse seer ever. I heard movement so I paused and turned and looked down the road and I could feel the blood drain from my face as four Mordok spotted me. I turn and look to my left and right and I am the only one to be seen. They charge. I scream. They are on top of me before I could stop them. Their shaman played with me, slicing non vital parts enjoying to hear me scream with each one. One stabbed me in the side with a spear and I remember screaming for Stanrick. The world starts to get fuzzy as I can feel my blood soak the cold ground beneath me. I remember seeing a shield smash into the Mordok above me right before the shaman could slash my throat. I feel arms tugging me and I see light glint off a shiny hat as we both struggle to get to our feet and stumble out of the way. Fredrick got me behind the group and set me down and trusted a health potion from his own supplies into my mouth and forced me to drink it. My incompetence nearly cost me my life. I owe Aeden, a Lion of Arnath, and a member of the Bastards and Fredrick of the Bastards, my life.

But no, that isn’t the end of it. Chaos broke out from there. A small band of mercenaries decided to turn and kill the others, everyone got separated and broke off into groups. We struggled to get to a safe place from there. Thrand, Stanrick, myself, Orrin and Bryech and one of the human clerics were in one group. We were forced to leave Rhodi and Ylsa behind as the Mordok continued to swarm. We ran for our lives. Nothing elegant or brave or heroic… we flat out ran like the Great Wolf was chasing us. We paused just long enough for me to divine a direction, this time knowing I was looking for the exit. We made to the broken down cart where we were swarmed again. Everyone fought. I got slashed in the leg and in the side taking the full force of a swing to my ribs. As the fight died I turned and looked behind me. Stanrick was on the ground. My heart sank and I ran and dropped to my knees. I went to go start to cast my divine magic and realized I was empty, I could feel the panic setting in, I couldn’t keep it out of my voice. I looked around desperately for a way to get the energy I needed, the human cleric dropped next to me and I begged him to give me mana and he said he couldn’t. He did say he had enough to help pull Stanrick back from the edge of death and bid me to look down, I turned and looked at Stanrick grasping for my hand. Tears stung my eyes then as I tried to hold it together in the moment. Here in the quiet of the hut my control falters, they fall splashing on the board in my lap. I remember I took his hand and begged him to not leave me alone. Thrand screamed to get moving and get him up. He could see more Mordok coming out of the edge of the clearing. Thrand shot arrow after arrow at them to slow them down but they kept coming. Orrin helped me carry Stanrick. Bryech fought to keep them at bay but he was cut so many times. By some miracle of Gaia, Ylsa and Rhodi were alive and not harmed and got a small band of people to safety including the healer and one of the mages that could transfer mana. Fredrick even risked his life again and went back and managed to get the healer supplies and a pack full other items. Rhodi and Ylsa helped Stanrick and Bryech until we could find a place to rest and do patchwork healing.

I fling the board from my lap across the room in frustration. I was completely useless, in fact I almost got myself killed and those I care about as well. I pull my knees up slowly as I can feel the stitches pull in my leg. I rest my head on my knees and just sob. Every time I close my eyes, all I see are Mordok. I feel the spear in my side. I see Stanrick on the ground. I feel overwhelmed, lonely and useless. I don’t know what it is I am suppose to be doing anymore, I feel so lost.

I hear rustling and raise my head just enough to see a Daughter stick her head in the door of the hut. She is younger than me but not by much, though heavier and stout of build and has wheat blonde hair and blue eyes. I believe her name is Rill. She eyes the board on the floor then looks at me, I hastily wipe my face on my sleeve. She steps inside and picks up the board, parchment and writing stick and gently sets it on the bed side table.
“Soulveig wants to see you.” She states as she looks over me. “I have been sent to help you.” I nod and pull myself together. I know better then to turn this down.

She checks the bandages and stitches and helps me into a simple chemise and dark brown skirt. My pants are trashed and my gambeson is need of repair. The brown travel leathers I normally wear are too constricting with the broken ribs and stitches. I’ve been told loose clothing until I can take a full breath again without it hurting or at least till the stitches can come out. She helps lace up my brown boots and hands me my staff which I use as a walking stick since it still hurts to put all my weight on my left leg.

She leads me to the largest wooden long house structure in the village. The outside is very plain in comparison to the Clanleader’s longhouse in Everspring. She unlatches the large oaken door and we both walk inside past two big guards. I step inside the doorway and the magical energy of the room nearly sends me to my knees. “You wish to see me, Rhya.” I manage to state as I look across the fire at this old women who could probably toss my sorry ass into the yard with a flick of long her fingers. Her eyes glow with Luna’s energy clear as day to me as she studies me with silver eyes that never appear to blink. She watched me for a while as I stand just inside the doorway. I could feel her flipping through my soul like it was an old book that she was studying. Any attempt I made to spiritually defend myself got slapped aside with ease. I finally stopped fighting and let her read what she wanted to see. I looked at her with the other set of eyes I had. The way she pins back her long wavy grey hair and watching her make tea from muscle memory reminded me of Grandma Freya who I haven’t thought about in years. Soulveig’s silver eyes could pierce like a blade. Her strong jaw clenched in the similar way I have seen Stanrick’s do when he is contemplating or trying to understand something and when Siren does when she is pissed and is trying to control her temper. Soulvieg is much older than any Ulven I have ever seen though yet she doesn’t appear frail or sick in fact quite the opposite. She had a regal demeanor that would of put anyone one in Clanleader Cahal’s court to shame. I can tell she was at one time no stranger to the Elder Halls and court discussions. Her magical aura was the strongest I have ever felt, though there were other visual cues from around the room that told me that there was more to the story. Rill stays along the edges of the room and busies herself with tasks. I can tell she is listening to every word we say.

She finally speaks, her voice is commanding like most Matriarchs I know but yet there was something there I couldn’t put my finger on. “Sit, child.” She nodded her head to a pile of cushions next to her. I did as I was instructed and though it took me a moment to figure out how to maneuver around the stitching and the broken ribs. She was watching me the whole time. She handed me a cup of tea. “It will ease the pain” she stated. I looked at it, it was a simple mixture of pineed sap, spruce sprigs and lavender. I sipped the steaming liquid, watching her over the rim of the simple tea bowl. “Stanrick talked with me for some time to try to convince me to see you.” My eyes grew big. With all the preparation for the swamp and the travel I sent Stanrick on, we forgot to go meet with her before we left. I curse under my breath “Rhya… I…” I stammer. She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Hush child, I don’t care about excuses” I shrink down into myself. Yet another thing to add to my list of things I screwed up on. “Though I know why he wanted you to see me. I don’t know all the details of the dream. You only told him part of it.” I sigh and nod. “Stanrick was already trying to fix things. He barely knew me at the time. I didn’t want to give him reason to worry or a reason to drag me here to fix it now before I went to Grimward territory. I had a job that had been delayed long enough. Though I will say that High Priestess Morrigan did suggest I talk to you about it as she thinks it is lingering corruption. ” She looks at me and tilts her head to the side for the moment and then nods. “Probably for the best. Morrigan has always been wise like that. So, child, why don’t you tell me what you can’t currently tell him.” She states as she continues to watch me as she prepares herself a bowl of tea as well. I look over to Rill then back at Soulvieg. She frowns at me. “She is my apprentice. She will not tell anyone or she will have to deal with me.” “Very well, Rhya” I state. I look down into the bowl of tea in my lap and try to push all the current issues aside as I pull up the dream. Even though Soulvieg’s pack is clanless and does not necessarily follow the same ranking systems as the clans do, she is both this packs Chieftain and Priestess. She and Anjan Vakr-Ravensmark are the two strongest witches that any Ulven knows of and I would be an idiot for not getting her thoughts on it. If she says Rill will tell no one, she is my elder so therefore I believe her. So I tell this ancient matriarch the same thing I told my own High Priestess. It starts that I am standing in a clearing and see a image of the Mother, Gaia, like when I was laying in a coma for days due to Mordok poison after I had talked to Raskolf in the pass. She is tall and regal, long black hair and the dark green robes that I know are made from the needles of the evergreen that blow gently in the breeze. She turns to look at me, her normally flawless pale skin is marked with black large marks that are oozing. They are black like the muck in the swamp. Her bright blue eyes are sad and in pain. She cries at me “Why didn’t you do what I told you? Why didn’t you do your duty and save me…” The plants around her wither and die and the ground under her feet turns black like the marks on her skin. She slowly starts to sink like it was quicksand. I reach out to help, tears streaking my face but couldn’t get close enough. My feet are sinking into the same black tar that Mother Gaia is sinking in. I hear a cry of pain that made my heart ache, I look over my shoulder and the Great Wolf stood there at the edge of the black tar. He strugged against arms of my brother, father, mother and my first mate Torolf. They struggle to hold him back as he howls for his mate. They are trying to reason with him as he struggles to try to save her. I turn back and start casting every spell I could think to get to the Mother. I even turn to some of the long forgotten spells… nothing works. I watch the Mother sink into the earth and I was trapped up to my chest. I hear Torolf scream my name as my head slips beneath the tar. I cant breath, I feel hands tear my clothes and my hair as I continue to sink. I hear a woman laughing though it sounds like the voice from the corruption idol in some weird way. She is saying something but I cant understand what she is saying. It is a language I don’t know. As I feel like I am about to pass out from not being able to breath, I would wake up screaming and gasping for air.”

Soulveig sits there and studies me for a moment. With a heavy sigh she signals Rill to bring her something. “I know you took the Idol home from here a couple of moons ago with no protection spells other then what you learned to cleanse the corruption. That was foolish. You are stronger then you think if nightmares are the only thing you walked away with.” She starts to mix a potion. “Morrigan is right, you may have some deep ingrained corruption that won’t let go even with all the thorough cleansing spells I know your clan has. “ She studies me again then looks at her potion then adds a few more things. I can tell she isn’t telling me everything she knows. The tightness around her mouth is telling me she wants to say something but chooses not to. She is also clenching her jaw as well. She takes the tea bowl from me and adds the potion to it. “You are going to be fighting it for a while but this should give you aid. My Daughters and I have seen our share of corruption from that swamp and know how to fight it better than most. Just remember, you are not alone in this fight.” I didn’t press for more information on what she is leaving out. If it was important she would say something. “Thank you, Rhya” I say as I drink the contents of the tea bowl.

“What else is on your mind child?” she asks as she looks at me. I take a deep breath and wince a little. “I feel I need to apologize to you. Not for forgetting the appointment though I need to do that too, for almost getting your nephew killed. My incompetence nearly costs us our lives.“ I work myself to my knees and bow my head to the ground in contrition. She smacked me in the back of the head so hard my ears ring. I sit up and rub the back of my head, looking confused, now knowing where Siren got that trick from. She raises her eyebrow at me as she glares at me like a disapproving grandmother that makes me want to shrink in on myself in shame. “Have you ever had to divine something before?” she asked me. “Yes, with Fritha, but I helped her in her ritual, it was not mine…” I state plainly. “You were how far into the swamp?” She stated. “About three days in but it took us six to get back” I reply. “For someone who has never had to track something before with divination, was surrounded by such a high level of corruption and yet still managed to see through it, you may not have found what you sought but you managed to get almost everyone out alive. I think you are selling yourself short. I said you are stronger then you look. I meant it. ”

She is suddenly taken by a coughing fit. I lean forward to help but she holds up her hand to stop me. She raises her head and looks at me, I notice a small trickle of blood coming from her nose. Soulvieg just sighs at me as Rill comes over and notices and shoots me a glare. “Go now and be with that hard headed nephew of mine. He needs you more then he will admit.” Soulveig tells me with a wavering and unsteady voice as she waves me off. I frown and nod and quietly leave the long house though I can feel her eyes linger on me as I leave and wonder what it is she was unable to say to me.

I hobble over to the Daughters of Gaia healing hut and pull the curtain back. It looks like a force of nature went though this hut. A couple of Daughters were still cleaning up the mess and mopping up some blood. Stanrick is tied down to a cot and fresh bandages cover his wounds on several parts of his body. I frown and untie him. One of the senior Daughters grumbles at me. “If he awakens and flips out again, you are cleaning it up.” I look at her and sigh “Fine”. They find me a bunch of cushions and I managed to sit down again. “Don’t leave me…” I whisper as I kiss the back of his hand. I rest my head on the side of his cot and pray to Gaia for guidance.

Yawn had listened, though the request itself had shocked him. Who the hell would ask him – him – of all people to train troops? To raise warriors. He’d become comfortable being the outsider, being out of the call to serve beyond that of shieldmen. He was aware of it. After it was lost. He’d probably be in more discussions had he not stepped off the path. He may yet wind his way back onto that path, but . . . but the only thing that had mattered to him then was being a warrior. Proving himself. Having found it so soon, at such cost . . . that had broken something in him. He could kill. He could wound. He was skilled in it.

But . . . but all the skill in the world with sword, spear, mace, ax, and shield could not mend wounds. Could not cure poison or sickness. Could not set a broken bone, or pop a joint back in place.

He knew he’d gone a bit mad after the raid on the outpost. After the massed attack on Onsallas. In those days of loss, days of blood and thunder, he’d gone mad. Mad with loss. Mad with lament. It was then he had slowly realized what it was he wanted most of all. To end the dying. To pull his friends back from the brink. To protect. To heal. And he was willing then, for the first time in his life, to question what he’d been raised to be all his life. Moreso after the death of his mother, the very night he came face to face with the ghosts that walked. When he’d thrown a boulder at the lich, thinking he’d cornered a Mordok straggler.

He’d already step off the path by then . . . but that night, he fixed it in his mind to keep as many of his friends and family alive as he could. Then it was not about “Could he cast?” . . . He’d passed that barrier . . . but to keep his and his own safe. To grind the dead to dust. To have a means to fight them. Yes, yes skill with the weapon mattered. But the blessing tied to it gave the arm wielding it the means to end the undead. That became his new mark. His new goal. His everything.

The day was cool. As warm as it would get. He stood abreast Kreiger.The details had slipped his mind the moment Kreiger had asked him to train up his new warpack. The snow had not yet dusted the ground, though the frost was gaining footholds, slow and sure.

Siren. Siren had already set off with her lot of green wolflings the evening before. Yawn did not envy them. She would make warriors of them. Or she would gut them trying to do it.

Kreiger spoke at last, and the murmuring crowd at once fell mute. Yawn felt the hard stares and meet them, keeping his face relaxed. Unlike his niece and brother, Yawn’s fury burned cold.

“As you know, Yawn Longfang is your new packmate. I’ve asked him to train you. I’ve asked him to harden you.. The Longfang have stood with us from the start. Many of you know his brother Stannrick and cousin Harlock,” Kreiger paused letting his pack murmur for a moment at those names, shooting a quick grin in Yawn’s direction. Yawn . . . Yawn shot back a quick grimace, just a bit mortified Kreiger would mention his relationship to convince them that he was worth listening to, the odd male who picked up magic from the green one.

Yawn made a note to listen more to Raskolf on matter of diplomacy. Mostly, he waited for a command or a clear opportunity.

Kreiger spoke again. “I will be leaving. To aid the Watchwolves, who, like the Longfang, have stood and bled beside us,” Again, the murmuring came, but one voice . . . one carried over the others – a harsh, deliberate “HUH?”

Umbra . . . Umbra, a brawler of some note in the pit. And an ongoing pain in Kreiger’s backside. By reflex, Kreiger fought not to roll his eyes. This would be trouble. He had a pack of wolves. By nature they would question.

“You’ve something to say then?” Yawn called out, before Kreiger had a chance to speak.

Umbra, who stood a half-head above the crowd, grinned like a loon and shouted, “I”VE A GREAT DEAL TO SAY ON THIS LONGFANG!”

First of all, Yawn was grateful Siren wasn’t here. The pair might scrap like brother and sister, but Gaia and the Great Wolf pity the fool stupid enough to threaten or insult either in front of the other. Yawn forced himself to relax. He’d didn’t have the skill that others did in speech, but he’d listened to those who did. Though in these situations he so seldom did.

“Well then, speak your heart before its bitterness poisons you.” For once, Yawn had a plan.

Umbra swaggered forward, the crowd parting, “Some pup, some crazed pup they send to teach us? Some pup that can cast and thinks himself a warrior.”

Yawn kept his face neutral, but didn’t avert his eyes. He couldn’t allow his eyes to roll or brow to raise. “Quit circling the fire and come to your point, it’s too damn cold to stand around hurling insults.”

Umbras eyes lit up. “Anyone could do better then you.”

Yawn grinned, knowing damn well it would drive Umbra mad. “If you feel so strongly about it, then challenge me.”

That was all the bait Yawn needed to draw Umbra in. Umbra bellowed his reply, eyes flashing with anger. “I challenge you for the right to train the Bloodfangs to -”

Yawn cut off Umbra. “As this is an honor duel, the old ways say I choose the terms. First blood or first fall. Choose your weapon.”

Yawn strode for the rack, unclasping his winter cloak as he did, but did not shrug it off; clenching his hands, he rolled his wrists, popping his knuckles and thumbs. He turned aside a few shields, plucked a heavy round strap shield from the lot, taking it up by the strap, shaking it hard to be certain the straps remained stout, noting Umbra’s choice of a great sword.

Yawn strode to the clear flat patch. Umbra looked on, a bit confused. “Aren’t you going to choose a weapon?”

Yawn replied only “I have chosen. Kreiger, if you’d call the start and finish of the match?”

Kreiger nodded in agreement. “That I can do.” Then, in a softer voice, he asked, “Yawn what in the hell are you doing?” as he strode toward the pair.

“Trust me in this Kreiger, better now then when you’re away.”

Kreiger took a moment to confer with Umbra and Yawn rolled his shoulders, raising the shield to the guard position.

Kreiger withdrew, positioning himself in the ring his pack mates were still forming and murmuring. He raise his arms, and loudly called out, “FIGHT”.

Umbra rushed in, blade arching over his head, a guttural war cry sounding. Yawn lunged to meet him, shield high, his right hand closing over his cloak’s collar, out of sight of his foe and the crowd. Umbra brought the blade’s weight to bear as Yawn punched with the shield, the pommel of the sword ringing as the blow echoed off the stout oak of the shield’s slats, and the edge of Yawn’s shield connected with Umbra’s shoulder. The shield, heavier then any mace or hammer. The cornerstone of Yawn’s gambit.

Umbra cried out as the blow sent Yawn backward, skidding on his heels over the cold, hoarfrost-covered ground. As Yawn felt himself slide, he swung off the heavy cloak, the crowd gasping as he cast it over Umbra’s great sword as it dipped down and to his foe’s right, due to Umbra favoring his uninjured left arm. There was panic in Umbra’s eyes as his right arm reached to clear the cloak from his blade, struggling with his left to raise the lowered blade.

Yawn found his footing and rushed in over Umbra’s lowered guard, lashing out again with the shield’s edge. This time the lower edge struck Umbra’s left hand with a loud crack, and as the blade dropped, Yawn took a second step, driving in and up off his right leg. His left leading, arching the whole of his weight up and and through his shield arm, he clipped Umbra across his chest and cheek. Umbra pitched wildly for a moment, legs struggling to find footing, arms sweeping as he fell.

Kreiger shouted over the crowd’s roar, “FIRST FALL, FIRST BLOOD!”

Yawn tossed the shield aside in order to offer Umbra his hand, pulling his pack mate up by his. The two stared at each other a moment. The crowd fell into hushed murmurs . . . Umbra .. . beaten, bleeding from a cut along his cheek . . .

He grinned, grabbed Yawn’s sword arm by the wrist and raised it. Yawn laughed hard as the crowd cheered. When at last Umbra released his arm, he held his hands up to quiet the crowd. “First, well-fought Umbra . . . ”

Umbra chuckled. “. . . well-fought for a bit of wheat in the wind, mayhap.” At that, the crowd roared with laughter at Umbra’s good humor, even in defeat.

“You’ve fire . . . all of you. I know you burn with it, every fight, every day, in everything you do, you burn.” Yawn started and the crowd again quieted. “But, fire alone is not enough. Kreiger knows this. I know you all would give your lives for those around you, as would the Longfangs . . . as have the Longfangs, without hesitation or a second thought.”

“But to win,” he continued, “to survive as a pack takes more than fire. It takes more than fire, rage, and strength. You’ve stood with Pack Longfang. We have survived not by being the strongest, but by learning. By tactics, and discipline. By learning to move fast, to cull what we need as we go from the land, to outlast our foes, to outmove and outthink them.”

The crowd again grew hushed. . . . it was a strange feeling, being listened to . . . now Yawn knew how Raskolf felt addressing a crowd. “The wolf’s strength is the pack. The pack is only strong when they work together, and this what the Longfang have learned. I am your pack mate. What I ask of you will not be pleasant. Or easy. But let me share this knowledge with you. Let me show you how to fight as a pack. Let me make this gift to you, my pack mates . . . and know now, I will ask nothing of any of you I have not been through, or will not do myself.”

Again the crowd roared. Yawn raise his hands one more time, waiting a bit longer for the crowd to calm itself. “One final point . . . ” Yawn smiled, a bit of nerve showing even through his growing confidence. “Yes. Yes, I am the odd male you’ve heard whispers about – the one that casts. You are my pack. I will make no secret of it. I will hide nothing from you. But I am here to teach you all I can of tactics and fieldcraft, not of my own personal Journey.”

The crowd murmured a bit, so he continued, saying, “Kreiger, I think we’ve stood in the cold long enough – where is it you lot hide the stew pot?”

Kreiger called back, “So we have, Yawn. I’ll lead the way.”

Yawn called back to the crowd . . . no, to his pack. “BE MERRY! Smoke, eat, and drink, for tomorrow, training begins, and I tell you this; before the month is out, you will hate me . . . but you will be a stronger pack.” The crowd again broke into merriment, Umbra slapping Yawn twice across the shoulders – hard – as he joined him.

Kreiger rushed in alongside Yawn. “Was that plan,Yawn?”

Yawn looked to Kreiger. “Well, I knew something like that could happen . . . I hoped not, but it seems to have worked out well. Now tell me more about the rabbit stew – do you favor cheese and rabbit, or rabbit and vegetables? I honestly can’t think of anything I’d rather do now than fill my stomach, fill my cup, fill my pipe, and give you a proper send off, Kreiger.”

Divided We Fall

=== Old Aldoria, many years ago ===
Everyone was on edge, which was exactly what she had expected. The older boys sharpened what weapons they had found or stolen. Some of them only had butcher’s knives, but they looked sharp enough and so did the young men wielding them. Younger members scuttled about the Peach Street house with a speed that always meant danger, delivering messages and running errands in silence. The usual jumble of jokes and pointless squabbles had hushed. It was a house full of young men, silent and serious as the grave. A young girl in a pretty pink dress, Ryla would have seemed out of place except that she shared a certain lean sharpness, a ruthlessness born of wanting, with the rest of the gang. At the rear of the house, in the room he used for an office, she could hear Thomas bellowing at someone.

A small boy in cloths two sizes too big finished a mug of some kind of terrible beer and bounded over to her. “You going to see the boss?”

“That’s the plan. You seem giddy. Not worried about going up against Roger’s boys?”

“Nah. Everybody knows Tom’s the smart one. We’ll wipe the floor with them.” One of the older boys, Ryla thought his name was Rowen, shot him a dirty look. “If Roger’s really the two bit back biter Tommy thinks he is. Which I’m not saying he is. Just. . .”

“It’s okay James. I know what you were saying. Obviously someone’s expecting a fight.” The boy had a tiny knife someone had nicked for him strapped to his belt, as though he would actually know how to use it. He was a decent cut purse, but he’d never killed a flea. And not for a lack of them. “James,” she leaned in and whispered to him, producing a few coins from her purse. “Why don’t you pop over to Old Wallace’s pub and get a bottle of that gut rot Thomas likes. Might calm him down.”

He looked apprehensive. “I have to be here for the brawl.”

“I know, I know. I think you’ve got a little time though.” She pulled out a few more coins. “Probably even enough time to get yourself something sweet on the way back.”

It wasn’t possible, but his eyes grew a size bigger and he snatched the coins from her greedily. “Yes ma’am.” And he was off.

Down the hall, Thomas opened the door screaming. “What in the hell. . . Oh, hi Ryla. Get in here.” He pulled her into his office and set about pacing. “It just keeps getting more and more ridiculous. Marcus, tell her what you told me.”

Thomas’ lieutenant shot Ryla a tortured look. “Roger claims that he found evidence that Thomas ‘took advantage of’ Helen”
“Helen? That girl he keeps around?”

Thomas laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah. Of all the idiotic crap he could accused me of. After everything, all his plotting and scheming he accuses me of . . . of what? Stealing his woman. I swear, my brother is king of the lunatic morons.”

“It might not be what it seems Thomas. Have you tried talking to him? Maybe this has all been a misunderstanding. You know how boys are. They spread rumors, they blow things out of proportion.”

Thomas smiled and stopped for a moment to pat her on the head. “Oh, little Ryla. You always think the best of people. Some day you’re going to have to grow up, or the world is going to eat you alive. But maybe you’re right. Did you get the letter from Gregory? If he has good news, there might still be hope for us all.”

Ryla nodded, lifting it to him reluctantly. He snatched it and read feverishly. Then he read it again. Every second that passed it seemed his face fell further. Finally he collapsed into his broken down desk chair. “No, I think we’re passed talking, little one. The letter confirms everything I suspected of him. I’ll have to kill him for this.” His mind must have been whirling. He was counting his allies and making strategies. The destruction of his brother was to be handled with swiftness, but prudence.

Roger had never been big on planning. There was a racket at the front of the house. As it got closer it was obviously the sounds of battle. Or what a group of wretched street thugs call battle anyway. There was a pounding on the door and a bloodied young man burst into the room. “Roger’s here. He’s brought all his men with him.”

Thomas leaped to his feet and grabbed his long blade. He stopped just short of the door and went back to Ryla. “Here,” he led her to a closet. “Hide. We’ll make short work of him and then I’ll be back.” He gave her a peck on the forehead and was gone.

=== New Aldoria, 262, Winter’s doorstep ===

Ryla suspected the room was supposed to seem simple and rustic. A deer’s head hung over the mantle. The mantle and furnishings were made of some dark rich wood she didn’t know the name of, sanded and polished to an unearthly smoothness. She took a seat in one of the chairs next to the fire. They may have lacked ornamentation, but they were still royal chairs. Deep and soft, they weren’t merely comfortable, they wrapped her in comfort. She actually nodded off for a moment.

“Am I interrupting?” The voice was smooth and unconcerned, with only the slightest hint of disapproval. Her eyes flew open and she shot up, then down again in her best imitation of a curtsey. It must have looked ridiculous in her traveling clothes.

Aylin looked very much at home. His cloths matched the rest of the estate, the richest form of rustic she’d ever seen. His simple hunting clothes could have kept Garrow and his men appointed for a half year.

“Forgive me, Your Highness. It was a long trip back from Onsallas.”

He waved off the honorific and took his own seat next to the fire. “Then you’ve only just now arrived? Nice of you to come straight here. Tea?”

“I’d love some. Your schedule is no doubt fuller than mine. When the Prince has time to see you, you make time to see him.” She settled back down on the edge of the chair.

“And how is the outpost? Did your business there go well?” Aylin produced an intricate pipe—long and silver with an bizarre valve system—and began to pack the bowl.
“Yes, it went very well. Thrand did sort of threaten to cut off my fingers and send me out to the Mordok.” She chuckled, but a deep frown crossed the Prince’s face.
“Barbarous, to treat a guest like that.” He took a few puffs.

“I think that was mostly a misunderstanding. Anyway, I should have your share of the profits to you presently. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to respond to your letter about the lumber.”

The Prince waved the pipe to the side, leaving a rippling trail of smoke behind. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for you. There is however still a load if your ship is able to take it.”

“It would be our pleasure. We’re likely going to work Onsallas into our route, at some point.” She looked at him sidelong. He was fiddling with a valve on the pipe. It was at least half ruse though, meant to disarm her. She smiled. “Your Highness’s generosity has been the greatest help to me and my cohorts. Even when we’ve paid you for the ship, I feel as though we will still owe you a debt.” He didn’t rise to the flattery, instead he occupied himself with his tea cup.

“Onsallas was enlightening, though. They may be barbarous, but it seems even the mighty Ulven occasionally need help with trade. I met a woman there as well, named Sorcha. A business woman who’s had trouble finding reliable transport for her goods. It certainly seems I picked the right occupation.” They exchanged a pleasant smile, but before he could comment she continued on. “If we survive the winter I’ll have more opportunities than I know what to do with.”

“If we survive the winter?” He somehow managed to be patronizing, but likable. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I don’t buy into all the hype about the war, either. The peasants ramble on about the Grimward coming for their children at night. Even my own mercenaries blather on about it. You’d think the Grimward were monsters and not just Ulven. I mean, what’s another war, right? Aldoria’s been through worse, it’ll weather this all the same. Perhaps come out better for it, as everyone around us wastes themselves fighting.”

To his credit, Aylin’s face remained pleasant and neutral. “We’ve done what we can to aid our Ulven supporters. We’ve been helping by moving goods to the colony at an extremely fair price and New Aldoria has been a host to numerous soldiers and warriors of the Ulven in their journeys. The gates are always open in New Aldoria, for allies.”

“Naturally, Your Highness. New Aldoria is nothing if not supportive of it’s allies. Surely you’ve done everything within your power. I’d expect nothing less from so great a man…”

“Stop it.” He set the pipe down and looked her in the eye.

“Stop what, Your Highness?”

“This,” he said in a measured tone, so quiet Ryla found herself leaning in to hear. “This double talk. Is that all I’ve earned from you? What exactly did you come here to get from me?”

For a moment he let her consider, they measured each other. Ryla dropped her gaze in deference. “I’d like you to increase your support of the war effort.”
“And you thought you’d do that by talking me around, instead of just asking me?”

“I’m not used to people simply giving me things because I asked for them.” She could feel him watching her, but she kept her eyes down. She tried to seem respectful, maybe even pitiable.

“Who is? Honesty isn’t a virtue because it’s easy, Ryla. I’ve had just about enough plotting for, oh, a lifetime. Best luck to you, Miss Larksfield.” He rose to leave.

“Prince Aylin, please stop.” She put as much command into her voice as she dared, praying it still came off as respectful.

He eased himself back down into his chair and leaned in. “Okay, lets start over. What do you want?”

She sighed, then looked him flatly in the eye. “I want you to commit troops to the war.”

He eased back into his chair, picking up his pipe and regaining some measure of his genial attitude. “Why?”

“Perhaps because if the Grimward win, we’re all doomed.”

“Still being dramatic?”

“Hardly. The Ulven only seem to tolerate us, even our closest allies. I believe the Grimward intend to wipe us off the map, and if they win they’ll rally the rest of the Ulven to their cause. We need to support our allies now, more than ever before. The Stormjarl are poised to make their decision and at this point it looks as though they aren’t going to stick their necks out for us. I can’t even say that I blame them. All I know is, things are coming to a head. This war will be over soon, one way or another.”

He nodded. “You make an excellent point.” The smile was only slightly mocking. “See, was that so hard?”

“So, you’ll commit troops?”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t commit our troops and leave the farms and families of New Aldoria defenseless. It just isn’t an option.”

“But. . .”

“A second ago I was ‘so great a man’—you might have a little faith. There’s more to fighting a war than how many men you’ve got. You’re Aldorian too, you should know that. There’s some belt tightening we can do around here. I can commit some extra supplies to the men already fighting.” A moment of silence passed while she considered. “Disappointed?”

“It isn’t the sort of aid I came here hoping for. But it will help. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’d been considering the matter for some time. Everyone has an opinion, everyone has a solution. I appreciate your input. Don’t give me that look.”

“I’m hardly the sort of person who advises royalty on a regular basis.”

“I’m fairly certain that’s my call to make. Incidentally, there was something else I wanted to ask you about.”

“Oh?”

“As you may know I recently funded mercenaries for an expedition into the dirge swamp. It didn’t. . . go well.”

“That’s one way to put it.” The Prince gave her a grim look at the remark and she took a long sip of tea as cover.

He continued, “I believe someone paid them to betray me. If you can give me some clue as to who that might be, I’d gladly make it worth your while.”

“I’d heard a rumor to that effect. It seems the most likely explanation. Unfortunately I don’t have any insight into what kind of a motherless asshole would do such a thing. Pardon my Vandregonian. If I do hear anything, I’ll tell you directly.”

“Thank you. It’s obviously someone of means, perhaps another noble. Who can tell. Politics remains the same ruthless viper’s nest it’s always been.” He gave her another appraising look. “It can be very difficult to tell who has your best interests at heart. But enough of this dreary banter, tell me more about these Ulven to the north.” replied the Prince as a genuine smile crossed his face.

=== Old Aldoria ===

Ryla imagined spending a few hours in a closet was pretty horrible even without a bunch of people killing each other outside. When it grew quiet and two confused looking town guards opened the door it was as near a godsend as anything she’d ever experienced. “What? Who are you?”

“Me? I’m the person your boss sent you to find. Right? Little girl, big mouth, likely hiding in the house somewhere. That’d be me.” When they stared at her stupidly for a minute too long, she coached them further. “You’re boss is looking for me. Translated into idiot that means bring me to Guardsman Wright.”

Wright was the sort of man who looked more frightening than he was. He was big as a house, with fists the size of the hams they served at the Baron’s banquets. Or so Ryla imagined. He was standing in the midst of the carnage that was now the main room, giving his men orders in a calm and almost fatherly tone. The corpses of foolish young men draped over what remained of their poorly kept earthly processions. He started when he saw her.

“Damned fools. This is no place for a little girl. Get her out of here.”

Ryla ducked the quicker of the two fools escorting her and paced to their Captain over her erstwhile comrades. “I trust things went according to plan.”

He frowned, but resigned himself to allowing her to stay. “Just as you said. They nearly wiped each other out. We didn’t lose a man. Never seen anything like it. Wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it. Two of the most notorious criminals in the Low Streets, beaten by a little girl.”

She snorted. “They beat themselves. And Thomas?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Dead. Tried to surrender. Bad business that, but. . .”

“A promise is a promise,” Ryla finished. “I need to see him.”

He looked a bit sick. “That’s no sight for a young lady.”

“If I see one around here, I’ll tell her. Where is he?” He pointed to a corner of the room. Sure enough, Thomas and Marcus lay cold on the floor. Long crimson gashes marked their throats. She closed her eyes, but waited a moment to turn back to Wright.

“Bad business,” he repeated, “even for dogs like them. Must have done something terrible to you.” Ryla supposed good men were always protective of little girls. Part of their nature.

“No,” she picked up a flute one of the boys used to play on boring nights and fiddled with it absently. “Never did me wrong.” She seemed to catch herself and tossed the pipe aside. “And he never will. I meant what I said. Thomas is one of the most brilliant and cruel men in the city.

“Was,” she corrected pointedly. “Would you betray a man like that and let him live to pay you back?

“No, I suppose not.”

“Neither would I.”

He said nothing, shifting uncomfortably. She let the moment drag, enjoying his unease. “Well,” he finally spouted, smiling to hide his discomfort. “It seems the guard should certainly offer you their thanks.”

“Not really. They should forget I exist.” She turned to leave. “That was the whole point, after all.”

=== New Aldoria, 262 ===

The street was very dark and quiet. Few people ventured out at night this time of year. Ryla waited by the front door for a moment. It was a long walk back from the Prince’s estate. She breathed out slowly, watching the cloud of steam rise into the dark. It felt like she’d been holding her breath all day. Her hands shook and it had nothing to do with the cold.

There was laughter from inside. Dishes clinked and the smell of a cooked bird of some kind wafted out to the street. She’d fought for things before. Respect, comfort, power. When she was young and lean and angry she had thought she’d do anything to get ahead. She liked fighting dirty. It had become comfortable for her.

The door opened, enveloping her in warmth and light. Duncan reached out and pulled her into the house. “. . . standing out there like an idiot,” he finished saying to someone else. He took her cloak and put a mug of warm cider in her hand. “So, how was meeting the Prince?”

“We’ve met him before.” Nighen corrected from across the room. She was helping Ty do something with herbs. An occupation he left in her hands so he could meet Ryla at the door and give her a long hug and friendly kiss.

“It was fine, I guess. He won’t commit troops. But he is going to send extra supplies, so that’s something.” She enjoyed the calming weight of Ty’s arms around her shoulders. “He’s clever. I like him.”

Duncan nodded, but the instant he opened his mouth Erin was there with a plate of food for Ryla. “She doesn’t want to hear your political ramblings right now, dear.” She winked at Ryla. “She’s had a long trip, let the girl rest.” Duncan was about to complain until Erin decided to distract him with a kiss. Ryla made her way to a chair next to the fire and began eating quietly.

Nighen continued with a story she’d obviously been telling before Ryla had interupted. “So we’re carrying all this stuff to the Outpost. And these two Mordok show up out of nowhere. Well, Ryla wasn’t about to let them go that easy. She dropped the chest she was carrying and hit them with the highest pitched, girliest scream I have ever heard. It was impressive. You should be so proud of your student Duncan.”

When Duncan could breath again, he gasped, “No, no no. There was this one time outside of New Hope. . .”

“Don’t you dare tell that story,” Ryla warned.

“And there was this farmer and his damned cow.” Ryla resigned herself and sat listening to him recount her most embarrassing moments as a mercenary. Outside the night grew colder and darker.

Before Him, I am Bound by Honor

=====

Rill walked through the village with a purpose. If her no-nonsense stride wasn’t enough to convince others to move out of her way, her fiery and angry scowl would do the trick. She had just returned from the coast with a dozen Longfang hunters. They had escorted her to see the small group of Longfang warriors off on a Stormjarl longship. The ship, along with the emissary, was to make its way to the southern edge of Nightriver territory and link up with other ships that would take the Longfang warriors to Clan Stormjarl territory.

She continued to walk, lost in her own thoughts, as she approached the long house of Onsallas village. She was still at a loss of words that the Phoenix Syndar had brought to them a claimant bar from the Stormjarls. How did they even get the stupid thing? She knew she was a bit harsh in seizing the Syndar female and forcing her to turn the claimant over, even temporarily, but she was willing to ruffle a few feathers in order to look into the reasoning behind the bar. The claimant being found and brought to the village was the worst timing ever. She didn’t even fully understand why it was so damned important. Its arrival had confirmed Clan Stormjarl calling upon an honor debt that Pack Longfang owed them from decades ago.

Pushing past the burly guards to enter the long house, Rill shoved the giant wooden doors aside and stormed into the room. Behind her, the guards quickly shut the door. Inside the room a few Daughters of Gaia were tending to their duties and waiting quietly and patiently. The Runeseer was deep in her seeing mediation.

Unblinking eyes shining like glowing moons turned to Rill as the Runeseer cast another hand of runes onto the mat in front of her.

“Soulveig, this is wrong. What are we doing? Why are we sending our warriors to Clan Stormjarl?” demanded Rill as she came to a stop in front of the Runeseer. It was obvious that the time for any honorifics or professional greetings was over.

“Silence, Rill. You know better than to address me this way.” reminded Soulveig in an even and emotionless tone.

“No, not this time. Gaia be damned, I won’t stand by and let this happen!” roared Rill as she bristled and looked as vicious as ever. She looked like an angry wolf ready to pounce and kill.

An odd silence hung throughout the room as Rill’s angry gaze stayed locked with Soulveig’s emotionless stare. The other Daughters in the room conveniently moved to the edge of the room hoping to be close enough to listen in but far enough away to be spared the wrath of either of them. It was Soulveig who finally broke the silence.

“We are Ulven, child. We are Pack Longfang. Honor and loyalty flow through our veins and give purpose to our charge. ”

“Priestess, you know what is happening is wrong. I don’t care about the honor debt, we can send a hawk and discuss terms for the debt in the spring. You know this could be a trick to remove our warriors from the war.”

“If we turn our backs on honor, we are no better than the Mordok. I will hear no more of this nonsense, Rill. You of all Daughters here should know better than to even hint at straying from that course.”

Rill thought about the situation. She thought about the consequences, the words she had spoken. In one final act of defiance, she exhaled a forced sigh and softened her features. She knew it would do her no good to argue with the Runeseer.

“I am sorry, Priestess. I let anger and emotion get the best of me. It will not happen again.”

At that moment, Soulveig closed her eyes and squinted for a fraction of a second, and opened them. The shining light in her eyes was gone and she collapsed a bit from the strain of maintaining her meditation. She coughed a few times and several Daughters came over and helped her with a drink. Her eyes studied the runes she had cast in front of her. Concern spread across the Runeseer’s face and she looked again, as if willing the runes to speak a different message would actually make them change. When she finally spoke, she croaked the words through parched lips.

“No… no… it isn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Priestess, what do you see?” said Rill as her own worry began to rise. She had been training under the Runeseer for quite some time now. She had begun to learn how to read the runes and she could see the divination cast out before her.

=====

Some members of Pack Longfang apparently were never meant to be sailors.

The first day on the open water saw fair weather and good travel as the Stormjarl longships took them to Stormjarl territory. The second day, however, was a completely different story. Howling winds and a dusting of light snow raced to attack them, finding ways to penetrate under their armor, furs and cloaks. Once calm waters had turned into churning waves and a constant rocking motion that seemed to never end. Periodically a warrior of the Longfangs would stumble over to the edge of the ship and wretch their stomachs into the oceans.

Bryech Savagefang and Orrin Kair, recently traded to Pack Longfang from Pack Bloodfang, were excited at the opportunity and the challenge to join the ranks of the elite Longfangs. Now they sat huddled and miserable against the side of the ship gathered in their cloaks and spare clothing. The conditions were terrible, but no one spoke a word of discomfort for the Longfang warriors were too well disciplined and the Stormjarl sailors were at home even in these conditions. Harlok and Azra sat opposite them, showing less visible discomfort but obviously enduring just as brutal of conditions. Next to them and bundled in a thick wool cloak and still sporting the red face paint was the Stormjarl emissary. Her task of summoning the Longfangs and overseeing the claimant bar and the honor pledge was now complete and she was returning home.

Five longships sailed in close formation to one another as the entire war pack of Pack Longfang was being sailed to Clan Stormjarl’s main settlement.

After several hours of harsh conditions, the settlement became visible to the ships and the crew and the waters calmed as the snowstorm had passed. Longfang warriors stood on wobbly legs not accustom to sea travel and rose, the cracking of ice on their cloaks and clothing audible to those on board. The settlement of Graytir Stormjarl, Clanleader of Clan Stormjarl, spanned out before them as they entered the port and prepared to dock their ships.

Standing on the dock was a commanding looking Ulven. He was dressed in black and brow leathers and mail armor with an ornate sword sheathed at his side. A thick mantle of what appeared to be bear fur sat on his shoulders. His head was shaved tight and he wore a medium length and neatly trimmed black beard. Standing directly behind him in full armor and in formation were a dozen Viknar. These veteran warriors were the shock troops of the longships and honor guard to the different Chieftans and Priestesses of the clan. Although not quite as well trained as the elite Longfangs, they were very formidable nonetheless.

As the ships came to dock on both sides of the long pier, the Ulven greeted them.

“Proud and honorable warriors of Pack Longfang. I am Bolverk Stormjarl, Warleader of Clan Stormjarl. I welcome you to Clan Stormjarl territory and the settlement of Graytir Stormjarl, Clanleader of Clan Stormjarl.”

=====

Graytir Stormjarl walked with purpose through the hallway leading into the great hall. The mud and stone base of the hall was simple yet elegant. Wood carved with runes and knotwork traced along the edge of the ceiling and gave the building an even more profound setting. The great hall of the Clanleader was simple yet lavish in its design, a beacon that could rival any other clan in size and aesthetic value. Wooden statues adorned both the halls and the steps leading up to the entrances. Clan Stormjarl was wealthy and their great hall displayed this quite well. Behind him the noise of mail armor could be heard as two of the Clanleader’s personal Viknar followed him.

Outside, it had started to snow. Any other season, Graytir would have stood quietly and admired the beauty in it from the balcony on the second or third floor of the great hall. Now, it was just a reminder that his time was up and he had a hard decision to make.

Graytir pushed the doors open to the main room in the great hall. A massive chamber stretched out before him, serving as an auditorium for meetings and gatherings. Where an entire assembly of Chieftans and Priestesses of his clan would normally meet to discuss matters of the clan every year, now only a handful of them gathered near the front of the auditorium. Standing at the center of them was Svayla Hendray, High Priestess of Stormjarl and mate to the Clanleader. Graytir saw her and it warmed his heart. Although Graytir was a good looking male Ulven, age and leadership had crinkled his features and started to put gray to his short hair and short trimmed beard. His mate had aged well, looking very lovely despite her only being a few seasons younger than him.

“I wish we could greet you on more pleasant matters, Clanleader.” said Bolverk Stormjarl. As always, the Warleader was adorned in blackish brown layers of leather and darkened mail. Several weapons were sheathed or hung in rings on him. Older than Graytir, the burly man was a master of melee combat and his muscles were taught and corded from decades of use. Constant practice and overseeing of the training of each Chieftan’s Viknar kept him much more youthful than his years would dictate.

“Pack Longfang warriors have been brought to the settlement. The emissary we sent confirmed that Soulveig Longfang upheld the honor debt without hesitation. Honor serves them, and they are loyal to you.”

“Good. We are going to need them in the months ahead.” replied Graytir as he walked in and stood next to his mate near a large table. A few maps and some carved wooden warriors were placed on them in strategic areas.

“I have received two letters just recently and felt that their words should be heard by all present here today. Before today, the only letters that arrived were from some colonist group called Agnosco. I know their words angered us and were not well received, but I don’t think they truly speak for the colonists as a whole. After months of very little word from any of the other clans, these arrived by hawk this morning.” said the Clanleader as he unrolled the first of two small letters and read them out loud in front of his audience.

“Free people of Mardrun,

This may very well be my last correspondence. The Grimwards, enemies of Gaia’s ways, who forsake her tenets and emulate the gruesome trophy taking and blasphemous rituals of the Mordok, have routed our troops and besiege our final settlement, where for countless generations my people have faithfully guarded the Western horizon, as was our sacred duty. The Watchwolves of Luna have waited nine months for relief, and our staunchest of allies, the Longfangs, faithfully held the pass through the Wolf’s Hackles. Though we opened our halls to colonists and fellow clans, and organized the grand alliance against the Undead incursion, our pleas for help have gone unanswered as three seasons have come to pass.

A wise elder once said… The true warrior does not love the flashing blade for its sharpness, nor does he love the black fletched arrow for its sharpness, nor does he love the glory of war. A true warrior cares not for these things. A true warrior cares only for the Ulven people, the clan, the pack, and the family. Those are the only things worth dying for…

Though the Watchwolves of Luna are hopelessly outnumbered and besieged, I, Raskolf Vakr, the Voice of the Watchwolves, promise you that we will not waver in our pledge to Gaia’s children. We will perform our sacred duty to protect the Western Horizon, even if we fall to the last soul. We do not do it for glory. We do it because we know that should we fall, a powerful portent of the apocalypse will come to pass. We do it not for ourselves. We do it not for selfish glory. We do it for all the free people of Mardrun. We do it for the future of all Ulven. We give it our all, because some things are worth dying for.

Elders of Stormjarl, by the time you read this message, it may very well be too late for my people, but I urge you to look inwards. In your chests beat the hearts of true warriors. Figuring out the right thing to do is always easy, but finding the courage to do so is another matter entirely. Be brave, my friends. Be brave. The eyes and ears of the Great Wolf are upon you, and you will be judged.

Signed by my hand this day,

Raskolf Vakr, the Voice of the Watchwolves” said Graytir as he put down the first letter and unrolled the second letter before continuing.

“To my Brothers and Sisters of Clan Stormjarl,

About five decades ago your clan believed in my pack so strongly, that you helped us set up our lives on the edge of the world. An action that other packs and clans thought foolish. And for five decades we still stand at the swamp. Our warriors have protected every clan at one time or another because we are one Ulven people, and that was the path Gaia had set our feet to. Gaia’s path is not always easy, and we all will have great loss at times. We know that if we walk this path that our deeds will ring in the Great Wolfs’ ears.

My father was Dennagrath Stormjarl, a carpenter, ship builder, and warrior of pack Longfang. One thing he taught me was that as Ulven, one thing we should never give up is our honor. And he told me that Clan Stormjarl was a clan of honor.

But now we find our race in strange times… Ulven killing Ulven, and you are not in a safe place. Your people look to you for guidance, and you stand before the maw of Grimward. You have three choices…

One. Give in to Grimward, let them use you as they stray from Gaia’s path, and you will be known as the lap dog of Grimward. Win or lose that will always be the case. You asked for our aid and we sent it, if you join them your actions will look to every one as a trick to take the Longfangs out of the fight, even if that is not your intent.

Two. Stay Neutral. No Ulven should have to give up honor because other Clans say they will kill you if you don’t. The Longfangs would gladly stand and fight defending a Clan that stood up to Grimward. Your honor would stay and we could buy you time if you chose to evacuate your people if need be, with the promises that we will one day return you to your home.

Three. Join Nightriver in defending the humans. Your clan is strong and wealthy your skills with ships unmatched. And I know you can see the advantage of having humans here to trade with. From what I have heard you are a wise leader and have already tried to trade with the colonists. Your goldwood coins are in the hands of many people, Ulven and colonist alike. I am not saying that they are all good; I am saying that they are like pups in need of a chance to grow. We cannot give them that if as Ulven we just kill them. Some have proven honorable and even now some march to aid the Watchwolves, like any honorable pack or clan would do if their friends were in need.

You gave my Pack a chance, look at the path Gaia laid before your feet. Do you really feel that siding with a group that is so driven by hate that they will kill their own kind to seek vengeance? The Graytide had killed with out mercy in this quest… Human, Syndar, and Ulven. The elders and the pups. They take trophies, fingers, and ears… even the fangs of other Ulven. In a way I under stand what Khulgar Graytide had lost. My first mate was killed in the war with humans as was my father, but peace was made.

Every dead Human, Syndar and Ulven is one less to fight our real enemy which is the Mordok. Of this, the Great Wolf would be right to forget our names.

You must of course do what you know to be right for not only you but for your people, so I ask if you do join with Clan Grimward that you show every one that you are not a trickster and dishonorable and to return our warriors.

Stanrick Longfang, Warrior of Pack Longfang”

An intense silence filled the room. Everyone attending made sure to listen intently. Everyone attending made sure to think thoroughly about what was said. It was finally the Warleader who spoke.

“Clanleader, these letters are full of inspiring words and of reminders of honor, but I feel that it is too late now. Where were they months ago? Where was the pledge of support and the actions to back them? Nightriver is wise not to cross the river and attack Clan Grimward in their own lands, but the complete lack of any backing to these claims of support means we have to look out for the survival of our people.”

“Warleader, you would have us take a side in this war? I know our clan has always had good relations with Grimward, but to side with them? They openly started this war and are going to throw us into a fight that would dishonor our entire race!” replied one of the assembled Chieftans.

“Pup, you see only what your young eyes can perceive directly in front of you. Look around! What support do we have from Clan Nightriver? What support do we have from the rest of the clans? If not for the honor debt to Pack Longfang, we would have no aid at all and that is only a couple dozen warriors! You heard the words from Raskolf Vakr on that letter. The western settlement of the Watchwolves is under siege. Haygreth pushes north and is winning. If we turn against Grimward we will share their same fate…”

“Enough, please, we need to discuss this openly between us. I know the other Chieftans are not here to voice their opinions and concerns, but I have been given their support to act on their behalf. They are tending to their packs and their villages and preparing for our decision, one way or another.” interrupted the Clanleader.

“Svalya, what news from the emissaries?”

“Clanleader, they have reported to me directly and we have discussed numerous topics related to each side of this conflict. Clan Nightriver promises support and aid, but we have not seen any evidence of this. Clan Grimward promises support and aid and has already proven they are willing and able to give it. We have had no chance to discuss matters with the colonists or any of their settlements. The letter we sent to the settlement of New Aldoria during the human’s market faire went unanswered and… our daughter is still missing.” replied Svayla in an authoritative tone until the last part of it where her voice wavered with emotion.

“The other clans underestimate Haygreth. I have known him for many years and he is not the brute that others believe him to be. He knows what he is doing. He has planned this out and he has something that other clans do not. Conviction. He has put plans in motion as others sit and talk. We are even guilty of it. I respect the Watchwolves for their decision to back Nightriver, but they now suffer for it.” said Graytir.

“Clanleader, the other Chieftans have sent word over the last few months. Clan Grimward waits at our borders for our decision. They have not been hostile… They have even been helpful and respectful of Stormjarl territory. But we cannot be fooled, the mobilization of these war packs is no coincidence. They wait for the command from Haygreth and his Warleader.” replied one of the Chieftans. That very topic was on everyone’s mind, as Haygreth made no attempt to hide the warriors he was gathering at the Stormjarl borders. It was an obvious tactic to try to sway their decision.

“I know. One of the reasons why some of the other Chieftans are not here is because they are seeing to the defenses of some of their settlements. We have never needed to stockpile weapons and food and build defenses for our villages from Mordok attack, let alone try to prepare for war.”

“Clanleader, if we oppose Clan Grimward and we receive no support from Clan Nightriver, we can’t win. Their war packs are trained and seasoned warriors. It is well known that they are willing to push brutality to extremes against the Mordok… Our people are not prepared to be the target of that!” said another Chieftan. Emotion filled his voice and it was no surprise. His pack’s village was located near the border between the two clans and would probably suffer first if the two clans went to war.

The discussion continued for a bit as other Chieftans and even the Priestesses started to chime in and try to speak their mind. Graytir thought about calming them but felt that allowing them to speak was the right choice. This continued for a couple minutes and started to die down.

“Clanleader, we must make preparations for either decision. If we join Grimward in war, the Chieftans can supply Grimward warriors with longships that can sail anywhere on the continent. We would be able to land their warriors on any coast or river on Mardrun
This mobility would allow them to attack and raid almost any clan and even attack the colonists directly. If we support them this way, it would be the safest way to involve our people in this war, which means an end can be found and peace can be made. On the other hand, if we side with Nightriver the longships will not be of much use if we are defending our homes. The border we share is too big and controlling the river and coasts will do nothing for Grimward warriors marching across our lands. We may be able to bring allies to our coast and have them assist with the fight and we can patrol the river and keep the bridges open so supplies and allies can come through. Control of those bridges will be key in bringing in any support from Nightriver or the colonists… but that is also assuming we actually get the support we are promised.” said Bolverk as he laid out the tactics related to joining both sides of the war.

“Clanleader, I know this decision is difficult, but we need to look out for the survival of our people.”

=====

Graytir opened the thick oaken door to his personal chambers. Svayla followed him in and closed the door, allowing the two privacy. Graytir walked through the lavish and decorated room to the large windows that overlooked his settlement. He was deep in thought and Svayla could sense his emotions.

“My mate, I know you are troubled. Talk to me.”

“Svayla… what is happening? How could we, the Ulven, allow things to get to where they are? For generations our people have settled our disputes and focused on the real enemy to the North or worked together to expand our settlements. It is almost as if we have completely forgotten them and turned inward to tear our own throats out… I don’t know what to do, my love. I am scared for the future.” said Graytir as his resolve was fully assaulted by what was happening around him. Now that they were in private, his defenses were down. Sensing that this weight threatened to crush him, Svayla walked up and put a reassuring hand on his back and his arm and stayed close to him.

“Graytir… you earned your place as Clanleader. You know this and so does everyone in this clan. The Chieftans stand by you and know that you will look out for them. They trust your judgment even if the decisions that lay ahead are difficult. Your people are with you.”

“Are they? I mean, are they really willing to live and die by my decision? It is easy to look at those maps and talk about honor but when the war is at our doorstep and blades are drawn and blood is spilled, I am not so sure. Haygreth will not just go away if we decide to join Clan Nightriver. And the other Clans may look at us with shame for joining the first clan to start a war with our people.” said Graytir as he turned and looked his mate in the eye. Svayla could see the anguish and torment behind his features.

“I don’t know what the right answer is. My love, what decision am I to make?”

Svayla paused a moment and looked at her mate. She took his hands in her own and held his gaze.

“The one you believe in.” she said as she leaned in and kissed him.

=====

As dawn broke across the horizon and welcomed the new day, the light flowed across the plains that lay outstretched before the northernmost village of Clan Stormjarl. Normally, the farmers and fishermen would greet the dawn and go about their work as other villagers would awaken and begin their daily lives. On any normal day, the sunrise would have been beautiful.

Today the sunlight glinted off of weapons and armor from almost two hundred warriors assembled in a field just outside the village. Warriors stood in formation opposing each other and stared in silence. To the north, dozens of warriors in leather and furs with gray sashes stood next to more warriors standing in full mail and layered armor wearing the gray braid of Pack Graytide. Some had painted their faces with dark masks and lines and wore their bloody trophies taken from their fallen enemies from previous battles. To the south, stood a perfect formation of Viknar in matching helm, mail, and shields… Their prestine armor and rehearsed formation making them seem rather impressive. If not for their constant training giving proof to their skill, their unscathed look would have been viewed as pompous or the mark of a unit that does not actually see battle. Next to them in an impressive shield wall stood the warriors of Pack Longfang with furs and leathers that looked well battle worn. Their experience and fearlessness earned them a formidable reputation and their presence during this meeting was no mistake.

Standing in front of the Longfangs and Viknar was Graytir and Bolverk. Opposite them in front of the Grimwards and Graytides stood Haygreth and Khulgar Graytide.

“I, Graytir Stormjarl, Clanleader of Clan Stormjarl, and Bolverk Stormjarl, Warleader of Clan Stormjarl, greet you.” said Graytir in the usual greeting of the Ulven.

“I, Haygreth Grimward, Clanleader of Clan Grimward, and Khulgar Graytide, Chieftan of Pack Graytide, accept your greeting. Khulgar is here as an advisor to my Warleader, for they are unable to attend this meeting.” said Haygreth in rehearsed formality.

Bolverk and Khulgar stood opposite of each other and one step behind their respective leader. They knew that this meeting was between Graytir and Haygreth and their voices would remain silent.

“The civil war continues to rage across Mardrun, Graytir. The colonists have deceived Clan Nightriver and Branthur has abandoned his Ulven ways and allowed himself to be manipulated. I come to you today to ask for your support in bringing peace to Mardrun.” said Haygreth.

“Haygreth, our clans go back for generations. Your warriors have diligently protected your lands from roving tribes of Mordok and in doing so, it has helped protect my people as well. We have grown strong and wealthy and I know we owe your clan gratitude in helping us achieve this. We have respected your ways and you have respected ours. You know that we have been involved with the colonists in the last few years and learned from them. Why do you wish death on them?”

“The outsiders brought death with them. You saw the letters but you did not see the destruction. The hungry ghosts that forced the outsiders to flee their home followed them here and cut a path of destruction across half of the continent. They lied about it being here and only when pressed, did their pathetic coalition track it down and stop it. They buried their dead in the soil of Gaia and disrespected our ways, and the hungry ghosts came to claim them here on our homeland. That is a path of death that I refuse to let my people walk down, Graytir. There is magic that the Ulven have never seen before and I believe that Branthur is being deceived by it, that they are forcing his hand and allowing more transgressions against us to take place without proper control. Even the Watchwolf Clan, so level and wise, drafted a resolution to allow Ulven to control the colonists and it was not followed. They too were deceived and now they fight against us, but we will prevail and show them that their actions are foolish. In time, the Watchwolves will learn the truth.”

“You mean to say that in time, you will conquer them.” snapped Graytir, not giving in to Haygreth. The quip had its affect, and the pleasant and professional demeanor of Haygreth began to crumble.

“If they fail to see the truth and lose sight of the honor of our race and our charge to protect Gaia, then they are not the Ulven I have sworn to protect. I stand before you today, brother, and ask that you join me. Clan Whiteoak has pledged their fealty to me to help end this war. Other clans have expressed their concerns about the colonists and will join our cause as well. Our clans can protect Gaia and bring the other clans back from their deception of the outsiders before it is too late.”

“Clan Whiteoak is the clan that shamed themselves by being dishonorable, using trickery to try to destroy the village of Pack Longfang. Entering a village under guest right and using it to spring a trap are the actions of Ulven that have fallen off of Gaia’s path. Word travels fast across Mardrun, whether you agree with its message or not. I would dishonor my clan by siding with them.”

The two men glared at each other. It was obvious that both of them had words that they wanted to be sure were heard before this meeting was over. After an uncomfortable silence, Haygreth spoke.

“It is the actions of the brave and the daring, those that are willing to take measures that others are not, that will save our people from the destruction that lies ahead. But enough talk. We both know why we are here. You have a decision to make and an answer to give me.”

“You are correct, Haygreth. There is a decision to make. I, Graytir Stormjarl, Clanleader of Clan Stormjarl, proclaim that my clan will not join you in this war. We will lobby for peace and help end this conflict, but we will not join you in your conquest.”

Graytir was on the verge of shaking, not from the cold but from his nervousness, but maintained his composure. He was expecting Haygreth’s angered response and was taken by surprise when Haygreth smiled at him.

“Clanleader, I ask that you think of the safety of your people. Throwing in your lot with the outsiders would dishonor you in front of the eyes of the Great Wolf. You can support my warriors with your longships and help us maintain supplies so that we can end this war for good. We will make the fallen clans understand the corruption of the outsiders and take back our homeland before it is too late. We stand on the verge of an apocalypse and the decisions of a few brave leaders will save our people. I ask you again, brother, to join me and make things right.” said Haygreth in a smooth and even tone. The delivery was flawless and it was disarming.

Graytir cleared his throat and tried to think. He was surprised at how easy it was to believe in Haygreth’s cause. His words were so convincing and they made sense. However, he did not want the outsiders to die. He wanted them controlled better but he wanted a more peaceful resolution. He began to doubt his initial stance and his defenses dropped and Haygreth saw it the moment it happened.

“We are Ulven, brother. This is our homeland. What right do they have to it? Graytir, do not allow yourself to be deceived by the outsiders.”

Suddenly, the memory of several nights previously rushed back to Graytir. Svayla was looking directly at him and told him to make the decision that he believed in. He remembered the strength it gave him. He blinked and locked eyes with Haygreth, his resolve coming back to him.

“You are right, Haygeth, I will not be deceived by the outsiders. I will also not have my hand forced by you. Your words are twisted, Haygreth. If you think that I will allow my people to help spread such brutality and destruction then you are wrong. I am the leader of Stormjarl, I am the voice of my people and I will not join you, Haygreth Grimward.”

This time Haygreth did not smile. He focused and narrowed his gaze on Graytir, his temper flaring but just barely being held in check.

“If you are not with me, Graytir Stormjarl, then you are against me. You are a fool. I know you have met with emissaries from both sides of this war. I know that you have calculated out the risks of joining either side. I know that you have sent hawks to the other clans to ask for help, even if their words were disguised. I know that your Chieftans are building up the defenses of your villages because they are not built to withstand war. I know that you are gambling on Clan Nightriver sending the support that I am sure they have promised you.”

Graytir stood his ground, refusing to back down but unable to respond. Proud silence was all that he could muster at that moment.

“You forget, brother, that I am far better at this than you are. Come spring thaw, you will either be judged by the Great Wolf or you will bear your throat to me. I will either destroy you and take your ships and your villages or you will pledge fealty to me and they will be mine. It makes no difference to me. I gave you a chance to decide what was best for your clan. Pity you did not make the wise one.”

Graytir somehow found the courage to speak and looked Haygreth straight in the eye.

“You did give me a chance to decide and I have made my choice. Let it be known that on this day, Clan Stormjarl took the honorable route and made our own decision on this war. On this day, we were not coerced, we were not deceived and we were not forced into making a choice that we did not want to make. On this day, we walked our own path with our heads held high even if our backs were against a wall.”

Both of the leaders took a moment to glare at each other. It was obvious that neither one of them was backing down and that they both had set their mind to the decisions they were going to make.

“I know that you are worried about the survival of your people, Graytir. You should be.” said Haygreth with finality as he turned around and walked back to his lines.

The meeting was apparently over. Graytir stood there for a moment and watched Haygreth’s hulking form walk back towards his lines. Khulgar had locked eyes with him for a moment before turning and following his clan leader. Graytir then turned and walked back towards his own lines with Bolverk by his side.

“I am sorry, Bolverk, that I did not take your advice.”

“Shut that nonsense and take back your apology, Clanleader. If you think I won’t follow you into the maw of death itself, then you don’t know me very well. You made a choice and I support you. We all do. Now, let us prepare for war.” said Bolverk under his breath so the line of troops in front of them could not hear them.

It was reassuring to know that Bolverk would follow him, but it didn’t help ease the horrible knot in Graytir’s stomach.

All he could think about was how it was going to be a long and brutal winter.

=====

The half-day trip back to the Grimward camp just on the other side of the border was rather quiet. Khulgar did not dare to say anything and allowed his leader time to think. He knew that Haygreth was not surprised for plans were already in motion if Clan Stormjarl joined with Nightriver and the outsiders. He also knew that Graytir and Haygreth were friends years ago, that they had feasted at each other’s great hall and made plans to expand and grow their respective settlements. Even if the plans were in motion and preparations already made, he knew this was hard on Haygreth.

When they reached the camp, an Ulven scout with two winter hawks was already waiting for Haygreth.

“Send the hawks. Make sure the first one reaches our main warrior camp so that it reaches the Whiteoaks quickly. The second must reach the river immediately.” said Haygreth. The Ulven falconer nodded and attached a small letter to each hawk. The words were already written and prepared, the falconer simply needing confirmation from Haygreth to send them. The falconer took the small blinding helmet off the first hawk, locked eyes with the bird and whistled a few small chirps at it, and threw it into the air to the north. The same process was repeated for the second bird but the chirps were different than the first. The second bird was then released to the east. Haygreth then walked towards his small command tent.

“So it begins.” sighed Khulgar as he watched his leader leave. He turned to walk away when the falconer spoke to him.

“Chieftain, I received a hawk today with a message for you. It is from the Watchwolf Clan. It bears the mark of the High Priestess herself.” said the falconer as he presented a small rolled up letter to Khulgar.

=====

Jeyfa Shadowfang was in a sour mood. She had been ordered to move to the Yurnai River and wait. It had been three days and she grew tired of these cold conditions and iron rations. She occupied herself with meditation and practiced her witchcraft. Her small group of five Grimward bodyguards were tired and cold as they did all they could to keep from freezing to death.

Recently a war pack of Clan Grimward had pushed across the bridge and secured the opposite side. That was over a month ago. Fighting had broken out since as the Clan Nightriver war packs on the other side responded to them, but it was sporadic and light.

If everything went according to plan then the other bridges should be secured soon as well. Now she just had to wait.

Jeyfa and her guards heard the sound of horns and the shouts of battle. Apparently there was a fierce fight taking place on the opposite side of the river. Clan Nightriver must have sent more warriors to the bridge to take back their side of it. A Grimward scout recently had reported to her that the main bridge was still under Grimward control and that the two closest bridges were taken as well.

Jeyfa heard a screech as a hawk descended from the sky and swooped in fast. She extended her forearm to reveal to the bird a falconer’s bracer and the bird slowed rapidly. It landed on her forearm as the bird’s talons latched onto the hardened leather perch. She fed it a mouse and it ate its meal ferociously. Taking the small note from its body, she read the letter and handed off the bird to one of her guards.

“Warriors, get up! It is time.” she said as she started walking towards the bridge.

Her bodyguards scrambled to gather gear and put on the last pieces of equipment and gather their weapons and shields. They knew that getting so close to the river could draw the attention of archers and they wanted to protect the witch.

“Daughter, wait! We need to wait for reinforcements before we cross.” shouted the leader of her war pack as they caught up to her and formed a defensive wall around her. Just at that moment, an arrow arced into the sky and planted itself in the shield of one of the bodyguards.

“We aren’t crossing. Clear that off and get in.” replied Jeyfa as the group came upon a fishing boat. It was camouflaged and stashed by the bank of the river.

As the warriors worked to dislodge the boat and get in, Jeyfa saw a sliver of light glint off of an arrow as it pierced through the sky. She thought that the scout on the other side of the river was either very skilled or very lucky. The closest guard tried to react in time but was too late as the arrow whistled through the air and was in a direct line with the Witch’s chest. It would have pierced her heart or lungs but at the very last moment the flicker of a blue aura around the witch flashed. The arrow deflected sharply and snapped. The broken pieces of the arrow landed harmlessly in the snow around her.

No command was needed to be said, for failing to protect the witch would mean certain death for her guards. With renewed vigor the guards surrounded her with a tight formation, overlapping the shields and creating a wall of stretched leather and wood to protect her from further arrows.

The small boat floated into the river, the current was not very strong at this part of the river but it still threatened to take the boat downstream if not for a rope that kept it tethered to part of the bridge. Two more arrows sunk into the shield wall around the witch. The warriors were concerned about how to maintain their defensive wall and keep their footing on a boat that was now rocking in the river.

Approaching one of the support columns in the center of the bridge, the aged and hardened wood had stood for decades and withstood everything that the river had thrown at it. The witch concentrated and began to channel forth a flow of mana. An orb of intense red formed in her outstretched hand and she flicked her wrist out and sent the bolt crashing into the wooden column. A great crack split the air as the bolt shattered the wood and exploded, sending shards of wood sailing into the air before they splashed into the water.

Over and over the Witch summoned forth the energy to shatter more columns and blast apart more of the supports holding the bridge up. More arrows landed into the shield wall. One of her guards was struck in the thigh and grunted in pain but he knew better than to drop his guard. His blood oozed down his pant leg. Another guard cried out as an arrow deflected off the edge of his shield and lodged itself into his collar bone, quickly soaking his leather jerkin in steaming hot blood. None of the guards moved or lowered their shield wall.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack followed by a serious of low cracks that rose in frequency and volume as the bridge groaned under the assault. Jeyfa paused, panting from the exertion of summoning forth so many bolts of magic, and waited. Like a giant tree being taken down for lumber, the bridge started to give way and the columns cracked open. The weight of the massive bridge was now working against it as the weakened columns buckled and split open.

Knowing her part of this job was complete, the daughter used a dagger to cut loose the rope keeping the boat tethered to the bridge. The stress of the bridge giving way buckled the solid beams making up its road and they split apart, spilling into the river. In a few moments, the largest bridge connecting Clan Grimward and Clan Nightriver, the bridge that had seen hundreds if not thousands of caravans and was the fastest way to transport people and supplies across the river, crumbled completely and fell into the river.

Jeyfa Shadowfang smiled as the boat floated downstream and away from the final destruction of the bridge.

+++++++++++++
Day 1:
I had been expecting a letter or some form of orders from my clan to figure out what to do next. It never came so what other choice did I have but to go home. It was going to be a ten day walk to Spiritclaw territory, I wasn’t really looking forward to it. It had been unseasonable cool all summer and winter came earlier than normal. Winter solstice is about four weeks away already.

“You ready?” I hear Stanrick call from outside in the yard. I sigh and take one last look around the cabin. This is his mother’s cabin, though technically it is his now that she has passed. I had been staying with him for most of my time here at Onsallas. Yet this place didn’t feel like a home to me, or at least not my home. Though I suppose it could with enough time. I shake my head a little and chided myself. I am a Truthseeker, I am not allowed a home. As long as I am still active, I will never be in one place long enough to make a home. I tug the dust cloth over the dining table and bed and makes sure the fire in the hearth is good and out before gathering two book from the table next to the door and stepping out. I see Stanrick tugging the ropes keeping the camping gear in the wooden cart that I travel with. That poor little cart is packed pretty tight as it normally designed to keep just my stuff. Now its got about two weeks worth of supplies plus armor and weapons. I walk over to the cart and tuck the books into my packs. Stanrick wraps his arms around my waist and leans his chin on my shoulder.

“You’re quiet today” He states.

I shrug a little. “Sorry. A lot on my mind, beloved. “ I am nervous about this trip home. A lot has happened between the Swamp and Stanrick and I becoming mates. I am not sure how my clan, my pack is going to take any of it. Not to mention I am going home…with Stanrick. He is going to see how I live and that also makes me nervous. What if there are too many people for him to tolerate among the thousands of other what ifs I can think off.
He kisses my cheek and smiles. “Its okay.” He is about to pick up the rope to the cart and string it around himself and I stop him. He frowns at me. I take it from him and loop it around my chest.

“If we get attacked by Mordok, you need to be able to move more freely. “ I state. He just sighs at me. I dig my toes into the ground and use my legs to get the cart moving. Once its moves its not bad. My uncle does good work and as long as we don’t take it off trail it will make the journey just fine. Its even convertible for snow, as I look up at the sky and sigh again. I am almost positive that it will snow before we make it to Everspring.

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Day 3:
My eyes snap open at the sound of Stanrick yelling my name. It takes me a moment to orientate myself. I can feel Stanrick trashing beside me, I quickly put up my arm to block being smash in the face.

“Stanrick, wake up! “ I shake him to try to get him up but he continues to be lost in what ever nightmare has him. I feel his hand brush my cheek as I dodge another swing. I sigh, as I know as I am going to have to do it the hard way. I am no stranger to nightmares but eventually I wake up from them and I don’t thrash nearly as much. Stanrick seems to get lost in them, like they are real for him and he is very hard to wake once he is entrenched in one. I occasionally wonder if something is attacking him or maybe trying to tell him something through nightmares and that is an unpleasant thought to have. I straddle his midsection and grab his arms and pin them down and use my legs to hold them there. I can feel his muscles strain under my weight trying to throw me off.

“STANRICK!” I yell as I punch his chest. He bucks wildly underneath me still entrenched in whatever is nightmare he is in.

I lay my weight on him and in his ear whisper. “Beloved, wake up. I need you to wake up now.” I hear him inhale sharply and his muscles go still. I pull back and he is blinking up at me looking a little confused as to why we were in the tent and not in what ever place he was dreaming about. I slowly unwrap my legs from his arms and he wraps them around my midsection and pulls me close. I can feel him take in a shaky breath.

We lay there awhile before he whispers to me. “We were trapped in the swamp again. Mordok had dragged you off. I was fighting to get to you. Ylsa, Rhodi, Thrand, Orrin and Bryech and some of the Bastards where there. I could hear you screaming my name. It sounds like they were torturing you on top of it. No matter how many I fought I couldn’t get closer to you. Bryech and Orrin were the first to fall, Thrand fell trying to get to Ylsa and Rhodi. The Bastards got separated from us. Ylsa, Rhodi and I got trapped in this thick black tar that was like quicksand and we were sinking. I could still hear you screaming. The more I struggled in the tar the quicker I sank. Ylsa and Rhodi disappeared beneath the tar. I had just sank beneath the surface and couldn’t breath, it felt like a hand clawing at me pulling me down farther but I heard your voice calling me, telling me to wake up.”

I frown and kiss his forehead. “You’re awake and safe now. I am here. Why don’t you get up and I’ll switch out the warming stone and we can lay back down. “ He contemplates it for a moment before getting up. I wrap myself in a rabbit fur blanket and a knitted blanket and slip on my boots and take the cold stones and switch them for the warm ones by the fire, placing them in the knitted blanket. I can’t help but remember that I have dreamt of that black tar before. I frown as I stoke the fire and place another log on it to keep it going the rest of the night and go back inside.

“What’s wrong?” Stanrick asks as I place the stones.

“Its probably just coincidence that you and I are both dreaming of this black tar stuff. “ I state as I lay the furs back down over the warm rocks. Stanrick crawls back into bed and I crawl in after him and cuddle up close.

“Probably.” he states as he wraps his arms around me.

“I’ll keep track of it. We don’t even know if the tar stuff is real.” I state rationalizing it mostly for myself.

Stanrick kisses my forehead. “I know you will. Now get some sleep”

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Day 5:
We didn’t get as far as we wanted today. A little after mid day the cold came crashing down on us along with the snow. I am grumpy mostly because I was right in the fact that it was going to snow before we made it to Everspring. I finish converting the cart to a sled as there was already a good two inches on the ground and it doesn’t look like it going to be stopping anytime soon. I repacked the sled and put the tarp on over the top. I also got the tent up and staked to the ground before too much snow cover happened which was good cause the wind is whipping even if we are in the shelter of some trees. Stanrick had already gather a bunch of firewood and had started a fire and then went out for more as we both could feel the temperature continue to drop as the day went on. I was crouched over the fire melting snow to fill our bota bags with water when I hear crunching in the snow. The good thing about the snow is it makes it harder for things to sneak up on you. I see Stanrick come out of the trees with a stack of firewood on his back and a pair of hares in his hand.

He smiles at me “They came racing out from under a bush right next to me. Almost didn’t catch them.” He set the wood on the pile and hands me the hares. I take them and walk some distance away do a prayer for the prey then proceed to skin and gut them. I save the pelts to treat later so I can add them to the rabbit fur blanket. I walk over to the supplies and pull out some of my cooking wear and spices and proceed to cook a pair of hares and I have to say they were pretty good. I would of liked some potatoes or leeks or some such to make with them but you work with what you got.

We sit by the fire in silence just listening to the fire crack and the snow fall. I smile a little and snuggle in close. Stanrick wraps his arms around me. I can feel him work his hand under my tunic to keep his hand warm. It surprises me sometimes how natural and organic our relationship is. We don’t need to talk or entertain each other we can just be in each others presence and that is enough. I can feel his fingers trace a line on my stomach just below my belly button to the right side about half a palm length. Its the oldest scar I have.

“You going to tell me about this one?” He asks as he continues to play with the scar.

I squirm a little. The memory still hurts. Stanrick frowns at me as I stare down at my lap. It takes me quite awhile to work up the words to tell him.

“Mom and dad had just negotiated room and board for us in one of the northern settlements of Clan Shattered Spear in between the swamp and the ocean. We were still a good two days from Onsallas though we had just left the Watchwolves about day and half prior. We were actually heading to Onsallas to help with the pineed sap harvest so we could get more so Dad could make more bandages for trade. Dad and my first mate Torolf managed to snag a deer and a couple of pheasants which we split with the village as thanks for there hospitality. Asgier was asking me all sorts of questions as I was preparing the meal trying to be helpful. It was a fairly normal night all things considered. We had gone to sleep in the nearby storage house. I was awakened late in the night by the sounds of steel hitting steel. Torolf had already taken Asgier to a hiding place. I was alone in the house. I peer out the window to see my mother and my brother fighting creatures that I can barely describe. They were pale and had no eyes, their mouths opened larger than should have been normal. Some looked like fallen warriors though their skin was rotting and their eyes were milky white. Those that could wield magic, even though I was never hit with it, just being in its presence made my skin crawl. There was one who could wield magic and fought with a weapon that appeared to be made out of bone. I watched from the window as my brother was run through by it and dropped. I picked up my staff and charged out, begging Gaia to protect me and give me the strength to defend my family. Most of the creatures didn’t want to come near me for some reason though I have no idea what I did. Those that did and I managed to hit screamed in pain. I remember taking a mace to the hip and in the back before I put my staff through it face. I finally got to my brother and dropped down to start to heal him. I wasn’t paying attention and had no idea what was going on. So I didn’t notice when he started to move again, he sat bolt upright grabbed my shoulder and ran his dagger through my stomach. I locked eyes with him. I knew he couldn’t see me, his eyes were milky white. I panicked and placed my hands on his chest to push him way but when I did he twitched hard like I had stabbed him and he fell back down and didn’t move again. I know I had used magic on him but I didn’t know what I did.” I lean back against Stanrick and wrap my arms on top of his. I could feel the tears sting my eyes threatening to fall as I remember my brother laying there. “I remember staggering to the side of the building holding my stomach. I knew it wasn’t good. I was four months pregnant at the time, so I was trying to stop the bleeding and cast healing magic on myself before the trauma triggered a miscarriage. Either something waylaid me or a piece of the building fell on me I don’t know which but I remember seeing the ground coming up fast and then blackness. When I awoke Keres was there trying to heal me but it was too late my body had already started to go into labor. It was a girl, but she was still born. Keres tried to revive her but to no avail, she was just too small and it was too late. “ I could hear the crack in my voice and feel the tears on my cheek as I continued. “I named her Moira. Keres wrapped her in cloth and told me that there was a pyre in the middle of town for everyone. She had told me how the others died. My mother was found not far from where my brother had fallen, sword and shield still in hand trying to protect a young family who also didn’t make it. Dad was found pinned to a tree by magic, barely a mark on him but face twisted like he had died in agony, his quiver only a third empty. Torolf was found on the trail, sword in hand shot through the back with a half dozen arrows, when Keres moved the body is when they found Asgier under him. Torolf tried to use his own body to protect our son. One of the arrows had gone straight through Torolf and into Asgier. Keres did the rite for Moira and added her to the pyre. I remember crumpling to the ground screaming and just rocking with Keres holding me till I couldn’t scream anymore. Keres wiped her own tears away and asked me to take the survivors they found to a more safe location, I was in no condition to fight. How people survived carnage is beyond me. She told me to head north then east that the roads they came from are cleared and that the threat was heading south. I handed her the last of the pineed sap bandages that Dad had made and told her not to die too and we parted ways. We didn’t run into each other again till she came to fetch me from the Drunken Uncle saying I had been summoned by the Clan leader.” I swallow hard and pull myself back together.

“But that happened a little over a year ago, right?” Stanrick asked carefully.

I nodded “Yeah the scar looks older because I didn’t take good care of myself and didn’t keep the wound and bandages clean enough so it had gotten infected a week or so later. The healers weren’t happy with me. “ I sigh and look up out of habit and frown. The sky is still cloudy and snow continues to fall.

Stanrick pulls me close and holds me “Don’t worry I am sure they are there.”

I nod. “I know. They would make sure I saw them going home.”

We sit in silence for a little while longer when Stanrick turn to me and goes “Did you know they bite.”

I blink for a second “What?”

“The undead, they bite. Mordok bite and it hurts a lot. The Undead bite you it is like ten Mordok biting you at the same time. It the most painful thing I have ever felt and I got bit twice, once in the leg and once in the arm.” Stanrick untangles himself from me to go stoke the fire and add more wood. I dig in one of the bags next to me and pull out materials to make hot chocolate.

Stanrick continues his story as I warm up some water. “Fredrick was there to help or at least to keep me company as the healers use teas and leeches to tend the wounds. They had to use magic too, like it refused to be treated until both were used. I think the cure is almost as bad as the bite. Either way the scars disappeared when the Lich was killed. Nobody has been able to explain that. “

“Huh. Interesting.” I state and sip my drink. “The Bastards seem to always be there when shit goes really wrong.”

“Yeah they’re funny like that.” Stanrick smiles.

I sit and contemplate that for while as I finish my drink. Stanrick suddenly scoops me up and smiles at me “Enough of heavy talk. I am cold and I can think of a much better way for you to keep me warm.”

“Oh really now?” I smirk as he carries me to the tent.

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Day 7:
It was getting late the sky was still cloudy. I knew of a settlement not far from here. I stayed there often when traveling this stretch of road. This is a popular trade road that runs through Clan Goldenfield territory and connected it with Clan Riverhead and Clan Spiritclaw. I knew we were about half way through Goldenfield territory at this point. I must of let my gaurd down cuase I didn’t notice the Mordok till they came crashing out of the snow covered trees.

Stanrick was on them before I could even swing my staff around to help. He quickly dispatched them as I come racing up behind him to make sure he isn’t wounded.

“Where are the other two?” He pants at me.

“What are you talking about there are only three.” I state.

“No, there were two more.” He glances at me for a moment before he eyes dart around trying to find more Mordok.

“No beloved, see only three tracks and three depressions in the snow” I push back the brush with my staff to expose the three depressions in the snow where they were hunkered down waiting for us to get closer. Stanrick stalks over and I can see him kneeling down to examine the depressions and the track marks.

“Fine.” He huffs and stands back up. I think he is a little upset that there weren’t more to kill. The Mordok here are fierce but not like the ones near the Swamp. They are not has heavily armored and aren’t in as large of bands. I think Stanrick was expecting more of a challenge.
Stanrick goes to collect firewood to burn the corpses so they don’t contaminate Gaia. He insisted we burn them. I understand his logic. Its not wrong I fully agree that the Mordok are poison and damage Gaia. Especially after the recent dreams I been having. Though sometimes I think he forgets that I am a Daughter of Gaia and can cleans things and can do other magic than just heal. When he comes back I had drawn a large circle in the snow around where we are going to burn the Mordok, I was huddled over the my pack digging out my reagents.

“What are you doing?” He asks as he drops the wood and starts arranging it and the bodies.

“Gaia is in more than just the earth beneath our feet, she is in the air we breath, the water in the streams, fire in our souls. The Fire keeps them from contaminating the ground but what about the rest of it? “ I finally find what I am look for, a wooden box that has runes and symbols on it. I pull it out and pop it open and pull out a herb bundle. “Its a ritual to cleanse a space. It will keep the corruption from entering the other elements as well. “ Stanrick frowns at me. I don’t think he understand. I just sigh. “Go get more wood Stanrick. That wont be enough to even partially burn them in this cold.”

It is just after dark when we light the fire. Stanrick watches me as I light the herb bundle then blow it out so it smolders and start to walk around the fire clockwise arms held up to the sky.
Mother Gaia give blessings unto me, this rite in this space yours shall be.
Air of High Refine, Purify this place,
Fire Purge this divine space
Water protect this circle so its peace shall not be broken.
By the strength of my Soul, this prayer unto Gaia is spoken.

I walk the circle five times chanting the prayer. Its not the strongest of rites I know but will suffice for cleansing Mordok taint outside of the swamp. I know at least two more cleansing rites that are stronger. When I am done I step back from the circle and snuff out the herb bundle in the snow and store it away. Stanrick is just watching me, I can tell he is contemplating something cause he keeps clenching his jaw. I lean down to pick up the rope for the sled and he stops me.

“Let me this time. “ He picks up the rope and we start moving.

“There is a settlement about an hour or two up the road here. We can barter for lodging at the small inn there for the night” I state. He nods. He barely says two words to me for the rest of the trek. Whatever he is thinking about it must really be bothering him.

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Day 9:
“Just down this path.” I call back

“Where are you going Selena?” I hear Stanrick call.

“You will see” I call. I am a little giddy. We are about a day out from Everspring. I pause on the path and wait for Stanrick to catch up with the sled. I am taking him to my home grounds. Each pack has a place where their pack started. More precisely, for Clan Spiritclaw, a place where the pack chose their name. Some packs have forgotten where or how their names came about, some sites have been lost to Mordok. Pack sites are holy ground. The flow of Gaia’s energy to her children are stronger at these sites. This is why being cast out of your pack is such a high punishment, it means you will never be allowed to see your home grounds again and feel that really close connection to Gaia on top of never seeing your family again. This is especially devastating if you are a Daughter of Gaia. We are always connected to Gaia but we don’t really feel at peace until we are on our home lands.

Stanrick catches up, the sled is lighter now that we been on the road so long but its being unruly on this side path. Stanrick and I break through the tree line. The field opens for miles in all direction. The clearing could probably fit the entire Clan if it wanted to, so it easily fits the several hundred members of my pack and their tents for when we do Pack Moots here. In the center of the clearing jets a rocky structure many feet high. From the top one can get a mostly unhindered view of the sky from the horizon to horizon in a complete circle. Stanrick stops and looks around the clearing. I watch him shift warily side to side and I’m not sure if that is an unconscious reaction to the energy under his feet or if he is cold.

“What is this place?” He asks as I lead him closer to the rock in the middle so we can set up camp.

“This is the place where Pack Stargazer got their name. “ I smile “Help me set up camp and I’ll tell you the story while I cook dinner” I set up the tent while Stanrick went and got wood for the fire. I don’t know how he does it but he managed to also bring back a small deer as well. We build a slightly bigger fire than normal so we can smoke the meat we don’t eat and use it for trade once we get to Everspring. I also take a couple of nice cuts and set them aside for the ritual later. I cut up meat for the stew and set it all in the dutch oven with a couple of potatoes, onions and carrots that I had traded for a few days earlier when we were at the inn. I place the dutch oven on the fire to cook and move some coals on top. Stanrick is look at me as I cuddle up in his arms.

“So?” he asks

I smile “The sagas say that during the time when Gaia and the Great Wolf still walked with us, packs were still forming and names were still being chosen. The Mordok threat was great and the Children of Gaia and the Great Wolf rallied in small bands to protect the land. Hunting parties left and came back successful. During one such raid the unthinkable happened. The children were left in the den and the young mother we know as Jorunn was left to watch them while her mate and family went on the hunting party with the Great wolf and the Great mother. Upon their return the den was in ruins Jorunn lay broken and battered and barely alive next to the seven cubs who bodies were mutilated and barely recognizable. Between gasps of pain Jorunn told the story of how after the party had left the Mordok had ambushed the den from the other direction and that she was out numbered but fought to save the children. Distraught, Gaia went to Jorunn and laid her hand on her and healed her but when Gaia tried to revive the children their bodies were too broken. Jorunn’s howls of loss and pain drew the attention of Luna who came down and saw the carnage and cried tears of blood for the children, tinting her normally pale face red. Luna being able to see both this realm and the next, looked at Joruun and to her sister and told them that the children are still here and that she can see them even though their bodies are broken and no longer moving. She said she will take them with her to live with her in her domain. The Great Wolf, seeing the pain on his mate’s face and that of his children, stated that since the cubs were not given the chance to earn a name for themselves in life they can do so from the other side and asked his mate’s sister to place them in her realm so that we may still see them from this realm. Luna agreed. Luna gathered the broken bodies of the children, imbuing them with a fraction of her light and placed them in the sky as little points of light. Luna kept the cub close together in the sky so they are never far from each other so they are not lonely. Every night, Jorunn would go out and watch the little points of light, often from the top of this structure, which would wave at her from their place in the sky.” I look up from where I am and easily find the 7 points I am looking for and point “Those seven points there are what I think are the Seven Nameless Cubs. They constantly run around the star we refer to as the Den Parent, all the stars seem to go around this one star. Who the Den Parent was is mostly unknown. Some stories say it was the third child of the Gaia and The Great Wolf that was still born. Some say that it was a cub who was killed by his siblings. Some think that it is a child of Luna and an unknown father. “ I shrug.

Stanrick smiles at me. “That’s a nice story. So this is where the den was?”

I nod. “So we believe. There is a large cave that has glyphs in it under the outcropping of rock. We think that is where the den was. Our scholars debate if the glyphs are older than the rune language or not or if they worked in tandem. We do know they are not Mordok writing as my Pack has taken care of this land since time began and there has never been any sign that this land was once corrupted. ” I carefully take the lid off the oven and check on dinner. “Its ready.”

After dinner I have Stanrick help me by grabbing some extra firewood taking it to the cave with me. Once inside we find the burned out fire pit, clean it and rekindle the fire. Once lit, it reveals the cave in it simplicity. This cave could fit about thirty people. Ledges to the left and right side. The back wall is mostly smooth. The rock is one of the harder rocks found on Mardrun so how this cave came to be out of it is unknown.

“I have used this cave in a pinch as a temporary shelter when I’ve been traveling when its too late to pitch the tent or when the weather is too rough. Normally the Pack Priestess or Witch stays in the cave for the duration of the Pack moot, it is also used as a ritual site when the weather is inclement or for those of us that travel in winter. Normally the big rites are done at the top of the structure so the entire pack can see.“ I state as I set up my ritual gear. I watch Stanrick take a torch and walk over to the writing wall and look at the glyph. The glyphs take up a smooth section of the back wall. Stanrick turns and watches as I perform the homecoming ritual, or at least a single practitioner version of it. This is a smaller version of the rite we do at the Pack Moot. The large version honors Gaia, the Great Wolf, the First Pack and our Founder. It strengthens our bond with Gaia and casts a protective barrier around our lands so should Mordok try and take it the land is not easily corrupted and we have a chance to fight to take it back. It also said that the rite will also let the pack priestess or witch know that the land is in danger. The barrier lasts a year. This is why we do the Pack Moot every fall. This ritual normally involves a live sacrifice normally of a couple of deer or pigs which we then roast and eat at the big revel afterwards. The single practitioner version of it is similar but instead of casting the barrier it helps reinforce the barrier every time its casts and doesn’t require a live sacrifice. I missed the ritual this year, I was in Grimward territory working during our Pack Moot.

“To those that came before me, I offer these to you and ask for your forgiveness since I was not here to honor you properly. “ I place the nice cuts of meat that I saved from the deer on the fire as an offering. From my box I pull a candle and light it and place it before me. I also pull four stone arrow heads that I have hand carved from obsidian stone. I place an arrow head to the north. “I place this arrow to the north so that all bad forces may be ground to nothing by the earth.” I place one to the east and say “I place this arrow to the east so that all negativity may be blown away by the wind.” I place one to the South and say “I place this arrow to the south so that all ill feelings may be burnt up by flames” I place the last one to the west “I place this arrow to the west so that all harmful intent may be washed away by water.” I place my hand over the candle flame close enough that I can feel the heat. “By the power of my soul, I add to the shield of this place so nothing negative may enter. Let this shield remain all days and all the nights till the season comes around again.” I sit there a moment as I can feel the energy flow from me out into the earth. I quietly pack my stuff up and stand. I sway a little and I feel Stanrick grab my arm.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod “Yeah. Heavier rituals take a little bit more. I’ll be fine. Still not as bad as when the Idol was cleansed.” I lean my head on his shoulder a moment.

“Do you know what any of these glyphs mean?” Stanrick asks as he holds a light closer to the wall so I can see the glyphs.

“We think the one that looks like a hill is the symbol for Gaia, The one that has the hill with an upside down hill above it with the little tick marks on the hill is the symbol for the Pack or for the Ulven as a whole there is still debate about that. I been told the more complicated symbol that looks like it’s crying is the symbol for love. That is all that is really been figured out so far. With the outbreak of the War and with the current activity in the Mordok and the Corruption, we’ve been so focused on learning about what is going on a lot of our other clan research and learning projects got pushed to the wayside.“ I sigh. “Lets head back to camp. I am tired and could use a hot drink.” Stanrick nods and takes my hand and leads me out of the cave.

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Day 10:
In the morning we pack and finish the final leg of our journey to Everspring. Now, my work is about to begin.