A Wolf's Passage

[Kaybrie]

Prelude: Heir to Nothing

. . .Howling wind bellowed at the mouth of the rocky cave, too small for any but a half man to walk through but deep enough to make a temporary hole. A mass of brown and grey fur stirred within, growling at the winds intrusion on its sleep. The rays of Lathander's blessings upon the land bled through the hole, drawing the creature to slowly ascend from the darkness.

. . .From the fur first to emerge was a head of dark matted hair crowning the pale face of a woman, a northern barbarian here alone in the wastes of the Dale. Her strong bushy brow rested atop a pair of piercing blue eyes, flanking her broad nose and all framed by a well defined jaw. She was thickly built down her torso, arms and legs, everything about the woman bespoke a raw defined power.

. . .Turning back to her cave she hauled out a bundle of leather along with an axe, shortbow and its accompanying quiver. She slipped a dagger from her bundle into her belt and looked down into the valley beyond. The dead brown earth of winter was broken in the nearby landscape by tooth like rocks breaking up through the frozen ground. A forest of green trees that could survive the harsh winters so far up the mountains added the only vibrant color to the landscape, broken regularly by skeletal tree's clawing skyward for their share of light, and diminutive brush capable of sustaining smaller vermin.

. . .She began a quiet round of the area, stalking quietly into the woods her eyes lazily wandering about her as she surveyed the still lands with passing interest. She would cast her gaze in the direction of every sound made around her: the distant birds, a wolf's howl, the trunk of an old tree snapping, finally giving way to the icy climate. She could hear in the far distance what sounded like shouting and paid it no mind. A caravan being raided by orcs, battle between warring tribes, an expedition being assailed by unnatural creatures, it didn't much matter to her.

. . .She checked the traps she set one by one. Most had yet to be sprung, another was destroyed leaving a bloody mess in its wake... a predator likely got it before her.

. . ."... You're welcome." She remarked in a sardonic tone to whatever had claimed her breakfast.

. . .She came at last to a little wooden cage within which was a tiny ball of white puffy fur. A pair of black beady eyes staring out of the prison, twitching with each of the barbarian's lumbering steps. The shouting was growing louder as she walked though she was certain she wasn't moving toward it's cause.

. . .Leaning down over her trap she drew forth her lengthy knife, cutting the strings holding the trap shut before quickly reaching inside to grab the long eared animal. She's respectful to the creature even with her intent to kill it.

. . ."May your spirit sustain mine today rabbit. I thank you for your sacrifice." And she did what survival required of her.

. . .She worked her knife tirelessly until everything was used up or sealed away in a pigskin bag for her to cook later. Only once she was done was the quiet of her morning interrupted by encroaching foot-padding. She stood to her full height and began a slow stroll around the tree's and brush to get a better look at her oncoming visitors. She heard a woman's voice, heaving and exhausted... she didn't scream or cry out though, wise enough not to attract more attention. And more powerful, guttural snorts sporting laughter and cruelty at their assumed catch. She recognized the orcs for what they were before they even came into view, they were one of many creatures she would not tolerate intruding on her hunting grounds.

. . .The woman crested the hill coming out onto the Uthgardt's plateau as she hefted her axe lazily in her right hand looking down the way. Her hair was short, white as fresh fallen snow while her skin had barely a hint of color to it. She wore furs, and was smaller, holding a bloodied spear in her one hand with her other outstretched for balance on the broken ground. Her pace slowed a moment as she found herself caught between her onrushing pursuers and the towering Uthgardt, hands still covered in blood from her earlier work.

. . .The barbarian gave the girl a curt nod, waving a hand to her left as she adjusted the grip on her axe. The albino girl moved a safe distance to the Uthgardt's side whom had already begun a slow stride past her, greeting two oncoming Orcs with all of the courtesy of a bear who's cave had just been intruded upon. Their pace slowed to a halt twenty paces back from her, the larger of the pair took another aggressive step forward roaring and brandishing a cleaver stained with rust and blood in equal measure.

. . ."Get out of my forest." She issued a non-warning, her hand letting her axe slide down until she griped the handle at the very end.

. . .Her pace hadn't slowed in the slightest. To the albino girl looking on it appeared as though she had no intention of giving the orcs a moment to decide let alone a chance to leave. The larger orc howled and charged while the other seemed cowed a moment, unsure of how to act.

. . .The Uthgardt arrogantly ignored the creatures oncoming cleaver driving the top of her blade up into the Orc's jaw, grunting aloud and wincing as it with equal fervor drove its blade between her ribs. She pulled her axe back then hacked it into the side of its neck as it barreled into her then sagged to the side and collapsed in a heap. The cleaver still stuck between her ribs gave the second orc a brief spark of courage. Although to it's chagrin it was met with the woman screaming in a blood rage hacking through the spear in a single mighty strike. As her swing completed her free hand drew to her belt retrieving then punching her dagger through the creature's skull.

. . .A few frosty breaths escaped the Uthgardt's lips as she released her knife and let the orc drop to the ground. Her axe slipped from her fingers a few moments later as she felt her strength draining away with the blood from her wound. A rock caught her heel and she tumbled onto her back, head pounding against the frozen earth. Her vision grew blurry as darkness overcame the corners of her sight and she lost consciousness.

[Kaybrie]

. . .The atmosphere had become utterly stifling, each breath came as difficult as the last as an unfamiliar pain jarred the woman's ribs. She sucked in a breath through her teeth and lifted first her shoulder then the rest of her arm as she wiped her hand up and over her head. The furs that had been arranged there were tossed in a pile behind her, allowing her a moment to catch her breath.

. . .The cool air washed over her face like a splash of river water on a hot summer's day. It provoked her demeanor to almost relax a moment before the memories of combat came rushing back to her. Her eyes turned to the fire which had been made neatly to her side, then to her left she found her weapons assorted neatly astride one another. Her elbows pushed against the ground to lift her though another bolt of pain, a sharp gasp and the weariness of her body gave way before her need to get up.

. . ."Be still for now, my magic has but removed the poison that was choking your life. Your wound will take more time to heal." Beyond the fire she saw the the ghostly woman haunting just beyond the light's reach.

. . .She lifted the furs binding her chest to see the familiar bloody wound, bound under leather strips that had been tied about her chest. She dropped the furs and sighed heavily as a moment of realization dawned upon her, though she quickly turned her attention toward her would-be savior.

. . ."The wolves will smell this blood, it's not safe in the open." The ghost lifted her hand and shook her head. "I doused you in a potent potion that will keep the locals away."

. . .Another moment of quiet went by before the woman elaborated. "Dire bear urine."

. . .There was a long pause between the pair before the pale woman continued further. "You smelled awful anyways." The ghost's face remained obscured by flickering flame and shadow, though it sounded almost insultingly matter-of-fact.

. . .The Uthgardt drew in one more deep breath, though sputtered into a number of coughs before she chuckled gently. "Whatever's works, eh?" She let her humors get the better of her for the moment.

. . ."My name is Aesa." It sounded almost strange to say it aloud again. So many seasons had passed since she had last had use of her name. The ghost perked up a bit though, examining the larger woman carefully for a time before replying curtly; "Keehra."

. . .Aesa nodded, and laid flatly against her back again with her eyes staring up toward the night sky, watching color flicker at the edge of her vision. The night passed into morning quietly then, one journey having finally come to an end.

[Kaybrie]

. . .The moon waxed as chills began to sweep across the land, the spiritual vanguard of Auril trumpeting a reminder to all the denizens of the Dales of her dominion. A culling of the weak and unworthy who lived upon what were ultimately her lands.

. . ."Why do you hound me across the slope of these mountains?" Aesa's voice was curious as it was demanding to the ghostly woman following her tracks. It had been more then two tenday since they had met and the barbarian still knew almost nothing about the girl, save her name and connection to the spirits.

. . .Fresh fallen snow from the eve before impeded her progress, though she still kept a strong pace stomping along the mountain ridge. Having departed her plateau the Uthgardt were moving south as they could, descending the mountains and doing what they could to make their way further from the biting cold. Winter was closing in faster then Aesa expected and she knew that she would not survive a second season of Auril blasting the land so far to the north, with or without her second shadow.

. . .Keehra in this time had remained largely silent, offering short answers where she wished and a vacant stare when Aesa prodded for her motives or past. She followed and pointed out hidden paths and offered insights into the thoughts of surrounding spirits. Indeed Aesa speculated that the ghostly woman lived with a foot in both worlds, beyond and about. She had seen the likes of ethereal shamans before though she had never been so close to one for so long. It was unsettling for a woman largely grounded in the material.

. . .Hours past and they crested a rise, finding themselves standing on the final snowy mountain peak descending into the southern lands. The land of the soft and weak, a land where bountiful food that need only be plucked from a tree that would not fight back, where the air was that of warmth and ease. A vast array of lush green and clear distant blues were alien to Aesa's eyes, like looking into another world entirely. She touched the center of her chest, just below the sternum where there was now no pain save a memory of her carelessness.

. . .It was where she belonged. Anyone who was not fit to survive alone in the northern Dales would either give in to death or enact a change. She chose the latter.

. . ."You're leaving the north?" A wispy voice spoke softly from behind her. She turned to examine the albino quietly for a few moments, heavy boots shifting the dry snow into a depression about her feet. It was the first question she had heard from the girl since they first met. It caught her off guard as an accusation as much as an inquiry.

. . ."Aye, there's nothing left for me here. These lands are for the dead, and warlords whom wish to rule over nothing." The towering woman stepped back and turned around, beginning a slow descent down the slope of the mountain. "You may lose yourself down there." The girl spoke another accusation, she could hear the voices of her once tribe echoing the sentiment. She rubbed her jaw as a distant memory jarred an old ache.

. . ."I am going to find myself. Follow or stay in these wastes, I care not which."