Once the plan was settled, Thorfinn and his friends began to execute it the very next day. The first step, however, was leaving home. They absolutely had to sneak past Reynar and Darie, who would never permit their children to undertake such a perilous venture.
Throwing a blanket over Reynar's eyes was easy enough, but Darie was far harder to fool; a plausible excuse was needed. Thorfinn suggested they use the pretext of escorting Val back to her people. After all, Val had spent many days mingling with the four of them, and seeing a friend off was entirely reasonable.
Bidding farewell to their parents, the group of five, led by Val, set out for their destination—the lair of Varamyr Sixskins. Young eagles taking flight, cubs setting out for the hunt, the five departed with laughter and cheer, showing no trace of nervousness, a testament to Thorfinn's constant efforts to lighten the mood on the road.
As they strode along, even Val possessed a good measure of fighting skill, while the others were skilled warriors who had surpassed their mentors. Despite their youth, the small cohort they formed was one that no man was wise to cross, especially with three Shadowcats in their midst—a force formidable enough to deter most.
No witless lout crossed Thorfinn's path along the journey. After much walking, they finally neared the village where Morla and Merek had grown up, arriving around noon. Seeing the familiar shapes of the village brought a wave of melancholy over the two siblings, though they were comforted by the fact that they had already found a new home and new family.
Morla and Merek only paused near their old shack for a time and simply gazed. They had no other intention, caring nothing for the people now dwelling inside. This was no longer their home; it had long ago been claimed by others.
Of course, they could have fought and driven out the current occupants, claiming the small hut for themselves, but neither of them made a move to do so.
A mix of complex feelings churned in Merek's heart. He had expected to feel excitement or even rage upon returning here, but when he truly stood before it, he realized... he felt nothing. Was it because he had finally found a place to belong? He did not know.
Morla, ever the more sensitive soul, merely pined for the days of her childhood spent here, a time that could never be reclaimed.
Thorfinn and Orrik simply waited for the siblings to collect themselves. Val, who now knew the pair's history, understood their feelings and found herself watching Merek with a thoughtful look. Soon after, Merek and Morla returned, their eyes full of new-forged resolve and certainty, as if they had grown older in that instant. Now they would say goodbye to their past the only way they knew how—with bloodshed, to settle the score: blood for blood, tooth for tooth.
Thorfinn looked at Merek as he approached and tentatively asked, "Merek, are you well?"
Merek offered a dark, sharp smile. "Doesn't dull my edge for killing."
Thorfinn answered with a moment of silence. Not bothering to press his friend, Thorfinn went to Morla. Women, being more sensitive, often lagged behind, and Morla was at the tail of the line. Thorfinn simply took her hand, his fingers laced with hers, and though she tried to pull away several times, he held fast.
They did not tarry, and the five soon set back upon the path to their target. The villagers they passed chose to turn a blind eye. The moment they saw the three Shadowcats, they knew the group included a Skinchanger, and they lived in such fear of Varamyr's rule that it was in their very bones.
No one approached them to speak. Perhaps they truly did not recognize Merek and Morla; perhaps they simply feared drawing trouble to their doors—who could say? It only proved that not all Free Folk are heroes, and not all men are brave when facing violence and bullying.
After passing through the village, the rest of the journey was quiet, broken only by the crunch of their boots on the loose snow and the snapping of twigs underfoot.
Finally, after several hours, they reached their destination. Varamyr's hall lay just ahead.
At this point, a grim expression settled on their faces. Even with confidence on their side, this was the first time they'd set out to kill a man and claim his spoils. A bit of nerves was only natural.
Yet, a little tension would not spoil the plan. First, they found a discreet hiding spot to make camp, then gathered animal droppings to scatter nearby, masking their human scent. Man-smell could not fool an animal's sensitive nose, and on this point, the group took painstaking effort.
Next, they sent out Morla's goshawk to scout. Thorfinn slipped into the body of Lady Owl and flew into the forest, disappearing from sight in a few heartbeats.
Lady Owl beat her wings, flying towards the nearby hall. Though she could not keep pace with Merek's hawk, she was swift enough. From the air, the structure was indeed worthy of the name hall, spreading out to nearly a hundred square meters, including the shed. For one man to occupy such a space was, truly, a waste.
Landing on a branch, Thorfinn surveyed the area. There was not a whisper of men, only the occasional howls of three wolves. The bad-tempered Snow Bear was still lost to slumber. He could not spot the Shadowcat. Clearly, Varamyr was a solitary man, one who savored his own company.
In the wolf pen, the three wolves made intermittent sounds, seemingly in heat.
Using Lady Owl's keen sight, Thorfinn assessed the surroundings, contemplating every viable plan to breach the place. It was undeniably secure, perhaps too much so, making it almost impossible for the five of them to take it by force alone.
What's more, the Snow Bear was positioned right on the main path leading into the hall. Thorfinn had no doubt that such a huge beast could tear a man limb from limb. Peering inside the hall, the lighting was poor, shrouded in shadow, but with Lady Owl's vision, he could just make out a few scattered furs and sundry belongings.
Thorfinn was patient. After a long vigil, he finally caught sight of the renowned Skinchanger. Varamyr was a diminutive man—a small Free Folk Skinchanger with a pale, aged face, a bald brow, and round shoulders. He looked utterly unremarkable.
Varamyr was currently taking deep draughts from a leather skin. Judging by his look of pleasure, it was likely strong drink. His eyes were hazy as he stared outside, seemingly anticipating something.
Just then, a sharp cry of a hawk drew his attention. He rushed out to watch, and even he could not help but admire the creature. What a magnificent goshawk, he thought.
Back at the crude camp, Thorfinn's voice was urgent as he spoke to Merek. "Merek, careful, don't let him see you."
Merek snapped back to attention, taking a few ragged breaths. "My apologies, I was overly eager."
Thorfinn only offered a curt, "Stay here. I'll watch for a while longer."
Thorfinn's awareness returned to Varamyr's hall. Varamyr was smiling as he watched the hawk, but before he could try to tame it, Merek's goshawk soared away. Thorfinn relaxed, judging that it was flying in the direction of their own camp.
With nothing to do, Varamyr took another swig of his drink and turned back inside. Thorfinn continued his surveillance. The most confounding thing was the missing Shadowcat. After circling the hall several times without finding a trace of it, Thorfinn gave up and returned to his own flesh.
The moment he was back, the others crowded him, eagerly asking for details.
Thorfinn: "Three wolves, one Snow Bear, but no Shadowcat. Varamyr is inside, though he seems to be waiting for something. I can't figure that part out."
Morla and Merek exchanged a cold glance, their eyes growing even harder.
Morla spoke in a chilling tone: "He is waiting for a woman. When Varamyr desires female company, he sends his Shadowcat to demand one from the nearby villages."
Thorfinn's eyes widened in understanding. So that was it. But that presented an opportunity. Should they take out the Shadowcat first? Thorfinn hesitated. After careful thought, he decided against it. Most Skinchangers allowed their animal companions to hunt on their own. Thorfinn would wait for the bigger prize to move.
They had to deal with the Snow Bear first. Otherwise, Varamyr could use the beast to turn the tables at any moment—that was the most critical part of taking down Varamyr.
With this thought, Thorfinn produced two small vials. These were the potions he had brewed: one was the Lure Draught, and the other was the Paralysis Potion.
The Lure Draught: Emits a special scent that triggers a powerful appetite, acting as an excellent attractant. It is even more effective on an animal's sensitive nose, a temptation that few creatures, even trained ones, can resist.
The Paralysis Potion: Whether applied to a wound or consumed internally, it causes nerve paralysis, leading to a loss of limb control. The effect is excellent when consumed but takes time to work topically. A large dose can be lethal. However, it does not dull the senses; the victim can clearly feel everything that happens, including pain, hearing, smell, and sight.
One of the potions was a failed attempt at an anesthetic, and the other was an accidental discovery while practicing. Alchemy, they say, relies three parts on the skillful use of magic for blending, and seven parts on the knowledge of herbalism. For a novice, Thorfinn's achievements in two short years were commendable.
These two small vials had cost Thorfinn considerable effort. He mobilized the group to collect herbs across the mountains and even built a crude oven to meet the necessary specifications. Despite the difficulties, Thorfinn successfully replicated the ideal effects of the potions.
Yet, the most challenging part of the plan proved to be training his own animal companions to restrain their desires. Gods only knew what kind of chaos Thorfinn caused when he first brewed the Lure Draught—Alpha, Sunny, and White Snow went mad for the scent. Thorfinn was first dragged down by Alpha, who knocked the potion over, and it spilled, fatefully, all over himself. Do you wish to know what it is like to be licked and gnawed upon by three great cats?
Er... Thorfinn did.
It was only because Thorfinn had known them since they were cubs that it wasn't a bloodbath.
Fortunately, this incident allowed Thorfinn to discover a loophole in the plan, as well as a small defect in the potion: the lure effect seemed to only work on mammals. After further experimentation, this conjecture was verified, a personal sacrifice Thorfinn made for the advancement of his craft.
Such a comical mishap finally convinced Val of Thorfinn's mastery over his magic, and the group gained even more confidence in the plan. Just like now, all eyes were fixed on the vials in Thorfinn's hands, with a glint of certainty in their eyes...