Kill on sight—I never liked the term— all creatures deserve to live their lives. No matter how long or short; their existence is there for a reason. There is a time and a place for them to shine above all things surrounding them: Kill on sight, that was not the first thing that passed through me the first time I seen him. The Titan Wolf was the largest I'd ever seen, and their name was cast by ancient prophets who died in the bitter Winter's that follows the mountain pass as an ever-constant storm. They are known for their fatal hunting skill and abominable nature to outsiders. In my opinion, no different save for size to that of the normal wolf.
Clearly fear gave them their reputation, and fear is easily derived of anyone or anything with something to lose.
It is not weak to show fear, but there is a fine difference between blind ignorance that leads to fear; and the desire to prepare yourself should it ever darken your door again. Some, never learn.
This Winter chose it's prey—with a storm that was unrestrained in it's violence; drifts of snow crawled high along the mountain walls, breathing a bone-chilling wind that screamed like the Banshee and cut your flesh like Hyborian-steel, the sunless demise to all plant life and creatures who could not survive the terrain. If you did not know your way through this Labyrinth of ice, Death would find you, and her hand would not be kind.
Ice broke in crystal clusters as large as boulders from distant thunder and shock wave vibration of the element as it cried it's torrent of rage. The lake so far and wide from beginning to end that you could not see it's opposite shore, not in the slight visibility left. I was but one of five souls who had taken company of these travels, the other four were far more hesitant than I to follow across the glassy, snow-crushed surface of the lake. Yet, they followed as they always did, and I was grateful for their company.
The narrow pass through Snow Devil Glacier brought our path near Sigtoma, which was equally as unforgiving as it's Northern brethren; I knew this, any traveler or Hunter worth his weight in coin knew that this was no pleasant trail through a flourishing forest. I understood that this trek may prove difficult for the citizens who bravely offered their assistance, but doubted heavily that they questioned themselves or the magnitude of what exactly it was I asked of them, before accepting the task. They learned, quickly.
"Sonja, this will kill us all if we do not find shelter!" His voice pressed the matter of an utmost importance. An old man, withered and holding captive a walking stick that was by that point as age-worn as his face. Wrinkled and still tightened from the cold and his squinting leer beyond my shoulder to see what was ahead; no more than a foot or so behind the thrashing leather of my cape. Tarik was a brilliant man in his time, but time had been his enemy for years now.
This had brought him to a time-line of discomfort and mourning once his wife had passed. A man of weaponry, a blacksmith who's hands had crippled not long after the death of his first and only mate of seventy-five years. Being one of few offering their services to aide me in this event. Did I feel guilt for his suffering? Yes. Would I turn back because of his ailments? No.
"Where is the nearest Inn Tarik? Lead us and I will gladly wait a fortnight for all of your energy to renew itself, " A fortnight was something we did not have, Tarik knew this. And for his comfort, I turned and took the burden of wind upon my face long enough to embrace his shoulder with my gloved palm. Looked upon him, not as a mother, but as a friend. "it will not be long before we are across the lake and well into the forest again. There, we can find shelter." Tarik let out a tired breath, pulled at the hood of his cowl and produced a crooked, half smile.
My reassurance sated his concern—for this old man knew me well, far better than the others within our group that I was true to my word; and that regardless the circumstance, I never lie to soothe. The hour of dusk was drawing close, and however garish the surroundings; the sky bled gray with pregnant clouds heaving great thunder so loud it made nerves uneasy and bodies jump in tenseness, it was beautiful but deadly. This was comfortable terrain for myself, so I found it as no surprise that the Southerners following in my shadow were not so easily maintaining. I could not offer them comfort, but I could offer them a way home, safely.
The bray of the snow beneath our weight asking so humbly for mercy, yet none could be given, for it showed none to us as it fell in thick crests, threatening our survival. We were guests in this kingdom of ice, and whatever beasts therein reigned so proudly and fiercely. He appeared to me a black silhouette through billowing drifts. The chill that followed upon the wind sucking heat from every warm join of my body, and the bodies of others who stopped the second they realized I had fallen still once more.
I do not believe it was the sub-zero temperature alone that caused my blood to grow cold, loss of body-temperature only activated certain portions of your body to work harder in order to fight against freezing to death. No, I speak of an adrenaline that causes hairs to stand on end, and the taste of rust upon your tongue. Fear. It is a well known emotion, and one that bled freely from the pores of Tarik and the others who adventured with me. Even I could smell it dripping from them like bath water.
"What is it?!" Tarik snorted a breath hard enough that I could see remnants of his exhale escape in a violent torrent over my shoulder. My eyes were focused, staring through the ever-constant thrash of snow and the mass of darkness slowly emerging from a mere fifteen yard distance or less. "Do not move, do not run. He will give chase and He will kill you."
"A Titan Wolf?!" Tarik yelped to the others, who looked as though the initial plan was to run from the visual impact. The wolf stopped, did not budge upon it's massive paws; but rather leered upon all of us as if it were prepared to spring. It was not until it began to growl, that I reached for one of the young women's wrists, urging her to stay so still.
She was shivering, scared to the degree that it seemed the Winter temperature made not a difference. A girl, protege to a life long friend whom was left sightless, yet still as brave as myself and bringing up the flank of our party. Pesh.
She formed the wall that kept the rest from running like hunted prey. "Sonja, we have to get out of this storm, " Pesh reminded me, her face hidden beneath the veil of her hood, only the frail color of her lips visible to me, for she kept her eyes averted from anyone's attention, "we must turn back!"
"NO! It is too late for that now!" I reminded her, to turn back now would be folly, would render us frozen to death by the deep, dark dawn that never knew sunlight within this tundra. The wolf was not pleased by consistent voices, a stirring of what was once song and praise from Winter Gods. Disturbed. Spoiled. You could see it in his eyes, those amber eyes, slits from the range in which his lids were lowered in avoiding the bitter snow; targeting, glaring, directly at me.
---- To be continued.
