[center][h1][colour=lightblue]Frostbite, Part 2.[/colour][/h1] [h2]Featuring [u]Sanya[/u] and the Weike[/h2] [i]A collab between [@AdorableSaucer] and [@Enzayne].[/i][/center] [hr] The storm didn’t let up for almost a week. The wind and snow washed over the tundra like a tide of white, except that no gravity was there to draw it back to sea again. Every day, the Weike would wake up to find the telt curtains resting on their foreheads from all the weight of last night’s snowfall, and all would quicken to life and hurry out the tent flaps to dig themselves out again. By the end of the week, snow could no longer reach the tents themselves, as it couldn’t get past the heaping walls of that which had been shoveled off earlier in the week. Rammed, packed snow walls ringed every tent, and while that kept the storm out, they made the camp cumbersome to navigate, especially when the carcasses of the hunt were brought back. The storm brought loss with it, too, as the cold killed two villagers and six of their reindeer pack. The weight of the snowfall packed itself so tightly and heavily over the ground, too, that even the resilient, powerful reindeer snouts struggled to reach the moss, lichen and grass hidden away underneath. This left the pack starved towards the end of the week, and the tribe lost another two calves. The air was heavy in the central lavvo, which had been erected to be as short as possible, so the wind wouldn’t carry with it the tent walls. The grim silence left a creeping anxiety in everyone’s bellies as the chieftain rose to take the word. Sanya still struggled to make out most of it, but the context made it clear enough - as did the lacking contents in the reindeer stomach cookpot over the central fire. They were out of food, and now that the storm had stopped, they had to move on, lest their herd would die and as would they. The sober reality of the situation had worn down even Sanya, the fire with which she had waited the first two nights for the storm to abate and head back out to finish what she’d started replaced with the solemn grief the villagers influenced her with. Worse, the building anxiety had begun to disturb her thoughts enough that she noticed herself worrying about simple things like the survival of the tribe. She didn’t want to admit it, but the people had started to grow on her. That made her feel guilty. She’d drained their resources. The apparent terror with which the tribe had continued to treat the subject of the troll when she tried to bring it up made her wonder if she should have just helped them with the reindeer. Now it was out there, and the blood trail was gone since long ago. Even if she made her way back to the best of her memory, it meant abandoning these people to their fate - even after all they’d done to keep her from death’s door. Sanya gritted her teeth at that. She couldn’t even die without bringing ruin to others. She wasn’t even sure the troll was alive. It had been so stormy, there was no telling how deep her cut was. It could have bled out. She could be tracking a corpse, and end up lost and alone in the cold again. All for nothing. Worse, she’d abandon the tribe after all this. After their hardship. The thought of the lost villagers made her bitter, even though she knew it wasn’t her own emotion. Or perhaps it was, now. Either way, Sanya thought to herself, it’d be foolish to venture after the troll with nothing but the weapon to her name. And she wouldn’t ask them for supplies. She couldn’t do that to Lehtta. It was different, now. At least until they were safe. She felt a soft pound on her shoulder and Sabba’s sister, Aile, sat down next to her and offered her a pair of hide mittens, saying something which could be understood as “you cold”, only in an imperative sense. Sanya accepted the offering, brought out of her haze briefly as she instinctively flexed her fingers. She gave Aile a smile, though she knew it wasn’t as genuine as theirs had ever been, and thanked her for the gift with a phrase in their language. She was fairly certain by now how to say thank you, she could do that much, even if she butchered the dialect with every attempt. She exhaled on her hands in short order and busied herself with trying the mittens instead. Aile giggled at the response and repeated it: “Giittus,” she said with a smile and stroked her cheek amiably. She then said something else, though it was unclear what she meant. Judging from her tone, it could be anything from a motivational speech to an order. However, she didn’t get to finish before Sabba came over and sat down opposite of Aile. She rolled her eyes at her brother’s conduct, and Sabba scoffed back, turning instead to Sanya with a broad smile before thumbing towards the tent flaps and asking something in a giddy tone. Sanya quirked a brow, trying to follow Sabba’s question and deconstruct it in her mind - it was no use. Even after two weeks he still had no mind to slow down his speech even a little bit. She followed his gesture instead, trying to deduce what he could mean. He knew - more or less - that Sanya had taken every chance she got to bring up the troll. Was that the news? Perhaps he simply wanted to show her something. She realized she’d kept them both waiting in demure silence for a little too long, and simply nodded at him. There was one way to find out. Sanya pushed up from her seat slowly, hand immediately searching for her valued weapon. Then, as quickly as she had risen, Aile grabbed her by the hand and gently pulled her back down, looking at her as though she was being ridiculous. Then, she burst out shaming her brother and Sabba’s expression offered several eye rolls. He then rose up and walked away again. Aile shook her head and took Sanya by her hands, nodding slowly before clicking her tongue. Her following sentence contained a word Sanya definitely had heard before: “Stupid.” The reality of the situation began to dawn on the millennia-old woman. A chore perhaps? Another of Sabba’s attempts to learn her footwork? Would Aile keep her from tracking down the troll? No more than any of the others would, she thought. She frowned to herself briefly. This wait - this powder keg - was making her second-guess herself. She didn’t like that. Sanya breathed a terse chuckle to ease the tension, shifting in her renewed sitting position as she glanced after Sabba briefly, before finally offering a small shrug of her shoulders to the girl. “Stupid?” she questioned in turn. She doubted she’d understand the answer, but Aile seemed comfortable around her. If only they knew. Suddenly, the chieftain spoke a sentence and everyone busied themselves with packing up. Aile nodded all around and patted Sanya on the knee, thumbing over her shoulder while saying something along the lines of ‘it’s time’. Then she crawled over to her own part of the tent and started fiddling with her packs. Others began taking their belongings out of the tent, and the tent walls were loosening and pulling inwards as the bone splits holding them to the ground were pulled up. Sanya in turn rose from her seat for good this time, making sure to grab [i]Sorrowsting[/i] and what little belongings she had been assigned over the course of her stay, as well as the pack with what meagre supplies remained of her initial journey. Mostly trinkets from a bygone age and forgotten places. She should have thrown it all out a long time ago. Still, she did her part, grabbing the heaviest gear she could find to haul it outside. She wasn’t that strong - two-thousand years of fighting had certainly taught her that, but on a good day she still rivalled most of them. Sanya wrapped what passed as cover around the lower half of her face and stepped out into the snow with plenty of gear in tow. In less than an hour, the whole village had been packed on pulks, which were both strapped to people and reindeer. Everyone strapped snowshoes or flat wooden boards known as skis on their feet. Sanya had received her own pair of snowshoes earlier in the week, fashioned from bone, sticks and straps of reindeer skin. Due to her strength, the chieftain entrusted her with a pulk of her own, grinning and praising her all the while. When all was prepared, they set out. The direction which they were heading was unclear, though they were heading away from the mountains. Whenever Sanya would ask where they were going, she’d get the same answer: “Lulli.” The word was unfamiliar, but it gained meaning as they approached the woods and Sanya saw which side the moss was growing on: They were heading southwards, away from the mountains... And the troll. The mere thought filled Sanya with a deep dread. If the beast was - as she suspected - still alive, would it strike again? If not this tribe, then surely there were others. She had the chance to make sure it was dead, that mankind as a whole had won a lasting victory in the endless war in at least one godforsaken land, and she had thrown it aside because what? She was tired? Cold? Worried about people she didn’t know? Their shared bitter sorrow and anxiety still lingered in her heart, but whether their own hearts lightened with the journey, or the physically taxing work gave her something else to focus on, Sanya felt at least partial relief from her torment. They were heading to safer ground, for their survival. That would have to be enough for now. She did after all, have all the time in the world to come back. Hopefully they’d give the mountains a wide berth until she did. She fought the urge to stop and head back several times, keeping her eyes on the others. Reminding herself of what she pledged so long ago. It wasn’t just about her. It had to be about them. As they got deeper into the forest, the snow cover lessened, most having been caught by the pine tree wall at the very north. Here, the reindeer could eat the frozen moss and lichen, as well as the birch bark from the rare few specimens that could grow between the imposing pines. They had already been travelling for two days, though, and the cold and starvation had forced them to put down another reindeer cow, just so its flesh wouldn’t go to waste. They had few left, now - twenty heads for a village of eighty people; if they managed to maintain those, it still wouldn’t last them the winter. The chieftain sent out orders again, to herders, hunters and Sanya alike. The context made them clear as day: Seeing as calving still was months off, they couldn’t rely on the herd to replenish itself naturally for now. They would have to fill their satchels with stockfish and dried meats from other beasts - species didn’t matter; this was life or death. The herders spent the day making fishing spears and hooks from bone, and fishing lines and nets from what sinew they had; the hunters took to the wilds in search of game, though their hopes were mellow in this part of the woods. Having spent the better part of her very long life stalking the world for all manner of prey, and owing to her own constitution, hunting was the natural choice for Sanya. With her help, she reasoned, they’d have a much better chance. She didn’t have the patience to sit still or fight the water, either. Just as the hunters had feared, though, the woods were barren of game - it had either trekked southward already, or moved further east to avoid the Weike. They found something else that perhaps was more concerning - it was a shewolf, battered and broken, with blood spilling across the snow as though something had squeezed it to death. The hunters knelt in closer to inspect the corpse, disgusted by its brutalised manner. Sanya gripped [i]Sorrowsting[/i] tightly as she approached, undaunted by the gruesome sight. Not many things could disgust her anymore, but they could certainly worry her. A quick inspection from afar was all she needed - a predator dead in such a grim manner meant only one thing - the woods were barren of game for a reason. Something else lingered here. That burrowing dread from before niggled at the back of her mind as her eyes skimmed the forest and the ground instead, letting the hunters draw their own conclusions. It wasn’t as though she could form a well-reasoned argument for them, but she could use what she had learned to keep them safe. The hunters shook their heads at one another. Sabba, who was among them, looked at Sanya and said in a grim voice, “jiehtanas…” and Sanya had heard that word before - specifically it was the herders that had shouted it in panic as the troll the reindeer herds attacked last week. They would have to move further south before nightfall, lest the troll would doubtlessly be upon them as soon as the sun dipped under the horizon. The forest was eerily dark, however - a troll could potentially hide from the sun in as thick a forest as this one. This made only the hunters tenser, and the pace back home went from a walk to a jog. Whenever Sanya would turn back to whence they’d come, it was almost as though the wolf’s blood trailed further into the woods, almost like that one time in the mountains. She caught herself breathing heavily, and for a moment she was unsure whether the anxiety she felt truly came from those around her. She was so close. A million thoughts rocketed through her head. How large were the chances she’d stumble upon the troll as it laid in wait for the sun to set? What would the vegetation do for her chances? If it wasn’t the same troll as the one they had run into previously, was it larger? She found herself looking forward to Sabba and the others. Who would pull her load if she left them now? Could they get to safety if she stalked the woods? Perhaps if she remained behind, they’d have a greater chance. Whether she liked it or not, Sanya rolled to a slow stop, struck by indecision. The hunters except for Sabba continued on, and the young man walked up to Sanya and sighed, saying something along the lines of “coming?” He then held out his hand for her to take. Sanya looked him straight in the face, wracked with a building guilt. She had run away, all that time ago. This felt like running. Another chance at reprisal vanishing like sand running through her fingers. Stupid boy. Why did he have to look at her like that? Why did he care if she stayed? She wouldn’t. Would she? A deep frown grew on her features, tormented by her thoughts, her inability to see a straight path even now. It always ended in pain. And yet… Sanya hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take his hand with one of hers, a firm grip on her spear with the other. Sabba nodded and started pulling her along after the hunters. His pace was even quicker than before, as they needed to catch up, but his hand held onto hers firmly, saying more than any manner of words ever could: You’re one of us. Her eyes were affixed on him as her thoughts continued to plague her, letting him guide her back towards the camp more passively than she would have normally allowed. For a moment, it was nice for someone else to take charge. Was that what she had been doing this entire time? Weeks spent assisting a small tribe in no man’s land? Was she helping, or just avoiding what she had come out here to do? She’d wanted to die, yet she found herself avoiding it at every turn, even now. Had her time with them gotten to her that much? For a few days in the middle there, she had been content to just be the helpful stranger. That mattered. Sanya increased her own pace a little, keeping up with Sabba as they trailed the other hunters. They’d taken her in despite their own meagre lives. The least she could do was repay that debt. They arrived at the newly erected campsite and the hunters quickly shared their findings with the chieftain. A harsh argument followed, during which Sabba seemed to scold the chieftain for something, whereas the chieftain remained steadfast and unmoving. As Sanya looked around, she saw how weary the Weike were, how exhausted the journey had made them. An arm hooked under hers from behind and she turned to see Aile wearing a frown. She pulled her away from the commotion and over towards a small gathering of women, who were in the process of knitting nets. The fishermen had in contrast been very successful, and a few small baskets of fish had already been caught. They would need time to dry out and smoke properly, though, and it was clear that Aile thought stocking up on fish was a better bet than prowling the woods for non-existent game. Sanya watched the tribe in their work, letting Aile drag her where she wanted her to go. She knew she’d never be able to convince the chief to move, she’d already lost her temper once in the first week when they tried to take her spear away during a minor job. No, the best chance they had was that they came to any realization on their own. If they stayed - she would have to stand guard through the night. But it’d be a small price to pay. Sanya followed the direction Aile gave her, but her eyes followed the commotion, and the tree line. She was promptly sat down on a heap of snow and given a length of sinew. Aile squatted down next to her and tried as delicately as possible to show Sanya how to knit a net the way the other women were, all while explaining the process in their incomprehensible language. The stream of words did not help. Sanya did her best to follow the instructions, but between the need to keep herself aware and the bad mood she felt streaming from other places in the camp, it was hard to focus on banal work like this. All it took was a moment’s distraction, and she caught herself missing a step in Aile’s demonstration. Long gone were the days when she’d spend all day picking berries and fruit with her mother. “Cadien’s fist,” she muttered to herself, trying to refocus on the surprisingly intricate process, and her new job for the day. This adrenaline she felt, this dread, seemed like it would never settle. Aile sighed in mild frustration, but it seemed more aimed at herself than Sanya. She reached out and squeezed her shoulder with a mittened hand and pointed to the waterbank, where two fishermen sat with rods in their hands and hooks in holes in the ice. She said a short sentence, which Sanya was certain contained the words “go” and “there”, though it seemed uncannily long for that to be its whole meaning. Sanya relented as swiftly as Aile allowed it, rising from her seat among the women. She did have the presence of mind to at least look apologetic about it, but internally she was relieved to be rid of such frustrating detail-work. She’d lived forever, and even then there was not enough time to bother with it. Still having issues taking her eyes from the forest, she mosied over towards the fishermen instead, spear in one hand. She should have stayed in the forest. She was a liability here. No one looked particularly surprised, either, and a few of the women snickered before Aile shut them up with some mittened pointing. The fishermen followed the source of the commotion behind them to Aile, and then saw Sanya approaching. One of them thumbed to a nearby bone pick with which she could chip her own hole in the ice to fish through. A fishing spear, also fashioned from bone, already laid ready by the pickaxe. Sanya set to work without delay. She’d never ice-fished before, but she did have very many years of experience wielding a spear. [i]Sorrowsting[/i] fortunately could not be jealous, she hoped at least, and she didn’t really want to sully her weapon with water and fish. Looking over to the two fishermen’s example, she carved out a hole without much issue. The banality of a new chore ahead. She counted the time it would take to run to the forest from here in her head. Considered how many trees breaking she would hear before it was too late to intercept. Considering they had given her a fishing spear for ice-fishing, the task was much harder for her than for the rod-fishers. The fish weren’t plentiful enough for her to just be able to stab it into the water and pull up her bounty. The two fishermen would occasionally snicker between them when she went at it, only to pull up an empty spear. Sanya did her best to ignore them. Her concern was with the safety of the tribe, not this pointless attempt at making the best of a poor situation, or the jollies of a few men she could kill in their sleep. She frowned to herself, shaking that particular thought away. It wasn’t the first time they’d had fun at the strange foreigners' expense. She’d just rise above it. Repay her debt. She stabbed at the water again, but even her reflexes were not enough to salvage her half-baked attempt. The frustration made her arms itch, made her grip the spear harder. Why didn’t she stay in the forest? She could have dealt with this on her own terms, instead of wasting time. Every time she tried to compromise, it felt bad. Even after all this time. She sighed, resigning herself to repeating her attempts at landing at least a single catch. She kept this up until nightfall, and the fishermen’s expressions went from mocking smirks to gingerly frowns as Sanya never seemed to stop, no matter how rarely the fish bit. In all, she managed to catch two, but it had taken her four hours and the sky was black as the abyss under the ice by the time the second one was foolish enough to swim underneath her speartip. Now the fishers had packed up and left, leaving only Sanya by the lake. The camp was starting to grow drowsy, and the chieftain was selecting the night’s shift guards. Sanya collected her things with a stifled yawn, ready to call off her efforts as the water relinquished its’ latest bounty. She waddled back towards the camp with her two fish and the equipment, felt anxiety come creeping in, and quickly moved back to pick up [i]Sorrowsting[/i] as well. She wouldn’t ask to sit watch. She didn’t need their permission. Sanya moved to drop off the fish in the first and best place she saw others working with fish, trying her best to eavesdrop as she went about returning to camp properly. She couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying, but she saw that Sabba took first watch. Sanya shuffled over quietly to be part of the general group, just in case they acknowledged her, but her mind was set already. If a troll came barrelling through the woods, she needed to be ready. Sabba was a hard worker, usually, but she wasn’t about to leave the fate of the tribe to him. He shouldn’t have to carry that burden. Sanya frowned again, trying to focus her thoughts by counting the steps to the forest. A hand grabbed hers, and as expected, it was Sabba, sounding giddy in his voice as he pulled her along to the campfire. The chieftain rolled his eyes meanwhile, but didn’t protest, heading instead inside his tent as everyone else did. The young man pointed at the forest and said something about the “jiehtanas” again as he ground his fist against his palm, laughing proudly. Sanya huddled together, doing her best to look jovial in response to his revelry, though she lifted and held her spear close in idle preparation. It didn’t matter what language they spoke. She’d heard the bragging before. The false confidence before chaos and death came rolling in. They told themselves they could do anything, or this time would be different, or that just this once, the gods were watching. Sanya stared at Sabba quietly, knowing the truth of the matter after millennia of experience. There were no gods watching. If they were, they didn’t care about people like him. If they did, it was random, and fickle. It was pain that ruled the world, and men with eyes like Sabba’s were never ready until they had seen death already. The watch started rather uneventfully, with Sabba seemingly telling endless stories that were finalised by that same proud laughter. He tried to use his hands to make them come to life, and the stories pretty much boiled down to, “I killed this, too, by the way.” Occasionally, he would also huddle in close and excuse himself by saying “cold”. Sanya bore the brunt of it with stoic grace, and on one occasion felt herself genuinely grateful for a bit of human contact. After centuries of depraved individuals trying to make life miserable for others in any way they could, the attention of one passionate village boy was extremely tame in comparison. And not so surprising. The Weike weren’t exactly brimming with choice - not that she’d really been looking. When he got too enthusiastic, she neatly intercepted with questions about the language, or picked out a word in his story to make him explain. All the while, she could keep an eye on the woods. Eventually, Sabba got bored, however, and focused his gaze upwards at the sky instead. Occasionally, he would mumble things to himself (or to Sanya - it wasn’t always clear), but after a while, his eyelids got too heavy for him and he eventually started nodding in and out of sleep. The woods were silent, with the odd nightingale singing sourly to the moon. Sanya fought to stay awake. Sabba’s spirited stories, meaningless as they were, had contributed a great deal it seemed, and now that he turned silent, she felt the fatigue of the day roll in as well. Only the crisp air did any part in keeping her focused. She jabbed Sabba with the blunt end of the spear once, but gave up on keeping him in any reliable state when he went straight back to his half-sleep. As soon as the sun was up, they’d be safe for another day. She stared towards the woods, lifting a mitten to stifle another yawn. Then, movement in the woods. Sanya’s body sprung awake as the unpleasant dread of being confronted by the unknown washed over her. Even now, her hairs stood on end as though she was still scared of the dark. She blinked several times as worn eyes tried to confirm the presence before she roused an entire tribe, grip around [i]Sorrowsting[/i] whitening her knuckles in her mittens. Oh, how she wanted to see in the dark. Add this to the list of times it would have helped everyone. Sabba was kicked awake by the reaction, staring into the forest with her. Something approached - something massive. It was larger than what Sanya had fought before. And it quickened its pace. [hr] The dark-haired woman trudged slowly through the snow, now no deeper than a light cover around her feet. Heavy, ragged breaths plagued her as she pushed onwards, the fatigue of drained adrenaline put all her remaining focus on moving one foot in front of the other. Sanya brought her unprotected hand to rub at her face, immediately regretting it when she felt herself drag blood all over her skin - again. She tried to wipe her hand on her clothes, but that only made it worse, and the blood-soaked warrior resigned herself to simply keep moving. She limped through the snow in silence, kept company only by her own breath and her spear, following the trees and the water south. It was best not to think. Best not to worry. The cycle of pain and death followed her wherever she went. Sabba’s proud laughter ran through her mind as his nonsense stories replayed in her mind. Aile’s welcoming attempts to make her one of them, despite Sanya’s own best efforts. Lehtta’s no-nonsense attitude and proof that not all power was physical. Sanya felt the bitterness begin to swallow her heart. She hadn’t been with them long, but the Weike had left a permanent stamp on her soul. Even when they snickered at her different ways, they did so without true ill intent. For a while, she had felt like she could belong. In that respect they were more human than any tribe she’d met for hundreds of years. They didn’t deserve to house a monster like her. As the sun began to peek over the horizon, throwing it’s warm light on the woman to counter the crisp and cold air, Sanya took a few moments to catch her breath and watch the sunrise. The light gave her a new opportunity to examine herself, and just how deeply soaked in blood she was. Even [i]Sorrowsting[/i] was new hues of red and black. Sanya frowned, and then continued her slow, limping journey towards warmer climates. [hr] [hider=Summary] After fighting the troll during the snow-storm, Sanya and the tribe are forced to wait out the storm for nearly an entire week, leaving Sanya’s prospects of going after her intended quarry very grim. As the Weike face a dwindling food supply and a need to resettle, Sanya faces the choice of abandoning the people who took her in and nursed her back to health, or helping them make the journey. She struggles with the choice before choosing to go with them, unable to simply abandon the tribe. They make the journey south, putting more distance between them and the injured troll. When they make camp to hunt and fish for supplies, Sanya chooses to aid the hunters and they head into the forest. There they make the discovery of a wolf crushed to death, and they fear the worst: another, or the same, troll prowls the area, explaining the lack of game in the woods. Sanya struggles yet again with the choice of stalking the woods to see if she can follow the troll, or returning to the Weike. Sabba convinces her to return with him, and she puts in a token effort of helping the tribe in other ways until nightfall. Ending up on the first watch during the night with Sabba, Sanya keeps an eye on the woods. After nearly succumbing to fatigue like her jovial companion, she spots a rustling shape in the forest. A massive troll - larger than the last, made its way towards the Weike. After an intense off-screen battle, a blood-covered Sanya staggers alone through the snow. She is resolved to return to the Highlands, and muses on her time with the tribe. [/hider] [hider=Prestige] Sanya: 9 + 5 (10k+) = 14 Prestige! [/hider]