Hunter Sky

Chapter 18 - The Will To Become Stronger III

On the third week of the month, just another week standing between the commencement of the Third Great Tournament.

Jirell traveled all the way back to Westham alone in hopes of improving his abilities further by training in the harsh conditions of the cold climate, while staying far from all the drama that was distracting him.

He lied to everyone back in Northwell, including his training partner Lea, telling them he went to visit an ailing aunt that lived far from his home village in the Westham province. In truth, he had no other relatives that he knew of, or at least so he thought.

He arrived back at his home, standing at the entrance sign looking across the snowy landscape.

Flocks of birds took to the skies swerving around in all kinds of shapes, gliding over the trees and dead plants in the distance before the great mountains and hills of the horizon.

The frosted air attacked him with its waves of wind, but Jirell stood unmoved by its attempt, his usual apathetic expressions colder than the wind itself.

He walked along the trail with a leather satchel over his back, on the only piece of soil not covered by the seas of snow in a swerved line leading to the village of Lankshire.

Now that he was alone this time, memories ran amuck in his mind as he walked through the quiet village, looking at the homes which seemed as if no one was inside.

Matter of fact, he found it strange the road was also empty. Where did everyone go?

Empty carts and wagons laid at the side of the huts, the chimney's on the cottages had no smoke, and the slippery snow dirt road was without humankind.

Lankshire was not a large village with great numbers of people, but still, it was odd not a soul was in sight.

Jirell walked with caution as he took his dragon hilt dagger from his satchel and shoved it between his trousers, and his eyes panned left to right looking at the lifeless huts and cabins.

Eventually, he heard the chatter of voices down further past a storehouse, and when he got there he saw a crowd spread out across the corners of the village square, looking at five people who stood in the center, everyone dressed in fluffed coats or multiple layers of animal skin clothing.

Jirell walked up to the crowd and stood at the back. What could have gotten the entire village to gather in the square? Was there a council? Was it the coming-of-age ceremony? Or maybe a hearing? He thought.

His eyes then narrowed at the village chief's son, Katar, who stood in the center before four other men with long scruffy beards.

"We warn you people of Lankshire! The Great White Fang has returned to retrieve its land! Flee from here now whilst you can! Or else your village will end up like ours!" one of the bearded men yelled in a calm voice.

Katar rubbed his chin. "Are you sure your village was not attacked by raiders?"

Jirell's eyes scanned through the crowd in search of the village chief. What was Katar doing handling matters above him?

Another man flashed his arm detestfully. "No! It was the White Fang! I came face to face with the great beast, and look what I survived with," the man opened his coat and lifted up many layers of clothing to reveal four deep slash marks in his sunken chest.

The entire crowd gasped at this sight and the women looked away, while irell inspected the scars with his eyes curiously from where he stood.

Katar covered his gag with a hand at the sight of torn flesh. "That is not right. Have you been treated?"