Wolves Alone.

The lands of the Frozen North were sundered but even now the waters refreeze and people eke out an existence

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Peter Levy
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Wolves Alone.

Postby Peter Levy » Mon Mar 10, 2014 6:47 pm

**Donnezani stared out into the whiteness. He listened to the sounds on the wind. Unnatural, otherwordly howls. He turned to Fox.**

How long?

**Fox pondered, playing with the talismans on his staff.**

At least one Sun.
That must be at least 36 hours. I'm going after them.
Don't go alone.
The Wolf is never alone, Fox.

**He grabbed his bow and quiver and set out Northeast. He scratched around a small hollow. The snow had covered over a shelter with all the hallmarks of the Tsimshian. There was still hope. Onward he struggled, the icy winds closing in. Then, his worst fear: blood. He knelt beside the red-stained ground and sniffed the air.**

Not more than six hours. I'm close. Spirits, guide my eyes. Let the Wolf stand by me, the Bear give me strength. Fox guise my thoughts and Gyrfalcon hone my sight. Those who are lost, we shall find them. Sixteen left the camp, none have returned. We are one with this land, which we clasp onto with our final desperate hope. One tribe, four Spirits. Let them be safe. Let us survive.

**Digging his hand into the snow, he felt something solid. Drawing the object up, he sensed a cold like no other. This was human flesh. This was one of his own. But where was the rest of her? His eyes stung as the swelling tears crystallised. In the periphery of his vision he glimpsed the Gyrfalcon take to the sky. In the swirling haze ahead, he witnessed the Wolves chase after her. He followed.**

Each member of our tribe is with me. The Tsimshian are Wolves together.

**Behind him, he heard a noise. The sound of an avalanche; a great screeching, rumbling cacophony. But there is no mountain there. The fog lifted, revealing a battle line. A vast horde, easily three hundred strong in the first rank alone. Wolves, Men, Women, Elves, Midari, even the Yetis stood ready. A terrible darkness seemed to emanate from them. As his eyes adjusted, there were rank upon rank of the horde, groaning, howling, chanting.**

The Wolves were not hunting... They fled. They left me!

**The army before him parted, allowing a tall, gaunt figure through. He stood there, staring at Donnezani, no expression on his face. The Ranger studied this figure; his black robes untouched by the snow, the silver rose embroidery, the gnarled wand in his hand. He nocked an arrow, raising his arm toward the black creature.**

You cannot stay here, devil. This land is sacred.

**The Quarin continued to stare blankly at the man. He swept his wand in front of him slowly and sixteen figures burst up through the top layers of snow. They bore the symbols of the Tsimshian; tattooed with the sign of the Gyrfalcon, the Wolf, the Bear and the Fox. Donnezani loosed his arrow toward the undead lord. The arrow flew past his head. The Tsimshian corpses advanced.**

This cannot be! No!

**He backed away, preparing another shot at the Quarin, who simply turned around and wandered back through his army. The corpses suddenly belted toward the lone ranger, quickly surrounding him. He stood, bow in one hand sword in the other. His arms shook as he realised it was over.**

So, this is how it ends? Joining my brothers and sisters in undeath... No. You are no longer our family! You are, each one of you alone!

**He swung out at the nearest corpse, taking a chunk out of its arm. The others moved in. He swung wildly, striking whatever tortured, cold corpse he could find. The undead overpowered him, he cried out to the Tsimshian spirits, Life magic sealing some of his injuries. But he knew it was over. Gradually, he gave in. The cold, prickly influence of Death magic crept through his body. He succumbed, hoping that the world would not.**

Fly, Gyrfalcon. Fly.
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