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Frost Fall

The stars, they were disappearing around him, or so it felt. Closing his eyes, again, it felt they were being swept from the skies, flickering brightly, defiant against the darkness, and then nothingness. Some of those very stars were falling around him, as the void surrounded him with his cold embrace. It was comforting, and yet still unnerving. The figure, in which he was could feel his mane fluttering past his eyes in where they fell closed…

The cold returned, and he felt it sting against his muzzle, staring up at the very night sky, the stars hidden by passing clouds. His icy blue eyes shut back for a second, reopening to focus on what was around him. A small layer of snow caked his white fur, coughing out the air which reeked of ozone, the white wolf groaned, trying to collect whatever memories which were shattered in his head. All he could remember was being in front of a gate, and a blurred figure before him, before his memories stopped.

His head rolled to the right, staring at a battle axe, a dim blue glow to it, runes etched into the blade giving it a more divine effect. Rotating his body over, the canine reached out with his arm grabbing on to it. He hissed feeling more pain, taking measure that his body was still smoldering, it felt. Rising to his knees, the wolf looked around, holding the axe. He was in a crater where the dying flames danced away their last breaths in the cold, in which that too nipped at his bare flesh underneath the fur he had. His armor, his clothing, torn from the shoulder down. The dark blue hues marred with black and red.

Shaking his head, he ignored the pain, staring at the axe, its name crawling back to his mind, slowly bringing forth the memories of what it was, and who it was for. It was for him, and the name of the weapon was Judge, and his name. What was his name? Name… what was his bloody name?! The wolf rapped his knuckles against his temple as if to speed up the process of thoughts that refused to be stirred from its slumber.

With a roar that echoed through the landscape of snow and ice, the wolf slammed his fists into the ground, making it shake. “What is it?” he growled, “I know I am someone but who?!” The wind offered no solace. Though a glint on his right wrist showed a hint, hanging from a chain, a figure of a three-headed canine, a jackal and two wolves acting as one. He felt the other side of it, and turned reading a small rune inscription the back. To our brother, Garmis.

Garmis? Garmis? Was this his name that was his? Calming his mind, some more shattered memories appeared, two canines, jackals, one black and the other gold, and here he was, the odd one out. He couldn’t help but laugh, seeing them both looking at them, no…they were looking up at him. A coughing fit took him out of it, “Brothers…. I have brothers, but, where are they?” Garmis questioned, using Judge to lift himself up, he saw the tundra around him, the twilight settling on in, the wind picking up, and he in a place he was far from familiar with.

The setting sun, the stars still falling, and he was lost. Garmis looked down from where he was, cresting the top of the crater he found himself in. Memories or not, he dared not risk dying like a fool out in this wilderness. Below, he could further see where he was, at the base of a mountain rising upward and he, looking down into a valley. Evergreens, stretching off to the next range of jagged cliffs where the sun had hid its face from view. With _Judge_ in hand, Garmis strode forward, his armored legs leaving distinctive foot prints behind while he made his way downward into the forest.

Making his way on down, he took note of smaller craters that had been imprinted in the land. “Odd” Garmis commented to himself, his tail flicking irritably, what could have caused this? It was any wonder to him at the moment, while trying to usher in lost memories. All he could get was a gate, a figure also in white, and then nothingness. Just the dream of stars, that was all he had in mind, well aside from his name and weapon.

The sun was gone by the time the wolf made it to the edge of the forest, his eyes adjusting easily to the darkness around him. It was not like day, as everything was dark and grey, but he could navigate in this low light state without trouble. Without even realizing it though, the wolf had found himself gripping his axe even more now, even so far to take more cautious steps.

The snow wasn’t as deep here, there were even patches of dirt that he could spot around him, still no sign in which he could take a moment to rest. The smells around him barely could mark any real life here; no deer, no wild wolves, no anything aside from pine and the occasional bird that flew overhead. So far, the night came in, only singing of the wind, a baleful song to his erected ears, turning for any peculiar sounds that he might come up on. Just the wind, and only the wind to accompany him.

Garmis lost the passing of time, he did not know how long he wandered until something broke the monotony of the wind’s song. A trickle, no a stream of water he could hear before him. With a cough he forced himself to move, the frost nipping at his nose with his renewed pace. The idea of sating some amount of thirst was, elating to say the least. Finding the stream, it put his heart at ease when he fell to his knees seeing a small trickle of running water underneath a thin veil of ice. He hardly put any real pressure on it before greedily cupping it in his hands taking what he could. The wolf balled his hands into fists at the sheer cold going down his parched throat.

He had been unaware of how much he was thirsty, unaware what pains were eating at him in his confusion. Knowing his brothers were out somewhere, brothers whose names he could not recall. Coughing again, this time worse, Garmis double over. Baring his fangs from the pain, he could feel his body was starting to fail him. He had to keep moving, determination alone to know the truth of who he truly was and why he was here started to eat away at him. Just as he began to reach for Judge all he grabbed was the dirt on where it was only a second ago.

Panic started to cross his mind, and before he could get up he felt something colder than the air around him settling upon the side of his neck, the straining of bowstrings behind him, and the crunching of dirt around him. In the dark he could see several figures adorned in heavy furs to beat off the frost. They stood up right, and appeared flat faced, pale flesh, aside from the fur on their faces and the tops of their heads.

“Humans” he dared not move a muscle, knowing that a single twitch could set these people off. Part of him was afraid, and another part felt he could easily obliterate them.

“Aye, that we are wolf, that we are. Ye got a nice axe, and I see ye look like were in a good ol scrap. Now, hands above yer head, and this shant get ugly.”

The only thought Garmis could have felt toward himself, and spoke aloud was, “Such wretched luck…”