Sesh 2: Magics work thy Will. Ending 23rd Feb

Taft speaks to the woman, and she turns her head to him at his kind words, yet she scowls. "I am Ragna, of the Steading of Sigrunholt. You have left my sisters, Friggr and Svana, for the worms today." Her head shakes. "You offer bread. Let us break it together. Then I will grieve."Eirikr, you've been taken to the Shrinehouse by Freyr, who is helping a Herbalist tend your wounds. His hands shake as he helps tie your bandages.Winter's Third Bite and Vasil, as you make your work, you feel at least one pair of eyes on you. Bram stands by his home, cool rage seething as he looks on. The rope cuts easily, and the banner moves free. It seems to pull at your grip, as if resisting being moved.

Shadow, you also hear a sort of screaming from the banner. An eerie, painfed, sound like the wind whistling through a quarry.

Working quickly, and ignoring Bram, Vasil rolls the banner, grabbing it and the pole in one hand, gripping tightly his spear in the other.

Vasil walks back toward his workshop, quiet and determined. Alert.

Reaching the forge, it is still warm from the embers of last night's fire. Deep red coals sit under a blanket of white ash. Without flint, nor tinder, Vasil is able to get a fire started with relative ease. Vasil turns back to the wolf in his doorway.
See? No flint, nor tinder. Vasil announces with a playful smile. Vasil knows this is not what Winter's Third Bite meant.

The wolf glares, and waits. He says nothing.

Vasil shoves the roll of fabric into the forge, and begins pumping the bellows, stomping furiously the wooden plate.

The fire flares in the forge. Vasil pumps harder, until the forge is hot enough to soften steel. Winter's Third Bite, still sits in his doorway, watching. Looking in his forge, Vasil is deflated - the banner is wreathed in flame, and untouched. Part of him knew this to be the case before he tried.

Vasil turns to the wolf, a touch sheepishly.
Ok, we have tried my way. Tell me yours.


The wolf speaks low and slow, I cannot tell you exactly how it is done, but as the embers remain in the forge, so do they remain within you. Find their warmth, and channel it out into the world.

Vasil listens quietly, and follows his new friend's instructions. Vasil pulls the banner from the forge using his tongs, and lays it on the floor of the workshop, clearing a space.

Sit. comes the voice from the doorway.
Vasil kneels upon the floor, sitting upon his heels. He slows his breathing, and concentrates. He sits like this for some time, adjusting to a more comfortable position, and removing his apron, and his gloves. Vasil imagines flames burning the banner, consuming the fabric, taking it for fuel. Fire creates heat, but requires heat to start. He imagines the spark, the heat. He closes his eyes and focuses.

Shadow pads silently behind Vasil as the blacksmith sits, concentrating. The wolf sniffs the air, taking in the smell of the forge and fire. This place was perfect for what the blacksmith was trying to do.

It flops down onto the floor behind Vasil, facing the door both to give the smith privacy and to protect him from intruders.

Taft shifts awkwardly at the mention of the woman's dead companions.

"There has not been war around Kallbacken since the time of my great-grandmother. We carried back our wounded, but did not have time to deal with your dead. It is only right that they are rightly treated for passage into the spirit world. And besides, we cannot have the Bruine feasting on human flesh and hungering for our smell.

Once the banner is down, I find you comfort inside. Then I will lead people back to the bog to recover the bodies of your companions. We will build a pyre on yonder cliff, and give your friends' ashes back to the wind. This is the Kallbacken way."

Ragna's stomach grumbles, and she sits on the ground, her legs crossed, back straight. It looks an odd sort of pose to someone from Kallbacken.

Vasil's eyes closed, he concentrates hard, fingertips pressed lightly on the banner. He feels a warmth in his solar plexus, like the pleasant warmth from a strong drink. The heat grows and moves up his chest, through his shoulders. Behind him, Winter's Third Bite releases a low growl, a humming sound that seems to split and harmonise with itself. Focusing on the sound, the heat reaches Vasil's fingers. He now feels heat - real heat on his skin. His eyes open, and his hands are wreathed in flame. He fights the urge to pull his hand from the fire, and renews his focus, imagining the flames spreading and consuming the fabric.

The flames are beautiful.

The flames are beautiful indeed, and as they touch the banner it begins to shrivel. A cloud seems to burst from it, but the flames travel swiftly up into the cloud, releasing green smoke tinged with blue. The last part of the banner to burn is the large eye.

Winter's Third Bite as the flames touch the banner, you can start to hear a screaming sound. At first a sound like a stone rolling down a hill, you begin to feel like the scratching is making words; finally a piercing scream rings out "Master, they are burning me. Send Help, Stop Them!". As the flames burn through the eye, the screaming stops. Vasil, you heard nothing but the burning of the cloth, a few pops of the metals in it, and the splitting of a little kindling you'd added.

Shadow's ears prick up at the scream, but the wolf makes no noise. As Vasil rakes the ashes into a bowl, it rises to its feet. It pads up behind him and bumps the back of his neck gently with a cold, wet nose. When Vasil looks over his shoulder at the wolf, it nods at him. It's pleased with his work.

It lopes out of the smithy, through the now-bannerless town square, and out of the gates towards where Taft and the strange woman sit. As soon as it spots them, Shadow loops around the two, stepping out of the shadows behind Ragna and brushing past her to sit next to Taft. The wolf leans heavily on its friend, resting its head on his shoulder and panting. "It is done," the wolf says. "It squealed for help as it burned."

Vasil trails behind Shadow, head spinning. If I can channel flame, what does this mean? This raises questions of Vasil's paternity, of who he is, of his position in society.

Reaching the small group, he presents the small bowl of ashes to Taft and the prisoner woman without a word.

Taft accepts the bowl from Vasil with a measure of ceremony. He is unsure of what to do, so he turns and faces the low, windswept evergreens that surround the town, and takes a deep breath.

A stiff breeze blows off the ocean and stings Taft's cheeks. It is a comforting feeling, and reminds him that he is home. He is right where he needs to be.

Taft lifts the bowl in the air and lets the ocean breeze sweep out the ashes. They drift and scatter away.

The weathered hunter smiles to his companions. "It is as easy as that. The winds are cleansing.

Come inside, Ragna. Alva will have bread ready. I will gather some people to recover your fallen comrades."

Taft nods to Shadow and Vasil, so that they might accompany him.

Once inside, he finds his old friend Bohn kicking the muck off his boots. He steps away from the woman and speaks to Bohn in the no-nonsense tone they have with each other.

"Oy, old friend. We need to bring in those bodies. Otherwise, the Bruine will be out there and git the taste of human flesh. We'll have to burn 'em like we do our own. I think the woman would like that anyways. Can you get some o' the boys out?"

Bohn nods in agreement and heads off, rubbing the bog-muck off his pantaloons.

Bohn slips off, the moon lighting his path, gone to steal the raven's breakfast.

The moon is high in the sky, you having returned later than any others to Kallbacken, and Alva is nowhere in Taft's residence. A hunk of meat, Iofr's pork, sits by a large loaf, still warm day.

Taft:It's eerie in here, you'd have expected your wife to be waiting for you; she normally only stays out on nights where there's a difficult birth, or a nasty injury. There must have been more trouble than you saw in the fighting.

There's enough food for all of you, and Ragna barely waits to be allowed before taking her chunk of bread and meat and setting about eating it. It's clear that she's taking what little happiness she can from this meal.

The meal is hearty, and the food fortifies you, but you are all aware that you've not slept much since the sundown before this one.

Shadow: You're not hungry for human fare, your pack feasted a few days ago.

Eirikr starts to sit up, his wounds stinging from the herbs and bandages that have been placed on them. He winces as he stretches, and soon the pain subsides. He reaches out to hold Freyr's hand.

Vasil left the group, walking back to the forge. Hungry, tired, confused. Today he had taken human lives. It weighed heavy upon him. Vasil did not enjoy violence, but saw its necessity in places. With a head full of thoughts, and a heavy heart, he walked inside of his forge, and sat upon the floor, near the scorch mark where he had summoned fire with his hands.

Vasil spent a time pondering the implications of it all. Taking the lives of men and women. The prisoner they took seemed highly reasonable, he assumed those he killed were much the same. Then his thoughts would jump to the Firetaming, and what that meant. The competing thoughts were too much, and he sat in a daze, not making any progress.

Oyvind shuffles into the room, holding two mugs of tea.
I see you survived, lad. The old man smiles, and touches Vasil's hand as he passes the tea.

I... Vasil falters, looking down. Oyvind smiles reassuringly in response.

Taft's boy, Eirikr took a blade to the side on the bridge, I hear.

Vasil looks up sharply, forgetting his own troubles, Oh, shit I - he scrambles to his feet, walking out the door, tea still in hand. He remembers the tea, drinks it quickly, and walks back inside, handing the mug to a grinning Oyvind.
I see there is much on your mind. We'll talk later. See to the boy for now. He rests in the Shrinehouse. The old Blacksmith places a large hand on Vasil's shoulder - a half-hug.

Vasil walks to where he last saw Taft, Shadow, and the prisoner. Finding the spot deserted, he walks to Taft and Alva's house, spotting Shadow along the way. Vasil walks through the front door without knocking.

Vasil.. Taft declares, perturbed by the abruptness of his entry. Ragna jumps at the sudden intrusion.

Forgive me, apologises Vasil, It's your boy. Eirikr.

Taft pales, standing. He lives, but was wounded. He's in the Shrinehouse.

As the group leave Taft and Alva's house, Vasil looks down guiltily - in his haste, he had tracked mud through the front door. Alva may be one of the kindest people in this town, but he was not getting away with this. Taft glances back at Ragna, unsure what to do about her. Oyvind appears, bearing two mugs, and a tea kettle. I understand we have a new member of the village I need to meet. With a characteristic Oyvind smile.

You just know everything, old man! I need to find out where you get your information. Vasil chides playfully, as they rush to the Shrinehouse.

The mood is sombre on the walk over, in spite of the occasional attempt at levity from Vasil. The group arrives at the Shrinehouse - this time Vasil remembers to clean his boots - wanting to avoid drawing the ire of yet another. Taft rushes inside, finding Alva, Eirikr and Freyr.Some time later...

...the main incursion seems to have been repelled. We've got dead to burn, a prisoner to befriend, and preparations to make.
Turning to Shadow, You said the ancient forest wardens invited us to "treat with them", you said. When the "time is right",
what did you mean?

Shadow yawns and flumps to the ground near Taft. It watches the humans tucking in, remembering how it used to beg for scraps as a yearling. Its tail beats the ground a few times before straying heavily across Taft's foot. When Taft glances down at it, Shadow yawns happily."Friends, remember the invitation my Dominant has extended to you. An invitation from her should not be turned down. I will set out for the range tomorrow when the sun is at its highest, will you both go with me?"

I will join you.Vasil goes back to his house and sleeps.

In the morning, Vasil returns to the bridge and battle site to help with the bodies - carrying, looting, burning (in an attempt to practice his newfound talent)

Any weapons and armour recovered should be returned to his workshop for cleaning, sharpening and maintenance before redistribution to the people of Kallbacken.

After ensuring that the Erikr is okay, Taft nods to Shadow.

"I will go with you tomorrow."

Taft returns home with Alva after helping their son home.

Once back at their house, Taft quietly walks through the rooms, listening. Over his years in the bush, Taft has developed a sense for when an animal is close. Often, he 'feels' the proximity of his prey before he sees them. He's never been able to explain, but he and Bohn both talk about it.

It is similar to when someone is watching you. If you are quiet and aware, you can feel someone's attention on you.

This is what it felt like, earlier in the evening. Now, in his barefeet, with Ragna and Alva sleeping, Taft listens.

Eirikr, your mother and Karl have been tending your wounds. At times she has been fierce, but every so often her voice cracks, and the voice that raised you spoke. As there was no-one as wounded as you destined to remain amongst the living, she has had enough time to bind and wash your wound twice over. She’s brought soup, the taste of the chickens in it reminds you of hen you were ill as a boy, fighting off some malady or other.For yourself, Eirikr, you feel pretty awful. Freyr grasps your hand, and speaks about how brave you were. At one point, Taft and Shadow visit. When they leave, they take your wailing mother away so that she can eat something herself. Freyr takes you, gently and limping, into your bed. He tells you your mother thinks it will start to get better soon, but that it won’t finish fixing for a while.Taft, as you walk through the house, your answer comes to you. The meal was warm and ready for you, and as delicious as freshly made food. The pork was roasted throughout the day, but mustn’t have been left in the house some time before your return, the same must have been true of the bread.

Shadow even before Taft has asked you to listen, you cocked your ear at the sounds of the Nameless Spirits in this place. They seem happier, and perhaps more active, than usual. So far they have yet to get out of hand and act rashly or oddly, but their behaviour is a little.... festive.

***

Vasil you start helping move the bodies. There are eleven fallen enemies of Kallbacken, and two fallen members of Kallbacken. Kata is in the village, receiving the bodies in front of the Shrinehouse, and she thanks you for what you did for the town. She and Axe have already prepared two pyres. One for those of the village, and one for the enemies. They are taking care that any personal effects remain with the bodies, but putting the weapons and armour aside.

As you return with the final body, you see Bram with Kata. He shouts, loudly, "Outsiders such as these. And that lousy limping thug in the smithy, don’t deserve to enter these walls. They should be left to rot outside Kallbacken. If I see anyone bring a torch to their pyre, I’ll make them wish they weren’t born!".

Vasil drags the corpse toward the pyre, he has a good quip in return for Bram, but holds his tongue. This is not the time, nor place. Let the fool hang himself by his own words. Vasil simply shoots a supportive glance to Kata, and a small shrug to Axe.
Calm, respectful. Ignore the idiot.
He hates that guy.

Taft sniffs at the bread rinds that Ragna left at the table, then shows them to Shadow.

"There was an odd feeling when I returned home this evening. Can you smell it? The bread and meat were warm, when they shouldn't have been. I have felt the aid of spirits in the forest, but never something as clearly as this. And never in my home."

Shadow sniffs at the bread rinds, and then gingerly takes one from Taft's hand and chews it. It tastes sweet and nostalgic. The wolf remembers stealing things like this as a naughty pup. Those were the days. It swallows the rind and says, "The banner is gone and the spirits here are happy. Our friend has done well in destroying it with his fire."

Eirikr, you awake, a little later than usual, feeling refreshed. Freyr is preparing himself for lighting the pyre for the funeral of the dead; like most of the village's public ceremonies, it takes place just before noon.

Meanwhile, outside the shrinehouse, Kata shrinks away from her brother, whose face is even redder than normal. Bram is swaying slightly, and he continues "Sulo is bust. S'I'm'n charge. Gotta listen to me all of you. If you know what's good for you."

As if in a trance, Freyr, in his vestments, exits the building, and lights the pyre of the single dead resident of Kallbacken. As he does so, he sings, deeply, of the loss each part of the whole feels as another dies. His voice reverberates around the entire village, amplified around the square and beyond, clearly head in every single home. Backing him is the sound of tinkling chimes from within the Shrinehouse, which seem to peal solemnly; as Freyr's voice changes key, and he sings of the breeze which flows around all of creation, which will bring us all together once again, the timbre of the chimes changes too, and they ring with laughter.

Shadow the music has another voice lifted in duet with the voice of the Shrinekeeper. It speaks amongst the chimes; a clear voice that rings out like the wind that covers you as you chase along the shore. It promises that the Interlopers will always be upwind, and the arrows of Kallbacken will not be picked up on the breeze; it says it will carry the ashes to its cousins, and that they will carry them to their cousins, and that the burden will be shared between everyone.

Vasil lays the last corpse on the pyre. Kata looks incredibly uncomfortable. Still not wanting to start trouble in this place of the dead, yet wanting to help his friend, Vasil calls out.

Kata, could I have a hand here, please?

Shadow leans on Taft and whispers into his ear, "Friend, there is a spirit singing with the voice of the wind. I do not know it, but it sounds happy. Perhaps if we talk to it, it could give you guidance on using your abilities against the enemy. Shall we speak to it?" The wolf's breath is hot and smelly.

Kata, pulled from her reverie watching the ceremony Freyr is performing, looks towards you. Bram swaggers forward a little, and whispers something in her ear. She freezes for a few seconds, and then runs away beside the Shrinehouse, towards the huts that ring the coast; you can see tears welling up in her eyes.

Freyr seems not to notice, and ends his last note; as he does so, the sound of the chimes dim to background music, and he looks at the second pyre. "Is there a problem, Bram?" the Shrinekeeper asks.

Taft puts his arm around the wolf and listens more closely to the singing.

He whispers back, "I always hear the wind, and I hear it now. Yes, it is happy. I've never talked to it before. Or maybe I have. But I've never asked it anything."

Taft breathes lightly and shifts his focus from the humans and their song to the wind and its movements. The roar off the cliffs. The whistling through gaps in the palisades. Smoke and ash reveal the winds intentions - the remnants of the bodies are carried inland, into the forest. Taft feels good about all this. This is how he listens. Everything feels right.

He whispers to Shadow,

"Some people ask the wind things. They say they'll get an answer, usually in a day. Sometimes in their sleep, in their dreams."

He looks out at the ocean, where the wind almost always comes from, and shifts his focus even more intently. He looks far outward, and also deeply inside himself. He speaks without words. He asks a question in his heart, in his whole body:

Dear wind. I never ask you anything, I just trust that you will show me when I need to know. But I think the need is more urgent now. Things have changed. I think I might have to do something different than before. Wind. Show me. I am ready to do something different, if I need to. I will even leave here to help my people. Give me a sign, wind. There is no rush. Whenever you are ready. Could be in years. Could be never. But I am asking.

A long time passes before Taft speaks again to the wolf at his side.

Vasil clenches his jaw. This is not the time or place, but he'd really like to punch Bram in his fat fucking face.

Taking instruction from Axe, and Freyr Vasil follows the procedure of the village, washing the bodies, he whispers a blessing of his homeland, taking extra time with those felled by his own hand. Guilt weighs heavy in his chest. These people, naked and cold are just as human as he is. Or they were before he destroyed them. Vasil ignores Bram's leering gaze.

Approaching the first corpse, a blonde haired woman felled by his own spear. Vasil kneels by the pyre, he closes his eyes letting Freyr's song wash over him, and recalls the sensation of flame upon his fingertips. With sorrow, he returns her to ash.

Bram reiterates his threat, this time to Freyr "No-one is to take a torch to these Interloping outsiders. Their dead do not belong here" His red face flares down at Vasil as Vasil focuses on lighting the pyre.

Vasil ignores Bram, looking to Freyr for permission.
With your blessing...
He reaches down to the kindling surrounding the dead woman.

Shadow lifts its head and scents the breeze. It speaks, saying, "We Hunters know of when the spirits are moved. We know when they rampage, and we put them down. We know when they celebrate, and we watch that they do not become too rowdy. This spirit has been here since time immemorial, before Kallbacken, but has grown with the town to embrace it. It was uncomfortable with the presence of the enemy's taint. Now, it sings free. It is happy, and its core may be moved to you as you call to it."

The fire spreads from Vasil's outstretched hands, and quickly spreads along the pyre. The assembled villager's first stand, not quite able to take in what they were seeing, and then a murmur of appreciation rumbles around, positive grunts as a spark of new hope skips between them at this fresh and beautiful sight to behold.

A thump breaks the murmurs off, as Bram's body hits the mud. Freyr looks appreciatively at the pyre and say's "Well, it wasn't a torch."

Vasil bows his head respectfully to Freyr and the dead - partially to hide the satisfied smirk from Bram's fall.

Regaining his composure, Vasil leaves the square, following where he saw Kata go.

Weaving your way between the salt-tainted huts, you can see Kata. She's sat on a driftwood log which sits on the beach. Her thick autumn wear covers her face, but you can still hear faint sobs as she sits there.Common knowledge: The spirit listens to all the prayers sung to it during Solsblot, Jolblot, and at the Ceremonies of Winds Changing (Midsummer, Midwinter, and the Equinoxes)
Interesting Facts: A Shrinekeeper or Attendant opens those ceremonies.

Vasil approaches, flashing a considerate smile, and sits next to his friend on the log. They sit in silence for a time, listening to the waves.
It's a comfortable silence, but Vasil breaks it eventually,
Your idiot brother fell in the mud before half the town.
He pauses for another few moments,
Are you ok?

Kata lets out a long sigh. Her legs curl up, her knees pressing against her chest. Her head shakes, and there is a long pause.

"He blames all this on you." Kata says at long last, her tone almost as if commenting on the worksmanship of a nail. "And Kallbacken can't protect from its own."

She pauses again, and then says "Sometimes, I just sit here for hours and wonder what it would feel like if the tide stopped, or if the wind ceased to blow. I wonder what would happen if the food stopped, how awful things would be. I guess we're all living that now." High above the figures of Vasil and Kata on their log, ravens fleeing Kallbacken are silhouetted against the noontime sun.

Vasil pauses a moment to take this in. This is a more honest conversation than they've had, moving beyond smalltalk.
"How worried should I be about your brother? He is a drunk and a brute, but has he the cunning to take a blade to my back?

If it is only words, or even fists, I'm not too concerned. If you fear more, perhaps I should take precautions - talk to Sulo, perhaps?
Sulo sat in the middle of the spectrum of the Jorstad siblings - he and Vasil probably would never be friends, but he made a decent guard.

"As for the stopping of the tide, I think we humans think too highly of ourselves. It is far more likely man will stop,
but not the ocean, not the wind."

A cold, wet nose presses against Vasil's neck. Shadow is there, with Taft at its side. "My dominant is waiting, friend," the wolf says. "Let's go."

Vasil squeezes Kata's hand.
Let's talk again soon. I need to go do this.

Kata looks surprised at the wolf's sudden approach, but relaxes quickly. She squeezes Vasil's hand and says, somewhat sternly"Dress warm. Be safe."

Taft arises from his reverie.

"I am ready."

After a short visit with Alva, who bustles him out with a pack full of food, Taft meets the others at the gate. While they wait, Taft removes his leather boots and ties them to the top of his pack. His bare feet are unwashed and calloused. He rubs his toes pleasurably into the dirt and breathes deeply.

"It is a good day to travel. I look forward to this. Which way, Shadow? Perhaps we will pass some of my trap lines and we will find rabbit from last night."

Vasil joins the others after a short stop by his home, gathering his basic travel supplies; a warm cloak, a utility knife, a small whetstone, his sturdy boots, some food, and his spear. He walks to the outskirts of the village, chatting with Oyvind who "needed to stretch his old legs anyway", hands his now empty mug to his old friend, and departs into the forest with Taft and Shadow.

Vasil will walk last in the line, allowing the Forester and wolf, who are more acquainted with the terrain to choose the best path. He watches carefully where Taft places his feet, keenly aware of his weak leg.

Shadow sets off into the forest. The wolf's tail hangs calmly, and its tongue lolls out of its mouth as it pants happily, enjoying the company of the humans. Still, it never stops looking into the shadows of the trees and up into the canopy overhead. As it guides them through the woods to the range, the wolf's eyes and ears are always alert, on the lookout for any marauding spirits.

The woods are thick, and fierce. The coming winter's cold is already here, but by noon there is no frost left, just cold mud underfoot as the three traipse. It will be sundown before they get to the range, and daytime in the woods is only safe in comparison to the night.

Throughout the day, you can hear distant mating calls of birds and beasts, and Shadows stops in its footsteps at least once, and bids you wait as animals pass beyond. Although, with human ears it is hard to distinguish the sounds, as a Hunter Taft recognises the cawing of an Ox-Adler, a flightless avian solitary predator. The three travellers hold their breath as it passes, and then continue on their route.

"The Range" is a grove on top of a hill, which Winter's Third Bite follows its nose to; a large tree in the centre of the grove sends sprawling roots all over the terrain. Near one of them, the wolves stand sentry, and notice the new arrivals. A howl goes out, each of the other joining in turn, each in a different tone.

The hairs stand up on the back of Taft's neck. He has heard the wolves baying in midday before, and often imagined what it would look like to stand among them. Now here he was, and not as a meal.

Taft's plans of speaking with Shadow's dominant quickly fades. He has no idea how to respectfully approach the wolves. But he also knows that showing fear, and hesitating, might be worse than anything.

Heart pounding, Taft walks slowly and confidently into the clearing. He looks towards the wolves, but makes an effort not to hold eye contact with any of them. This would work with the pack of dogs at Kallbacken, but he is not sure if the same practice translates to Wolf-kind.

Vasil bows his head in a poor imitation jewellery of Shadow's posture. He switches leading leg, and then reverses his decision. This looks like a small awkward dance.
To his right, Taft is making better headway. To Vasil's untrained eye - it looks pretty good!
Vasil leans into the performance, barking manically.

Glancing once more to Shadow and Taft, Vasil ends his bow, and stands tall, confident.

Vasil stands tall, hands proudly on hips.
Taking one more bold step forward, he places his foot on an icy rock, and falls spectacularly, unceremoniously onto his back.

If Wolves had the facial capacity to cringe...

As the two humans approach, the wolves seamlessly transition into a half circle. Their dominant, who stands far taller than any of the others, stands by the trunk of the tree, receiving the visitors. Other wolves fan out, quickly encircling the two-legs; one remains by a small den underneath a large root.The dominant opens its gigantic mouth, and says "You have arrived, windsinger and firedancer, you are in only any danger you have brought."

Vasil picks himself up sheepishly, looking at the circle of enormous wolves. He looks to Shadow, then to Taft. He looks back to the circle, and bows his head in deference. As a tradesman, he was once an apprentice. Standing before these masters of the forest, and spirit, Vasil submits to his teachers, much like he did as a young man, in another land. He is here to learn.
Vasil's previous instructors were quite keen on their apprentices not speaking out of turn. Vasil is keeping his mouth firmly shut, until asked a direct question.

Taft nods respectfully and squats on the ground to form part of the circle.

"We have been asked to come and so here we are. It is an honour to be invited among you. This winter brings a different kind of darkness than my peoples' stories can recall. I hope we can work together to weather the storms that are to come."

In spite of the cold weather, Taft is willing to sit and listen for hours, and will probably not speak again until he is asked. He is attentive and genuinely honoured, and will do his best to represent the people of Kallbacken as beings who respect the land and the world of the spirits.

Shadow pads over to Autumn's First Hunt. It looks up at its dominant with gentle eyes and licks under its chin, showing respect and submission. The dominant opens its massive jaws and gently holds Shadow's snout for a moment, acknowledging the gesture. Then, it releases Shadow, and the wolf lies down, respectfully looking at the dominant's feet. The three pups who had been wrestling behind the dominant now crowd around Shadow, smelling the strange, new scents of the village on its fur. Shadow ignores the puppies, glancing towards Taft and then back towards the dominant, yawning and closing its eyes.

Though they have exchanged no words, Shadow has echoed Taft's message to the Dominant. The wolf is happy to be back with its pack and under its leader, but is also glad its trusted human friends were invited and hopes this situation may be a positive and fruitful one.

The pups are hurried back by their Aunt to their den beneath the root, and the Dominant watches its children go. Then the large wolf turns and looks above Taft's head, as if somehow taking stock of his entire being. "Winter's Third Bite was troubled by a spirit in Kallbacken, and we came to our packmate's aid." says the large wolf, before yawning and moving its legs to stand over part of Shadow, accepting its submission.

"I am Autumn's First Hunt. My pack's territory is the forest, from coast to mountain, spanning further than can be seen from either. The spirits here are well behaved." announces the Dominant, proudly, her tail pointed high as if conducting her pack, who mimic her language. "The Ancient Forest Wardens' eyes are watchful."

Vasil nods again to the dominant, he moves next to Taft, and kneels likewise.

Taft can't help but ask,

"I do not know the world of the spirits as directly, but I do feel that they are kind to my people. When we hunt, we always leave some for the spirits.

"But I also feel that there is... something new moving over the land. It is easier for me to see the people. I fear they will return. And if they do... I fear that the dark spirit that troubled Winter's Third Bite return. Does this concern the Ancient Forest Warden?"

"No spirit concerns the Ancient Forest Wardens for long" proclaims Autumn's First Hunt, "those that do find our jaws around their necks all sooner". Its clear now, from the context and body language, that the wolf is describing itself, and its pack, as the Ancient Forest Wardens.

"Our duty is to keep each spirit in its place, as ordained for it by Great Grandfather." Autumn's First Hunt explains. "Those humans we attacked, we attacked because they were foreign; their place is a place of human design, atop rocks. And those spirits who had claimed a human body, those are always out of place". The wolf bares its fangs at an imagined foe at this, and then remembers itself, yawning.

"As such, this is our warning. Whilst the spirits do not belong, we may fight, if they are out of place, but it is not our concern. If humans come bearing rocks, and the spirits atop those rocks enter Kallbacken, then Kallbacken's protector Kallaustri might fall, but none of us will bear fang to stop this, for it is the way of things. Inside your walls, you have always been allowed whatever spirits you invite."

Vasil waits until the Great Wolf has finished it's speech, before speaking.
Wardens, thank you for your help in the incursion, and for your invitation. I come to you seeking guidance. You,
He pauses to scan the ring of Wolves,
...knew about your connection to the flame when even I did not. It was with the help of my new friend,
Vasil now gestures to Winter's Third Bite, offering a kind smile.
...who helped me to understand this connection. I am a long way from my home, from my people. They know more about these powers, but I know little. If you would teach, I would be a most grateful student.

Taft waits patiently until Vasil's question has been answered, then speaks again.

"Thank you, Autumn's First Hunt, for reminding me of the way of the Ancient Forest Wardens. I had assumed that the People Whose Spirits Lie Atop Rocks* were also damaging the forest. They are so different than the people of Kallbacken. I imagined that their differences would extend to not respecting the balance we have fostered with the land around us. But maybe I am wrong, and if that is the case, I can understand why you would show no concern over the actions of humanity."

He turns to look at all the wolves now, and puts his hand on his chest.

"I must speak from the spirit within me. My heart hurts at the separation between Humans and the other Animals. I feel different than many of my brethren this way. When I walk in the forest and my toes dig into the dirt, I feel a kinship with the land, and I feel the spirit of other forest-walkers that have passed before me - human, deer, foxes and others. It is a faint, fleeting thing. But I believe that the differences between ourselves and you Wolves... I believe it has not always been this way."

"I ask you - why is there a difference between us?"

Shadow, who had been calm as Vasil spoke, now glances at Taft nervously. It remembers the meeting house in Kallbacken, and how different this situation is to that. Its tail thumps the ground in anxiety.

"Fire-tamer, your question is not one we can answer as you would like it. I knew you were a Fire-Tamer because you smell of the spirit. All Spirit Hunters who have learned Grandfather's Song can smell spirits, and you humans who share the power of the spirits bear their smell about you, thanks to their immanence." The thoughtful eyes of the giant wolf fix you in a curious stare. "If Winter's Third Bite helped you, it might be because it has learned too much of our enemies, the Ghosts, who know how to wield the power of spirits as if they were playthings." Its gaze flashes down to Shadow, and then back to Vasil. "We know little of the history of how these spirits came to be tied to your peoples, but they are, and the First Hunter knew it would be so."After Tafts says his piece, Autumn's First Hunt turns to the two-legs, and turns its head quizzically to one side. "The difference is not so great as that, Wind-caller, and it is not between Man and Wolf, but between Predator and Herd. The Spirit Hunters ensure Spirits stay in their place; that is our duty, and our concern. As wolves, we hunt along our territory, but that is not our calling, it is not what motivates us and gives us purpose. Spirits are our Prey." the wolf says, punctuating the word prey by showing off its Crushing Jaws. "But you humans, you have built your settlements, and asked the wind to blow for you. And long ago, we agreed that if Kallaustri, or any Spirit, is taken up by humans, then it can stay with them so long as it keeps to its duties. Spirits are your Herd."

"Those spirits walked the marsh near Kallbacken, they did not belong to Kallbacken, they were not in their place, and so we ended them. If they come with the new humans again, but in shrines, then they will not come as our enemies." Autumn's First Howl says, its voice firm. "We hunt our own fights, and have many spirits to watch over. We have not harmed humans, we do not fear them; we do not fight their battles for them."

Taft replies,

Ancient Forest Wardens. Although I have never heard about the hunting and herding of spirits, I understand what you mean.

The hunter is unsure of what he is going to say, but he knows there is something important that wants to be spoken.

"I came here to ask for your help, and to convince you that your fate is tied up in the fate of Kallbacken. I see now that I cannot convince you of this. I am not learned in the ways of the spirits, and I do not know the nature of the Spirits Who Lie Atop Rocks. I am swimming in the world of the senses, and you see far below and beyond the realms that I walk in. There are humans in my town who may speak to you of spirits, but I am not one of them. How could I possibly convince you of something that I barely know?"

"But I do know this - I am a hunter. And I feel keenly that my territory is threatened by something foreign. I smell the ashes of burned villages on the bodies of the People Whose Spirits Lie Atop Rocks. My people are herders, and they will wait to see if the invaders return."

Taft glances at Vasil, then addresses the smith and the wolves.

"I have never said these words aloud, but they are the truest words I have spoken: My people are Herders, but I am a Hunter. I live to chase, to track, and to kill."

"My people would probably be frightened by what I say, and it is because I am not like them. I feel the forest like no one in my village."

"But I am also not like you, Ancient Forest Wardens. I am not a wolf. I am human. I am a hunter, and I am willing to range far from my territory, in order to strike, hunt and kill."

Taft feels the direction of his life changing as he speaks. If he stopped talking now, maybe he could go back. But it might be too late.

"Ancient Forest Wardens. Winter's Third Bite. Vasil. I see now that I must go outwards, beyond our territory, to hunt and kill the People Whose Spirits Lie Atop Rocks. I must ensure they do not return, for the sake of my pack. I cannot do this alone. You have asked us here. I need help. I cannot hunt alone.

Vasil listens carefully to Taft, there is a pregnant pause in which they hear only the gentle sounds of the forest. He looks to the circle of giant wolves.
My friend may be correct, to protect this place,
Vasil gestures, showing the forest around them, but also suggesting Kallbacken,
...perhaps we must leave. We know little of the group who came to these lands. We know not their size, their location, or what they really want. We do know that they will bring us no good.

Turning to Taft, Vasil continues,
You say you feel like a hunter among herdsman, I too feel out of place in this village we call home, for all of my trying.

Vasil turns once again to the circle of Wolves, looking up to their leader,
There is something else. If it is linked or not, I do not know. All things may be linked in some ways...

Vasil begins peeling away his layers of clothing, eventually exposing his left leg - his wounded leg. The flesh around the calf and knee are a mess of scarring. Though the scars are years old, they look like a wound freshly healed. Bite marks among pale, sickly flesh, as though wounded again and again.

Vasil trusts that beings as perceptive as these will understand the nature of the creature who delivered this wound. He expects it is a bitter enemy of the Forest Wardens.

I imagine that we share a common enemy, you and I. He finally declares.

THe wolves bare their fangs at the sight of the wound, and then theylook to their dominant for guidance. The gigantic wolf says "This is our territory. We will guard it from spirits, and the Ghosts, but have no need to meddle with humans. You hunt if you like, Wind-caller and Fire-bringer, but I will not let the pack, including Winter’s Third Bite, be swept up in your divisions."

Shadow feels the warm rush of anger under its fur. It curbs it quickly and pulls its ears back, dropping its head down and looking up at the dominant with big, sad eyes. "Dominant, the People Whose Spirits Lie Atop Rocks are hunting in our territory already. They are after these humans and Kallbacken, who are ours. Surely it is our duty to defend them as well? If we do not, these people will come to burn the forest and kill us too. But if we act now, we may avoid it. Please consider saving these humans."

Taft adds,

"Winter is almost upon us. While most animals slow down and rest, we humans remain busy. I know our kind. I know that the People Whose Spirits Lie Atop Rocks will be working and growing while the rest of the land's beings rest until Spring. If we wait until Spring, it will be too late."

"I also know that these humans are different than those in Kallbacken. Their spirits are not aligned with the land. When they burnt the nearby villages, they claimed that the Spirits Who Lie Atop Rocks will not coexist by the spirits of our villages. This means destruction and war."

"The great Barrens to the north were created by the last Human war. You know the place. Trees have not grown there for generations."

"I fear this will happen to our forest. Your forest."

Vasil approaches the circle.
"You might be thinking, 'why should we act? This is a human problem. We have our forests, they have their towns.'
I come from a long way away from here, but the forest guardians thought as you did once. It wasn't their issue, let the humans deal with it. Where I am from, there are no guardians. The trees stripped from the earth, so cattle may graze, the wood to make houses. What was forest is now town and farm. There is no room for guardians such as you in a place like that.

Kallbacken, how long since it has grown larger? Does it take more than it needs? We cut down some trees, hunt some animals - but never more than the forest allows.

What of these new people, do you, the guardians think they care for the forest? Will they take only as much as the forest can offer?"

Leaving the question open, Vasil steps back, hoping his words will away the giant beasts.

Taft nods sagely and watches the wolves' reaction.

"You know the forest, and we know humans. These ones are different. They burn and consume people and forests alike, like a wildfire. You must smell the fear on me. It is not the fear of you, though you are mighty and could kill me if you wanted. The fear you smell is the fear for all our lives, if these humans are allowed unimpeded entry into our lands."

Shadow glances at its dominant. "This man speaks the truth. Here, we are able to do our duty, and we run and hunt freely. This territory of ours gives us purpose, just as we give it protection. How could we live without it, and how could we let it be taken from us?"

The Dominant looks about, and asks, in its growling tone "As much as the forest can offer, as much as a tree weight, as long as the rive that flows? All of these questions. Kallbacken has its spirits, and they are protected. We protect them. Does that matter?

Rolling (from before)

As his companions fall silent, Taft speaks up.


"These humans are different than those in Kallbacken. Their spirits are not aligned with the land. When they burnt the nearby villages, they claimed that the Spirits Who Lie Atop Rocks will not coexist by the spirits of our villages. This means destruction and war."

"The great Barrens to the north were created by the last Human war. You know the place. Trees have not grown there for generations."

"I know humans, and I know this will happen to our forest. Your forest."

As Taft speaks, Shadow rolls over, displaying its soft, fuzzy underbelly to its dominant in deference and an effort to show that they mean well.

Vasil shrugs appeasingly, showing his palms to the pack.

Autumn's First Hunt bares her teeth, and the wolf's body seems to expand even as it crouches. The Dominant leaps forward in a bound, its face glaring down at Taft from its gigantic shoulders. It's more obvious than ever that the leader of the Ancient Forest Warden's is a giant even amongst the Great Wolves as the entire pack stare on.

"If they run, we chase" it promises, before releasing a growl that seems to roar across the entire valley, reverberating between the trees.

Vasil, horrific memories racing through his mind. Tooth tearing through flesh, tendon, scraping on bone. Pulling, shaking. He steels himself. Pushing the memory down.

Autumn's First Hunt paces back to where it was before, obviously a little surprised at the lack of overt reaction from its growl, its pride prickled and tail pointsd backwards.

It throws its head back and howls, punctuating the explanation with almost-whispered asidesto for, the benefit of the humans."Kallbacken will not be alone." it offers to the humans, resuming its prior pacing and howling again on the far side "Kallbacken is inside our territory, none may enter it without walking through our lands"

Shadow's ears prick up, and it scents the air. "Speaking of our territory, there is good hunting nearby. Perhaps after a hunt things may seem different," it says. It stands, alert, pointing towards where the delicious scent of prey is coming from. A long dribble of drool drips from its mouth into the dust. It glances at its dominant, dropping its head slightly in deference. "The hunt calls. Surely we are all hungry? It has been long since we fed, and prey is near."

Looking somewhat confused by its packmate's remark, Autumn's First Hunt rounds on the humans in its territory, it's obviously exasperated by the discussion and slightly shocked that the humans didn't bolt after it threatened them. It bares its teeth a little, whilst composing itself for what it's going to follow up with.

Vasil clenches his jaw, "You snarl like a nursing cub! We're here to help, yet you snap and snarl. Maybe that's all you're good for, you flea ridden mutt."

Eirikr soon approaches the group, grabbing his axe.

Not even flinching at your words, the dominant spits back at you.

"This is a human conflict between humans, the Wolves need not get involved."The pack turns to look to Eirikr, three of them encircling the axe-wielding two-legs, but letting him walk forward.

Shadow looks off into the distance, sighing. "Humans have changed so much here, haven't they? In the Ancient times, when they arrived, we initially were in conflict. We thought they sought to take our territory and our prey. We won our rule over our territory and they settled into their villages, but the arrival of the humans changed the landscape which affected the shape of our packs. We spread out further. There were less young. Food moved in strange ways. Didn't that happen?"

Autumn's First Hunt cocks her head, licking the tip of her snout. "Yes, indeed. It is our history. The humans changed the forest and so we changed too."

Shadow raises its head, as close to the height of the dominant's as it dares. "Our history shows exactly why we must resist these new humans. The ancient ones did not arrive with malice in their hearts, yet they changed us. These arrive with malice, and even if we do not enter into direct conflict, they can still destroy us and our territory. You yourself have admitted it, Dominant." It tilts its head back and howls.

Looking around, Vasil's companions aren't ready to speak, his face still burning from the failure of his last speech, he steps forward.

We're all in this now. We have asked you for help, perhaps it is fair we ask you, what can we do for you?

"You can get rid of all these humans sullying my domain" the dominants roars, its voice echoing back and forth around the range, as all the pack enter into a group howl, each unique pitch adding to the cacophony.