Had it been days or weeks now? Had it been a month? The weather was grim, dark clouds were obscuring the light of the sun and rain had fallen since earlier in the morning. The hunter did not feel so well either, had he eaten something wrong? Perhaps it was the thrill that had led him to steal the horse, now turning to fear with the possibility that these charlatans would give chase? He placed his fingers on his sore head and squeezed his eyes shut. Gelert's barking had sounded louder and louder within his ears with each few paces. No wait.. those growls.. this wasn't Gelert. Did they run into a pack of wolves? He could hear a number of beasts howling in the distance? .. Wait! What was that?! A horn boomed on the horizon.. over and over. A sweat become to pour from the man's skin, familiarity and confusion were warring together in his aching mind. Where had Gelert gone off too? .. He placed his teeth on eachother and took his bow and arrow clumsily when a melancholy tune was being played on one of those instruments strung with horsehair the bards used. An occasional drumbeat thumped in the melody and he felt his heart beating. His breathing deepened and his eyes shot wildly from left to right. The forest he was in went still.. he turned around to check behind him.. and then once more.. and suddenly there he stood. A skin rough like bark, a beard long and resembling white moss, the figure sat there on a rock, staff clutched in big hands and eyes of piercing blue glanced into Kalf's being.
"You have left your story." The figure's voice rumbled. It sounded as if it may have been a question. Kalf felt something wet seeping down his neck, he touched the area with his fingers and he realised the old wound in his neck was bleeding. Kalf remembered that fateful day that seemed a lifetime ago, but in fairness it hadn't been overly long. Him on the doorstep of death, the same figure had appeared. "Return one day with a story." Something of the like the figure had spoken. And here he was, dying? No, what would he be dying off unless his wound reopened after all this time, an unlikely thing. He had only spent his time on hunting across the great mountains on either side and on top of them aswell. It had filled him with simple joy, but now it all appeared that this figure had been excpecting something of him. It hadn't occurred to him.
He stood upright and had wide eyes as the figure came close to him, a finger was placed on his forehead and the pain in his head vanished. He felt relieved in one way, but in another, something was amiss. Before he knew what happened one of the large hands pushed him on the chest and as if in a dream he fell back. He felt his back impact on the ground behind him, like a great splash he went under! The last he saw before he went under was the figure holding something in the hand that hadn't held the staff.
Kalf took a deep breathe, gasping as he felt wetness all around him.. He tried to get a sense of orientation of where he was and realised that some of the colour had gone out of his eyesight for some reason. He smelled Gelert's fur nearby. His loyal friend had dragged him by the tunic out of a stream shaped by the rain on the road. "That was a nasty dream Gelert..", he said, holding his head..
((Thanks to Valknutr for this one!))
