Winterfang Chapter 6
Sunlight spilled down the half rotten roof of the old castle, and onto the old wolf. He tried to open his eyes, but the sharp light hurt them, he squinted, gave a long stretched out yawn. The remnant of the hooded human's tune still drifting in his mind. Lazily the wolf got up, stretched his legs, it was quiet around him, he noticed where the fire had burned the previous night. There was no sign of the hooded human, or the female wolf.
Just as the wolf decided that it was time for him to move on to finding the elf, the hooded human and the wolf came through the entrance of the innermost courtyard, and by the look of the pheasants hanging from the man's shoulder the wolf concluded that they were out hunting. Pity, he thought to himself, he could have used a good run to loosen his old legs. . .
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As the human walked through the gate of the ruined castle, and into the inner most courtyard, he noticed the wolf looking at him. It has been a while since he wondered what happened to the old wolf after he left the camp. It could not be mere coincidence that the wolf was here. He went over to where he made the fire the previous night. He looked around for some more fire wood.
What was at play here? First an elf attacked and almost killed the wolf, something that was against any elf's code, then he disappeared with no trace. And now the very same wolf just happens to appear, seemingly out of nowhere. And lately his dreams were plagued by the same dark figure over and over again.
The human started a fire, and proceeded in cleaning the pheasants he and the female wolf hunted earlier in the morning, he also removed a large leather satchel filled with fresh mountain water.
He uncorked the satchel and poured some water into two clay bowls, and set it down for the wolves to quench their thirsts.
In all his life, he has never seen a wolf like this one, he was a larger and stronger than most he had encountered, and he had encountered his fair share of wolves. Certainly no longer a young wolf, the old wolf still had strength in his limbs, the muscles rippled on his neck and face, as he lapped up the cold mountain water, his eyes constantly regarding his surroundings. And the female wolf.
After he fed himself and the two wolves, he thought that he would stretch out under a tree in the courtyard, and just rest his eyes for a while, he removed his flute, and pressed it to his mouth, closed his eyes, and starting playing a song.
Memories flooded his mind, things that happened, and now seem so far away, and long ago. Things that will remain with him for all eternity. He was not always a wanderer, a vagabond. There was once a time when he had a family, a piece of land of his own. As the music flooded the air, his mind drifted back to that day when everything went wrong. When They came.
He was working in his grain field, his wife and two boys were out in the fruit tree orchards, picking fruit, when he saw a company of figures approaching swiftly. He recognized the insignia immediately, The Grey Elves. He was no friend of the elves, but he respected them. They were a fierce and noble race. If they were here, it could only mean one thing: War was coming.
As he went out to greet them, he noticed that something was different, something was not right with this company of elves, they seemed darker than usual. He greeted them in their mother tongue, for he was fluent in many languages, having studied under an old wise man when he was younger.
They did not reciprocate his greeting, they came to a sudden halt. One of the elves looked straight at him, readied a bow, and strung an arrow and aimed it at him. Fear gripped him, and he turned around and started running towards his house...
He tried shouting a warning to his family, but he knew that it would not matter, they were too far away. A sharp pain shot through his body, and he fell to the ground , everything blackening around him, as he felt the hot blood run down his neck.
A sudden noise, brought him back to reality, and as he opened his eyes, another hooded figure was standing over him, holding a sword to his throat...
Both the wolves, jumped up from where they were taking a nap, both bared their teeth at this new stranger threatening the human. The female seemed especially aggressive towards the stranger. Without thinking twice she charged at the mysterious figure, closing in, she jumped and knocked the stranger to its feet, she turned around, charging a second time, and as the stranger was struggling to get up, the female wolf was on top of it, her jaws locked around its arm, and the figure gave a loud scream. In all the fuss, the mysterious stranger's hood had fallen back, and as the human got to his feet, he saw that it was a woman, black hair fell around her, and he shouted a command to the female wolf, she reluctantly let go of the woman's arm, and went and took a sat down the woman's feet.
The man walked over to her, kicked the sword she dropped away from her, his short sword drawn, as he approached the whimpering woman, he pointed the sword at her throat. His eyes drilling into hers: "Not so nice to have a sword pointed at your throat? Is it?"
The female looked at him, fear and disgust written all over her face "Maybe you should keep your pet on a leash, she could have killed me"
The man gave a chuckle, sheathed the short sword and held out his hand to the female, "You are lucky that she didn't, and she is not my pet, she is my companion, so is the other wolf, well sort of, it's actually only the second time that I have seen him, but that is a story for another time." Only then did the woman notice the other wolf, staring at her angrily. "Let me dress that wound, I have some medicine in my bag. It should keep infection out"
The woman slapped away his outstretched hand, and gave him some snide remark. He just shook his head, and walked away as she hastily got up, and followed the man, noticing the two white wolves looking at her menacingly.
