From Ashes and Snow

Dratlan.

'My story will be told whether I want it to or not. So I will tell it to those who ask, because the lies about me will spread further if I remain silent' -  Aviana Birchwood. 

Chapter One: Dratlan.

I had told him that confronting a mother bear for a slab of meat was a bad idea. A whimper sounded deep within the dark confines of the stable-stall, but I could see a pair of amber eyes fixed pitifully on me from the gloom.

A cold wind rattled through the wooden boards of the stables, masking my sigh. The golden light of the winter sun was rising, and its light spilled over the dull-white walls of Dratlan Keep and glittered across the snow that had freshly fallen during the starless night.

I knelt beside the open door and tossed in a slab of fresh meat, where the blood could still be wrung from it. Our horses were penned further down in the stables, where they couldn't balk at the predators. There was a rustle of disturbed straw before those eyes rose and came closer. From the gloom, my first hound approached.

His onyx fur melded into the darkness around him as he stalked out, thick claws curling onto the stone. His fur was thick and heavy to protect him from the cruelty of winter. Broad shoulders bunched, the muscles shifting under the layers of warmth as he dipped his broad head to survey me closely.

"Good morning, Zeer."

Eyes riveted on me, he seized the meat and hauled it back into the stables, where a round of snarling erupted when his brother tried to fight for a bite.

"Arno." I called warningly. "Your mood has gone on long enough."

Another pair of eyes fixated on me. Arno's approach was slower. Cautious. Noiseless paws found their way to me as the oldest of the two hounds found his way to the light. Arno's fur was only slightly lighter than Zeer's: it was a speckled charcoal dispersed with strays of onyx and white. The fur along his thick back was raised slightly, his head dipped in a challenging mood.

On his rump, a nasty wound was finally beginning to heal. It had taken our healers best pastes and healing casts to mend the gaping wound Arno had gotten that had been inflicted by a mother bear protecting her kill and her cubs.

I held out my hand cautiously, my chin tipped upwards and I waited for him to respond. For a moment he only stood there. Kneeling meant that Arno looked down on me, and the pitch of his amber eyes would make anyone else nervous to be at a disadvantage in front of him. Another paw pressed forward, and Arno's snout pushed against my palm.

I slid my hands into his thick fur, a smile splitting my face. Arno's long tail swung, almost grudgingly before I shifted and handed him his hunk of meat. Long, thick fangs snapped downwards, slicing through fat and tissue. His mood shifted completely, and a snarl curled at his muzzle as he hauled the food back into the stall. I could hear them eating and occasionally grumbling at each other, both greedy enough to want the other's food.

When I left the stables, there was someone waiting for me. Kendon didn't acknowledge my presence for a moment, choosing to stare calmly at the distant hills were the valley interlocked. Dratlan was contained safely within the bare valley, hidden among the hills.

Kendon shifted his attention to me. In this light, his eyes were a shocking shade of crystal blue. They were always so luminous, brightening further when he smiled. Just like he was now. His pale blond-white hair was braided perfectly and hung down his back like a horse-tail.

"How does Arno fare, Avi?"

I toyed with the straps of his armour absently. "He is still angry that we locked him up, but he is healing."