Clenching her jaw tightly, Farryn readied her bow from her hiding spot. The frost wolves were getting more cunning by the day, almost succeeding in their ambush this time. It was dangerous to keep returning to the Wizard’s lab but Farryn knew of no other place to find the way to break her curse. By now her long years living alone on the desolate, accursed mountain had honed her survival skills to an extraordinary level.
She almost cursed aloud at the paltry number of arrows remaining in her quiver. Too many wolves, not enough projectiles. Even though her accuracy was near perfect and she had become a master at using her favoured weapon, the odds were firmly stacked against her.
Farryn barely noticed the chill of the icy wind as it cut through the trees. As was the nature of her curse, the cost of her triumph over the Wizard of Winter those many years ago. True to the phantom’s words, the deadly curse had bound her to the snowy mountain and had driven every trace of warmth from her body. Even the heat of a blazing fire could not be felt by her pale, icy skin.
Several of the frost wolves drew near. Thankfully, the breeze kept her upwind of their sensitive noses. She had her escape route planned out, as she was intimately familiar with the entire area. It was just a matter of waiting for an opening.
Farryn’s ear twitched as she heard the sounds of yet another wolf approaching the area. Soundlessly, she adjusted her position until she spotted the newcomer far back from the rest of the pack. This was the only opportunity she could hope for. She quietly drew her bow until it reached its maximum tension before taking careful aim.
If there are any benevolent gods listening, please let this work!
The silent twang of the bowstring briefly raised the heads of the wolves as she let her arrow fly. It flew in a high, graceful arc, before dropping toward the intended target. The wolves’ attention was quickly diverted when the newest addition to their group released a yelp as the arrow grazed its hindquarters.
With unnatural howls and snarls, the wolves tore off toward their whining companion while Farryn started running as fast as she could in the opposite direction, along her planned route. She nearly flew as she raced through the mountain forest. Fortunately, she was well within the tree line which gave her an advantage as she sprang up and hopped through the tree branches with great speed and precision. Even while her movements were deliberate and her steps were true, she winced in pain as twigs and small branches clawed at her.
The angry howls of the frost wolves told Farryn that they had caught on to her diversion and were now in pursuit. The distance she created was disappearing too quickly for comfort.
At least she was on the move now. If she was forced to stay hidden it would only be a matter of time before the frost wolves sniffed her out. However, by staying high up in the trees, Farryn could keep herself out of reach of their snapping jaws until she was able to vanish into the rocky cliffside that lay ahead. The cliffside was still a ways off but Farryn was confident she could make her escape.
She heard it coming before it hit her. The dull but growing roar of a powerful wind tore across the mountain with incredible force. Farryn was moving far too fast to brace herself from the wind’s impact. She was knocked off her feet and sent tumbling helplessly to the snowy forest floor. As the ground was a steep slope, her tumbling continued even after she landed. Farryn desperately attempted to gain a foothold, handhold, anything!
When she did finally come to a stop, Farryn found herself on a sloped clearing, devoid of any trees whatsoever. Once she was able to stand, she checked herself for injuries. Thankfully she was fine except for the many bumps and scrapes.
For once she was appreciative of all this snow!
Farryn’s brief flash of gratefulness quickly vanished once she realized her beloved bow was gone. It was likely buried in the snow or caught in the branches after her long, chaotic tumble. This loss distressed her almost more than the situation she was in as the bow was a precious gift from her mother. It was a singular Elvaehen bow crafted of wood from the heart of the Realm Tree, the Tree that was planted deep within the world by the Creator at the dawn of time. Ornate carvings and golden inlays adorned the entire shaft and the string was woven of an almost magical Elvaehen silk, never breaking or wearing out. Rarely did the Realm Tree offer its heartwood to the people of the land.
She double-checked the straps of her battle harness and sighed in relief when she saw that both her long knives were still securely in place.
Farryn turned her attention back to the surrounding forest. The wind had died down, but the howls of the frost wolves still echoed ominously through the trees. She realized with a sinking feeling that she was now far from her original path and that her escape plan was in shambles.
With no bow and no clear path back to her closest hideout, she knew she had to come up with a new strategy. She couldn’t risk running into the pack of wolves now, and her previous diversion wouldn’t work a second time. She needed to find a safe place to regroup and sort out her next move.
Higher up the slope, at the edge of the forest, the blood-red eyes of the frost wolves appeared, shimmering in the moonlight. The massive creatures slowly emerged from the trees, their maws snarling with malice. Farryn clenched her jaw and drew her knives as the wolves slowly made their way down the slope, their unnaturally large musculature rippling while they prowled. She did not bother turning to run; while the deep snow would hamper her movement, the wolves were built to plow through at extraordinary speed.
Farryn planted her feet as firmly as she could and raised her twin blades. Her time on the mountain flashed through her mind. Her curse was meant to be a death sentence but she fiercely defied it this long. She had gone through periods of despair over the long years and had almost given up so many times. But the mocking expression of the phantom as it laid the curse upon her remained fresh in her mind. Farryn wouldn’t let him have the last laugh. At this point, was it pure spite that kept her going?
But she knew it was a matter of time before the wolves would get the better of her. She wondered what she was even fighting for. The town below, which Farryn had risked, no, essentially lost her life to save was long abandoned. Perhaps she at least allowed time for the residents to escape. She thought of the companions she adventured with and wished she could join them as they further explored the lands. Lands which she could never see because of the curse that prevented her from leaving the mountain.
She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before steeling herself. This may be her last stand but she was going to make her old enemies work for it!
“Come and take me, fiends! If you can!” Farryn yelled defiantly.
She braced herself for the worst as the wolves prepared to leap with their razor-sharp fangs bared.
Suddenly, both the frost wolves and Farryn perked their ears and looked toward the mountain valley as their heightened senses picked up a familiar roar.
“So the gale returns…” Farryn muttered, steeling herself.
