The next one week passed in a blur of labor and restless anticipation, each day bleeding into the next under the ever lovely twin suns and iron-gray skies of the White Wilds. The biting wind carried whispers of the coming cold season, a season Varga warned would turn the land into a frozen wasteland where even the hardiest Krags huddled close to their fires.
Femi, wrapped tightly in his ragged but precious fur-lined cloak, which he improved himself from his previous cloak, during his second week in the camp.
He shuddered at the thought, of what would have happen to him without it, he'd have long succumbed to the merciless chill, his bones left to bleach in the snow like a homeless holigan.
Then, at last, the wagons arrived.
The creak of wooden wheels and the grunts of weary travelers announced their approach long before they emerged from the mist. The camp stirred to life as Krags and human thralls alike gathered to witness the procession.
The wagons, weather-beaten and splattered with mud, rolled in like wounded beasts, their axles groaning under the weight of supplies and exhausted warriors and humans. Some bore fresh scars, deep gouges in the wood, as though something with claws had tested their durability.
Femi lingered near Varga, watching as the newcomers trudged forward, their breaths puffing in the frigid air. Many were caked in grime, their leathers and furs soaked through from days of travel. A few cast curious glances his way, some wary, others sizing him up like a cut of meat at a butcher's stall. One scarred Krag with a missing tusk sneered at him, fingers twitching toward the axe at his belt. Femi forced himself to hold the stare, refusing to flinch.
Can't be showing fear to this savage beast, or they'll eat you alive.
At the rear of the caravan, Areius stood like a monolith of muscle and menace, overseeing the salvage of a broken-down wagon. One of its wheels had shattered, leaving the vehicle slumped in the snow like a fallen beast.
Krags worked swiftly under his command, unloading crates and barrels, some hoisting them onto their backs while others lashed them to the draft horses. The beasts snorted, their breath steaming in the cold, their flanks streaked with sweat despite the chill.
Areius was as imposing as ever, his massive frame draped in the snow-white pelt of the mutant dire wolf he had slain a month ago, a trophy that marked him as a cable hunter.
The fur swayed with his movements, lending him an air of savage nobility. Femi couldn't help but admire it, though his own cloak was little more than a threadbare thirdhand castoff, stitched together with a little of rabbit fur for warmth.
This is not the designer I wanted.
Varga approached with measured steps, stopping just within Areius's line of sight. Femi lingered beside her, his fingers absently tracing the hilt of the dagger at his belt, while thinking about were to get rabbit meat for Victim,his rare comfort in this strange camp full of bulging muscular krags.
What a life.
After a moment, Areius turned his gaze toward them, his tusked mouth splitting into a grin.
"I heard you slew a beast from the welp's tales," he rumbled, his voice thick with amusement.
Varga remained impassive. "We barely survived. And it wasn't I who struck the killing blow."
Areius's dark eyes flicked to Femi, glinting with something between amusement and appraisal. "Ah, so the stories are true. The rat brought down a giant."
Before Femi could react, a massive hand clamped down on his shoulder, the grip firm enough to make his bones protest. Oh boy, don't break my shoulder, he thought, forcing a stiff smile.
"You did well, rat. Very well," Areius said, his voice a low growl of approval. "Proved you're not a waste after all."
"Th..thank you," Femi managed, unsure whether to bask in the praise or brace for a backhanded blow.
But Areius's grin faded as he turned back to Varga, his expression hardening. "Status report."
"Camp is secure. Food stores are stocked, enough salted meat and hardtack to last two moon if rationed. Firewood is stacked and shelters reinforced. The old house has been repaired for your use, with fresh pelts on the floor and a new hearthstone."
"And the roads?"
"Scouts report no movement on the path ahead. We've had eyes on the main route to Novus City, no patrols. It seems the city is also battening down for the cold season.The way is clear… at least until the deep cold sets in."
She hesitated. "But there's another problem. We've seen signs of Creatures from the deeper woods moving this far and too close to the edge. Strange claw marks on trees, half-eaten carcasses too large to be dire wolves. While on the Dire wolves, there have been tracks of Dire wolves this far south. It could mean trouble brewing in the heart of the forest."
Areius's grin returned, slow and savage. "Good."
He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back. "Clear your duties. Gather the other hands at the house for strategy. And..." His eyes locked onto Femi, that same dark amusement flickering in his gaze. "Bring the ratling. I think I can find something… interesting for him in my plans."
The way he said it made Femi's stomach twist. Yeah. Interesting like how a lamb finds a butcher's knife interesting.
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As Femi and Varga left the warlord who was now alreay directing his warriors. He couldn't help go through the last conversation.
"Even though you used a tricks to win, you did defeat the Eri. You brought it down," Areius had said, his voice a low. "So I'll be expecting your best. You just better be good enough." The words didn't sound, like a complement they sounded like a warning, sharp as a blade laid against my furry neck.
Varga noticed the tension in Femi's shoulders, the way his tail kept twitching and brushing the his legs. "You don't need to be so scared of him, Femi," she said, her voice calm.
"Easy for you to say," Femi muttered. "He didn't just give you an indirect warning to be 'good enough' for some demonic plan of his."
Varga exhaled, her breath misting in the cold air. "The plan may be dangerous, yes. He's never been one to fret over death tolls, only victory. No plan is ever foolproof. Battle is chaotic. Yet his strategies haven't failed us yet, he always uses the most reckless plans, but he has always won.That's why we follow him. Areius the Blood-Seeker."
Femi didn't feel reassured. Something in Areius's gaze had promised nothing good. If this 'meeting' goes sideways, I'm grabbing Victim and running. I cannot become a victim in another man's story.
"We'll wait and see what he has planned," Varga said, scanning the tree line. "Till then, let's keep busy. We can track along the ridge, wolves were spotted near there, If we're lucky, we'll catch one separated from the pack, if not then we will kill the pack."
Femi grimaced. "Please, calm down. I'm not interested in testing myself against any wild animals. We can hunt rabbits, fresh meat is worth more , especially with cold season teeth sinking deeper every day."
Who knows when I'll eat meat again with Victim around? That vacuum, that bottomless pit, that strips a carcass cleaner than vultures.
They moved in silence after that, their footsteps muffled by the snow. As they neared the encampment, a voice cut through the quiet.
"Varga."
They turned.
Femi's breath hitched.
A female Krag stood a dozen paces away, she was tall for a human but small for her kind, just shy of 5'8". Her light green skin looked almost grey in the cloud covered sunlight, and a bow was strapped across her back, the fletching of her arrows dyed a faded red.
"Dana," varga voice echoed in the void between all of them.
He didn't need Varga's sharp inhale to recognize her. The resemblance was there, the same stubborn set of the jaw, the same sharp cheekbones, though Dana lacked, his brutish bulk. Her frame was leaner, honed for speed rather than raw power. But her eyes… those were different. A piercing blue, like shards of ice over a deep ocean.
She was Ova's sister.
Varga didn't move. Her fingers brushed the axe at her belt, his axe ,before curling into a fist.
"Dana," she said, the name rough in her throat.
The Krag woman didn't answer at first. Her gaze flicked between them, lingering on Femi just long enough to make his tail twitch. Then, finally, back to Varga. The silence stretched, until it was suffocating.
"Varga," Dana replied at last, her voice flat.
Femi stood slightly anticipating, what was about to happen, his mind racing.
This is… This is...This is super story.