FSE

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The rowdiness of his brother-band outside was keeping him awake.

Not that it mattered much. No matter how hard he tried to fit in, he found that he was betraying himself.

The wolf pup of a band's torturer and carpenter was always the one to be left out.

His blue and brown eyes just stared up at the roof of the longhouse, the fire in the middle of the sleeping room his primary source of heat. In one corner was his armour, wooden shield, axe and spear, all in as good a condition as Raiders can get them.

It seems that only he wants his rest.

No one else recognises his or his family's achievements for this brother-band.

They built this longhouse for their brother-band.

Except him, they died for the 'band, too.

They buried his father with his sword and his mother with her axe. As maybe fate or importance demanded, he became the brother-band's carpenter and torturer. If anything made of wood needed repairs, he was there. If there was a rival brother-band member that needs information pulverised out of them, he was there.

However, his double occupation isn't the only reason why he feels left out.

It was within his very fighting style.

The rest just rush in, swinging their weapons violently and/or precisely, without fear and without a shield. Extremely on the offensive. Not him. He keeps his shield up, despite his armour, and uses his spear to stab at his enemies from distance.

He finds that he just doesn't do offensive fighting.

Maybe it was a good thing that they didn't take part in what was known as the largest raiding party in Raider history.

He turned his gaze back to the fire, seeing it beginning to dwindle. He picked up another two pieces of firewood and threw them onto the fire. He curled up inside the rough fraying blanket over him and closed his eyes.

____________________________________________________________________________________

He awoke calmly, smelling ashes and hearing the obnoxious snoring of the rest of the brother-band. He looked around the dull surroundings, seeing his band brothers and sisters all laying in their beds in their armour.

'Loveable idiots. Just hoping that they didn't drink too much.' He thought, looking at all of them

And so, he sat up and got his armour on as quietly as he could. He looked at the left pauldron, more specifically at the -band's insignia. Blue, six dots joined by lines that made it look like a web. His short dull green cape also had the insignia on it as well. He tied his ivory war horn to a rope around his shoulders and exited the longhouse. He squinted at the sunlight that assaulted his eyes, but they adjusted and he could see the rolling fields that this small brother-band called home.

Raider towns and cities were few and far-between. The closest one was about three kilometres away, and it was a Raider Jarl's city to boot. Because of this, the band decided they would try their paw at farming. While they were mostly successful, they still needed meat from the feral population.

And speaking of the feral population, he saw a feral deer grazing in the field just a few metres away. Softly, he padded back into the longhouse, seeing that one of his band brothers, a kitsune, is awake. The wolf lifted a finger to his muzzle, indicating silence, to which his band brother acknowledged.

The wolf padded back out and held the spear like a javelin. He saw the deer, still oblivious to its impending doom. He angled it, and took a double step, throwing it with silent effort. The spear flew perfectly, stabbing the feral deer through the skull.

He heard a cheer and loud clapping of only one pair of paws. The wolf turned, seeing his kitsune band-brother standing there and clapping.

"Nice throw, Trygrr. Looks like we won't go hungry for meat for long." The kitsune complimented.

"Someone had to do it. Had to be me, since any number of the rest of you might've tried to drink the rest under the table just last night and won't throw straight." Trygrr responded, smiling.

The kitsune chuckled, four of his nine tails flicking. He quickly ducked back inside and came out with a few sacks. He walked past Trygrr towards the dead feral. He took one of the twelve knives along his belt and knelt down beside the deer. Immediately, he skinned it for the pelt and meat, packing the meat inside the sacks, and leaving the guts and bones for the feral scavengers to snack on.

Trygrr walked up and forcefully removed his spear from the deer's skull.

"Might become a javelin hunter at this point if I'm that good." Trygrr said.

"You'll need more spears, then. And you know you hate creating hafts for our weapons."

Trygrr groaned. The kitsune was right. It was a total hassle trying to get the wood to be balanced with the crappy wood they always seem to find.

They went inside, where the rest of the brother-band have awoken, albeit in different stages of awake-ness.

"Guess what! Meat!" The kitsune proclaimed, holding one of the meat sacks high.

The band cheered, and so breakfast was cooked. Not with the meat, because that was salted and stored away. The band talked and laughed, Trygrr along with them. It was a small space of happiness that none of them wanted to go away and a moment that they wanted to last forever.

However, the doors to the longhouse were kicked open and a rival brother-band swarmed inside the halls. Very quickly and without remorse, the rival brother-band began to knock out every single member of Trygrr's brother-band. However, he had a familiar forearm wrap around his his neck and a knife held at his throat.

Trygrr tried to struggle, but the arm was too strong and the knife cut slightly onto his skin.

"Løgner, let me go!" Trygrr shouted.

"No can do, Trygrr." The kitsune whispered harshly into his ear.

The knife was pulled away and was used to hit the back of his skull, knocking the wolf into unconsciousness.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Moments later, Trygrr groaned himself awake. He could hear a conversation, but couldn't see it.

"-give him his axe, spear and shield? He will kill us with those."

"Not while he is in his weakened state. And trust me, he will be too busy watching to even try to kill us." He heard Løgner say.

He felt the fur on the back of his head being pulled up, making his eyesight much sharper in an instant. Trygrr saw his spear, shield and war helmet lying in the grass right beside him. He saw the majority of the brother-band dead on the grass, their blood soaking the blades crimson. He saw Løgner in the rival band's armour, including their insignia, a red sun with a weeping eye in the centre on a black backdrop.

The backstabbing kitsune looked over towards Trygrr, smirking. He took one of his knives out and squatted down so that he was eye to eye with the wolf. He placed the knife blade over Trygrr's right eye and cut down, slicing the skin and allowing blood to flow.

"Ooooh, that's going to leave a scar." Løgner said, sadism running wild in his voice.

Trygrr just spat into the kitsune's face. The kitsune, in response, clasped a paw around Trygrr's throat, choking him, and held the knife dangerously close to the eye he just cut over.

"Don't make me blind you!" He whispered harshly.

He pulled the knife away and released his hold on Trygrr's throat. When Løgner walked away, that's when Trygrr noticed the only lupiness in the brother-band, who was still alive. He could see the pure terror in her eyes.

"Tryg..." She said, using the nickname she had for him.

"Ástridr." Trygrr said back.

Løgner walked behind Ástridr and squatted down.

"Touching moment, this is. Say goodbye." He said, before immediately shoving a knife through Ástridr's chest. She gasped at the pain, her eyes became lifeless and, when Løgner withdrew the knife, she fell to the side, dead.

Trygrr tried to shout, his mind now scarred with the new memory, but was hastily knocked out again.

He never knew just how long time passed, but long enough for the rival brother-band and Løgner to flee.

However, he smelt ashes when he woke. His instincts purely snapped into survival mode. He picked his spear and shield up, placing them over his back, placed his war helmet on his head, his axe on his belt and dragged Ástridr's corpse out of the way. When he got the corpse out of the way, he looked up.

And the sight that beheld him would scar his mind a second time.

The longhouse that he called home was going up in flames.

He collapsed onto both knees, sucking in a deep breath.

"NOOOOOOO!!" He wailed.

He leant forwards, placing his fists upon the ground.

He wailed again, wordlessly this time around.

His family's legacy, one that had generation after generation of maintenance and love put into it, to see it burning to the ground so easily made his blood boil.

He looked to Ástridr's corpse. He saw her amulet, remembering the promise he made to her.

'If I die, take my amulet. If you die, I'll take yours. Link them if it does happen on the field of battle, and something would happen. That way, we'll always have something to remember the other by.'

He reached out with a shaky paw and held the amulet in his palm. Hers was a deep green, but it was only one half of the full thing. He quickly took off his version, a mirror image, his version a deep crimson. He lodged them both together, clicking into place. Together, they formed a kite shape, a smooth circle gouged in the centre.

But what the Raider wolf saw next was not what he expected.

A thin blue mist escaped from Ástridr's mouth and formed in the gouged out centre, forming an almost complete solid. It still swirled and moved, but never left the centre.

Trygrr quickly took the cord that held Ástridr's half off of her neck and placed both cords around his own, the now-complete amulet now hanging from his neck.

He began to walk away, one lone train of thought crossing his mind.

'Løgner must die.'