Spontanéité

Nocturne // taster

Again, it's been so long since my last update. What I've got here, though, is something I wrote as the folio piece for yet another creative writing unit I did, this time this year (2019). It is also the first chapter of a WIP I haven't uploaded to Wattpad yet. Aaand, it's a complete reworking of the 'Winter' piece I published in this same collection. Well, kinda. It's like a prequel. Anyway, here it is, enjoy :).
***

She stood unmoving, dark eyes fixed on the jagged horizon. Trees formed an uneven, bristling shadow over harsh slopes stiff with ice, and behind them the Fire lingered, daring her to look at it directly in its descent from the beyond.

Dagny.

She turned to face the man standing behind her, tilting her head in acknowledgement of her name. Hm?

Think they'll attack tonight?

Considering they've been stirred up by dragon-cries, she rolled her eyes, yet again, yes.

His gaze slid past her. Great. More villager-defending, he muttered.

A puff of air escaped her nostrils before fading away. Wordlessly, she turned on her heel and started down the slope, and after a moment, he followed. Neither of them made any sound or left any footprints, the snow unmoving beneath their bare feet.

They remained silent as the village came into sight; a huddled cluster of houses—ice and stone structures—carved into the mountain itself, divided by narrow alleyways lit by fluttering torch-flames. Menhir encircled the village, carved in the shapes of stone guardians, their immovable heads raised, and staffs grounded firmly in the mount.

Casting long shadows, a line of men and women trudged through the snow towards the village, feet marking the ground behind them in a curved trail, darkness filling each imprint. They carried a large deer between them, the empty-handed hugging their furs and skins close to their bodies, slighter and taller than those of their two observers. One hunter in the midst of the group limped, their leg wrapped tightly in darkening cloth.

He will fall first when the singers come, Dagny's partner said under his breath.

She stopped walking, placing a hand on his arm. I think they're coming.

Sceptical, he glanced up at the beyond; the Fire hadn't fully set yet. It's too early.

No, Elof. They're here.

Around them, the winds began to swirl, twisting and turning, their ways directed by wordless, inhuman singing. Too slow to react, Dagny and Elof began to shake, yet they did not move from their place. The winds spun faster, faster, faster, spinning in circles around them as the songs grew louder, like keening voices mourning a lost battle.

Dagny and Elof fought to stay still, winces contorting their faces as their eyes stung, long dark hair whipping their faces. The unseen, wild voices reached a shrill pitch as the winds circled them so quickly, they were nothing but a furious haze of ice and snow.

Without warning, the songs shifted, and the onslaught ceased.

Dagny and Elof sank to their knees. Gasping for air, tears frozen on their eyelashes, they did not notice the ribbons torn across their skin. They watched the storm fly forward, blurred eyes catching glimpses of feathers like shards of ice, fluttering in fury. Winters of encounters with the creatures hadn't given Dagny and Elof any real idea of what they looked like.

In a frenzy, the singers and their winds attacked the hunters.

Too far away to help, Dagny and Elof could see nothing but a dizzying whiteness; the hunters were completely surrounded, cut off from the world. They could hear the wind-singers, but not see them—hear shrieking howls like those of a pack of mad wolves.