Oldborne

Two

The biting wind whipped at Eira's face as she surveyed the meager supplies laid out in the courtyard. A single horse-drawn sled, piled high with furs and a meager amount of dried rations, stood waiting. The harsh winter had taken its toll on their livestock, leaving them with only a single scrawny horse for the long journey south.

Bjorn shuffled around, his movements stiff with age, checking the straps on the sled. "We'll need to hunt along the way," he rumbled, his voice hoarse. "There's not enough here to last through the Spine of the World."

The Spine of the World, a formidable mountain range that separated the harsh northern territories from the more temperate south, loomed on the horizon, a jagged scar against the pale sky. Eira nodded grimly. Hunting would be difficult in this weather, the prey likely driven south by the relentless cold.

A young boy, barely past his teens, approached them, clutching a worn axe. It was Erik, Eira's younger brother. His face, usually bright with youthful energy, was pale and drawn.

"I'm coming with you," he declared, his voice trembling slightly.

Eira knelt before him, her eyes filled with concern. "Erik, this journey will be dangerous. You're needed here, to help keep our place running in my absence."

Erik's jaw firmed. "I can fight. I can help you hunt."

Eira knew arguing would be futile. Erik, fueled by a fierce protectiveness for his older sister, wouldn't be swayed. With a sigh, she ruffled his hair.

"Alright, you can come. But you listen to Bjorn and me, no arguments."

Erik's face broke into a grin. He hefted his axe with newfound determination, though it looked comically oversized in his small hands.

As dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, they piled into the sled. Eira took the reins, her gloved hands gripping the rough wood. Bjorn sat beside her, his weathered face etched with worry. Erik bounced in the back, his eyes wide with excitement and a touch of fear.

The journey south was arduous. The wind howled a constant dirge, carrying stinging snowflakes that lashed at their exposed faces. The horse struggled to pull the overloaded sled through the ever-deepening snowdrifts. Each day was a battle for survival, a constant search for food and shelter.

One night, huddled around a meager fire they'd managed to coax to life, Bjorn spoke in a low voice. "There's been talk amongst the traders," he said, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. "Whispers of strange happenings in the south, storms of unnatural fury and sightings of creatures thought long extinct."

Eira felt a shiver crawl down her spine. The harsh winter was one thing, but these rumors spoke of something more sinister, something that defied natural explanation.

"Do you think it's connected to the prophecy?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Bjorn shrugged, his one good eye clouded with uncertainty. "The prophecy speaks of a great calamity, Eira. What form it takes, only the gods know."

They continued their journey in a tense silence, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them. As they crossed the foothills of the Spine of the World, the landscape became even more treacherous. The air grew thinner, the wind fiercer. The once-familiar path was now obscured by snowdrifts, forcing them to rely on Bjorn's keen sense of direction.

One day, as they navigated a particularly treacherous pass, a guttural roar shattered the silence. A massive avalanche triggered by their passage thundered down the mountainside. Eira screamed, pulling the horse as hard as she could. The sled lurched forward, narrowly avoiding the edge of the cascading snow.

The horse whinnied in terror, its legs flailing. Suddenly, the ground beneath them gave way. The sled plunged down the slope, a sickening lurch in Eira's stomach as they tumbled through the air. The world became a blur of white and blue, the roar of the wind drowning out all other sound.