Chapter 6: A Wanderer’s Grave—Part IV

(664 A.C.)

Andurak stood, rooted in place. In his arms, Wanily’s chest continued to heave as the girl desperately tried to manage the pain she was feeling. But her eyes, too, were wide with shock as she stared at the scene before them.

Somewhere behind him, Freya let out a keening wail and rushed forward, past her uncle. Yonid cursed, trying and failing to grab her, and ended up racing after her toward where Plin fell.

Toward where there was the body of the frost lion, unmoving, dripping crystalline blue blood above a growing puddle of steaming red.

“Plin!” Freya shrieked. She stopped a step away from the frost lion, clearly wary of the beast despite its stillness. Andurak could see the exact moment she steeled herself–it was the same moment before Yonid tried to grab her again and drag her away.

She hadn’t needed to worry. The frost lion’s mane, while still moving, did so in a sluggish, directionless way. Its eyes, such a vibrant blue, were dull and lifeless, like marbles. It didn’t so much as twitch when Freya pushed at its head, trying to reach Plin below that.

Andurak could have guessed what had happened even before it became clear. The frost lion had lunged, Plin had managed to bring Freya’s knife up through the underside of its jaw, and its own momentum forward brought the knife slicing through its neck. It would have bled out in no time at all.

However, the same was true of Plin. Just because he avoided the frost lion’s teeth didn’t mean he had managed to avoid its claws.

Freya was crying, ugly sobs ripping through her mouth, as she tried and failed to move the frost lion’s body. Yonid stepped up to help her, and together they managed to shift the frost lion’s body enough to see below.

Being prepared for the sight didn’t make it any easier to stomach. Only the upper half of Plin’s body was visible, but that was all they needed to see. The frost lion’s claws had indeed found Plin’s flesh, ripping open his torso in jagged lines from his collarbone all the way down to his navel.

He looked so small, Andurak thought. So small and so young.

Children shouldn’t have to bear the same weights as adults. They shouldn’t have to fight or kill or die for the people that should be protecting them. In this, Andurak had failed Plin. They had all failed Plin.

Freya’s sobs turned to wails, and Yonid just stood there, gaze on Plin’s body but impossibly faraway. His hands were fists at his sides.

“We can’t stay here,” Andurak said. In his arms, Wanily was shaking. Her leg was in bad shape–they needed to get a potion in her or at the minimum find a way to stop the bleeding. Otherwise, Plin wouldn’t be the only child to die today.

“He should have ran,” Freya cried. She knelt on the ground, hands squeezed into fists and pressed against her chest, rocking back and forth. “Why didn’t he run?”

“What about the others?” Yonid asked, ignoring Freya. He tore his gaze away from Plin, blinking hard as he focused on Andurak. Plin was like a nephew to Andurak, but he was Yonid’s nephew.

Or, he had been.

Andurak stared him down. “We have two more children with us,” he said.

Yonid let out a long slow breath before nodding. He turned and knelt down beside Freya, murmuring something in her ear.

Poor girl, Andurak thought. He knew that Freya held herself responsible for Plin–the boy had always followed her, like another shadow, getting into and out of trouble alongside her. He couldn’t imagine the grief–or the guilt–she had to be feeling right now. Even if she shouldn’t feel guilty at all. They’d only been trying to help. Plin had saved Wanily’s life, if not all of their lives.

It didn’t matter. They couldn’t spare the time. They needed to get the children back to the camp so he and Yonid could come back and try to help Minora or whoever was still alive in that storm. If they were still alive, and the storm wasn’t just cover for the frost lions while they feasted.

Andurak couldn’t decide if he was vindicated or saddened by the thought. On one hand, these were people he knew and loved. On the other, their reckless actions had already gotten a man and a child killed and another child injured. They had attacked Andurak and forced Wanily to help them under threat of harm to herself and further harm to him.

Minora had insisted, to Andurak as much as to herself, that they were doing the right thing. He wondered if she would still think that when she found out her child died to stop her from doing it again. If she was even still alive at all.

Andurak adjusted his grip on Wanily, as gently as he could to avoid aggravating her injury. She still hissed and clung tighter to his coat. She was not going to like the return to camp.

Yonid stood back up, one hand holding onto one of Freya’s. He began to move away from Plin and the frost lion, and while Freya still initially resisted, she eventually stumbled after him when the only other option was to be dragged. Yonid nodded to Andurak, Andurak nodded back, and they fell into step together back toward the camp, the both of them moving faster until they were jogging.

Freya continued to sniffle between her labored breaths from where she ran between them. Wanily watched the ground as they fled, golden eyes dull like tarnished metal. Andurak whistled lowly, and she slowly brought her gaze up to him. He wondered how much blood she had lost by this point before stubbornly shoving the thought from his mind.

“You’ll be alright,” he told her. As soon as the words left his mouth, he wondered how much of it was for her and how much of it was for him.

“What’s going to happen?” Wanily asked. She blinked hard. “Are we... going to leave them?”

“What do you think we should do?” Andurak asked. He wanted her opinion on the matter. If it was just up to him, he would come back and help Minora and the rest of them. Though they had hurt him, he couldn’t find it in himself to leave them to die.

It could condemn him–and her–to their doomed schemes if they stayed though. Wanily had already sustained a grisly injury this time around. The next time, she could be in Plin’s place.

“They deserve to be left. They kidnapped us,” Wanily murmured. “But we shouldn’t leave them, right? They... they don’t deserve to die for it, do they?”

Andurak didn’t know. He knew plenty of people who would say that Minora and the rest of her family should perish for their transgressions–knew some people in Menish and Ninall specifically that would hand him a blade and tell him to take care of business–but Andurak didn’t want to live in that kind of world. He wouldn’t contribute to that kind of world.

But he wouldn’t endanger Wanily any further either. Not unless she was willing to risk it, too.

“I would say they don’t.”

“Plin already paid the price. He died for me. For all of us.” Wanily nodded. “We have to help them.”

Andurak thought her brave before, and it held true now. Wanily wanted to help people–even those that hurt her. Even when faced with death, especially the death of someone so close in age to her.

Whatever else Andurak did, he had to get her away from Minora. Wanily deserved the chance to live her life the way she wanted. If she wanted to travel the world and learn magic, then so be it. She shouldn’t be shackled to Minora because she tried to safeguard Andurak. He wouldn’t let another child lose their life for him.

He’d have to talk to her about that, too. Children shouldn’t see death like that.

“Yonid, does your group have any healing potions?” Andurak asked. If they were already willing to hunt magical creatures, Andurak figured they would have potions in their supplies, too.

Yonid nodded, confirming Andurak’s suspicions. “A few. I’ll get one to Wanily before I head back to help Minora.”

Andurak grunted. “I’m coming with you, you know.”

Yonid furrowed his brow. He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally shook his head. “Aye, Andurak. You were always the best of us.”

Andurak shook his head but didn’t respond otherwise. A better man would have put a stop to this before it began. A better man would have gotten Wanily out at the first sign of danger and simply reported Minora and her family to the elders in Windor. If he had, Plin and Niveno wouldn’t have died and Wanily wouldn’t have gotten hurt. The frost lions would still be alive and free to roam the earth. None of this would have happened.

It did sadden Andurak, too, that the frost lions had lost their lives. They wouldn’t have needed to be killed if Minora hadn’t tried to do so first, but human life was always more precious than that of other magical creatures. That Plin had perished and that others in Minora’s family unit were still in danger took precedence. If Andurak had to put down more frost lions to safeguard human life, then he would.

“We should go ahead,” Freya said, scrubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. “Get Wanily the potion and some weapons and go back.”

“No,” Yonid hissed. “You are staying at the camp this time, Freya.”

Yonid didn’t need to say why.

“But we should go ahead. We can move faster than Mr. Lonesome right now.” Freya insisted.

Andurak did not make mention that his family name wasn’t actually Lonesome, and that was just what Minora called him. It didn’t sound so degrading, coming from Freya.

Yonid cast a glance at Wanily, mouth setting into a thin line. He slowed his pace until he had stopped, Andurak doing the same. Finally, he nodded. “We’re far enough from the frost lions,” he said. “You should be alright to wait here, if you want, and we’ll go ahead.”

Andurak didn’t trust Yonid as far as he could throw him, but he did trust that Freya wouldn’t let the man go against his word. What a disappointing thought.

“Wanily?” Andurak asked.

Her eyes were closed, and Andurak’s heart stopped for a moment at the stillness on her face. But then she furrowed her brow and cracked her eyes open, tilting her head back to look at Freya. “Go ahead, but we’ll keep moving, too. Meet you halfway.”

Yonid nodded, letting go of Freya’s hand. Wanily didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest–not that Andurak blamed her–and waited until Freya had nodded as well. Wanily then tucked her head back against her chest with a sigh, one hand still gripping the front of Andurak’s coat, and closed her eyes once again. A dismissal if Andurak ever saw one.

Andurak continued forward at a steady pace, even as Yonid and Freya hurried away. He wondered what would be waiting for him when they got back to Minora’s camp. He couldn’t imagine that Wern and Nivian were going to be too pleased to see Andurak after he knocked them out, especially when they learned what had transpired. Andurak doubted that anything would have changed if Wern had been there instead of Andurak, but Wern might not be of the same opinion. The fact of the matter was that Andurak had attacked him and his wife and prevented him from pursuing his grandson. Now that grandson was dead.

Andurak took a deep breath. It didn’t bear thinking about just yet. Once this was all over–once all the survivors had been gathered and were safe and the remaining frost lions left far behind the group–then they could mourn Plin. Hold a ceremony for him, as was the way of the Wandering People. Despite the horror that other cultures expressed, they didn’t need Plin’s body for anything. His body would be claimed by the elements or animals or magical creatures–in other words, returned to the earth. There was nothing else a Wandering Person could ask for.

Andurak resisted the urge to look over his shoulder or to adjust his hold. Neither action would do him any good–he wouldn’t be able to outrun a frost lion if another was trying to hunt them down and though his hands pained him something fierce, he would find no relief unless he dropped Wanily altogether. Even then, that wouldn’t fix anything. He just wouldn’t have pressure applied to his burns.

It was alright. As of right now, Andurak was responsible for Wanily. Minora and her family unit had made it clear they didn’t care about the girl past what use they could glean from her specialty. And look where that had gotten them.

Andurak would have to talk about that with Wanily, too. Later, when they had healed her up and she wasn’t pale from blood loss. He was still willing to teach her what he knew about surviving in the world, but she needed to be cautious from here on out. He was sure Minora wasn’t the only one that would try to use Wanily’s specialty for her own gain.

It must have been about ten minutes before Yonid returned, but he did return, huffing and puffing as he ran. Freya, thankfully, was not with him.

Yonid carried two spears with him, one grasped in either hand and tucked behind each arm. Hanging from his belt was a glass bottle filled with a thick, pale green liquid that barely even moved with each of his steps. When he stopped before Andurak, he moved one spear to his other hand so he held both in one and used his now free hand to pull the bottle from his belt.

Wanily had opened her eyes when she heard Yonid’s crunching footsteps approaching, and, with shaking hands, took the potion from him. She struggled to pull the cork from the bottle’s top, and Yonid reached forward to pluck it from its place for her. She still shot him a glare, and even in her weakened state it held enough vitriol to make Yonid look away. Still not forgiven on his end, then. Under other circumstances, Andurak might have cracked a smirk. As it was, he merely watched, tense with anticipation, as Wanily gulped down the potion.

She pulled a face at the taste, but still drank the whole thing in one go. It was, after all, not the first time she’d had a healing potion.

When the bottle was empty, she brought it down from her lips with a sigh, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. Andurak slowly lowered himself until they were kneeling on the ground, his knees sinking into the snow. He pushed aside the tailend of Wanily’s coat and the tattered, bloodstained cloth that was once one leg of her trousers to peer at the flesh beneath.

Just in the time it took for Andurak to do that, the potion had already done most of its work. The wound on the back of Wanily’s calf, before grisly and bleeding enough to fill buckets, was now little more than a large patch of raw and red skin. Even that soon lost its irritation, leaving her leg as unblemished as it had been before she’d been injured.

Wanily moved her hand to Andurak’s shoulder, using it to steady herself as she climbed to her feet. Andurak knew the potion had knit her flesh and muscles back together, but it would have done nothing for the blood loss. Once she was upright, she still swayed slightly, her face pale.

She took several deep breaths, her grip tight on Andurak’s shoulder. He was anxious to get moving, but he would not be so cruel as to not allow her this moment to gather herself. Andurak almost wished Yonid had brought Freya back with him, if only so she could have escorted Wanily back to the camp. Now, one of them would have to do it, setting them even further behind.

Eventually, Wanily released Andurak’s shoulder. He climbed back to his feet, still watching her warily. He didn’t know why exactly–her leg was healed and she was standing on her own well enough. It wasn’t like she was going to suddenly drop over dead.

She’s alright, Andurak told himself. He flexed his hands, wincing at both the burning pain and the stiffness of Wanily’s congealing blood on them. He was not looking forward to holding the rough wooden shaft of a spear.

Yonid stepped forward, holding one of the spears out to Andurak. He took a deep breath and took it, gritting his teeth at the biting pain of the wood grain rubbing against his raw hands. He could feel himself trembling as he tightened his grip on the weapon.

Minora had better still be alive. If only so the pain Andurak felt now didn’t end up being in vain.

“Where’s mine?”

Andurak stilled, glancing down at Wanily. Her head was tilted back to gaze back up at him, her brow furrowed. He shared a look with Yonid, who looked just as perplexed as Wanily did. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

Wanily did not flinch under the intensity of Andurak’s gaze. She huffed. “How are you going to find any of the frost lions in that storm? Or any of the people? Are you just going to stumble around hoping you don’t die, looking for people who may not even be alive?”

Andurak frowned. “You’re not coming with us, Wanily. You’re going back to the camp.”

“She has a point,” Yonid muttered. Andurak looked at him sharply, and he at least had the grace to look down, ashamed. That shame still wasn’t enough to still his tongue, though. “Without her, we’d be going in blind.”

“We’re not putting another child in danger,” Andurak said. “If you think you feel well enough to come with us, you clearly feel well enough to make it back to camp. That is what you will be doing.”

“If you don’t take me with you,” Wanily said, crossing her arms, “I’ll just follow you anyway. You have no one else here to make sure I go back to the camp.”

Andurak dearly wished Freya was here. That girl, while maybe not quite as stubborn as Wanily, would at least have the sense to get them both back to camp. After Plin, she at least recognized the danger they were all in. Unlike, apparently, Wanily, who had already almost followed Plin. And now she wanted to throw herself headlong back into the fray?

She was brave. Stupid, Andurak thought, but brave.

“I could send Yonid to make sure you get there, and Wern will make sure you stay there,” Andurak tried.

Wanily fixed him with a strange look. “He doesn’t care about me,” she said, pointing at Yonid without even uncrossing her hands. “He’d sooner just leave me than make sure I’m safe somewhere.”

Yonid sighed. He did not, however, refute this point. It rankled Andurak, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

“I could make sure you get back to camp.”

Wanily narrowed her eyes. “Then Yonid would be in more danger. And everyone else still back there.”

Andurak scowled. She wasn’t giving him much choice in the matter. And he would much rather Wanily stay with him and Yonid than try to stumble into the storm after them. He hated it, but he would do what he had to to keep her the safest he could. Right now, that meant dragging her back into the fire they’d just escaped.

Andurak said nothing. Instead, he simply nodded. Wanily’s eyes widened. “Does that mean–?”

“Yonid will take point,” Andurak said. She didn’t even have a weapon. They’d already lost one child today. What was Andurak doing? But then, what other options were there? “You will stay right behind me.”

“Duh.” Wanily turned her attention to Yonid, sending him a scalding look. “What are you waiting for?”

Yonid shook his head, more to himself than them it seemed, and moved forward to lead them back toward the mess they’d just left behind. He kept up as swift a pace as he could without outright breaking into a run, seeming mindful to Wanily’s still weakened state, at least. Andurak took up a position a few paces back from him, and true to her word, Wanily stayed right on Andurak’s heels.

“You will run if you feel endangered, Wanily,” Andurak said over his shoulder. “You will leave us if you have to and run back to camp. Understood?”

There was no response, just the sound of Wanily’s footsteps following his. Andurak looked back at her. She stared at him with a strange mix of suspicion and hurt.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

She looked down at her moving feet, then back up at him. It was another moment before she asked, “Why do you care?”

Andurak frowned, slowing to a stop. Wanily was forced to do the same, but she kept a bit of distance between them, enough that Andurak couldn’t reach out to her if he tried. Yonid continued on somewhere behind Andurak before he realized Andurak and Wanily were no longer following and came to a stop as well. He called out to them, but Andurak ignored him.

Wanily didn’t know where her parents were or if they were alive or even who they were. She had been to Festra. She’d been beaten before. Bones broken, men searching for her to commit unspeakable things. She had asked, before, why he was helping her. The answer now was much the same as the answer then, but it wasn’t the answer Andurak thought Wanily needed to hear.

“You’re a child, Wanily,” Andurak said. “You’re supposed to be protected by us adults, not the other way around. You don’t have to be useful. You don’t need to have something that someone else wants. That you’re alive should be enough.”

Wanily continued to stare at him. Andurak’s heart broke a little when he noticed her eyes had begun to glisten. She blinked furiously, looking away. “Oh.”

“You can still go back to camp,” Andurak offered. “You don’t have to do this.”

Wanily was quiet. After several seconds, she looked back up at him, eyes hard and determined. “I want to help,” she said. “No matter what.”

Andurak nodded. “Let’s go, then,” he said.

She nodded back. Andurak turned and continued on, prompting Yonid–who still looked more than a little confused–to turn and do the same. And Wanily, just as before, stuck close to Andurak.

She had already been failed by so many adults, and she didn’t even remember all of her short life. Andurak would not fail her, too.

It took longer than Andurak would have liked to reach the storm of the frost lions once more. Yonid slowed as they approached, and Andurak glanced back at Wanily again. “What can you see?”

“Well, the storm is magical,” she said. “So there’s lots of magic there. But it looks like there’s still two big masses moving through the storm, which I think are the frost lions.”

“What about the people?” Yonid demanded. Andurak couldn’t really blame him for his impatience–that was his family lost somewhere in that furious dome of snow and wind.

That didn’t seem to be good enough for Wanily, who scowled without tearing her gaze from the storm before them. “I was getting there. I see a little bunch of magic over there,” she said, pointing toward the right side of the storm. “If I had to guess, that’s maybe five people?”

The group had left with eight adults. They’d already lost Niveno and Yonid was here. Four people still inside the storm meant they’d lost another. Andurak shared a look with Yonid. His face was pinched, jaw tight, but all he did was nod.

“The frost lions,” Andurak said, “where are they?”

“Circling the group,” Wanily answered. “There’s some dead ones in there, too, I think, but yeah. The two that are alive are moving around the group of people.”

Yonid cursed. He didn’t move though, instead looking to Andurak. Coward, Andurak thought but had the grace not to say. They didn’t have time to waste, but Andurak didn’t want to just rush into the situation either. He wished he knew enough magic to send some type of message to whoever was still alive in the storm, and if Yonid’s black hair was anything to go by, he didn’t know any magic.

Without a way to alert the group inside that they were there, they’d have to go in and hope to kill the frost lions right away. That was risky, too, though–whichever frost lion making the storm would be able to sense them the moment they stepped inside it. That was assuming only one of the frost lions was contributing to the storm and not both of them, in which case the situation could be even more dangerous.

Andurak wanted to avoid bringing Wanily into the storm with them, but it was looking like he wouldn’t have much of a choice. Unless he wanted to just go in there blindly and, more than likely, die.

Andurak let out a long, slow breath. He turned to Wanily. “Do you still want to do this?”

She stared up at him, hands fisted in her coat. She nodded.

Andurak sighed. He hefted his spear up, nodding back. “You’ll need to be our eyes, then. But stay behind me. Frost lions understand human speech, so we’ll have to be careful. You calling out directions will focus their attention on you.”

Andurak didn’t think he imagined the way Wanily’s eyes widened a fraction in fear. Nevertheless, she said, “Okay. Then let’s go.”

Andurak took a deep breath. He started forward slowly, shuffling through the snow with his borrowed spear held at the ready. Wanily fell into step behind him, and Yonid behind her. Andurak had no doubt that Yonid’s chosen placement was to try to preserve his own life rather than protect Wanily or Andurak.

Andurak paused at the threshold of the storm. Its wind howled fiercely as it whipped snow and gray clouds around the frost lion’s sphere of influence. If Andurak stepped inside, he knew that the temperature would plunge and the winds would be strong enough to knock him from his feet if he didn’t ground himself well enough. The snow would make it impossible to see more than a few inches, and any frost lions inside would meld completely into the storm. He probably wouldn’t even be able to see their eyes until it was too late.

Andurak hated it. He hated that he had to bring Wanily with him in this. She should run far away from this mess, but if she insisted on doing the exact opposite, then Andurak would do his best to protect her. \He would not fail her.

There was no time to waste. Andurak took the plunge into the dome, shivering at the sudden cold. It was like being submerged in arctic waters, the way the cold immediately began to sap at his strength. Andurak powered through it, moving inside enough to allow Wanily and Yonid to trail in after him.

“Wanily?” Andurak called over the wind.

“There’s one coming!” she shouted back. “Straight ahead of you!”

Andurak cursed, flexing his hands around the shaft of his spear. The responding pain from his burns was nothing compared to the absolute terror he felt. But he was the leader here. It was do or die. He would not let himself be cowed.

“Move!” Wanily shrieked, her voice shifting to somewhere on Andurak’s right.

He didn’t hesitate. He just followed her direction, taking two quick steps to the right and striking out with his spear like a viper lunging. He had to yank it back the next second if he didn’t want to lose it–the spearhead sunk into something moving past him fast. No doubt the pouncing frost lion.

Andurak thought he heard a guttural growl as he pulled his spear back toward his center, but it was impossible to tell around the wind whipping around his head.

“Did you hit it?” Wanily shouted from behind him. Then, before he could respond, “To your left!”

Andurak jumped forward, twisting as he did so, and slashing out with his spear in an arc. He was met with resistance, and when he brought the spear back in again, it was coated with icy blue blood.

“Andurak?” Wanily’s voice, panicked, and only then did Andurak realize his folly.

By moving as he did, he placed the frost lion between himself and Wanily. Wanily, who had no weapon and not even the strength to wield one right now.

Andurak cursed, rushing forward with his spear, just as Wanily shouted, “Andurak!”

His spear hit something that wasn’t flying past him this time, and he twisted, eliciting a sound he was sure was a pained, animalistic cry. He yanked his spear out of the frost lion’s flesh, backing up fast. Through the wind, Andurak could just barely feel the air in front of his face shift, a white mass striking where his head was just a moment before. The frost lion’s massive paw swiping at him.

“There!” he heard Wanily shout. He didn’t understand what she meant, and didn’t get to ask before she exclaimed, “Yes!”

“Wanily?” Andurak called. He couldn't see or hear much of anything–he had no way of knowing where the frost lion was without Wanily calling out directions. He uncertainly shuffled to the side, aiming to circle around the frost lion to where Wanily was, but he doubted that would help when the frost lion knew exactly where he was through all the frost and snow.

“I–I think you got it!” she said, right before Andurak ran into something. He stumbled back, his spear coming up on instinct, and was immediately met with the sight of Yonid holding up a placating hand. Wanily appeared out of the whipping snow from behind him, her arms hugging herself and her nose a painful looking red. “Yonid killed it!” she informed Andurak.

Andurak let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure if this made up for Yonid’s previous abandonment of Wanily, but it was something, at least.

The storm around them began to quell. The wind grew less ferocious and the snow less thick and suffocating. The air even grew warmer–not by much, but enough that it was noticeable. Andurak gave it only a moment to confirm, but though the storm had calmed, it didn’t completely disappear. Which meant the other frost lion was contributing to it and now knew that its companion was dead.

“Wanily?” Andurak said, stepping ahead of her and casting his gaze around the storm. Though the snow was no longer thick as a wall, it would still be almost impossible to spot the other frost lion through it all.

“It stopped,” Wanily said. Andurak glanced back at her. She squinted at some point ahead and to their right. “Okay, it’s moving again, but it’s... not getting closer. It’s running away?”

“Are you sure?” Yonid demanded.

Wanily shrugged. “Looks like it.”

True to her word, after another few moments, the storm around them finally began to completely fade. The wind died suddenly, leaving Andurak feeling almost off-balance without having to withstand the gusts. The snow began to fall around them slowly, drifting to the ground and disappearing.

Andurak still kept his spear at the ready as he prowled forward. “The others?” he asked over his shoulder.

“To the left,” Wanily answered, keeping pace with him. Despite her words, she had her gaze fixed to the right, and when Andurak followed it, he could just barely spot two small beads of blue between the vanishing motes of snow watching them from a distance. And then they were gone.

“It’s leaving,” she said softly. “I think it knew we killed the rest of its family.”

Andurak grunted. He wasn’t about to tell Wanily not to feel any compassion for the beasts–they were violent, yes, but they could, and often had, been won over with offerings. They had only attacked Minora’s group because they had tried to attack first. They had killed people today–a child that had meant them no harm at that–but the fault lied in Minora’s poor decisions, not in a magical creature acting in its nature.

“Minora!” Yonid called, bounding ahead of Andurak and Wanily. “Are you alright?”

Andurak stopped, holding out a hand to prompt Wanily to do the same. Minora and the other four remaining adults of her family unit were huddled together, spears pointed out in a defensive circle. When they caught sight of Yonid approaching, they froze, spears lowering a fraction.

“Yonid?” Minora shouted back, incredulous. Her gaze snapped to Wanily, then Andurak, and finally back to Yonid. “The frost lions–”

“Are gone,” he answered. “One killed and the other fleeing. We’re safe, but we shouldn’t stay here.”

Minora brought the butt of her spear to the ground, prompting the others with her to lower their weapons completely. Andurak scanned the remaining members–and didn’t see Reed among them. So not only had she lost Plin, but it seemed Freya had lost her father as well. At least her mother was still standing at the back of the group. Her eyes were dull, and Andurak spotted red splattered across her chest. Was she injured? Or had she simply been nearby when Reed was attacked? He didn’t see Reed’s body anywhere nearby the survivors, but there was something in the distance behind them forming a lump in the snow.

“Where’s Niveno?” Minora asked, sounding like she already knew the answer.

“Gone,” Yonid answered. He hesitated, and Andurak knew exactly what he was going to say before he did. “As is... as is Plin.”

“What?” Minora furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? Plin is back at camp.” Yonid opened his mouth to say something else, but Minora beat him to it. “And why is Andurak here? He should be back at camp as well.”

“Plin and Freya came to help Wanily, as did I,” Andurak said. He worked his jaw, trying to determine the best way to tell a mother her child had perished because he was trying to save someone she had condemned. “We found Yonid, but a frost lion found us as well. Plin managed to kill it, but he was–”

“Don’t fuck with me, Andurak,” Minora snapped. She stomped forward through the snow, her spear angled behind her. “You’re telling me that you brought my son into this shitshow, and he–”

She stopped, suddenly, halfway between her remaining family unit and where Andurak stood in front of Wanily. Her eyes began to shine, and then all at once tears were spilling down her cheeks. She dropped her spear to bury her face in her hands. The weapon disappeared into the snow coating the ground.

“I’ve destroyed it all, haven’t I?” she whispered, just barely audible to Andurak’s ears. “On nothing but a fool’s quest. A fool’s quest.”

“We shouldn’t stay here,” Andurak said, reiterating Yonid’s previous statement. “Pity yourself back at camp, Minora. You’ve lost people, but you have a duty as a leader to those that remain. Pick up your spear and move.”

Minora made a choked noise, dropping her hands and nodding. It was another moment before she managed to stoop down and pick up her weapon. She stared at its shaft for a moment, tracing the shapes carved into it with her thumb, before finally shaking her head and holding it at her side.

She turned to the rest of her family unit. “Gather what you can from the frost lion bodies,” she said, her voice steady despite the way it was tight with tears. “Then we head back to camp.”

Andurak scowled. “You’re still going to take from the frost lions? After all of this?”

Minora glared at him. “I won’t let all of this be for nothing.”

Andurak’s mouth was moving before he could even process the thought. “It already is, Minora.”

“Why are you still here?” she spat, marching up to him. “You obviously overpowered my parents. Maybe killed them–I don’t know. You’ve got the girl. You could’ve taken your stuff and left us all far behind by now.”

Andurak would not cower before this woman. Before, she was the only one with a weapon. Now, Andurak brought his spear to his side, setting its end against the ground. “We came to save you and your family.”

“Great.” Minora’s gaze snapped to Wanily. Andurak shifted so Wanily was behind him, forcing Minora to meet his eyes once more. He would not let Minroa take out her anger on Wanily. “You did it. Congratulations, you’re such a good fucking person. Is that what you wanted?”

“All we wanted was to prevent more blood from being spilled.”

Minora bared her teeth at him, spittal flying from her lips as she shrieked, “Really? What about preventing my son’s blood from being spilled?”

Andurak almost told her that she needed to calm down. It’s what she should do–if she did, she might see enough past her grief to recognize that he and Wanily were only helping them.

Her anger and hostility came from that grief. Andurak understood. Even if he had never had or lost a child himself, he could still sympathize with her. “We will head back to your camp,” he said evenly, “where your parents are still alive and waiting with Freya. I will gather my things, and I will be leaving with Wanily.”

“Take her,” Minora hissed. “Get her far away from me and my family. Hers is a cursed specialty. Cursed.”

“You’re the one that kidnapped me,” Wanily protested from behind him.

Andurak shifted so he was more firmly in front of Wanily when Minora’s expression darkened. There would be no reasoning with her like this. Wanily likely didn’t understand that, but it would be in her best interest if she learned when she should speak up and when she should hold her tongue. “We’re leaving,” Andurak repeated, before either of them could say anything further.

“Then go,” Minora said waspishly. Her fingers flexed around the shaft of her spear.

Andurak did not turn his back on her. He took a step back, forcing Wanily to do the same. Minora glared at him and finally turned away, heading toward where her husband stood several paces back and folding herself into his arms. He rested his head on top of hers and refused to meet Andurak’s gaze. Minora was, after all, not the only one to lose her child today.

Andurak turned to find Wanily staring up at him. “Come on,” he said.

He began leading the way back to Minora’s camp, Wanily falling into step behind him. He watched as Yonid and the others knelt around one of the bodies of the frost lions. Someone among them had produced a knife. Yonid was snapping the frost lion’s claws off with sure strikes of the butt of his spear while the others with him focused on cutting out the frost lion’s eyes. Andurak was sure that they would gather the teeth and whiskers as well, and maybe even part of the pelt. He wasn’t sure if the fur or skin of a frost lion could be turned into a potion, but just the pelt by itself was likely valuable because who in their right mind came out hunting frost lions?

Andurak shook his head to himself and continued past them. Wanily made no comment on what they were doing, but a glance back confirmed that she was watching the proceedings with wide eyes. She had probably never seen an animal harvested. Messy business it was, but she would become accustomed to it if she wanted to learn how to live off the land.

Andurak frowned to himself at the thought. “Wanily,” he said, slowing until he walked beside her. She hummed in acknowledgement, so he continued, “Do you still want me to teach you what I know about surviving in the world?”

She gave him a sidelong look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It hasn’t worked out so well so far,” Andurak drawled.

She shrugged. She watched the horizon as they walked, golden eyes reflecting the blue of the sky and the white of the ground. Andurak absently noted that the one leg of her trousers was still torn to shreds–she would need another pair. Or another two or three pairs, since she only had the one as far as Andurak was aware. That was on top of all the supplies he still wanted to set her up with, but if she didn’t want to travel with him anymore, that would be a moot point.

“I don’t want to stay with you,” Wanily said finally. She pursed her lips. “Which sounds really mean when I say it like that. I just mean that I want to learn magic, and you don’t know any magic, so I can’t really stay with you if I want to be the Archmage. So, yeah, I still want you to teach me what you know. And then I can go off and learn magic or teach it to myself, and I won’t have to worry about, you know, starving or something.”

Andurak nodded. He still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of her lofty aspirations, but if that was what Wanily wanted, he wouldn’t try to dissuade her. If he tried to shackle her to him–even if it was to safeguard her–she would probably just run and keep trying to survive on her own anyway.

Still, children shouldn’t have to worry about providing for themselves. Though, Andurak supposed she already had a fair amount of experience in that regard.

“Alright,” he said. After a moment, he sighed, his breath escaping him in a cloud. “And what do you think of your specialty after all of this?”

Wanily frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Andurak started, trying to figure out the best way to say what he needed to say, “that you have a very useful specialty. Not just for your own gain, but for the gain of others.” Especially in a world that was rapidly moving toward the use of potions and parts from magical creatures, and Wanily had a specialty that allowed her to track down magic. “I think it would be in your best interest to hide your specialty.”

Wanily was quiet. Andurak let her think on what he said the rest of the way back to camp. When the tents and campfire were in sight, she softly said, “I won’t tell people about my specialty. Unless I trust them.”

Andurak nodded. It was a reasonable enough exception. He let the matter drop, moving ahead of Wanily to enter the camp first. Wern and Nivian were by the fire again, Freya sandwiched between them, all of them stricken with tear-stained faces. Freya, however, jumped up when she caught sight of them, running right past Andurak and up to Wanily. Andurak would let the children have a moment–he needed to speak to the adults here. He wasn’t planning on apologizing since Andurak had only done what he needed to, but he might do something close. He had still hurt Wern–not to mention when he bit him this morning when his emotions got the better of him–and attacked Nivian too.

“Freya told us what happened,” Wern said as Andurak approached. “The others–did you...?”

“Other than Niveno, the only one lost was Reed,” Andurak said lowly. He resisted the urge to glance back at Freya, but Wern and Nivian didn’t. Nivian brought a hand to her mouth, fresh tears creeping into the corner of her eyes, and Wern turned away with a curse. Reed may have been Freya’s father, but he was also the son of the couple in front of him.

“I told Minora,” Wern spat, “that this was a terrible thing to even think of. Even before you and Wanily came. I knew it would end in tragedy. And now we’ve lost Niveno, Reed, our sweet Plin...”

Andurak was not uncomfortable in the face of their grief, but he felt out of place among it, a visitor to it. He thought himself close to Minora’s family–though that position had been slightly challenged by their recent treatment of him–but he still was not part of her family. No matter how he cared for Plin, Plin was not a son or nephew or grandson to him.

But he was still gone. Andurak would grieve him, but it would be when he was far from Minora and her family.

“I’m taking my things,” Andurak told them. “And Wanily and myself will be leaving.”

“It’s for the best,” Nivian murmured. “I don’t know what would have happened if you and Wanily had not come. I don’t know if things would have turned out better or worse. But I do know that if you take her now, Minora will lose some of her means to pursue any more magical creatures. That’s all I care about–preventing something like this from happening again.”

“We’ll tell the elders at the next Gathering what happened here,” Wern added. “Even if Minora will try to hide it, we will make sure the truth is known. Hopefully it will dissuade other family units from trying to hunt down magical creatures, whatever their reasons might be.”

Andurak nodded. Footsteps and the crunch of snow preceded Wanily appearing next to him, a strange look on her face. Andurak glanced back, where Freya still stood, arms hugging herself and face turned away from them. He wondered what the two had talked about, but when he opened his mouth, Wanily spoke first.

“Are we leaving now?” she asked.

Andurak snorted. “I will see you all at the next Gathering,” he told Wern and Nivian. “And know that I grieve with you for all that you have lost.”

Nivian began to cry in earnest. Tears trailed down Wern’s cheeks despite his obvious effort to stop them. “Thank you, Andurak,” Wern said, voice tight. “Know that I am sorry for what we did to you and your charge. Please, stay safe.”

Andurak nodded again. He turned to Wanily. “Let me get my things,” he said. “Then we can leave.”

“What about Plin?” Wanily asked softly.

Andurak stilled. “What about him?”

“Is there going to be a funeral? Should we go back for the bodies?”

“No. It is not the way of the Wandering People. From the earth we come, to the earth we return. The world will reclaim their bodies.” Andurak glanced at Wern and Nivian, both of whom only nodded. “And we all will parse through the loss on our own and with each other.”

Wanily frowned, but the only thing she said was, “Okay.”

Andurak sighed, but that she respected their traditions enough not to question them was all he could really ask for. “Come on,” he said.

Wern and Nivian stepped aside, allowing Andurak to move toward their main tent where they’d stowed his supplies the night before. Wanily kept close to him as he ducked inside. They didn’t say anything as Andurak scanned the scattered possessions for his pack. He found it tucked into the corner, out of sight and out of mind. He knelt down and rifled through its various pockets and compartments, confirming that everything was in its proper place. When he was satisfied that Minora or one of her unit had not taken anything, he stood and swung the pack onto his shoulders. Its familiar weight was as comforting as an old blanket, and Andurak allowed a small smile to himself as it settled against his back.

When he turned around, his smile quickly vanished. Wanily stood over a small pouch filled with small wooden toys. The small figure of a carved griffin was in her hands. Wanily stared at it, her gaze impossibly sad.

“Plin told me they were his favorite,” she said. She did not tear her gaze away from the toy. “When we were playing yesterday. He said playing Griffin was his favorite because griffins were his favorite.”

Andurak didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like Wanily had known Plin very well, but he had still died because he wanted to help her. He had probably saved all of their lives by sacrificing his own. Andurak had failed to protect him–that would haunt him long after the sorrow from his death passed. But what could Andurak tell Wanily now? And why was she so distraught?

Andurak asked, slowly, “What did you and Freya talk about?”

Wanily knelt, placing the toy back in its pouch almost reverently. “Nothing,” she said. She stood. “Can we go now?”

Andurak could press her, but he doubted that was what she needed right now. Instead, he nodded and held open the tent flap for her. She ducked through it, never once meeting his eye.

It would be in her best interest to learn how to lie, Andurak mused. It wasn’t a skill that should be necessary and was, perhaps, morally questionable, but Wanily had already proven she had no qualms about stealing–and lying would be something much easier to pull off and potentially just as useful.

That was a conversation for another day, though. Andurak stepped out after her, blinking against the brightness of the winter afternoon. Minora and the rest still weren’t back, and Freya was nowhere in sight–she had probably retreated to her tent. Andurak would have to do something special for her at the next Gathering. It wouldn’t make up for the loss of Plin, but it was the only thing Andurak could think of. He just hoped she didn’t blame herself too much. She was just a child that had been trying to do the right thing. Plin had made his own decision to follow her, even if neither of them should have been in that situation in the first place.

Andurak sighed. Wanily was watching him, so he nodded to her and began to walk back toward the path that would lead them further into Oavale. The crunch of snow behind him told him she was following.

He would still teach her what he could about surviving in the world. After, they would part ways, quite possibly to never see each other again. Andurak would, of course, offer for her to come to the Gathering at some point, if only so he would know she was still alive. But whether she did or not, he would have done what he could for Wanily.

He reached the path and began to follow it once more. When he did, it took several seconds for him to realize what was off. There were no light footsteps following him anymore.

Andurak glanced back. Wanily stood at the edge of the path, looking back at Minora’s camp. “Wanily?” he called.

“Plin died for me,” she said, “and now I’m just... walking away. Moving on with my life. I barely even knew him so it shouldn’t even matter, but...”

She turned to Andurak, eyes brimming with tears. “Is that all a Wanderer’s grave looks like? Someone just... left behind?”

Andurak could tell her that it was all anyone’s grave looked like in this life. No one could bring the dead with them. Mediums might be able to peer into Gehenna and its trapped souls, but since the fall of the old gods, not even that was a place a person could be condemned to after death. It was just... the end. A return to the god of souls and then forever lost.

Andurak didn’t tell her that. Because even though it might have been the truth, it wasn’t what mattered. “No one is left behind,” Andurak said. “We carry the dead with us, here–” he laid a hand over his heart– “and here–” pointing to his head, the two centers of the soul. “If you cared about someone, then they live on through you. That’s always how it is, Wanily.”

Wanily took a deep breath. “Okay.” She squared her shoulders and held her head high, marching up to and past Andurak. She didn’t look back when she said, “Then let’s go.”

Andurak smiled. He didn’t know if Wanily would make it in the world, but he’d do his damn best to teach her all he could so she did. And until they parted ways, he would not let himself or her perish. The earth could be merciless, but that was why people had to be merciful.

And when Andurak one day found himself in a Wanderer’s grave, he hoped Wanily carried him with her. He could think of no greater honor than living on through the future Archmage.

———

Plin woke to something tickling his cheek. He furrowed his brow with a frown, swatting at it. He expected his hand to connect with Freya’s–who had to be the one bothering him–but it didn’t hit anything. It just felt cold and a little wet.

He opened his eyes. Above him was a thick blanket of curling white mist, shifting just above him in endless waves of motion. Plin frowned more deeply. He couldn’t even see the sky through all the mist, just a strange sort of gray haze.

Pushing himself up, he tried to examine more of his surroundings. The ground below him was white, like snow, but completely smooth and hard, like polished stone. He whipped his head back and forth, but he couldn’t see anything else past the mist. Maybe if he stood he would be able to see over it? He climbed to his feet, then stood on his tiptoes, but even that wasn’t enough to peek out of the mist. There was just the white ground, the pale mists, and the gray haze backdropping all of that.

What was going on? Where was he?

“Freya?” he called out. His voice seemed muted somehow, though, like the mist was eating it up. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Mom?”

Nothing. What had happened before this? He–He remembered Wanily, and Freya, and Andurak. There had been the frost lions and Uncle Yonid...

And Plin had–

He had–

He died, didn’t he?

Hugging himself, he turned slowly about himself. But if he was dead then why was he awake right now?

There was something behind him. It hit him like a stone, the sudden knowledge that he wasn’t alone and the exact location of the presence. Plin whipped around, already backing up even without knowing what awaited him.

It was a person... maybe. Plin craned his neck, following the dark silhouette of something vaguely humanoid up and up until it felt like Plin was staring directly above himself. There, through the mists, were two glowing orange eyes peering down at him.

Plin gulped. The eyes tilted, like whatever Plin was looking at was cocking its head at him.

The mists surrounding Plin suddenly spun away from him, revealing the entity in its entirety. It looked human, too. Kind of. It wore something that resembled a cloak, but it was green and textured like moss. It spread from the being’s hunched shoulders all the way down to the strange, white floor and stretched even past that back into where the mists had retreated. From what Plin could see of its body, it looked like it didn’t even have a body–the silhouette he had seen had simply been the cloak. The only thing holding it all up was something stringy and shifting just like the mists around them, but it was orange, just like its eyes but without the glow. Still, Plin could make out two distinct, long legs and another mass of the strange orange stuff stretching up until it disappeared under the being’s mossy cloak. The cloak had something that resembled a hood, coming up to form a circular frame around the being’s glowing orange eyes but obscuring its face in shadows. It wasn’t exactly like a hood though, because along the bottom half of what would be the being’s face were green tendrils reaching from one side of the opening to the other.

“Human mortal,” a rough voice whispered. Plin jumped, shocked to see the tendrils at the bottom of the being’s face open and close with the words. It was speaking to him? Who–or what–even was it? “For your crimes against the gods of our realms, you have been sentenced to an eternity in the mists of Gehenna. I will now outline what you can expect from your prison.”

Gehenna!? People didn’t get sent to Gehenna anymore. That–That hadn’t happened since before the Calamity. So why was Plin here? And how did he get out?

“There is no escape from the realm of Gehenna,” the being murmured above him.

Plin–Plin wasn’t going to just sit here and listen to this thing talk. He needed to get out of here–get back to Freya and his mom and his life. So, he turned on his heel and started to run.

Except, as he fled, the bubble free from mist stayed perfectly centered around him.

“You will not be able to contact anyone, living or dead, in Gehenna,” the being continued. Plin glanced back, but it remained the exact same distance behind and above him. It almost seemed like Plin wasn’t moving at all, but he could see the being’s strange orange legs shifting forward, taking long, slow strides after him. “Amendment: mortals referred to as mediums have the ability to converse with those trapped in Gehenna.”

“Go away!” Plin shouted, twisting his head back around and running faster.

“You do not have the needs of the living,” the being said in that guttural whisper of its, completely ignoring Plin. “This includes items such as food, water, and sleep. You are condemned to wander the mists of Gehenna, a land of unchanging solitude, until the gods themselves are wiped from existence.”

So never, Plin thought frantically, his heart in his throat. Except–he couldn’t feel his heart beating. He couldn’t–was he even breathing? Plin tried to suck in a breath, but he couldn’t feel it anymore. He skidded to a stop, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to make sure he could still breathe.

There was nothing. No burning of his lungs, no feeling like he was missing something. He wasn’t breathing and it made no difference at all.

Plin gripped his chest. He had on the clothes he had been wearing when he died, but the sensation of the fur of his coat against his skin was muted, like his skin was covered in something stiff and he was trying to feel it through that. He began to pat himself down, rub his fingers against his cheeks and through his hair and finally resorted to pinching himself but none of it mattered. He couldn’t feel any of it with any sense of clarity.

The mists suddenly swooped back in like a flock of bats, surrounding Plin. His eyes began to burn as he realized the only thing he could feel, truly feel, was the mists tickling his hands and cheeks.

“I don’t want this,” Plin cried. He turned to the being. It was still there, hidden by the mists again, but its glowing eyes watching him. “Let me out. Please let me out.”

“I am the Guardian of Gehenna,” the being whispered, “Bryo, the reaper. I will ensure you do not escape your sentence. Thus concludes the explanation of your punishment.” Plin began to back up again, and the being held out one hand of shifting orange. “Why are you here?” it asked.

Before, it had almost sounded like it was reciting something–like when Plin and Freya listened to amateur bards that didn’t know how to draw someone into a story. But now, it sounded just as confused as Plin felt.

“I don’t know,” Plin said. He swallowed hard. “Shouldn’t you know?”

Bryo cocked its head at Plin again, and then it was gone. There was nothing–no whisper of wind, no extra swirling of the mists. Bryo and his glowing gaze were there one moment and then gone the next, leaving Plin alone in the mists of Gehenna.