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Frost Fall ch2

This perhaps had to be the most humiliating moment of his life, if Garmis could remember what his life was like before waking up in the middle of a crater half naked. This, and only to be tied to a pole inside a tent which was barely lit. As it were, the travel back to the camp of the humans was short and sweet, though promptly once there he blacked out. Whatever had happened to him, he must have done something to wear down his body.

With a groan, feeling his arms sore from how long they were behind him, and the chirping of birds, he could only guess what time it was now. The light was coming through a few torn seams of the tent, and…. his ears twitched, movement, lot more than what a night camp could be, right? “Morning” he mumbled to himself. What else could it be?

Garmis tried to collect whatever memories he could, but nothing would come up, just his name, his axe, and blurs. The wolf’s snout wrinkled into a scrunched-up face, in irritation while banging his head against the pole he was tied to. “Damn it all” he growled more so to himself than anything, then again, who was there to be aggressive towards. With a heavy sigh, he relaxed, his head hanging low looking down at his torn pants, and bare paws. “When did they take off my boots?” he asked himself to look up toward the main flap of the tent seeing them there. He paused looking at them and shook his head. As far as he could remember, Garmis knew he didn’t have any boot daggers.

The light from outside shone in, blinding the wolf for a moment as several humans walked in, armed and weapons not drawn. That was a good sign in his mind. The largest of the humans, a partially bald man with a beard that went down past the collar bone, braided with small totems looked at him with grey eyes. “Alright lad, glad to see you’re still amongst the living and not a feral mess like yer kin” he started off, “and from what we could tell, you were in some hellish scrap, like you took on a Kjormic with just your claws instead of that fancy axe ye were carrying with ya. So, you might start off telling me, who in the name of the gods are ya lad?”

There was a second or two of silence as Garmis started to talk, before being interrupted by a younger human that had an angry expression on his face. “Father, please, why waste our time talking to one of these dogs? We already faced down the ones in the Shelf, and how they acted more like animals tearing warriors limb from limb why don’t we just slit its throa-“

“Because, boy, he didn’t seem like that when we got him!” the elder shouted back in disgust. “Nay, this one is different, he wasn’t a feral mess like his kin and I best bet we might have been blessed by Watcher himself.” The elder’s expression looked grim, looking at his son, “And next time, don’t be so fookin rude, lest ye want me to put you over my knee like a wee lad! Now you, wolfie, what’s yer name?”

“Uuuuhh….” The wolf tried to find his voice, “Garmis, that’s all I can remember.” He felt like an idiot for just saying his name, no title, nothing to his bloodline, and all he could feel was shame.

“Garmis? Huh, yer parents must have thought highly of ya to give you that name, but then again wolf folk would do something like that” chuckled the elderly man, “You can call me Gunnbjorn, or sir, or that asshole who may or may not slit your throat and leave your corpse as a reminder to your kin to not mess with us.” He watched as the horrified expression crossed his prisoner’s face, before breaking out into laughter. “Phhht hahaha, lad, that’d be a waste. But aside from yer odd name, I figure yah be a good warrior considering how we found you were still wandering about lost, so I guess you’re less of a scout on that part.”

“Um, thank you?” Garmis tilted his head, watching Gunn’s more jovial expression while the guards seemed laxer, save for his son, who glowered at him. “I wish I could say whom or where I came from, but all I knows nothing but blurred faces and that’s about it.” It seemed that humans could read his expression, as his ears were pinned back.

“Aye, and that’s where we deliberate, don’t concern yerself with that just yet lad” Gunn told him, gesturing for the others to leave, “but mind you, there is much to be concerned about in these times, wolf with no memory.” The human looked to each side, as the others filtered on out, along with his son, soon enough Gunn left shouting. “Kara! Get our guest some food, and make sure his bandages are still good to go!”

Garmis blinked finding himself alone again, well not entirely alone if he counted his own thoughts. In this case, his thoughts, weren’t much company as he found himself trying to dig up memories and only gave himself a headache in the process. With a sigh, the wolf just leaned back against the pole he was tied against waiting for this Kara to show up. Whatever the case maybe, he sighed again but with more frustration, almost missing the tent flap opening.

“Hello there, wolf.” A female voice as he was expecting, another human this time, though darker skinned than the others. Her amber colored eyes looked him from head to toe while holding in her hand a wooden bowl with what smelled like stew perhaps elk or deer. Garmis was unfamiliar with what game there was in this land, he would have been elated to know that much. “Now the elders still haven’t figured out what to do with you, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t going to ask, I figured they’d tell me or walk on in with guards to finish me” Garmis replied, his ears twitching slightly.

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it” Kara gave him a scolding look, walking over to him, kneeling beside the canine.

“I suppose it would be too much to ask for my hands to be freed.”

“Open your mouth.”

“Wha- “Garmis didn’t a second chance to ask as he felt a spoon of hot stew get rammed into his muzzle. He winced and twitched as the heat of the stew burned the top of his mouth and forced himself to swallow. He coughed a few times, cringing, “okay, that was a bit uncalled-“

Again, he felt the hot stew rammed into his throat. Garmis could feel his irritation with Kara, as he felt a brow twitch already. He wanted to back hand her for her rough treatment, though in his thoughts, an idea did pop into mind. The fact that these humans were feeding him was enough to make him think that they were going to spare him, why else would you feed someone you planned to kill?

“Something wrong, Wolf?” Kara inquired, tilting her head at him.

Daring not open his mouth, lest he got another spoon full of hot stew jammed down his gullet, he just shook his head. Inwardly, he hoped that this would at least stall for time to let the thing cool.

“Yes or no?”

Nevermind, she was determined to shove more of the stew down his throat after all, either as a form of torture or pure ignorance of his condition, that or she really didn’t care for his wellbeing. “I’m good just stop shoving it down my throat!” he spat out as quickly as he could, jerking his head away from another spoon full. “Let it cool down! Damn it woman! Listen to me!”

“Stay still!”

“Let it cool down, will you, woman?!”

This ordeal went on for a solid 3 minutes before the tent flap opened again, showing the son from earlier. The expression upon his face wasn’t exactly pleasant, though it was aimed mainly at Kara. “I thought you’d be done by now, not fooling around with the mutt.”

The human female looked over at him, “I was told to care for the wolf, thus I am doing exactly that, caring. Which, I think you might take an example from me, Tyrus.” The look in her eyes only spoke a few volumes on how much she wanted to kick the man in the balls, Garmis leaned slightly away from her, looking at the son of Gunnbjorn. He stuck there, stuck in between two headstrong humans.

There was an awkward pause, before Tyrus spoke again. “I got fresh bandages in my tent, his will be needed to be replaced once you’re done swooning over him.” That seemed to have struck a nerve as Kara’s face was verbally slapped, and it was enough to make the young adult quickly hide a smile at that.

“I uh…I was simply doing as your father asked, no swooning what so ever of this…this…dog!” she barked back indignantly. Garmis was unsure if he was to be insulted or to burst out laughing at the swipe. In fact, he forgot that his fate lay within the decision of others whom were deciding it. Kara’s red face though almost made him laugh, making the wolf bite his own tongue.

Tyrus caught on, scolding him and shaking his head. The human’s tone changed to being as venomous as before. “Just see to his wounds, father wants answers hence why he encourages his health to be as good as possible out here. Now see to it woman when you’re done.” He left the tent walking off.

Kara and Garmis stared out at the entrance of the tent before he spoke. “Is he always like that, acting as if there is some battle to constantly fight to prove himself? Or, is he always just a horse’s ass?” That was enough to gain the woman’s attention, looking over at him.

“Ever since your people suddenly attacked ours, losing friends in battle, and his brother, his attitude went from a cocky young boy to a man filled with anger. His father filled with wisdom is still trying to groom him into being the next chieftain of the tribe and clan. Tad hard when you’re being hunted down.” Kara explained, gesturing with the spoon in hand.

“I see, it makes things a bit more…dare I say understandable?” Garmis leaned back, looking over at the stew, which had finally stopped steaming. “So…. I take it he wants me dead the most.”

“Considering how most paths of vengeance go in most fables, yes” Kara replied, looking away at the tent flap. Despite it being the early evening, everything had gone eerily quiet. The two sat in silence for a minute, hearing the rustle of fallen pine needles behind them, the breeze picking up, and it whirled right into the tent.

There was a scent, one that caused Garmis wracked his head back, something felt off. He and Kara felt it both it seemed, but the smell, that was what really tipped him off. He felt the human get close as he opened his mouth to whisper. “Let me loose if you want to live.” She could feel how uneasy he was, and vise versa. Kara was quick, untying the wolf.

“Take this” she whispered, pulling out a dagger handing it to Garmis. With a nod of acknowledgement, he was grateful to be armed. He moved out slowly, going on all fours, stalking his way to the tent flap. The second he poked his nose out, he could see the corpse of a human being laid down, gently. Over it, the canine form holding the body, looked over at him.

Its eyes glowed a mix of a hellish red and violet, staring at him. The guttural noise of its growling emitted from its throat, reaching for its blade. “Gwaaaaaaarrrr….” It hissed.

Garmis, wasted no time, rushing forward with a feral snarl, leaping up from his position and driving himself into wolf. His free hand grasping the sword arm of his opponent while his weapon hand drove the dagger into the throat of his foe. Black blood started to flow from the open wound as the white wolf pulled out. The other wolf let out its death gasps, grabbing at its throat. It fell over as the glow left its eyes, staring off into the distance. Garmis, started to crouch down before a mix of war horns and howls pierced the coming dusk.

Humans both young and old, male and female, scrambled to get out of their tents arming themselves with what they could in such a haste. The red-violet eyes were seen surrounding the camp from the dark shadows. Garmis could see them easily, watching a few run in like wild wolves and others rushed in with weapons in hand, the ensuing clash was met with the dying screams on both sides.

He stood there unsure what to do, it wasn’t until he felt Kara yank his arm pulling him forward. “To Gunnbjorn’s tent, your weapon is in there!” She shouted, looking to the side watching a few of the wolves take note of them both, breaking from their current prey, and began to head toward them. There were a few other figures heading for them, one of them was Gunn himself.

Garmis could see he held a sword in one hand, and in the other from the distance was his axe wrapped in cloth. “How considerate” he spoke aloud, seeing the first of the wild wolves get in close. “KARA, GO!” was his next words, whilst the first of his attackers went in for the kill.

The world, in Garmis’ eyes, began to slow with each movement. Pivoting toward the first of the wild wolves, he flipped the dagger around into a reverse grip watching the claws of the mad canine come toward him. His free hand moved forward underneath the lower jaw, gripping onto it, while his weapon came up going for another throat stab. Garmis could feel the claws of his opponent tear into his shoulders, his footing being lost as he went backwards. He knew he had made a misstep in his defense.

Black blood started to spurt from the wound he made while the body of the first wolf soared over him, forcing him down on his back. Garmis scrambled back to his feet watching his second foe, and a third behind them rushing him like the first. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back, spinning the dagger once in hand, and positioned his arm to throw. The second of the wild ones ducked low just as he saw Garmis throw the blade, only cutting into the top part of his shoulder. Seeing his error, the white wolf braced himself as the force of another of his own tackled into him.

Instinctively, he put his arms in front of his face, closing his eyes for a second. Even a second in battle was too long, for the fangs of his adversary bit down into him, spilling his blood. Garmis let out a yelp punching furiously into his attacker, watching them not even flinch. His eyes saw a fourth feral coming his way, wielding a club.

The seconds were ticking by now, seeing that if he remained like this, Garmis knew full well that he would die with either having his own throat ripped out from him, or a club to crush in his skull. With a baleful roar, he yanked his bleeding arm down with his assailant closer, and brought up a free hand, going for the eye. The sound of a claw going through another’s eye socket was sickening.

But, it was enough.

With what strength he could muster, the grounded white wolf threw off his second attacker only to find the third holding the dagger he threw earlier bearing down on him. There was no advantage to be taken, no way to really figure his way out of this except move! Garmis rolled to his right just as the next feral wolf came in after him. The snarls of the predator were drowned out as one of the humans within the camp came barreling into his would be killer screaming at the top of his lungs.

The fourth he counted, was in the same position to kill him before receiving a shield to the face knocking him away by another of his human allies. Engaging one another, Garmis was free for a moment to recover.

“LAD!” he heard Gunnbjorn’s voice shout over the skirmish. The elder didn’t bother handing his axe to him but slide it along the ground for Garmis to grab.

Verdict was now back in his hands, and he felt at home. Garmis rose up to his feet seeing the two feral wolves were killed, while a few more seemed to hone in on him. With renewed confidence he joined the humans in this fight, running head long into what had once been respectable wolves into nothing more than blood crazed beasts.

Their battle would only last so long, and to Garmis it was a blur of motion and adrenaline. He recalled in the moments that would follow afterwards, breaking bone with his axe, severing a head, or flat out splitting one vertically.

It was toward the end is what truly stood out to him.

Undead, rotten mobile cadavers were amongst the maddened wolves. One holding a halberd swung to take his head, missing completely with Garmis ducking underneath the swing. Verdict bit into the knee of the living corpse, watching it drop down. He did not finish moving behind it, swinging upward into the shoulder, then a heavy blow to the back of the skull. He felt one last of the undead behind him.

Garmis took a step backwards pivoting into the blow of a sword wielding corpse. Grappling on the rotten flesh with bone exposed, the white wolf went for an elbow strike to the face. With what strength he had he yanked the undead wolf down, watching it stumble to the ground. He raised his axe above his head while the undead wolf looked up slowly at him, the glowing eyes staring directly at him. For a moment, it was as if it was grateful.

>>Thank…. you<<

He did not wait for another second to even think about what he had heard, severing the head from the body. The undead corpse was motionless now, no longer moving. Reaching down, Garmis pulled up the head by the mane, holding it up to study.

Lowering it, he looked at the humans who stood there, a semi-circle around him. Tyrus glowered at him while his sire, Gunn, stood there stroking his greyed beard.

“Gunnbjorn,” Garmis started out, finding his voice, “when did undead become a problem?”

“Lad, this is the first time I’ve seen undead of your kin. So, to put it simply, we’re in a lot deeper shit than we thought.”

Garmis dropped the head letting out a sigh of relief. He grimaced feeling his wounds now, since the adrenaline post battle left him. What Tyrus said next though, is what truly made his heart sink.

“My question for you, wolf, is why they wanted you dead so badly?”

It was a question, no one could answer, but none could deny what they saw.