Shadow in the Snow

Wolfsbane

    Crow didn't pass as comfortable a night as his friends had. There was no roaring fire or soft blankets to warm him, nor was there another person there to offer him any comfort. Just the small fire next to him, and even it was dying out now. His night was spent much the same as the last several had been; restless and lonely, only now there wasn't even the voices and laughter of the other men to break the still around him. Just the whistling of wind. He shivered a little as he stared up at the stars – or at least what few of them he could see through the ceiling of tree branches above him. Autumn had come and winter would follow soon, long before he was ready for it. On top of trying the impossible task of hunting down not only a Wyvern, but a very specific Wyvern, Crow had to find a way to survive here. There was a large part of him that wanted to ignore all of that and find the beast, get its head, and run before winter even started, but he knew that it wasn't possible. He had to try everything he could do to live long enough to complete his quest and get back to Snow, even if it meant taking longer than he'd hoped.

    That is, if he could do it all.

    Crow had known from the beginning this was a suicide mission. A tiny, shameful, thought crept into his head and it advised him to listen to what Snow had said and just leave and never come back. No. He purged that thought from his head the moment it entered. That was never going to be an option.

    He huffed a sigh. At least he couldn't see his breath... yet. But he blinked and saw something else out in the tree line. Something worse.

    He was staring into a pair of yellow eyes.

    Crow flew to his feet and grabbed his axe in one fluid motion. He couldn't tell exactly what was out there but this was the Wildlands; chances were good it wasn't going to be friendly.

    He flipped the axe over in his hand, never breaking eye contact. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's get this over with."

    There was no way he was going to die, not yet. Not on his first night here. But if fate decided she wasn't done twisting him in cruel hands, determined to squeeze out what little life and joy was still in him, then at least he wouldn't let it end without a fight.

    He didn't have to wait long. Crow barely registered the giant beast as being a wolf as it lunged out of the trees and towards him, its teeth curled in a wicked snarl. He side-stepped it and swung, hoping to use the wolf's momentum against it but it dodged him with more grace than he'd expected. A quiet curse escaped his lips. An axe. He had to fight a wolf with an axe. He'd been so wrapped up in his own internal problems that he hadn't even thought about the fact that the Master didn't bother to give him any better weapons; no bow, no arrows, not even a spear. The only other weapon he had was a hunting knife, more suited for skinning than killing and certainly less helpful than the axe. If this wolf fight was nearly impossible, how would he ever kill a Wyvern?

    They circled each other. Wary. Crow knew he wasn't only disadvantaged by his weapon; the only light he had was the little fire near his bedroll and he was sure he couldn't see near as well as the beast. But by the small amount of light it offered, he could see the wolf was not as big as he had thought. It was thin, too thin, and covered in scars. A wolf with no pack desperately hungry enough to attack some foolish human that walked into the WIldlands. Crow would've almost felt sorry for it if it wasn't standing between him and survival.

    They moved at the same time and as Crow ran for the fire, kicking burning embers onto the fur of the wolf, he felt claws dig through cloth and flesh and let out a growl of irritation. The wolf growled too and shook the embers from its fur. Crow cursed again. He'd hoped to catch the beast in the face with the embers but he hadn't been fast enough. Fine. If he couldn't be faster than it, or stronger, he'd just have to be smarter. Without taking his eyes off of the wolf, he reached for the rope that hung by his side and unwound it slightly as they continued to walk that slow circle around the small clearing Crow had chosen for his camp.