Snow fell like hushed breath from the twilight sky—slow, weighty, each flake descending as though it feared disturbing the quiet. The barbarian camp had begun dimming for the night, fires lit in deep-set pits, smoke crawling upward like whispers escaping the throats of old spirits.
Kel stepped away from the Chief's hall, his cloak stirring with each flicker of wind, and moved toward the tents assigned for them. His steps were measured, not slow—but purposeful, as if each imprint in the snow had been pre-decided.
Reina walked beside him, her posture relaxed enough to blend in, but her eyes still sharp beneath the falling dusk. Landon followed just behind, quiet as always, gaze calm but alert.
"The Chief," she asked—her voice steady, quiet as the night—"she is young?"
Kel did not turn his head.
"Yes."
"Strong?"
"Yes."
"Dangerous?"
His lips shifted slightly—the ghost of a smile or memory.
"Yes."
Silence fell with the snow.
Reina nodded once.
"Then she is worth traveling beside."
Before Kel could reply, the soft crunch of snow behind them marked another presence.
Hoofbeats.
Slow, deliberate.
Kel stopped walking.
Reina and Landon did the same.
A large snowhorn mount emerged from the darkening white, frost clinging to its antlers. Upon it sat Sera, fur cloak draped around her shoulders, hair white as the surrounding ice yet burning in expression.
She reined the mount closer to them—the beast exhaled mist like steam from a sleeping forge.
Her eyes, pale and sharp, settled on Kel.
The firelight from distant campfires found her scars and traced them like constellations upon pale skin.
When she spoke, her tone was calm, though a wild undercurrent thrummed beneath it.
"Do you know how to shoot, Heral?"
Kel regarded her with the same calmness he used in front of nobles.
"I do. And I am… proficient."
The corner of Sera's lips curled—feral, like the moment before a beast bares its fangs.
"Good," she said, leaning slightly forward, eyes glinting. "I'm going to hunt. The camp needs meat before the winds turn. Come with me."
Kel did not answer immediately.
She leaned in a little more.
"Let's see who kills more monsters tonight."
Reina's gaze sharpened.
Landon tilted his head, just enough to note the shift in air.
Kel's answer was steady.
"If I win… what do I gain?"
Sera grinned.
Not kindly.
Honestly.
"Whatever you ask."
The faintest flicker passed behind Kel's eyes.
Reina noticed it.
Landon did not show whether he did—but he likely had.
Kel inclined his head.
"Very well."
His voice came like winter's acceptance.
"Then let the competition begin."
The Preparation
Sera gestured with her chin toward a large barbarian near the fires—shoulders thick as uprooted trees, arms bound with dried leather. The man stepped forward without being instructed further, leading three mounts toward Kel and his companions.
"Mount up," Sera said. "Snow hasn't turned against us yet, but the night may."
Kel stepped toward the mounts.
He took hold of the reins with quiet familiarity—the snowhorn beast snorted but did not pull away.
Reina mounted swiftly, expression blank as frost.
Landon took his seat beside Kel, exhaling a controlled breath.
Sera watched them.
Her gaze paused on Kel.
"You ride like someone who's used to hiding pain in movement," she said softly.
Kel's hands stilled on the reins.
His reply was almost gentle.
"Movement distracts pain from noticing me."
Sera chuckled low.
"We will see if that holds true when the night looks back."
The Hunt Begins
They rode.
Hooves thundered softly into the snow, each impact sending up small bursts of pale powder. The wind pulled at their cloaks as they headed toward the snow-laden forests east of the camp.
Shadows stretched along the ground like tired limbs seeking rest.
The trees rose black and barren, branches like claws against the dimming sky.
The beasts moved deeper.
Sera was at the lead—cloak rippling like the pelt of a great predator. Kel and his companions followed close behind.
And then, without turning—
"When the first arrow flies," Sera said, voice drifting through the wind, "count begins."
Kel's grip tightened around his bow.
Reina rested her hand over her sword hilt.
Landon exhaled once.
The air shifted.
Silence.
Movement.
Eyes glinted between trees.
Fur disturbed snow.
Kel saw the first beast emerge fully into the clearing—a frostfang warg, pale fur streaked with black veins of cold, teeth long from hunger rather than strength.
Sera moved like a released arrow.
So did he.
—
Her mount lunged forward—the girl stood upon the stirrup, drawing back her heavy northern hunting bow in fluid motion.
Kel rotated his torso smoothly, bow pulled with a quiet stretch of string.
The clear sound of a bowstring split the silence.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The first kill landed.
Not in a single shot.
In two.
One from Sera—neck.
One from Kel—eye.
The beast collapsed, steaming in its final breath.
From Sera.
"Tch. A draw."
Kel replaced his arrow.
"Only if we count jointly."
She smiled.
"We don't."
Then—
The clearing erupted.
More frostfangs—drawn by sound, movement, hunger.
Snow churned beneath claw and hoof.
Sera's mount pivoted.
Kel leaned from his saddle and released arrows one after the other, each strike measured in breath.
One through the throat.
One beneath the ribs.
One severing a limb.
Not perfect.
But efficient.
Sera, meanwhile, loosed arrows with ferocity—as if she were not shooting at beasts, but challenging them.
Her movements were wild.
Kel's were deliberate.
"Three," she called.
"Four," he answered.
Her eyes narrowed.
More shadows burst from the trees.
One lunged toward Reina—
She moved first.
No aura.
No power spike.
Just steel.
Her blade met its neck in a silent, precise arc.
Blood spattered lightly across the snow.
"That one is yours," Kel said without turning.
Reina's tone was flat.
"I'm not competing."
"You already are," Sera replied.
Landon stepped through a lunging beast from behind with a clean thrust.
No noise.
"Nor am I."
Kel smirked faintly.
They continued.
Arrows sang.
Blades answered.
Breaths steamed.
Hunger shrieked and fell silent.
The End of the Hunt
The last beast fell into the snow, steam rising from its slit throat.
Sera dismounted instantly.
Kel followed.
They crossed the snow toward each other.
No boasting.
Just numbers.
Sera: "Seven."
Kel: "Nine."
Silence.
Then—
She laughed.
A wild, sharp sound that carried across the frozen wood.
"Fine!"
She stepped forward, extended her hand.
"Name it."
Kel looked at her hand.
Then at her.
His own hand rose slowly.
He grasped hers.
Not softly.
Not crushing.
A warrior's grip.
"When we reach the mountain," he said quietly, "you walk beside me. Not ahead. Not behind."
Her pale eyes locked on his.
Wind whispered through branches.
Then that feral smile returned.
"As long as you don't fall first," she replied.
"Then pull me back if I do," he said.
Reina watched silently.
Landon inhaled once.
Sera held Kel's hand for a moment longer.
Then released.
"Very well, cursed blade," she said softly. "Let us climb until the sky itself forgets us."
They remounted.
Hooves pounded.
Snow parted.
Night deepened.
And somewhere in the blizzards beyond sight—
a lake waited.
Not with mercy.
But with permission.