Editing Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part Four (section)

===Hail the Wolf Spirit===



Without another word, she took off sprinting, leaving the rest of the people in the square stunned at her speed.  She put all the strength she could muster through her two mugs of mead into the effort, until her hood pulled free, and her cloak billowed out from behind her neck like the tail of a comet.  The three intricate Fenrisian braids she wore from her left temple dangled loose as the rest of her red hair fell from the hood and waved in her wake.

As soon as she was beyond the light of the torches in the village, she slowed her progress, reaching down into her pouch for the recall beacon for Bjorn’s Thunderhawk.  As her hands brushed it, however, she paused.  She glanced to the north, eyeing the low, rocky hills.  “Hmm.”  She tapped her lip with one gloved hand as she came to a halt.  “…might as well.”  Adjusting her course, she took off again, her booted feet skating over the ice and snow like the passage of a bird.

When Aron had said ‘less than an hour,’ he had presumably referred to the brisk walk of a soldier on march in the winter.  Freya was superhuman, and ate up the distance in less than ten minutes.  When she arrived at the low hill, she scaled it, allowing the height to slow her down.  When she reached the downslope, she turned her eyes to the ground, wary of the cracks Aron had mentioned.  The sun had set completely, now.  The glorious stars had risen, and the huge red-and-white moon hung overhead.  With her eyes, she could still see as clear as if the sun were directly overhead.

She reached the north side of the hills and looked around.  She didn’t see anything that looked like an entrance.  Freya held her nose close to the ice and sniffed.  Sulfur…water…a small amount of methane…and lots of oddly misplaced heat.  She looked at the snow around her more closely.  Little ice clung to the vertical parts of the rocky hill, as if it had melted free, or never formed.  Was there a hot spring nearby?  Had Aron meant that when he said the waters grew ‘thin and hot?’

Voices.  Freya slunk into the shadows of the hill by instinct as a pair of low, excited voices emerged.  They faded again after a moment, and she walked up the hill a bit, trying to find their bearing.

There.  A pair of human footprint trails was plainly visible there, coming from the town.  They vanished into the wall of the rocky hill-face.  Freya silently moved over the snowy rocks, lifting her cloak in her hands so the pelt didn’t drag.

“I’m telling you, we should wait!  There’ll be a storm tonight!” a young woman’s voice insisted.  Freya silently tread up to the crack in the rocks from above, and perched overhead like a bird.

“Don’t be silly.  We can make it back,” a man replied.

“In less than an hour?  Against the blizzard?” the woman asked incredulously.

“The skies were clear when we arrived,” the man insisted.  Freya closed her eyes and focused.  That scent…one of the boys from the House of the Kindred?  Colin?

“I’ve lived off the game around here, I’m telling you that there’s going to be a storm tonight!  Why do you think the warband was racing home?  We should just wait.”

Colin scoffed.  “Nonsense.”  He emerged from the crack.  His hair glistened in the moonlight.  “See?  No wind.”

“Not yet!  Give it ten minutes!” the woman said from inside.  “I’m not freezing out there!”

Colin sighed.  “Fine.  I’ll head back by myself.  You can wait the night, if you want, Casse.”

“Colin!...fine.  Be stubborn.  You’re just going to freeze,” the woman huffed.

Freya licked her upper lip and tilted her head back, inhaling deeply.  Sure enough, the woman was right.  There was a strong blizzard on the way.  Not strong enough to ground a Thunderhawk by any means, but strong.  Enough to kill someone out on the plains with no arctic gear…and wet hair.

“Don’t,” Freya said.

Colin started.  The woman inside gasped.  Freya spoke again, pulling her hood back to let her braids hang free.  “Death comes on the wind tonight, Colin,” she said, her voice the bestial growl she only let out when she was enraged beyond human limits, or was indulging in a bit of theater, like now.

Colin spun around to see her and bit back a scream.  She had tilted her head to catch the moonlight on her canine eyes.  All he could see was the green lights of her eyes, silhouetted against the stars.  “Stay and live.  Leave and die.”

“Who…who are you?!” Colin gasped.  Casse emerged and spotted Freya, and she actually did scream, huddling up against Colin.  Colin wrapped a protective arm around his girl and stared up at the wolf-woman giving him orders.

“The one who wants you to survive the night,” Freya said.  Her voice was more animal than human.  “Get back into the cave and wait out the blizzard that comes…or have the flesh be torn from you in the ice storm,” she whispered.

“I…I will die if I go?” Colin asked, his voice shaking with fear.  Casse’s teeth were chattering, in terror or cold.  Neither teen was dressed for the night, either, both were just wearing leather coats over their day wear.

“As sure as the moon rises, boy,” Freya growled.  “Take refuge before I lose patience.”

“T-thank you!” Colin gasped, ushering Casse into the crack once more.  “Bless you for your mercy, spirit!”

Freya nodded once, then silently slunk away as the sound of their panicked footsteps faded into the cave.  As soon as they were out of earshot, she cleared her throat and grimaced at the discomfort in her voicebox.  “Ow.  How does Dad do that without straining himself?” she asked nobody, tapping the Thunderhawk recaller.