Dan Halen- The Hunter
The northern reaches of Guildaris proved to be a place that grew in their magnificence as one progressed further into them. Civilization itself seemed to give way to nature and its unruly beauty as even the highway fell away to become little more than a web of horse trails that snaked through forest and swamp, over valley and vale and into the Advarse Mountains. Here, the fauna grew unchecked and ungoverned as it spread its leafy limbs wherever it pleased. Animals were abundant in these parts, from squirrels and field mice to wolves and bears, alongside many a magical beast or mythical monster. Though the entrance of the countryside, affectionately called the Wooded Chasm, was a popular tourist destination and vocational getaway, not much further the land grew rough and unforgiving, and the wildlife more vicious and untamed with it. Traversing it on foot and alone was more than dangerous, and most people dared not venture it without at least a horse to help them expedite the journey. While Dan was far from most people, he still had chosen to acquire a steed for himself to speed him on.

The horse was a deep brown colored beast that, while not the mightiest of his kind, was more than dependable and, the rancher had assured him, one of the most enduring he’d ever raised. Dan had acquired the equestrian after staying overnight at a small ranch in the Chasm, where the old man who owned the property, his two sons, and his daughter had been incredibly hospitable toward such a stranger. They’d given him a bed, a warm meal, and some advice for his travels. In particular, the old rancher suggested that he’d want a horse if he intended to go all the way to the Advarse, and that he had a few the Hunter might peruse and possibly purchase. Money held little value so far out in the boondocks, but Dan was easily capable of striking a bargain. In return for the animal, he’d taken some time in the tool shed and, using some materials he’d managed to bring with him from Batotia, forged four brand new hunting rifles for the family, all of them up to par with his typical standards. In exchange, the rancher had insisted he take one of the best of the stable, with obvious exception to his breeding stallion and mare, to see him northward. It handled very much like the wild mares that heeded his once-goddess’ beck and call, full of fire and speed but dutiful toward its rider. It took some time for it to heel for him, but once it did the trip progressed very smoothly. 

The cold forest floor passed swiftly beneath the horse’s hooves as they trod over root and rock, moss and milestone. In open areas he would give his steed leave to run as it willed, but in the dense confines of the trees he forced a slower pace, both for the sake of safety on the haphazard trail and to give his senses a greater range; anyone or anything that may have attempted to sneak up on them would find itself ferreted out before it closed to within 20 yards. With his ears and eyes surveying the route ahead and around, Dan was able to steer the horse away from any danger, whether it made itself known or not. A bear snoring in its slumber, a wolf ravaging a carcass, the faint chuckle of a wild hyena lying in ambush, and a multitude of other sounds alerted him to their sources long before he needed to watch for them. And yet, when a noise came that forced him to halt entirely, it was none of these fearsome things. It was not a roar or a snarl, nor was it the tearing of flesh or the snapping of bones that drew his attention, but a much softer sound. Two softer sounds, in fact; the first was a pained whimpering that strived to be as quiet as could be, as if trying to avoid being noticed. The second was an equally near-imperceptible noise, but this was a low and threatening growl that seemed to dare any who heard it to stay away. The sounds were canine to his ears, and yet they did not belong to any breed of dog or wolf Dan had ever heard. 

The hunter strained his ears, listening very intently for the direction of the sounds. With his eyes shut and only his hearing to guide him, he stepped off of his steed and began to pick his way toward the source. He found it at the base of a massive oak tree, but still could not find the animals that made it. Until, at last, he noticed a large leaf had been pulled in front of a natural cave formed by where the ground had broken away beneath one of the oak’s above-ground roots. He grabbed the leaf and pulled it aside… and then swiftly leaped back as a fair sized black shape came shooting out toward him. The black shape soon revealed itself, upon its landing, to be a mid-sized doglike creature that looked like a cross between a fox and a golden retriever. Its jet black fur shone in the sunlight that leaked through the canopy, and as it darted toward Dan again the fur seemed to wax and wane with the light, as if the fur itself was naturally reflective. He dodged again, and only when he had dodged several more times did he understand.

“Wait a minute… you’re a Shimmerfang!”

Shimmerfangs were rarities, even in the most fantastic of wild lands, and were widely known for both their beautifully rich and reflective coats as well as their ability to take down opponents twice their size in an instant. Elven civilizations, in particular, prized the animal both for its fur, which was said to possess an alarming amount of innate magic for such a small creature, and as a companion for its gentle disposition alongside its ferocity. But this one was being far from gentle or regal… why? As Dan dodged still more attacks, he finally grew tired of the game and, on the next lunge, jabbed the Shimmerfang just behind its neck with two fingers, paralyzing it with a pressure point strike. As the poor thing landed only to fall over, Dan turned back to the hole he had uncovered; there, in spite of protesting barks from the animal, he looked and found something unheard of- a second Shimmerfang, this one white in color, gingerly crawling out from the hole and whimpering for its friend. Once it was free, the plight of the white one was plain to see- it had a front paw that was badly damaged and could not be walked on. 

It all made sense then. The white one had clearly been injured somehow, and now it depended on the black one to keep it safe until- if ever- it healed. There was something admirable about it, how the black Shimmerfang had stood by the white in spite of, or perhaps because of, her time of weakness. In fact, he reflected, it was the exact thing he hadn’t done… Another growl from the black prevented him from falling into regret’s abyss. He realized that he needed to convince the both of them that he was a friend. Reaching into one of his pockets, he withdrew two pieces of dried meat and set them out, one in front of the white and one before the black, who he tapped again to remove the paralysis. Both of the Shimmerfangs sniffed the morsels gingerly, and then the white began to tear into hers with hungry abandon. The black soon followed suit with his, and before long Dan was laying out more strips for each. 

“Well, it seems I’ve made two new friends out here. Hold on a second, I think I saw an herb that I can use to help heal that paw…”

And so he did. The white still couldn’t walk very well, but the paw would now at least be guaranteed to repair itself in a timely manner. The hunter, for his part, had found himself unable to let the little things go, and so he decided to take them along as his pets. The black Shimmerfang he named Fate, and the white he christened Faith. What gave him those names, he knew not, but they simply seemed to fit. And so, with Faith riding in his lap and Fate bounding along behind the horse, the three set off again for Advarse. At the moment, neither Shimmerfang was more than twenty pounds, but in a short time they would both grow to be at least thrice that. In fact, he mused, Fate may even do so by the time the journey was over…

And lo and behold, he had been correct. A little more than a week later, and the group had finally finished their trek through the mountains. A soft snowfall gathered on the ground, a herald for the winter weather in the season ahead, as the horse and Fate both ran through the open field that opened into the Advarse Valley proper. Faith had not grown much, having been confined to Dan’s lap for most of the trip, but once her leg would allow her to run again she would catch up to her brother quite rapidly. The Valley itself was quite peaceful; it was a place where the residents minded their own business, intervening with each other only when beseeched for help, and every man was given his own space. Of the dozens of homesteads scattered about, only some were occupied- plenty of them had been left by those who had tried to carve out their lives there and failed, running back to the comfort of the city as they did. Thus, when Dan and his travelling companions happened upon a snowy little cottage by an icy lake in the midst of a wintery wood, nobody in the region raised a hand as they moved in and made the place their own…