Shadow of Dawn

Chapter 10

'Have you ever seen the trees standing so far apart?' Mara spun in the middle of an eerily wide clearing.

Snow rose high all around them, climbing over boulders and fallen trees. Standing in the very center of the glade, the nearest trees stood no closer than a hundred steps away in every direction. The moonlight shone down on them freely, pure silver unfiltered by needles and branches. Drifts reaching up to their shoulders glimmered like the frozen pools that dotted the northern lands. Yet even that far north, where winters were harsher and the winds fiercer, the pines clustered close as if to capture what little warmth there was and contain it. No, it was easy to assume that few of the first folk had ever seen such an empty stretch of land.

Mara and Yull had joined them nearly seventeen days ago, and it seemed as if they were becoming a new bloodring. All of them except the mysterious giant, as far as they knew, were connected by a familiar sense of sorrow and utter emptiness. Lone wolves once again part of a pack. They spoke rarely of the ghônt attacks that had taken their true bloodrings, and when they did it was only to discuss the eventuality of further attacks. But the further east they marched, the less signs they saw of the old kin.

It seemed the ghônts were still conquering the western woodlands, haven upon haven, stone circle by stone circle, bloodring after bloodring. Perhaps when nothing was left of the first folk they would scavenge east into more bountiful country. Since leaving the dying woman in her cavern, Valmyr had not spotted a single corpse, bone or ghônt track. Their moods lifted, the tension dissipated, and soon they were traveling until dawn, then in full daylight. A peaceful rhythm took over their exile east.

The days were filled with walking through the endless forest, step by step through thick snow. Twice a blizzard kept them holed up in a gouged out oak while Yull sat uncomplaining in the open. They came out the next day to see his beard and whiskers completely frosted but with a great smile on his face. He appeared to be invincible. Mara proved to be a talented hunter and a joyful companion. She told stories before they slept, held long watches without complaint and whistled soft, mournful songs as they walked.

Each day brought them closer to an imagined paradise, the peaceful east where the old kin had not yet found root. Valmyr sometimes murmured about the tales he had heard, the ones that had driven his father to lead their bloodring from their home. Great, peaceful woods as far as the eye could see, kind winters, hundreds of the first folk thriving on plentiful wildlife. The ancient traditions would come to life again, they would build stone circles to honor Mhor and Fyr, the sons of one and the daughters of an other would wed to continue strong bloodlines, there would be bonfires and songs, story paintings and tamed wolf packs, the great wild hunts of old and above all, serenity.

Those dreams kept them walking, even little Valhilde. She formed an inseparable bond with Mara. Some days, the girl rode on Yull's broad shoulders, giggling as he lurched forward. She could reach the highest branches from her seat, and throw snowballs at her brother, and every day, her wolfling pup grew stronger. Its grey-black fur became thicker and it chewed soft meat with its newly grown fangs. It was now big enough to leap about in the deep snow yet small enough that Valhilde carried it in her arms when the winds rose. She named it Aevi, which meant 'story of life' and Valmyr thought that was fitting.

Often trailing behind the pack, Thorval lumbered on, one sullen footstep after the other. When he spoke, it was in coarse whispers and only to his son. He never acknowledged Mara and Yull, as if their presence were an insult to the memory of the bloodring he had lost. Patient, Mara did not confront Thorval and treated him as if he were just a silent shadow following in their tracks.

Valmyr's journey, despite the growing confidence that they would soon find peace and the rapidly fading threat of the ghônts, was much more difficult. The dark voice came and went, a darkness that spread across his mind and tainted his thoughts. Some days he woke to freedom and a lightness in his ways, only to be assailed on the brink of dusk.