01-07-2017, 12:16 AM
The dead creature’s body lay discarded on the ground, lifeblood seeping sluggishly from the stump where its head had once been and staining the snow with pulsating rapidity. It was shaggy and had an almost ape-like resemblance, white fur matting up all of its extremities and looking like dampened wool, particularly on its brawny forearms— thick as tree trunks, they were! But of course, the dark claws were what had worried Jade the most, the shortest fingernail curved like a raptor’s toe and embedded deep into the ice.
In a rustle of movement she had moved to intercept Amber, checking her all over for signs of injury. Jade’s heart jumped into her throat when she noticed a slight stumble in the catgirl’s step, which was quickly covered up with a purposeful, lively hop, the faunus tossing a confident grin her way.
While she seemed to be healthy and aware for the most part, Jade still tugged worriedly at her sleeve and pulled her aside for a quick word, much to her friend’s exasperation.
“I’m fine,” insisted Amber, flipping some wet hair out of her face with a huff. Razorback rested against her shoulder, a steady and grounding weight even through her— slight, mind you, – dizziness. “See? No deep cuts or anything. I don’t need this mollycoddling, you know.”
“I do know that! I do. It’s just… I just wanted- want to be sure. Sometimes people hide injuries and they turn out to be a lot worse than they originally thought! Like internal bleeding, dehydration from a totally innocuous case of the flu… or a concussion! Hey, look me in the eye real quick, would you?” Jade leaned in close, frantically trying to check and see if the catgirl’s eyes were out-of-focus, bleary or telling of any number of symptoms.
Just listen to yourself, Jade, the space witch thought glumly. She’s practically the same age as you, and here you are acting like her keeper or something dumb like that. Even if she’s at less than 100% now, she’s sure to feel better if you just leave her alone. YOU would want to be left alone, too, wouldn’t you? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Amber waved her off. “I think I would know if I had anything serious going on like internal bleeding, Jade.” She rolled her eyes, smiling, “And you were right there, you know I didn’t hit my head!”
White-furred ears drooping, the other girl looked sincerely apologetic. “Sorry, sometimes I get a bit carried away. I, uhm— yeah.” – A high-pitched laugh, followed by a shrug as she turned and began to bound away, – “Anyway, let’s hurry up before this guy’s friends show up and try to get even!”
Ever a woman of action, Amber looked up and followed her line of sight. How far were they from their destination, anyhow? Did Brandon know? She then squinted with her bright-colored eyes at the mountainous landscape that lay ahead, judging the distance and the amount of time it would likely take to reach an area that wasn’t as exposed to the elements. She couldn’t really see much of anything aside from snow, snow, and even more snow, the blandness of it all giving her one hell of a headache. Still, the astronomer had said there would be a channel of ruins to investigate or something, so surely this wouldn’t end up being a total wild goose chase!
Sighing softly, the catgirl rolled her shoulders and stood up a little straighter. A sharp twinge of her spine where the wampa had managed to strike her caused her to wince, though the pain quickly ebbed into a muted fuzz of discomfort.
In truth, her muscles did ache a little and she knew it could only grow worse as the chill set in, but she had been through worse before. She wasn’t one to show weakness, anyway. No sense in making a big hullabaloo about something so small, she thought; her natural resilience served her well.
With a nod from Captain Tell they were off again, hissing through the snow and scraping over the occasional stretch of ice, the dogs breathing hard as they ran; and not a soul was present who wasn’t dressed all in warm furs and securely-wrapped leathers, weapons within reach should danger arise. They were running in a ‘v’ formation, like a flock of geese headed south for the winter. In fact, with their mirrored reflection coasting over the ice and the occasional ghostly strands of wind picking up, they did seem rather bird-like. A whole squadron of birds in flight, each and every one laden down with haversacks, bundles, meal-bags and other bulky, piled-up things.
They had spent the better part of the day traveling in this manner, the astronomer and his company on their sleds and the primes moving along with their own means of transport. Becquerel trotted alongside the other dogs, never seeming to tire even with Rebecca riding on a petite, splendid little sled strapped to his middle. Jade chattered endlessly as she sat atop one of the packages weighing down Brandon’s sled, speaking of her island home and the friends that she hoped to meet again one day.
She even joined in with the group to sing merry ditties that she had never heard before when they stopped for meals, and cajoled a few of the soldiers into a nonsensical jig to keep the cold at bay. These meals were fairly spread out, consisting mainly of stiff, frost-hardened vittles and silvery fish wrung out from breaks in the ice. It was a rough journey without roads or settlements to guide them on their way, but the company was good and the sky was clear, the gloomy day brightened by their high spirits.
Then there were the still, silent-as-a-crypt passes, the high walls of jagged, ore-veined rock towering above them as they passed between the mountainous crests. No one dared to speak when trudging through these silent paths. The stillness felt omniscient— a powerful, all-seeing force that would crash down upon their heads if broken. The sense of loneliness that had been but a small ache at the start of their journey soon became as stifling as the dreary whiteness covering everything.
Oftentimes the men and women would journey on foot, carefully leading the sleds forward so as to not disturb the giant mounds of snow on either side, the threat of an avalanche looming with all the severity of the guillotine. The dogs’ footpads left soft prints in the ground, claws scraping over stones and rock. They felt tired and sick in their hearts, the insides of their boots cold and wet, sometimes mottled with sores and blood. It was a chilling trek through a land of white death.
In the vertical lands of mountains and sheer cliffs was where they had ascertained the ruins might be. "And it had better be there," muttered Selena as she stumbled along through a slippery patch before her sled-team. The fur ruffle of her coat was frozen stiff, the brittle hairs causing her to shiver whenever they brushed against her cheeks; her cheery attitude had abandoned her around the same time when her foot slipped on a rocky ledge and a long scrape was split down her thigh.
Everyone else was in not much better spirits and there were times when Captain Tell alone was able to urge them on, giving a rousing speech about their duty to the Kingdom and the splendors of their homeland. This was usually enough to get them over the next hill, and the next, and the next….. each one drearier than the last.
At some point the sky began to grow dark, like how the sunlight fades with a slow, languid groan the nearer you go towards the Arctic Circle. There wasn’t a spot of vegetation in sight, no trees or shrubbery or mint-green lichens crawling over the boulders of the hillside they were on. It was hard to tell which hillside it was, as they had gone over so many throughout the day and they all looked much the same, anyhow.
Pretty soon they were ready to set up camp, strong winds tearing at their clothing and threatening to whisk them off and into the sky. The ice plains seemed to simply waft out around them in a sort of otherworldly mist, the altitude turning the ground under their feet into a city of clouds. The air they breathed in crystallized within their lungs, resolving itself into a smothering dew that brought on harsh coughs and sniffles.
When they at last stopped for a bite of supper and were about ready to set out once more, Brandon rummaged through his coat’s folds to find his map. Somehow during their exit from the Kingdom’s lands a field mouse had found its way into his coat, and it seemed that his unexpected tenant was rather set on remaining there to the end of its squeaky, cheese-grubbing days. Very miffed Brandon was, when he found the small beast scrambling about inside his pockets with small paper bits still quivering in its whiskers!
"I give you a home. I feed you the crusts from my bread. I leave whole biscuits in my pockets, and this is how you repay me!" hissed the astronomer to the mouse as it nibbled busily at his gloved fingers, a slightly hysterical note of panic in his voice.
All that remained of his map were torn, ugly scraps of thin animal skin, worn threadbare and colored like the yellow leaves of a Solomon’s seal herb. He was barely able to keep those puzzle pieces that remained from blowing out from his cupped hands, never to be seen again amongst the far-flung ice floes.
Just a few paces away were all the others, waiting patiently for his word on which slope to bolt over next. Even the dogs were watching him intently, the huskies with their pricked ears and the lone buff malamute with its faintly terrier-like ears cuffed to the side, their fur dusted all over with powdered snow. There was a smaller sled with only Jade’s pure white canine-beast leading it, the young Rebecca holding onto the leather-wrapped grips.
“Blimey! I do hope that we’ll be able to camp soon,” murmured one of the younger lads, perhaps Piers, arms wrapped around himself to ward off the frigid, swirly-whirly mists. “It’s awfully cold, and I’ve about had enough of climbing these impossible hillocks for the day.”
Burgess hmmphed from beside him, presumably in agreement, but wisely remained silent. He eyed where Captain Tell was busying himself with attending to one of his dogs, the poor creature’s paw having been cut open on a sharp rock. As he watched, a clean-ish strip of cloth treated with some foul-smelling herbal ointment was wrapped around the sore footpad with military precision.
“We’ll wait for the captain’s word on that one, mate.” said Smith, busily adjusting the flaps of his thick tailcoat with quite a fuss. He looked rather like a puffed-up emperor penguin, clad in all dark navy blues and an off-white undershirt. A silver saber with a decorative corkscrew hilt rested against his hip, a fine weapon forged with an instrument's grace.
"Well? Come along now sir astronomer, off we go!" said Selena. Roland, Smith, Piers and Burgess all looked up at him respectfully, so respectfully in fact that Brandon didn’t feel that he could bear to share the truth with them— the truth being that his map was utterly destroyed with the only spare fragments scattered between his hands and the mouse’s tiny stomach.
Then there was the matter of the primes, of course, and the good Captain, and Brandon began to sweat even as the icy wind shrieked in his ears.
He looked again at the sad, half-chewed pieces of parchment, the yellow-brown skin crinkling under the blizzard’s onslaught. He had always been a good study, his memorization skills above that of all his peers as his instructors had said. The astronomer imagined (and dearly hoped) that his gifts would not abandon him yet, especially in this time of great need.
“Is there a problem?” asked Roland, who was standing nearer to him than all the rest. He was a stout, blue-eyed man with a thick reddish-brown beard and a boisterous laugh. Right now he seemed a bit worried, his fuzzy eyebrows furrowed in concern for his friend. Realizing that he had just been standing there and saying nothing like a dumb fool, Brandon hastened to speak.
"It’s a bit hard to say," Said Brandon, "but I’m confident that we are still on the right track. If we just continue on as we were, on a straight course, we will reach the ruins in no time at all. My only worry is that we might encounter more danger before our journey’s end."
He glanced worriedly at Amber, the cat-eared youth still bearing the brunt of her injuries from the earlier fray. She was an imposing warrior, her feline traits making her appear more fearsome rather than softening her appearance like one might have expected. A controlled power lay in repose within her, springing forth in a blur of leonine ferocity and fangs when threatened, but she was not invincible. The wounds dealt to her frame made her shoulders lurch when she walked, and he hadn’t seen Harley stray from her side yet.
"That’s good to hear," chirped Jade, "and don't you worry about the danger! Amber and I have got this in the bag."
Brandon wished he knew what bag she was speaking of. An endless store of confidence sounded positively heavenly right about now.
Just then a great dark shadow passed over them with a powerful whoosh, blanketing them in cold air with such strength that the winds sharply changed direction. The soldiers among their company immediately ducked for their weapons, crouching down beside the nearest boulders and craning their necks towards the sky. Brandon cowered beside a sled, pulling out a small dagger from within his coat; the dogs immediately set to whining and growling at the unseen threat, their sled-ties rattling in the sudden stillness.
“What the hell was that?” whispered Burgess urgently. His hands were trembling around his crossbow, the bolts lodged into it directed shakily towards the empty sky.
“Dragon,” Tell rumbled, thunderclouds simmering in his storm-grey eyes. He nodded curtly to the boy, unsheathing his sword with a hiss of steel against leather, “Be on the look-out.”
Piers unsheathed his sword as well. “Do you s’pose it’s bearing us in mind as its next meal?”
"Not if I have anything to say about it,” said Amber. The faunus had already begun to steal across the snow, tracking the flight-path of the dragon from the direction its shadow had gone. Jade and Selena followed shortly behind with weapons drawn, their footfalls soundless in the soft slush.
They moved to the top of the hill where the air was a bit thinner than the rocky strait the others were caught between, listening hard for any signs of life. Selena could only hear the wind’s near-constant howl once they reached its apex, so it was quite a surprise when the two primes went rigid, fur-tipped ears erect.
“What is it?” she murmured, glancing down behind her to make sure the others were all-right. Smith had his blade at the ready beside Tell and Piers, while Roland and Burgess were ready to assist her with ranged fire. She raised her hand in a steadying gesture, palm laid flat. Her captain nodded in return. Wait.
The two hybrid youngsters exchanged a look. Neither of them was altogether certain of what they were hearing. In all honesty, it sounded like the repeated whisking of arrows through the air, a steady shnnk, shnnk, shnnk that only grew fainter with time— if the arrows in question were freaking ginormous, that is. Whatever it was, though, it had apparently decided to move off after giving them one heck of a fright.
The three slid down the rock face to rejoin the others, boots clomping in the snow as they landed.
“How strange!” Selena exclaimed once the two primes told the company of what they had heard. Nearly everyone agreed; it was indeed very strange. Each one in their own way expressed the fervent desire to never cross paths with such a beast ever again, and then they set off on their trek again, ears pricked and eyes peeled for any other strange phenomena they might encounter.
A number of other shadows flew over as they passed between the striated rock walls, but none were as close by as the first and they were hardly worried. It became a regular happening for a short time, but the pirouetting shades completely dissipated once they had moved clear of the pass and were out on the open tundra once more.
At some point Brandon produced the theory that perhaps they had been near a frost dragon nesting ground, and their way down the mountain slope was filled with his various factoids about that particular species’ traits and habits.
Brandon was enthusiastically waxing poetic about the wingspan of matured frost dragons when Smith, who was forging ahead of the group and doing his best to find anything else to pay attention to, cried out: "By Jove, would you look at that!"
And, by Jove, if they didn’t all rush up ahead to look!
There was what looked to be a crypt of some sort a ways off, sandwiched between large archways of solid stone standing brazenly apart from the blizzard’s wrathful throes. Between the dusting of snowflakes and the hilly slices of land were several decrepit, rocket-shaped spires, some of them escalating into half-formed bridges that scaled the mountainside the tomb was clearly built into.
And at its nethermost point, at the foot of the stairs leading up to the ruin’s gloomy entrance, was a herd of mammoths.
Yes, mammoths! Big, hairy, massive things, stomping about the plain with their trunks waggling about and the occasional trumpet-shriek bawling out. There were only about three of them, one of the beasts set apart from all the rest and grazing on the short supply of tundra plants prickling up over the ground, wide meres of muck and half-frozen water spread in a mottled green-brown tapestry across the plain.
What seemed to be an obvious sign of civilization was nearby: the grey smoke, gusting up into the air from a large bonfire, was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Considerable piles of sticks and slapdash fencing was arranged around it, some of it hemming in the mammoths to keep them from wandering far from the blaze.
They all looked at it for some time, and then began chatting it up. There were voiced concerns about the dangers of approaching anyone outside of their assembly, and their dwindling supplies and the coldness of the winter wind. The dwarves were probably on their trail by now, and trollish persons were most certainly not to be trusted (no more than those blasted dwarves, anyhow). No one wanted a repeat of the wampa incident, no matter the precise species of their enemy.
Perhaps, some reasoned, there would be civilized persons over there that would sit them down beside that nice, warm fire and give them something equally nice and warm to eat. Now that set a fair amount of stomachs to rumbling, and with that it was settled. They would go down to the bonfire and see what these folk were about, because someone must have seen it fit to tame a mammoth herd.
"Quietly now," Tell cautioned, and with that they wove their way down the hillside and onto the flat plain the mammoths tramped happily upon. They were able to move so near to the mammoths that they could feel the vibrations of the earth their heavy footsteps made, pebbles skittering with every doddering stumble. It was a right struggle to keep the dogs quiet but they managed, distracting them with scratches behind the ears and soft whistling.
Finally they settled behind a nicely-sized slope, the mound of snow effectively shielding them from the view of anyone within the bonfire's vicinity. What seemed to be giant rats were mounted on the spikes of the fences, their bodies blackened beyond recognition and reeking horribly; what appeared to be giant sacks of cheese slumped in burlap pouches about the fence-line, perhaps made from mammoths' milk. The flames lapped at the sky, roaring and spitting sparks of red and orange.
Everyone noticed the incredible size of everything, of course; it was impossible not to. There was a stool, rather similar to a milk-maid's except in size, that was at least the full height of an average man's body. Perhaps the mammoths were not the only large beasts nearby.
"We'll go on ahead," Amber told Tell and Brandon quietly, gesturing for Jade to follow. Creeping lightly through the snow, the two picked their way towards the bonfire, slipping silently inside the camp and out of view.
In a rustle of movement she had moved to intercept Amber, checking her all over for signs of injury. Jade’s heart jumped into her throat when she noticed a slight stumble in the catgirl’s step, which was quickly covered up with a purposeful, lively hop, the faunus tossing a confident grin her way.
While she seemed to be healthy and aware for the most part, Jade still tugged worriedly at her sleeve and pulled her aside for a quick word, much to her friend’s exasperation.
“I’m fine,” insisted Amber, flipping some wet hair out of her face with a huff. Razorback rested against her shoulder, a steady and grounding weight even through her— slight, mind you, – dizziness. “See? No deep cuts or anything. I don’t need this mollycoddling, you know.”
“I do know that! I do. It’s just… I just wanted- want to be sure. Sometimes people hide injuries and they turn out to be a lot worse than they originally thought! Like internal bleeding, dehydration from a totally innocuous case of the flu… or a concussion! Hey, look me in the eye real quick, would you?” Jade leaned in close, frantically trying to check and see if the catgirl’s eyes were out-of-focus, bleary or telling of any number of symptoms.
Just listen to yourself, Jade, the space witch thought glumly. She’s practically the same age as you, and here you are acting like her keeper or something dumb like that. Even if she’s at less than 100% now, she’s sure to feel better if you just leave her alone. YOU would want to be left alone, too, wouldn’t you? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Amber waved her off. “I think I would know if I had anything serious going on like internal bleeding, Jade.” She rolled her eyes, smiling, “And you were right there, you know I didn’t hit my head!”
White-furred ears drooping, the other girl looked sincerely apologetic. “Sorry, sometimes I get a bit carried away. I, uhm— yeah.” – A high-pitched laugh, followed by a shrug as she turned and began to bound away, – “Anyway, let’s hurry up before this guy’s friends show up and try to get even!”
Ever a woman of action, Amber looked up and followed her line of sight. How far were they from their destination, anyhow? Did Brandon know? She then squinted with her bright-colored eyes at the mountainous landscape that lay ahead, judging the distance and the amount of time it would likely take to reach an area that wasn’t as exposed to the elements. She couldn’t really see much of anything aside from snow, snow, and even more snow, the blandness of it all giving her one hell of a headache. Still, the astronomer had said there would be a channel of ruins to investigate or something, so surely this wouldn’t end up being a total wild goose chase!
Sighing softly, the catgirl rolled her shoulders and stood up a little straighter. A sharp twinge of her spine where the wampa had managed to strike her caused her to wince, though the pain quickly ebbed into a muted fuzz of discomfort.
In truth, her muscles did ache a little and she knew it could only grow worse as the chill set in, but she had been through worse before. She wasn’t one to show weakness, anyway. No sense in making a big hullabaloo about something so small, she thought; her natural resilience served her well.
With a nod from Captain Tell they were off again, hissing through the snow and scraping over the occasional stretch of ice, the dogs breathing hard as they ran; and not a soul was present who wasn’t dressed all in warm furs and securely-wrapped leathers, weapons within reach should danger arise. They were running in a ‘v’ formation, like a flock of geese headed south for the winter. In fact, with their mirrored reflection coasting over the ice and the occasional ghostly strands of wind picking up, they did seem rather bird-like. A whole squadron of birds in flight, each and every one laden down with haversacks, bundles, meal-bags and other bulky, piled-up things.
They had spent the better part of the day traveling in this manner, the astronomer and his company on their sleds and the primes moving along with their own means of transport. Becquerel trotted alongside the other dogs, never seeming to tire even with Rebecca riding on a petite, splendid little sled strapped to his middle. Jade chattered endlessly as she sat atop one of the packages weighing down Brandon’s sled, speaking of her island home and the friends that she hoped to meet again one day.
She even joined in with the group to sing merry ditties that she had never heard before when they stopped for meals, and cajoled a few of the soldiers into a nonsensical jig to keep the cold at bay. These meals were fairly spread out, consisting mainly of stiff, frost-hardened vittles and silvery fish wrung out from breaks in the ice. It was a rough journey without roads or settlements to guide them on their way, but the company was good and the sky was clear, the gloomy day brightened by their high spirits.
Then there were the still, silent-as-a-crypt passes, the high walls of jagged, ore-veined rock towering above them as they passed between the mountainous crests. No one dared to speak when trudging through these silent paths. The stillness felt omniscient— a powerful, all-seeing force that would crash down upon their heads if broken. The sense of loneliness that had been but a small ache at the start of their journey soon became as stifling as the dreary whiteness covering everything.
Oftentimes the men and women would journey on foot, carefully leading the sleds forward so as to not disturb the giant mounds of snow on either side, the threat of an avalanche looming with all the severity of the guillotine. The dogs’ footpads left soft prints in the ground, claws scraping over stones and rock. They felt tired and sick in their hearts, the insides of their boots cold and wet, sometimes mottled with sores and blood. It was a chilling trek through a land of white death.
In the vertical lands of mountains and sheer cliffs was where they had ascertained the ruins might be. "And it had better be there," muttered Selena as she stumbled along through a slippery patch before her sled-team. The fur ruffle of her coat was frozen stiff, the brittle hairs causing her to shiver whenever they brushed against her cheeks; her cheery attitude had abandoned her around the same time when her foot slipped on a rocky ledge and a long scrape was split down her thigh.
Everyone else was in not much better spirits and there were times when Captain Tell alone was able to urge them on, giving a rousing speech about their duty to the Kingdom and the splendors of their homeland. This was usually enough to get them over the next hill, and the next, and the next….. each one drearier than the last.
At some point the sky began to grow dark, like how the sunlight fades with a slow, languid groan the nearer you go towards the Arctic Circle. There wasn’t a spot of vegetation in sight, no trees or shrubbery or mint-green lichens crawling over the boulders of the hillside they were on. It was hard to tell which hillside it was, as they had gone over so many throughout the day and they all looked much the same, anyhow.
Pretty soon they were ready to set up camp, strong winds tearing at their clothing and threatening to whisk them off and into the sky. The ice plains seemed to simply waft out around them in a sort of otherworldly mist, the altitude turning the ground under their feet into a city of clouds. The air they breathed in crystallized within their lungs, resolving itself into a smothering dew that brought on harsh coughs and sniffles.
When they at last stopped for a bite of supper and were about ready to set out once more, Brandon rummaged through his coat’s folds to find his map. Somehow during their exit from the Kingdom’s lands a field mouse had found its way into his coat, and it seemed that his unexpected tenant was rather set on remaining there to the end of its squeaky, cheese-grubbing days. Very miffed Brandon was, when he found the small beast scrambling about inside his pockets with small paper bits still quivering in its whiskers!
"I give you a home. I feed you the crusts from my bread. I leave whole biscuits in my pockets, and this is how you repay me!" hissed the astronomer to the mouse as it nibbled busily at his gloved fingers, a slightly hysterical note of panic in his voice.
All that remained of his map were torn, ugly scraps of thin animal skin, worn threadbare and colored like the yellow leaves of a Solomon’s seal herb. He was barely able to keep those puzzle pieces that remained from blowing out from his cupped hands, never to be seen again amongst the far-flung ice floes.
Just a few paces away were all the others, waiting patiently for his word on which slope to bolt over next. Even the dogs were watching him intently, the huskies with their pricked ears and the lone buff malamute with its faintly terrier-like ears cuffed to the side, their fur dusted all over with powdered snow. There was a smaller sled with only Jade’s pure white canine-beast leading it, the young Rebecca holding onto the leather-wrapped grips.
“Blimey! I do hope that we’ll be able to camp soon,” murmured one of the younger lads, perhaps Piers, arms wrapped around himself to ward off the frigid, swirly-whirly mists. “It’s awfully cold, and I’ve about had enough of climbing these impossible hillocks for the day.”
Burgess hmmphed from beside him, presumably in agreement, but wisely remained silent. He eyed where Captain Tell was busying himself with attending to one of his dogs, the poor creature’s paw having been cut open on a sharp rock. As he watched, a clean-ish strip of cloth treated with some foul-smelling herbal ointment was wrapped around the sore footpad with military precision.
“We’ll wait for the captain’s word on that one, mate.” said Smith, busily adjusting the flaps of his thick tailcoat with quite a fuss. He looked rather like a puffed-up emperor penguin, clad in all dark navy blues and an off-white undershirt. A silver saber with a decorative corkscrew hilt rested against his hip, a fine weapon forged with an instrument's grace.
"Well? Come along now sir astronomer, off we go!" said Selena. Roland, Smith, Piers and Burgess all looked up at him respectfully, so respectfully in fact that Brandon didn’t feel that he could bear to share the truth with them— the truth being that his map was utterly destroyed with the only spare fragments scattered between his hands and the mouse’s tiny stomach.
Then there was the matter of the primes, of course, and the good Captain, and Brandon began to sweat even as the icy wind shrieked in his ears.
He looked again at the sad, half-chewed pieces of parchment, the yellow-brown skin crinkling under the blizzard’s onslaught. He had always been a good study, his memorization skills above that of all his peers as his instructors had said. The astronomer imagined (and dearly hoped) that his gifts would not abandon him yet, especially in this time of great need.
“Is there a problem?” asked Roland, who was standing nearer to him than all the rest. He was a stout, blue-eyed man with a thick reddish-brown beard and a boisterous laugh. Right now he seemed a bit worried, his fuzzy eyebrows furrowed in concern for his friend. Realizing that he had just been standing there and saying nothing like a dumb fool, Brandon hastened to speak.
"It’s a bit hard to say," Said Brandon, "but I’m confident that we are still on the right track. If we just continue on as we were, on a straight course, we will reach the ruins in no time at all. My only worry is that we might encounter more danger before our journey’s end."
He glanced worriedly at Amber, the cat-eared youth still bearing the brunt of her injuries from the earlier fray. She was an imposing warrior, her feline traits making her appear more fearsome rather than softening her appearance like one might have expected. A controlled power lay in repose within her, springing forth in a blur of leonine ferocity and fangs when threatened, but she was not invincible. The wounds dealt to her frame made her shoulders lurch when she walked, and he hadn’t seen Harley stray from her side yet.
"That’s good to hear," chirped Jade, "and don't you worry about the danger! Amber and I have got this in the bag."
Brandon wished he knew what bag she was speaking of. An endless store of confidence sounded positively heavenly right about now.
Just then a great dark shadow passed over them with a powerful whoosh, blanketing them in cold air with such strength that the winds sharply changed direction. The soldiers among their company immediately ducked for their weapons, crouching down beside the nearest boulders and craning their necks towards the sky. Brandon cowered beside a sled, pulling out a small dagger from within his coat; the dogs immediately set to whining and growling at the unseen threat, their sled-ties rattling in the sudden stillness.
“What the hell was that?” whispered Burgess urgently. His hands were trembling around his crossbow, the bolts lodged into it directed shakily towards the empty sky.
“Dragon,” Tell rumbled, thunderclouds simmering in his storm-grey eyes. He nodded curtly to the boy, unsheathing his sword with a hiss of steel against leather, “Be on the look-out.”
Piers unsheathed his sword as well. “Do you s’pose it’s bearing us in mind as its next meal?”
"Not if I have anything to say about it,” said Amber. The faunus had already begun to steal across the snow, tracking the flight-path of the dragon from the direction its shadow had gone. Jade and Selena followed shortly behind with weapons drawn, their footfalls soundless in the soft slush.
They moved to the top of the hill where the air was a bit thinner than the rocky strait the others were caught between, listening hard for any signs of life. Selena could only hear the wind’s near-constant howl once they reached its apex, so it was quite a surprise when the two primes went rigid, fur-tipped ears erect.
“What is it?” she murmured, glancing down behind her to make sure the others were all-right. Smith had his blade at the ready beside Tell and Piers, while Roland and Burgess were ready to assist her with ranged fire. She raised her hand in a steadying gesture, palm laid flat. Her captain nodded in return. Wait.
The two hybrid youngsters exchanged a look. Neither of them was altogether certain of what they were hearing. In all honesty, it sounded like the repeated whisking of arrows through the air, a steady shnnk, shnnk, shnnk that only grew fainter with time— if the arrows in question were freaking ginormous, that is. Whatever it was, though, it had apparently decided to move off after giving them one heck of a fright.
The three slid down the rock face to rejoin the others, boots clomping in the snow as they landed.
“How strange!” Selena exclaimed once the two primes told the company of what they had heard. Nearly everyone agreed; it was indeed very strange. Each one in their own way expressed the fervent desire to never cross paths with such a beast ever again, and then they set off on their trek again, ears pricked and eyes peeled for any other strange phenomena they might encounter.
A number of other shadows flew over as they passed between the striated rock walls, but none were as close by as the first and they were hardly worried. It became a regular happening for a short time, but the pirouetting shades completely dissipated once they had moved clear of the pass and were out on the open tundra once more.
At some point Brandon produced the theory that perhaps they had been near a frost dragon nesting ground, and their way down the mountain slope was filled with his various factoids about that particular species’ traits and habits.
Brandon was enthusiastically waxing poetic about the wingspan of matured frost dragons when Smith, who was forging ahead of the group and doing his best to find anything else to pay attention to, cried out: "By Jove, would you look at that!"
And, by Jove, if they didn’t all rush up ahead to look!
There was what looked to be a crypt of some sort a ways off, sandwiched between large archways of solid stone standing brazenly apart from the blizzard’s wrathful throes. Between the dusting of snowflakes and the hilly slices of land were several decrepit, rocket-shaped spires, some of them escalating into half-formed bridges that scaled the mountainside the tomb was clearly built into.
And at its nethermost point, at the foot of the stairs leading up to the ruin’s gloomy entrance, was a herd of mammoths.
Yes, mammoths! Big, hairy, massive things, stomping about the plain with their trunks waggling about and the occasional trumpet-shriek bawling out. There were only about three of them, one of the beasts set apart from all the rest and grazing on the short supply of tundra plants prickling up over the ground, wide meres of muck and half-frozen water spread in a mottled green-brown tapestry across the plain.
What seemed to be an obvious sign of civilization was nearby: the grey smoke, gusting up into the air from a large bonfire, was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Considerable piles of sticks and slapdash fencing was arranged around it, some of it hemming in the mammoths to keep them from wandering far from the blaze.
They all looked at it for some time, and then began chatting it up. There were voiced concerns about the dangers of approaching anyone outside of their assembly, and their dwindling supplies and the coldness of the winter wind. The dwarves were probably on their trail by now, and trollish persons were most certainly not to be trusted (no more than those blasted dwarves, anyhow). No one wanted a repeat of the wampa incident, no matter the precise species of their enemy.
Perhaps, some reasoned, there would be civilized persons over there that would sit them down beside that nice, warm fire and give them something equally nice and warm to eat. Now that set a fair amount of stomachs to rumbling, and with that it was settled. They would go down to the bonfire and see what these folk were about, because someone must have seen it fit to tame a mammoth herd.
"Quietly now," Tell cautioned, and with that they wove their way down the hillside and onto the flat plain the mammoths tramped happily upon. They were able to move so near to the mammoths that they could feel the vibrations of the earth their heavy footsteps made, pebbles skittering with every doddering stumble. It was a right struggle to keep the dogs quiet but they managed, distracting them with scratches behind the ears and soft whistling.
Finally they settled behind a nicely-sized slope, the mound of snow effectively shielding them from the view of anyone within the bonfire's vicinity. What seemed to be giant rats were mounted on the spikes of the fences, their bodies blackened beyond recognition and reeking horribly; what appeared to be giant sacks of cheese slumped in burlap pouches about the fence-line, perhaps made from mammoths' milk. The flames lapped at the sky, roaring and spitting sparks of red and orange.
Everyone noticed the incredible size of everything, of course; it was impossible not to. There was a stool, rather similar to a milk-maid's except in size, that was at least the full height of an average man's body. Perhaps the mammoths were not the only large beasts nearby.
"We'll go on ahead," Amber told Tell and Brandon quietly, gesturing for Jade to follow. Creeping lightly through the snow, the two picked their way towards the bonfire, slipping silently inside the camp and out of view.
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Gamzee Makara Wrote:S’aight. After all, dogs have a tendency to motherfuckin’ bite.