Atop the Mountain

Chapter 1: The Weald

Once every hundred years, like clockwork, someone is chosen. Those who have been "chosen" report dreams of massive, battle-scarred wolves, and hearing distant howls, even when they are awake. They give few details about the dreams, but all of them state that whatever those dreams contain, it motivates them up the mountain.

The lights in the library flicker. Raihan squints to make out the next words of the book he's reading. He hears small shifts around him, which cause him to tense, but most of the time, they're just the natural shifting of the old wooden structure of the building.

No chosen individual has returned from their journey up the mountain. Those who take parties all perish. Sometimes, their bodies are returned to their hometown. Sometimes they are not.

There seems to be no correlation between those chosen. There seems to be no particular leaning towards any gender, race, or age, though it is difficult to make any definitive conclusions with such a small sample size.

Raihan snaps the book shut in his hands when he hears footsteps approaching. He's read so many books on this topic, and none of them are conclusive.

It's cool sounding, being chosen, but Raihan doesn't fancy dying.

He wonders if they were all just making it up, or if it was some mental thing. He doesn't know the words for it, not yet. He winces as his dad walks around the corner, lamp in hand, and frowns down at him. He knows he's up well past his bedtime, which had been boosted to an hour after sunset on his tenth birthday. His dad reaches down and plucks the book out of his hands, examining it before letting out a soft sigh.

"These always give you nightmares, 'Han," he whispers, slipping the book back into the packed shelf above him, "you needn't worry about such things," shifting the lantern to his non-dominant hand, he reaches down to pull Raihan to his feet.

"But it should be happening again soon, right?" Raihan says, eyes wide. He'll be about twenty when it happens. He knows there are thousands of people in Galar, but--

"Theoretically. But you, my dear, need to focus on getting to bed at a reasonable hour. You know how papa worries about you not getting enough sleep." He grasps Raihan's nose between his thumb and finger and squeezes lightly. Raihan laughs, strange and nasally-sounding, and swats his dad's hand away.

"You won't tell papa I snuck into the library?" Raihan asks. He doesn't like worrying him- either of them.

His dad sighs, "Only if it doesn't happen again."

Raihan nods, and allows himself to be escorted out of the library and towards his bedroom.

Distantly, Raihan hears a howl.

Light shines high above Leon's head, hot and intense. They don't get many days like this, which of course means that he's been burdened with the task of watching his younger brother instead of being out, running free, enjoying the warmth while it lasts.

It isn't that Leon dislikes his younger brother. As far as siblings go, they get on just fine- better than most, even. But what he really wants to do is hang around with his best friend, Sonia, and hunt for lizards in the grass on the far side of town. Instead, he's sitting on his front steps, kicking his feet, watching his brother toss his lamb plush up in their air over and over, giggling like it's the most exciting thing in the world, and his friend is by his side, letting out occasional exasperated groans.

"Mum will be home soon, then we can go do something fun," Leon says, staring down at his feet. He knows it probably isn't true. His mum always takes forever when she goes to the market. She'll probably be gone for hours, and by the time she gets back, it'll either be raining or too late to go hunt lizards.