Wolf

The following words were called loud and relentlessly into the darkness of midnight many, many years ago, in the time of the Long Winter, T.A 2759. Ice and snow fell from the sky upon the woman scorned; the moon veiled by the blackest of clouds and the whitest of mist, and her voice the harbinger of doom and ruin upon the world and her lover, the one who had left her in the cold as she lay in childbirth, screaming of thirst, of hunger, and of pain.

Music

Music

She had not fully woken to her strength yet, the lone wolf, the sleeping wolf who hunted soft pawed in the dream-lands, pale grey eyes glimmering in the dark. 

It was in the limited light of foredawn I approached our point of assembly; a place we had convened on many a morning at exactly the same time. As I suspected, our youngest and most flamboyant comrade was already there, waiting upon his favoured perch. As I entered the stone enclosure, he looked up from his journal and lifted a hand to tip his elegant, feathered hat in his usual greeting.

In mountains cold and forests old,

far away the beast yet roams. 

From whence it came or is to go,

none would dare tell.

Many warriors tried to match the beast,

Alas! One by one they fell.

​Addramyr! A Athramar!

Gilith vi chín lín,

Vaalea met by chance this tall woman with a mysterious aura about her, Ulfey her name was. The last time Vaalea had met her, the woman had given her a jar of some salve for the unnaturally sickly wound in her palm. The woman had said she was a healer and the wound in Vaalea’s hand had indeed healed strangely quickly after she had started the treatment. She merrily presented now the results to Ulfey. 

After chasing the wolf through the forests and fields with no luck of catching it, Vaalea stomped back in to the forest and started a vigorous search for a certain kind of wood. She needed a tree of certain age, of certain strength and of certain flexibility and it had to be fallen a certain time ago. She did not eat nor rest, before she finally found one. A tree trunk, fitting for a perfect bow. She had done a few bows back in her youth with Aika, the bow maker of her tribe, and she remembered the instructions well.

Vaalea was picking firewood. She had piled old dry branches upon her forearm and now ripped a few fistfuls of last year’s dry hay from the ground for kindling. A lot had happened since the Spirit had spoken to her in her dream. She had found the ’tumbled hall being remade’ but not this Tyrgrim. Tall man with a beard and furs she had been told by Hrothulf, but such was the description of half the men she had encountered.