<strong>Character name</strong>: Sveinn<br/><strong>Who:</strong>n/a<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Human Borders & Trade Road. Nine miles from the village of Bjerka.<br/><strong>When: </strong>Morning. Eighth Day of the Hunger Moon.<br/><hr/><br/>“This is it.” As Sveinn tilted his chin skyward the hood of his cape slipped from the top of his head. He didn’t bother pulling it back up. His eyes fixed on an object fastened with red string that dangled from the lowest bough of the tree he stood under. It was a piece of wood, taken from the same tree it now hung from, carved into the shape of a crescent moon. Sharp points along the outer edge mimicked teeth. A sign to be wary of the wolves. Once it had been painted to match the string, but four years of sun and wind had worn the red away. Sveinn’s village had crafted the sign and once the Long Winter ended Bjerka would resume its upkeep. At least that was what Sveinn held hope for. If the Long Winter continued on for much longer he feared there would be no one left to do it.<br/><br/>Sveinn thought of his beloved Bjerka. The village laid nearly four hours behind him. He and his two companions had left before the first streak of dawn had painted the sky. What was left of the village had risen when they had to watch them leave. Thirty-seven people now awaited and prayed their safe, and hopefully bountiful, return. Sveinn intended to return with both of his hunting companions and he fully intended to bring something back with him. He couldn’t return from such a foolish trip empty handed. They had to return with something to make their trek worthwhile.<br/><br/>“Yep. That’d be it.” One of his companions confirmed as he paused at Sveinn’s side to join the inspection of the sign. Sveinn shifted his gaze to look upon Alfarr. It was strange. Sveinn had caught his own reflection a few days ago and hadn’t recognized the person staring back at him, but when he looked upon Alfarr he still saw his friend. A tired friend, but the leanness in Alfarr’s face and the weariness in his dark brown eyes didn’t make him into a stranger. “It’ll be wolf country soon.”<br/><br/>Sveinn made a low sound of agreement as he looked past Alfarr and watched the last of their party catch up with them. Jens should have been taller, but four years of rationing and starvation had halted his growth. The boy didn’t have height or hair on his chin to announce his stumble into the first steps of manhood. It had only been the break and then deepening of his voice that revealed his new age. Jens stared up at the sign with wide and curious eyes. “What d’ya mean soon? Aren’t we there right now?”<br/><br/>“No.” Alfarr answered shortly. He dropped both his gaze and the hood of his own cloak as he walked past the tree and trudged northward.<br/><br/>Jens turned his curiosity to Sveinn as he sought a more detailed explanation. Sveinn gave the boy the answer he wanted. “What? Ya think our elders would mark our border right alongside the Tikaani? They know how foolish youth is. When Alfarr and I were little we played around here. Kids used to test their bravery by standing underneath this sign. The goal was to stay until you heard a wolf howl.”<br/><br/>“Did ya ever hear one?” Jens asked.<br/><br/>“Ah, no. No one did.” Sveinn shrugged his shoulders. It had been a stupid childhood game. Plenty of kids had boasted about how they had heard the wolves, but in the end it had always just been a game of bravado. Sveinn and Alfarr had only stood under the sign for seconds before they had sprinted back towards the direction of Bjerka. The danger, fear, and punishment for playing the game in the first place was too large for any child to endure it for any longer than that. “We have about three more miles to go until we cross into wolf territory. That’s still more than an hour of walking for us.”<br/><br/>“Come,” Sveinn encouraged as he lifted his hands and slipped his mittens off so he could muss up Jens’ mop of flaxen hair. When dressed fully for winter all of them could have passed for a trio of blood brothers, but when their skin and hair showed the chance of that was low. Alfarr’s skin was too brown, Jens’ was too fair, and Sveinn’s too tan. Their hair was much the same way. Alfarr’s hair was too black and Jens’ was too yellow. It was only the similar shape of their noses, their eyes, and their shared pattern of speech that revealed their closeness. Brothers not by a mother, but brothers by home. He nudged the boy to follow off after Alfarr so Sveinn could take the rear. Sveinn slipped his bow from his shoulder and gripped it in his hand but didn’t nock an arrow. “Keep walking.”<br/><br/>“Do ya think we’ll hear any? Do ya think we’ll<em>see</em>any?” Sveinn didn’t need to ask who the<em>any</em>were that Jens asked about. For a moment Sveinn didn’t know what to answer. He couldn’t see Jens’ face and the slope of the boy’s shoulders was hidden by the pack of supplies he carried, but Sveinn could clearly hear Jens’ fear in his voice. He wanted to reassure Jens that they would meet nothing but trees, snow, and tasty critters. But Sveinn couldn’t make a reassurance like that without making it into a lie. It was possible they would cross paths with Tikaani. Sveinn didn’t think it likely, all the rumors he heard had described how vast their hunting grounds stretched, but that didn’t guarantee them safety. Luckily Alfarr relieved him of the responsibility of answering the question.<br/><br/>“A wolf’s howl carries a long way on a day like this. We’ll hear them long before we see them. And if ya hear them ya know to run toward Bjerka until ya can’t run anymore.” Alfarr briefly glanced over his shoulder to give a look of concern to both Sveinn and Jens.<br/><br/>“And when ya can’t run anymore ya climb a tree.” Sveinn finished with a brief smile. The movement was genuine even if it looked a bit forced. Smiles and laughter were rare these days. It took energy that most people just didn’t have to spare. But it wasn’t a joke. That plan really was the best that they had. Alfarr didn’t return Sveinn’s smile, but for a moment Sveinn thought he could see the heaviness in Alfarr’s gaze lightened before he turned away. Jens and Sveinn followed in single file after him. Their steps in the snow followed Alfarr’s. He had the biggest feet out of the three of them so his feet left the biggest imprint.<br/><br/>“But...they climb trees, ya? They turn into people. Or they turn into wolves? I think either way they climb. But which is it?” Jens voice had dropped into a whisper even though they were still far from being ready to begin hunting. The boy’s voice took on a worried and frightened edge. Neither Sveinn or Alfarr were quick to answer his question because they truly didn’t know which it was. There were a lot of rumors and stories about the wolves, but Sveinn wasn’t sure what was just a story and what was real.<br/><br/>“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.” Sveinn tried to say it kindly.<br/><br/>“Course it matters,” Jens whispered harshly. “If they eat us I want to know if our pieces are going to be feeding animals or a monster. If they’re wolves who just turn into people than ya it doesn’t matter, but if they’re people who turn into wolves then the spirits will turn them into bone thieves.”<br/><br/>“Don’t worry about something like that. We need to focus on hunting.” Alfarr matched Jens harshness. He didn’t try to soothe the boy’s worry and instead directed it somewhere else. It wasn’t kind but Sveinn had to agree with the decision. They couldn’t worry about bone thieves when they needed to worry about catching food to take back to Bjerka. Sveinn glanced at his bow. Alfarr and Jens had bows as well, but they were simple self-made bows from Bjerka wood. Sveinn’s bow had been crafted by a real bowyer. They had decided to only take one of the real bows, in case they didn’t return, and Alfarr had made Sveinn carry it. He had insisted that Sveinn was the better shot. Sveinn didn’t know if he agreed with his friend, but he had decided not to argue.<br/><br/>It was not a good season to waste breath on disagreements.<br/><br/>“How do ya know we’ll even find anything?” Sveinn could hear the doubt in Jens voice. The boy was low on hope. Sveinn couldn’t fault him for it. There were no signs of winter ending anytime soon. But he had to do everything he could do keep what little hope Jens had burning.<br/><br/>“A river runs through their territory. It’s a river that never freezes and animals go where the water is. Of course we’ll find something to hunt once we anywhere close to it.” Maybe it was a lie or maybe it was the truth. Sveinn didn’t know for sure. Maybe it was a lake or a pond instead of a river, but the rumor was there was a water source that the animals were attracted too. It was supposedly magically too, but Sveinn didn’t need to stuff that sort of thing into Jens head.<br/><br/>“But - how does their river stay wet?” Doubt still gripped Jens voice, but Sveinn could tell that the boy was intrigued.<br/><br/>“Their spirits are kinder,” Alfarr said to support Sveinn’s explanation.<br/><br/>“Alfarr’s right. The wolves were here first so the local spirits know them better. That's why it's easier for them to get help.” Sveinn didn't like to think of it as lying, though sometimes the words felt so sour in his mouth. One would think that the test of winter would make one's faith stronger, but Sveinn had discovered it was just the opposite. In spring and summer he believed in the spirits of the wood and sky and water animals, and of course the Great Mother most of all, with all of his heart. But in the depths of the cold of winter he often found his faith sapped. Why would the spirits and their Mother above be so cruel to them? Bjerka had done nothing to anger them.<br/><br/>"Ya? Well I don't get why - what's that?"<br/><br/>The three hunters all looked up with wide eyes as they listened to the forest. Jens' sudden question made them all pause. It took Sveinn a few seconds to realize what he was actually listening to.<em>Birdsong</em>. Sveinn's smile stretched so wide that it hurt his lips. It had been almost a year since he had last heard a bird. His eyes darted around the boughs and trees that surrounded them as he tried to find the source of the airy song. Alfarr found it first. Sveinn and Jens watched with rapt attention as Alfarr nocked an arrow and took aim. They held their breath as they waited for Alfarr to shoot. When the arrow finally flew it hit its mark and the bird dropped into the snow a few yards ahead of them. Alfarr immediately jogged off to retrieve it.<br/><br/>Jens turned to look at Sveinn with a matching smile. "Does this mean the wolves spirits like us?"<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/b/b5/Sveinn.png)</div><strong>Character name</strong>: Sveinn<br/><strong>Who:</strong><br/><strong>Where:</strong>Human Borders & Trade Road. Nadaecki pack territory.<br/><strong>When: </strong>Mid-Afternoon. Eighth Day of the Hunger Moon.<br/><hr/><br/>Sveinn didn’t think their early encounter with birds meant the spirits of this forest so far from Bjerka liked them, but it seem to be the first sign that their trespassing wasn’t completely unwelcomed. The further they had ventured the more life they had discovered. Sveinn had pinched himself twice to ensure that he hadn’t fallen into the snow and drifted off into sleep. It was just so unreal. There was nothing to hunt in the forests around Bjerka or on Atallan land. No birds, no squirrels, and any fish within Bjerka’s lake were hidden deep beneath an ice that they hadn’t had any luck in breaking. They had even hunted and eaten all of the rats within their long houses.<br/><br/>But here there were small signs of life everywhere. In just a late morning and afternoon of hunting they had already taken the bird, a few squirrels, a hare, and Sveinn had just been blessed with immense luck to spot a fox. Even luckier to actually hit it when the fox’s white fur had let it blend so easily into the snow covered ground. Sveinn held onto the fox by the gruff of its neck as he slowly made his way back to where they had set up Jens to keep their kills safe. He let out a low whistle as he approached the tree Jens had climbed up into. A rope was dropped to the ground and Sveinn knotted it around the fox’s midsection before he tugged the rope and stepped back to let Jens haul it up.<br/><br/>“Alfarr found a deer,” Jens whispered down. It probably wasn’t much fun for the boy to have to wait hours in the tree with the corpses of their small game but fun wasn’t a factor in this trip. This trip was about survival and being charged to look after their supplies and what they caught was a huge responsibility. Sveinn glanced up but the tree they had placed Jens in offered too much protection. Thick needles of evergreen hid him from view. When Jens whispered the direction that Alfarr had gone off Sveinn quickly went the same way. The prime time for deer hunting was in the early morning and evening. To find a deer in the afternoon was either a blessing or a trick.<br/><br/>Sveinn kept his bow ready as he tracked Alfarr. It was easy to simply follow his friend’s footsteps. It took several minutes but eventually Sveinn caught up with Alfarr. Sveinn was slow and quiet in his approach. Alfarr turned his eyes towards Sveinn and then very slowly lifted his hand to point forward. There really was a deer. A young doe stood around forty yards from their position. Alfarr nodded at Sveinn and with great care began to fan out towards the side. Sveinn stayed where he was. The deer stood broadside. The perfection position to get a killshot. They couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity. It would be a challenge to carry the deer all the way back to Bjerka, but that much meat was worth the trouble.<br/><br/>Missing or shooting poorly could mean starvation for himself and the rest of Bjerka. The doe walked and nosed at the snow. She seemed to be searching for something buried underneath it. Alfarr made a grunting noise to get her to still for a moment. Sveinn took a soft breath as he raised and drew his bow.