The beast of snown lake: sample chapter

Act 1: One More Winter 

The steady rhythm of snow crunching beneath her feet and the occasional round of lively winter birdsong were the only sounds that accompanied Eyana in her trek through the sparkling wintertime forest. It was a clear, still day. The blue sky above gave the sun full reign to light up the snow-laden trees, creating a near blinding glare for any eyes that beheld them. 

But Eyana’s crystal-blue orbs were hardened to such abuse. They scanned the snow before her, following the bounding strides and intermittent blood trail of the caribou she’d shot ten minutes earlier. It had been slow going at first, but a little ways back her prey had finally separated from the herd and swerved towards a dense stand of firs and pines not far ahead.

Eyana took a moment to kneel and adjust the stiffened straps on her snowshoes - they’d been loosening more and more lately. But then, she’d stayed out far longer than planned, and almost all her gear was bought second hand from other hunters. A little wear was to be expected.

As she rose, Eyana adjusted the shoulder straps that connected her to her heavily laden sled and breathed deep of the cold, clean air. The weight wasn’t slowing her down too much, but once she caught up to her latest kill she’d be forced to head home. Brushing aside a lock of her long white hair, the young elfkin woman glanced back at her bounty.

She’d already shot, skinned, and butchered a dozen hare, three porcupine, three beavers, and even caught a pair of white lin in snares set near her camp. When she got back to town she could trade the furs for new gear and donate the meat to the sanctuary. Though she’d save the lin for the two blockheads, who were no doubt starting to worry about her by now. 

The tasty meat was the best apology she’d be willing to offer.

Setting her eyes back on the caribou’s trail, Eyana heaved on the sled and set off once again. She doubted the poor beast could have made it much further. Her shot had been a good one and had most definitely pierced its lungs, if not its heart. 

Eyana took another deep breath of the crisp air, reveling in the feel of her nose-hairs stiffening against the cold. She loved this time of year - the untouched snow, the chill air, the blue sky, the silent forest - the hunt and the honesty it allowed her. She wished she could live this way forever.

Her gloved fists curled into tight balls.

Eyana closed her eyes as she trudged through a slight opening in the forest canopy - she conjured the images of the few faces she was looking forward to seeing when she returned and blew out a steadying breath. Her fingers uncurled slightly and she egged her fragile positivity a little further, imagining the feel of her warm bed after half a month out in the wilderness. Another shuddering sigh.

The young elfkin opened her eyes again, casting about for the next bit of sign, only to raise a snow-white eyebrow and stop dead in her tracks. A wide, dark stain marred the snow before her. She grunted - blood, and a lot of it. 

It wasn’t recent enough to be from her kill, but it wasn't terribly old either. Her eyes left the blood-soaked patch of snow and studied the area around it. The narrow white band that lay between her pupils and her light-blue iris' dilated, bringing the image into sharp focus despite the glare. The panicked stride of a moose - clearly the victim here - was easy to see, but they were the only ones that stood out clearly from the menagerie of others. There were wolves, perhaps a cat or two, and some smaller scavengers. Though most of them came from different directions, they all followed after the obvious blood trail the no-doubt dying moose had left behind.

"Wolf kill?" she said quietly, trying to make sense of the tangle of tracks. No, this blood stain was the result of a sudden and massive injury. That wasn't how wolves did things. 

"Hmm," Eyana shook her head. Whatever had happened here, it was over. No matter what had killed the moose, it wouldn’t have taken the wolves and scavengers very long to clean the carcass. Any threat to her was likely long gone. Her eyes followed the splattered blood and weaving tracks. They and the others that followed were traveling off to her left, away from her own quarry. 

The young elfkin shrugged and trudged on. It was still early, maybe she’d check it out after she’d cleaned and quartered the caribou.

Eyana followed her prey’s trail for another ten minutes before finally reaching the spot she thought it might have bolted to. As she’d suspected, the tracks led her straight into a dense tangle of old firs. Dead twigs snapped easily before her outstretched hands as she pushed her way into the thicket, taking care not to catch her hair on the rough branches or streaks of resin that dripped down their trunks. A rare smile creased her lips when she noticed another set of tracks converge with that of the stricken caribou.

"Yow-lll."

Eyana’s smile widened at the odd, guttural yowl echoing out from deeper in the thicket. That sound would have scared off most aggressors, but to her it was merely the voice of a friend.

"It’s just me, Carver," she called. Her friend responded with a throaty growl.

Eyana heaved her sled through the tangled branches and emerged into a small open space. A few feet before her, the caribou lay dead, her arrow still protruding from its flank. But, surprising Eyana, there were also deep bite marks on its neck, and blood stained the snow beneath its head.

"Yowww."

Eyana’s gaze drifted upward to meet a pair of eyes nearly as icy-blue as her own. Sitting on its haunches behind the caribou was a cat the size of a mountain lion, but with the long legs, stubby tail, and pointed ears of a lynx.  His beautiful coat was mottled white and gray, with occasional streaks and spots of blue the same shade as his eyes.

"Did you do that?" Eyana asked him, pointing at the caribou’s punctured neck. The handsome ice cat blinked at her lazily. Eyana chuckled and leaned over the caribou, bending low and closing her eyes. Carver met her forehead with a gentle head butt.

"Good morning to you too," Eyana said as she straightened again. "Thanks for finishing the kill."

Carver blinked at her again and lowered himself down to the ground, his huge front paws stretched before him luxuriantly. Eyana turned back to the caribou and knelt down.

"May Ahma soothe your soul, and Char guide you beyond the stars," she said quietly, placing one hand on her chest and resting the other gently on the animal’s head. She held the pose for a few moments before drawing her hunting knife and starting the work of gutting and butchering her kill, pausing only occasionally to give Carver a scratch behind his ear. 

The big male ice cat wasn’t hers, but the two of them were close - he usually followed her out whenever she went on trips like this one, though he spent much of his time off on his own. In fact, this was the first time she’d seen him since yesterday morning. She knew he never strayed too far though, and - obviously - kept an eye on whatever she was doing. 

As she cleared out the chest cavity, Eyana paused upon reaching the caribou’s heart. The young elfkin narrowed her eyes. She’d always shied away from this tradition before, but her last fifteen solitary days had been just too perfect. And to cap it all off by taking down a caribou? She couldn’t imagine a better time to try it. Gripping the organ firmly, she cut it out of the caribou with a few deft strokes of her knife and held it before her. Carver eyed her curiously.

"Here goes," she muttered with a nod, and lifted the heart towards her mouth slowly and gingerly. Blood splattered across her cheeks and dripped down her chin as she bit down, her jaw working to tear out a chunk. The meat was dense and chewy, but otherwise tasted like slightly gamey beef mixed with the coppery flavor of blood. Finally ripping off a sizable piece, the elfkin rolled it over on her tongue a couple times before giving it a couple more chews and tossing it back. The feel of the still-warm hunk of flesh slowly settling into her stomach sent a wave of primal contentment coursing through Eyana’s body. Her bloody hand lifted the heart to her mouth once again, this time without hesitation. She took a second bite, then another, then tore off piece after piece until her mouth was full and half her face was stained red. 

As Eyana struggled to chew, a long string of crimson saliva leaked from between her lips. She tried to wipe it away but only succeeded in dripping it all over the sleeve of her fur-lined, sheepskin jack. 

"Damn it," she giggled around the meat. Then, unable to contain herself, she burst out into muffled laughter, long and wholehearted. The feeling was odd to her, but there was no one around to see. So she laughed uncontrollably, until her sides ached and tears spilled down her cold, bloody cheeks. Her mirth faded gradually, her cascading laughter petering away until it trickled like the last ebb of pond water through the break in a beaver dam. And as she sobered once more, her jaws went back to work.

"Not bad," she said as she chewed. Eyana swallowed part of the mash of flesh, using it to fight back against the uncomfortable upwelling of emotion she’d just released. Better than letting it all fester until she cracked, she supposed. She reached out her hand, offering the rest of the heart to Carver. He knocked it to the ground with a swipe of a paw and dug in. Eyana wiped her face with some fresh snow then went back to butchering the caribou with gusto. A few hours later she had finished fleshing the hide, wrapped the last of the meat, and loaded it all onto the sled. The frigid temperature would keep it frozen until she got back to town. 

When she’d finished tying everything down, Eyana stood up and looked over her half a month’s work with satisfaction. She’d never even slept outside until a few years ago, and look at her now. Savoring the taste of the caribou heart that lingered on her tongue, the elfkin took in a deep, shuddering breath. That one, visceral memory would be enough to sustain her until she was able to come out again. If she was able to come out again. 

"Just one more winter," she breathed, she pleaded. The frowning, bearded face of a dear friend flashed through her mind and she winced against the wave of guilt accompanying it.

The young elfkin shook her head and slung the sled’s leads over her shoulders. Carver, sensing it was time to go, rose to his feet with a long stretch and led the way out of the thicket. Eyana followed close behind, her mind lingering on her looming future.

-----------------------------

A roaring fire blazed in a cavernous hearth, throwing wave after wave of warmth into the cozily adorned office. The dark, wood-paneled walls of the high ceilinged room were lined with bookshelves and ornate weapons. The worn stone floor was strewn with a multitude of furs and rugs, some piled several deep. Unlit candelabra hung from the arched ceiling, the decorative crystals that hung from them showing a thin layer of dust. A couch and two fine leather armchairs rested before the fireplace, sporting almost as many furs as the floor - as well as a couple of thick blankets. 

At the back of the room, before a tall, rectangular window, Rus sat hunched over behind his oversized desk. The desktop was strewn with documents, quills, seals, and candles enclosed in glass tubes. A half-eaten breakfast had been shoved out of reach, and a sheathed hand-and-a-half sword leaned against the desk’s right side.

The hurried scratch of a pen on paper danced along with the crackling fire, and every now and then, a gust of wind rattled a loose pane in the nearly wall-sized window. Rus looked over his shoulder whenever the glass shook, narrowing his eyes at the snow swirling outside and pulling a heavy quilt tighter around his muscular shoulders.

He'd been working since sunrise and still had another hour or two of work ahead of him. The bulk of this morning’s duties involved copying and signing what felt like an endless number of notices that were due to be hung around town this afternoon. Freylik had brought him the template a week ago, but he’d set them aside and forgotten until late last night. At the rate he was going, he figured he should be able to finish before noon - so long as his upcoming lecture didn’t drag on.

The sound of footsteps in the hall outside elicited a sigh. 

"Early," he muttered, brushing aside the signed copies and wiping the tip of his pen clean. He ran a hand through his finger-length, messy brown hair, wishing it was long enough to tie back neatly. 

"Eh," he shrugged. It didn’t really matter.

He was on his feet and prepared to offer a polite bow when the door swung in. No knock? His brow furrowed in surprise, but then his expression loosened and his shoulders sagged when he recognized the figure in the doorway.

"Master Arcturus," the lean, grey-haired old man greeted him curtly. He strode quickly across the room towards Rus’ desk, his faded black long-coat swishing against the floor. He eyed the disorderly furs and rugs disapprovingly. "Miss Tabitha has arrived so I thought I’d check on your progress this morning."

A mousey middle-aged woman in layered robes stepped into the room behind him. A thick scarf was coiled around her shoulders and a few books tied together with twine were tucked beneath one arm. Rus bowed her way politely and she offered him a thin-lipped smile.

"Freylik," Rus muttered, offering a half-hearted nod to the old man.

Freylik didn’t respond. He walked around the side of Rus’ desk and gathered up the finished papers, counting them as he went. He fixed Rus with a frown when he reached the bottom of the haphazard stack.

"Unfinished," he said with an exasperated sigh.

"I’m nearly done," said Rus, his shoulders slouching even further. 

"I gave you the original days ago."

"Your assistants couldn’t have done the copying?"

"My assistants have other work to see to. I thought this task was simple enough that even you couldn’t complain. Silly me."

Rus shrugged off the insult.

"Has Miss Eyana returned yet?" Freylik asked, turning to the window pointedly.

Rus scratched at an itchy spot beneath his bearded chin and didn’t bother voicing an answer. He was sure the question was sarcastic anyways.

"She’s long overdue," Freylik went on, looking at Rus as if expecting an explanation. Rus just dropped back down into his chair and draped the quilt over his shoulders again.

"She told me she’d be out longer this time. I said it was fine."

"Sure she did," said Freylik, his brow creasing. "You allow her too much freedom."

Rus balked. That was rich.

"This isn’t Sabbré," he said, fixing Freylik with a glare.

"Your meaning?"

"I don’t own her."

"She’s your betrothed," said Freylik. "She has a responsibility to you and this household."

Rus chewed his tongue, anger bubbling deep down in his stomach and a dozen biting responses playing through his mind. But this was an old, over-argued subject, and his agitation faded quickly under the cool press of comforting apathy. The young man looked down at his desk but Freylik didn’t release him from his expectant gaze.

"The Minister didn’t take her in so that she could waste time playing in the forest," Freylik said. "It’s past time she grew up and started acting responsibility."

With that Freylik launched into a diatribe about his and Eyana’s failings and Rus groaned quietly, shutting his eyes and slumping in his chair, doing his best to tune out the old nag. 

He wished he were back in Hightemple - or at the very least, at his cabin. 

He, Tem, Eyana and a few of the other guards spent the short summer and fall seasons there, ostensibly so that Rus could get some uninterrupted time for his military training. And though there were a good deal of swordplay and tactical lessons from Tem, much of Rus’ time was spent in leisure, free from the chores, pressure, and people he had to endure at the manor. He'd planned on fixing the place up as his year-round residence but Freylik had insisted he spend winter and spring at the manor. Rus treasured his time at the cabin - in part because it gave him the chance to avoid situations like this.

Freylik droned on, explaining in detail how to properly punish Eyana. A not-so-small part of Rus dearly wanted to tell the old bastard to shut his damned mouth, but that would only lead to more talking, and probably an argument. And Rus really just wanted the man to leave. Finally, Freylik finished his rant with one last stinging barb.

"Perhaps if you finally proposed, the girl would settle down some. Wouldn’t you think?"

Rus turned a cool gaze on his advisor, who was regarding him with a tired expression, his hands folded behind his back.

"I’ll consider it," he said, slowly and evenly.

“In any case, I expect you to think about what I’ve said, and discipline her when she gets back,” said Freylik. “And you can take these papers to my assistants once you’ve finished.”

Rus grunted and Freylik spun on his heel with a ‘harumph’. Rus didn’t look up from his desk until he heard the door slam shut. When he did, he saw Tabitha had crept forward and was standing before his desk, looking down at him with what the young man assumed with pity. His jaw tightened. 

He didn’t need that.

“Tabitha,” he greeted her again, though he couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze.

The cleric sighed and glanced back at the roaring fire, then at Rus and his oversized quilt.

“How can you possibly be cold?” she asked in her airy, high pitched voice.

“There’s a draft.”

“And there’s half a tree burning in your hearth.”

“Eh,” was all Rus could offer.

Tabitha set her books down on the desk and walked up to the window, folding her hands behind her back. She stared out into the windblown snow and over the town beyond as if searching for something.

“Is it true Ana told you she'd be out late?” she asked, looking at Rus dubiously.

The young man snorted and rolled his eyes.

“I'll take that as a no,” Tabitha said with a frown, turning her gaze back to the window. Rus didn’t fail to note her tight lipped expression.

“What?” he asked. 

“Two trappers have gone missing out in the forest,” she said, still staring out at the horizon. “And that young spice peddler from Lacamere never showed up earlier in the month. He hasn’t missed a winter in six years.”

Rus nodded in understanding. Eyana spent a lot of time at Tabitha’s sanctuary, and donated a decent amount of food to the clerics and orphans who lived there. It made sense that the woman would worry. But Rus knew the elfkin girl well - she wouldn’t be careless enough to succumb to the cold or fall through a frozen lake.

“We lose people to the winter every year. Eyana’s fine,” he said, trying to sound comforting. “Just late.”

Tabotha shook her head.

“The two trappers both had lines near the south road. The peddler would have traveled through the same area. We lost another trapper and a pair of kids out that way over the summer too.”

Rus raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t informed of that.”

“You were out at your cabin.”

Rus drummed his fingers on the desk nervously.

“It could be a coincidence.”

“Don’t play the fool.”

“Then what?” said Rus, shedding his quilt and joining Tabitha at the window. “Kobolds?”

Tabitha shrugged as Rus worked through the possibility in his mind. There was a clan known to be haunting the area near the border with Arvair. But he’d never heard of kobolds going after trappers or hunters.

“Kobolds don't usually bother raiding for furs or food,” he said, hoping he sounded at least a little convincing.

“No, I suppose not.”

“Carver followed her out, and she’s no pushover,” Rus straightened his back, nodding along at his own words. "She’s okay, I’m sure." 

“I pray to Ahma you’re right,” Tabitha breathed.

“If she’s not back tomorrow, Tem and I will go out after her,” Rus promised. That elicited a smile from the usually taciturn woman, and she finally turned away from the window and nodded to him thankfully. The smile held until the papers Rus had been copying caught her attention.

“What’s this?” she asked, plucking one from the desk and skimming it with narrowed eyes.

“A notice,” Rus shrugged.

“Did you read this before you signed it?”

“Of course.”

Tabitha snapped her suddenly harsh gaze back up to him.

“Do you know what it means?”

“I've written out dozens of copies.”

“Then why did you sign it?”

Rus raised his eyebrows in surprise, not seeing the problem. The notice was announcing an increase in the bounty local trappers would receive for certain pelts turned in at the town’s tannery. It also listed a slight increase in the cost of winter food rations, but the increase in value for furs more than made up for it. 

“I just sign what Freylik gives me,” he said, at a loss.

“Freylik is a short-sighted, self-concerned arse taking orders from an uncaring beaurocrat halfway across the country,” said Tabitha, emphasizing each word with a shake of the notice paper. "He’s also not the Master of this town."

“He reports to my father and hand-picked most of the manor staff himself,” said Rus. “The most I can do is nod along with his plans.”

Tabitha scowled.

“You know that’s nonsense. Why do you bother paying me for private lectures if you refuse to apply what I teach?”

Because going to the sanctuary is a pain in the arse. Rus sighed and looked away.

“I learn,” he said out loud.

“You listen and absorb. Knowledge is wasted if not applied,” she slapped the notice back down onto the desk. “And I’ve taught you better than to go along with nonsense like this. Do you think this will help the town? It won’t. What happened to expanding the south road? Opening trade with Arvair? The Shallowrock bridge? You promised when you took this position that you’d see all that through.”

Rus blew out an exasperated breath.

“What do you want from me?” he muttered.

“To put Freylik in his place, for one.” 

Rus snorted. One letter to his father in Hightemple was all it would take for his life to take a turn for the miserable.

“Oh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Shall I punish him for his insolence?”

“Yes,” said Tabitha. “Slap him, punch him, roll him into a ball and toss him into the lake. You’re twice his size, I’m sure you could manage that.”

“And you’re supposed to be a cleric?”

“I can heal him after he’s learned his lesson,” Tabitha leaned over the desk, fixing Rus with a stern look. “You should be the one giving the orders in this house.”

Rus let out a mocking snort. Even if he cared to try, he couldn’t accomplish anything that would satisfy her. Or anyone for that matter. 

Tabitha glared at him expectantly for a moment, but then she sighed and shook her head. Rus could see the disappointment in her eyes. He might have felt ashamed, if he weren’t already used to being disappointing. Besides, he’d just about reached his limit of pointless conversations for the day.

“Oh never mind,” Tabitha relented. “Let’s just begin our lesson. We can sit by the fire if you’d prefer.”

Rus gestured for her to lead the way and rose from his chair, draping his quilt over the back. He scooped up Tabitha’s books for her and the two of them made for the fur-stacked armchairs. Before he sat down, Rus stole one last look towards the window and the blinding white outside.

Six disappearances.

He blew out a long breath and closed his eyes, silently praying to the gods that there wouldn’t soon be a seventh.

-----------------------------

Outside the door of Rus’ office, Tem Barrada ran a hand over his short, curly black hair, deep in thought.

"Come on Tabs," he said under his breath. "Give the kid a break."

The Lumish mercenary had been busy doing his rounds when he spotted Freylik marching out of the office with a sour look on his face. Not that it was an uncommon expression to see on the grumpy old coot, but he and Arcturus rarely parted without some sort of squabble. A brief time eavesdropping had clued Tem in to what their most recent spat was about, as well as revealed some information that troubled him quite a bit. 

He hadn’t been informed about the summer disappearances either, but he had heard about the two trappers. Supposedly they were both experienced woodsmen, and had been working those same trap lines for many years. But after being almost two paces overdue, and with search parties finding no sign of them, they were almost certainly dead. 

And now Eyana was late returning.

Tem pushed himself off the wall, striding quickly down the candle-lit hall and towards the stairs. His armored boots clapped against the gray stone floor, sending echoes off the similarly dour walls ahead of him. 

Rus had said the two of them would go after Eyana if she hadn’t returned by the next day. He was sure he could convince the young Master to move up the timeline - that is, if Rus didn’t do so himself after stewing in his worry for a few hours. 

Tem nodded and picked up his pace, patting the steel plates that were sewn beneath the thick green fabric of his fitted brigandine. He and Rus together could handle any trouble they met out in the woods, he was sure of that. If he moved fast he could have sleds, sled-wolves, weapons, and supplies ready to go for the next morning. He slid his hand down to the hilt of the longsword sheathed at his hip, his fingers tracing the pommel thoughtfully - on second thought, it may be safer to bring along Bakura and one or two others as well. Preparations would take longer, but if there was a real threat out there...

He chuckled when he thought of what Freylik would have to say about it, but he refused to be intimidated by that sneering relic. As captain of the Snown Manor Guard, his insistence would be enough to brush Freylik’s whining aside. 

Quick-stepping down the winding stairs, Tem nearly ran headlong into a tall young woman in a maille shirt and tabard that matched the color and markings on his own armor.

"Tem, sir," she greeted, arching an eyebrow at his haste. "Is something wrong?"

"Bakura," Tem clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Good timing, come with me." 

Bakura nodded and spun on her heel, falling in step beside him without hesitation. She was one of his two immediate subordinates within the guard hierarchy, as well as a childhood friend. They had grown up together in a large mercenary company commanded by Tem’s father, back in the much more southerly nation of Lumas. After being hired on as Rus’ guard captain and martial instructor, Tem had written to Bakura and invited her to join him. He’d thanked himself for that foresight many times over the last few years. 

As his dark brown skin made evident, he was Mirianic Lumish. Bakura, with her much lighter skin and wavy brown hair, was of the more common Espan culture, and more closely resembled the people of Kantle. He chuckled, remembering the looks he’d gotten around town when he’d first arrived. Bakura had certainly made dealing with the more suspicious locals much easier.

Noting his quiet mirth, Bakura shot him a questioning look.

"Something funny?" 

"No, no," he laughed. "Just remembering old times."

"And you pulled me from my rounds because…?"

"Right, sorry, I’ll explain in a moment. Is Keifer working in the barracks or...?"

"Armory," Bakura replied almost instantly. A knowing grin spread across Tem’s face.

"I think," Bakura added in response to his smirk, rolling her eyes.

"I’m sure you’re right," said Tem.

The fact that Bakura and Keifer were intimate was one of the worst kept secrets at Snown Manor. That shy pretty-boy was the one luxury ever-serious Bakura allowed herself.

Reaching the door to the armory, Tem knocked once before thrusting it open wide.

An attractive, clean-shaven man in his early twenties stood at the opposite wall, inspecting a rack of spears. He was making notes on a roll of paper but nearly fumbled it when Tem and Bakura swept into the room.

"Tem, uh, just finishing up here," he said, his eyes creeping towards Bakura.

"Sir," she prompted quietly, regarding him with hooded eyes.

"Just finishing up here, sir," Keifer repeated, his ears turning a spectacular shade of red.

"Take a break," said Tem, waving him over and choosing not to comment on the pair’s amusing relationship dynamic. Keifer was his other lieutenant, and despite his timidity he was a fair swordsman with a superb head on his shoulders.

"Sir?"

"What do you know about the disappearances along the south road?"

"Just what I recorded in the logs."

Tem raised his eyebrows, signaling Keifer to go on.

"There wasn’t much to record, only one set of remains was ever found. The body was picked clean to the bone by animals. No real clues about what happened."

"There was nothing else?"

Keifer shrugged. 

"They were all in the woods off the southern road, all but one were men. Oh, and except for the two kids, all of them were traveling alone."

Tem ran a hand over his stubbly chin. That settled it.

"You’re worried about Miss Eyana," said Bakura, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She is late returning," Keifer sighed.

"Yes, and I’m not the only one who’s worried," Tem nodded. "Arcturus will want to go out to retrieve her, so we’ll be ready when he gives the word. Bakura, you and I will be joining him."

"Just the three of us?" said Bakura.

"Should be all we need, we’ll have sled wolves as well. Problem?"

"No sir, but with people disappearing in the wilds, why aren’t we considering demons, or even a dragon?" 

"We’d have noticed a dragon," said Tem, though the idea did send a shiver down his spine. "And as far as I know, there haven’t been any blights or demon sightings in this part of Kantle for years." He looked to Keifer, who nodded in agreement.

"I still think it would be best to be fully prepared," said Bakura. "We should bring at least two more soldiers, and a cleric. Miss Tabitha would be willing to spare an acolyte, I'm sure."

Tem shook his head firmly. That would be pushing it a bit too far - Freylik would be on his arse for a month if it all turned out to be for nothing.

"It’s most likely a bear out of its den that’s got a taste for human flesh, or a bunch of aggressive young kobolds. We'll be fine. And that’s if Eyana's even in trouble, the cat’s with her after all."

"If you say so, sir," Bakura relented, her lips pursing tightly. 

"Oh come on," Tem laughed, giving her shoulder a playful fist tap. "You know I appreciate your opinion."

"I can’t wait for the day you take it seriously."

"Always do. Now let’s get to work. Keifer I want you on supplies, make sure we get enough for at least five days. Bakura, see to the sleds and speak to the stablemaster. Tell him we’ll be taking out four sled wolves tomorrow at noon. And you’ll need to assign people to cover our duties while we’re away."

"Miss Lindon won’t like me reassigning food supplies," said Keifer. "See was unbearable for days when you shared some out to the townsfolk during Char’s Day last pace."

Tem sighed - it wasn’t just Freylik who made life here difficult. Many of his staff were just as irritable and self-concerned, like the troublesome Lindon.  

"If Lindon, Freylik, or anyone else gives you trouble, send them straight to me," he said. "Meet me in the barracks at sunset to report your progress. All right, let’s get to it."

Tem dismissed them both with a nod. The commotion and the possibility of a rescue expedition had his blood pumping. He didn’t often get to leave the manor for any length of time during the winter. He just hoped that this bit of excitement wasn’t at the cost of Eyana being hurt - or worse.

"Be safe out there Ana," he whispered. Then - burying his concern under a carefree smile - he strode out of the armory and went to work.

-----------------------------

Many leagues to the southwest, Eyana hauled her sled along doggedly, unaware of the commotion her absence was causing back at Snown Manor. Carver loped through the trees parallel to her, but a dozen paces off to her left. She was traveling back along the path she’d taken earlier - it would eventually lead her back to one of her hunting blinds, and from there past her camp and out to the south road. If the weather held she could be back at the manor the following afternoon.

Not that she was in any great rush.

As she came up on the place where she’d found the blood and moose tracks, Eyana realized another chance to extend her trip just a little bit longer. She was still curious about what had made the kill, and she doubted the moose could have made it very far after losing so much blood. She could afford to take a brief detour to investigate.

"Carver," she called. When he stopped and looked her way she waved him over and turned her sled to follow the blood trail and mish-mash of tracks. Carver bounded up beside her as she passed over the blood-stained snow, putting his nose to the ground for a brief moment before laying his ears flat and looking up at the young elfkin.

"Mmmff," he growled.

"I know, there’s wolves and probably other cats,"she said in response. "But no fighting. Okay?"

Carver, his ears still flat against his skull, reluctantly followed after Eyana as she trudged on.

As she walked, the elfkin reached back to her sled, plucking her hunting bow from atop the packed meat. Stringing it on the move she patted the quiver at her hip - she had a few broadheads left, as well as a couple blunt shafts meant for hare and grouse. She doubted she’d need the weapon though. Any wolves or cats would likely move off as soon as they caught wind of her.

The trail led down a shallow slope, towards a depression that Eyana guessed was a frozen pond. Raucous cawing and the rustle of feathers told her that the moose carcass must be nearby. She looked back over her shoulder toward the site of the attack, which was still just barely visible at the top of the rise. The wounded animal hadn’t made it far at all. 

She and Carver broke the treeline and a rush of black and brown swarmed into the sky - crows, ravens, kniferooks, magpies, and even a pair of eagles fled their feast as the elfkin and ice cat approached. Some landed in the surrounding trees, while others - like the pair of eagles - circled high above or disappeared entirely. Eyana ignored the gang of scavenging birds, her brow furrowing as she took in the scene before her.

The once pure and white surface of the pond was strewn with carcasses, trampled flat by dozens of clawed and taloned feet, and stained reddish brown with blood and viscera.

“What…” Eyana breathed. Carver moaned quietly at her side.

She dropped her sled leads and crept towards the nearest mass of torn flesh, something about the bloody scene urging her to be as quiet as possible. She brushed some snow from the half-eaten thing's skull and grunted in surprise.

“A wolf?” she whispered. Its head was partially caved in, and scavengers had stripped most of its flesh, but the dead animal before her was most certainly a wolf. Eyana looked about at some of the other nearby carcasses - there were six total, and all of them were wolf-sized. A larger seventh lay separate from the others, a pair of tell-tale antlers rising up from one end of the half-eaten remains. Eyana shuffled closer, her eyes scanning the ground as she went. 

There must have been an intense battle here. Most likely the wolves had come across whatever had downed the moose and tried to steal the kill. Obviously, that hadn’t gone well for them.

The tracks thinned out around the dead moose - even the birds seemed to have given that carcass a wide berth. In fact, it looked as though only one large animal had fed on the thing.

Still a few dozen feet away from the moose, Eyana knelt beside one of the prints that pocked the snow around it. It was big. Too much so to be a wolf, or even a big cat. She glanced back at the moose, squinting against the glare. The beast’s chest and abdomen had been opened and emptied, but the rest of the body was still largely untouched. Inspecting its upper half, the young elfkin spotted the garish wound that had probably ended its life. Four long, wide furrows were dug deep into the flesh of its neck, running from behind the ear and almost down to the chest. 

What the Hell could do that? Eyana looked back down at the print.

"Bear," she said quietly, but knew she was wrong before the frozen vapor of her breath had dissipated. No. This was something she’d never seen before. The prints were too oblong, shaped more like a dog’s, but too large in proportion to be any kind of wolf. They were bear-sized or bigger and ominously red-stained towards the tips.

"The Hell…" Eyana mouthed. 

The hairs on the back of her neck quivered, and only then did she notice that the birds had fallen silent. The ragged flock circling overhead had disappeared entirely, and the crows and ravens in the trees surrounding the pond sat eerily still.

Carver pressed against her hip, a long and low growl rumbling in his chest. Eyana laid a hand on his neck, feeling the tenseness of the muscles beneath. She shook her head. She’d seen the fearsome cat face down a black bear without showing so much agitation. Eyana looked back to the six dead wolves, then down at the mysterious blood-stained paw-print. A creeping dread spread through her body like ice overtaking a still pool. 

The young elfkin licked her dry lips as she scanned the shadows beneath snow-laden tree boughs, her ears pricked to even the smallest whisper of sound. Her hand reached unconsciously for her quiver and slowly drew an arrow - though even the whisper of the wooden shaft against the soft leather seemed too loud. 

This is stupid, there’s nothing there. The thought didn't stop her heartbeat from throbbing in her ears. Or prevent her from nocking the arrow.

As she bent back her bow, the young elfkin turned in a wide, slow arc, forcing her breathing to come slowly and steadily. The creak of the taut bowstring offered token comfort, but not enough to slow her racing heart. Her eyes danced between shadows. Her mind filled them with bloody claws and hungry eyes. A charging beast with a fang-filled maw.

"Rok!"

Eyana’s arrow thwacked into a small pine, knocking a cascade of snow from its branches and sending a few crows flapping away into the forest. Her arm still holding her bow aloft, Eyana narrowed her eyes at the raven perched near the top. It let out another croak. The young elfkin sighed. 

"Sorry for disturbing your meal," she said, bowing towards the raven. It cawed and ruffled its feathers, drawing a smirk from Eyana who shook her head and looked over the bloody scene again.  

She’d let her imagination run away with her. Whatever had done this was no monster, probably just an animal that had taken off as soon as it caught her scent. 

Eyana paced gingerly back to her sled but didn’t unstring her bow, instead slinging it across her body. She picked up her leads and clicked her tongue at Carver, who was standing back in the middle of the pond, staring into the trees opposite.

He glanced back at her signal and, with one last hiss at the forest, trotted over to her. 

"Let’s go home," she said, dropping a comforting hand atop his head.

The two of them walked together back the way they had come, though as she plodded along, Eyana stole a glance back at the pond. Despite all her cool-headed reasoning, a deep unease had settled into her stomach. Something about it still just seemed off. 

And she couldn’t shake the feeling of a malicious gaze at her back.

She’d been reluctant to return to the manor all day, but at the moment, going home and leaving her freed self behind didn’t seem all that bad.

-----------------------------

From the top of the rise on the opposite side of the frozen pond, a pair of yellow eyes watched the elfkin and the ice cat move back into the treeline. With its stomach filled with half a moose it was sated, lethargic. Too much so to chase interlopers. 

For now.

A low rumble tremored through the snow.