It’s coming

Written by Scar-  

Melete had collapsed into a trembling, weeping, and freshly whipped mess in my arms as I had released her from the chains of the Inukshuk. I was furious with having to reduce her to such a state, but I had done as had to be done; I had considered the situation, and acknowledged my responsibility in creating it. I had brought an unprepared woman into the Tundra; I had taken her from her Forest home without considering her readiness to live outside of it, and for my own foolishness in this matter. I would now be required to see it through to its conclusion, so I began by summoning the N'kani; I would wager our lives now and embrace the finality of the Hunt.

I had gathered Melete in my arms, carried her back to our modest camp where I tended her wounds, fed her, and tucked her safely away within our furs. As I dressed her wounds, I made note of the fact that my supply of Kur fat salve is dwindling; I promised to render the fat from the carcass of the beast which now claimed supremacy over the valley before us. Ember had voluntarily remained with Melete, sprawling herself along side the woman's body and resting back to back against her. Nuqi would have none of it for herself; she had turned her head and walked away from them both without so much as a curious snuffle around the shelter where they lay.

Once many people had lived here, perhaps as many as fifty, and now it is the domain of a terrible creature; a predator of incredible proportions, naturally predisposed to relentless ferocity empowered by a nearly unrivalled lethality coupled with powerful magic. To them, we are merely another type of useful animal; we can be domesticated, we can be traded, and worked, or merely eaten to fill a stomach. Sometimes too I suppose we may be considered as sport for their amusement, or entertainment.

I knew something of these beasts, and I do not consider hunting them to be a sport; I consider it to be an obligation. I have seen some of what they are capable of, and it can be devastating. It is when they begin to hunt us for sport that they are at their most dangerous. When they become aware of us as more than food, they become ruthlessly savage; killing us wantonly, and in great numbers with powerful and unfathomable magic. The evidence of such magic lay in ruins around my feet as they carried me dumbfounded and in abject disbelief of what I was seeing.

Only moments ago it seemed that a proud Barrier lands hunting village stood around me where now lay only ruins both far and wide. All around the looming presence of the twin Inukshuk lay the ravages of long time. Proud bright yurts were rubbles of wood and stone, tattered hides and faded skins. Iron kettles which wore their rust like armor lay overturned among the long cold stones where once glowed many fires. Tattered ribbons and ragged shreds flickered in the wind where just now bright proud banners had snapped and waved. Broken stoneware, fragments of cups and bowls and such things lay scattered upon the ground among the stumps and stubs of furnishings where just now a ready meal had waited upon well made and beautifully decorated furnishings of wood and leather. Scraps of fur and remnants of skin blew a they would in the wind now when only a moment ago people's clothes were worn with great pride and stored with great care. Nothing I was seeing made sense to me now; I knew what it was I saw, what I did not know was a way to explain it to myself.

In total disbelief I walked among the ruins of the village, my senses alert, my eyes curious and wide. Slowly I circled the visual remains of the camp from right to left my eyes searching for anything which could restore to my mind some sense of balance, and reality. Where does the magic end and the truth begin? I am not sure that I know now.

In many ways this all made perfect sense, and in many other ways none of it made any sense. I could explain nothing about anything I had witnessed. Did I see it? Did I hear it? Did I smell it, or taste it or touch it? Yes, I did all of those things and now it seems I did none of those things. My mind sifted through the mental rubble of the last day as my feet walked among the rubble of a village consumed by the Tundra long ago. I cannot explain any of this in what remains here now. It was with this thought that I looked up and instead of the lush rolling valley between the mountains I saw the crucified bodies of Kurri standing ominously upon mounds of jumbled stone.

Startled and amazed in the moment, my feet had nearly faltered before I realized I felt the familiar com fort of the handle of the canphii in my right hand; something dark and defiant from deep within me snarled out its own displeasure with having been awakened. "She is mine!"

I do not know what I spoke to, or what ears heard me; I do not know what I bristled before, or what eyes saw me. What I knew, among all the things that I didn't know, was that to me this was now personal. What I did not know is just how soon I myself would teach my beautiful huntress the one thing she did not understand about hunting; what it meant to be the bait dangling before the snare. I had whipped Melete, and her cries had faded as echoes among the many crags of the feet of the mountains between which the valley lay; and from those invisible nests among the cliffs in the darkness, the screams of something far away had echoed back.

Now, in the full light of day as we stood before the very mouth of the valley, far above us stood the evidence of the horrors that dwell beyond those barriers. Even now standing below the feet of these monsters and looking up at the mummified remains of their carcasses the true horror of their meaning had not yet been revealed. It was only when summiting the path leading beyond them and into the valley that the full scale of their warning became clear.

There behind upon the ground, frozen over time into the permafrost of the icy barrens lay the remains of many, many people. The bones of many; man, woman, and child lay scattered in disarray; some chewed, some smashed, and other broken open for marrow. In all directions it seemed butchery and slaughter were emblazoned clearly and permanently upon the stones and boulders where many bodies lay and many long mummified carcasses twisted in the wind upon wide alters of ice and stone.

Written by Melete- 

I woke as the first light of the sun spilled across the tundra, its pale glow finding its way into our shelter and touching the edges of the furs beneath which I lay. For a moment, I remained still, gathering my scattered thoughts as the ache in my freshly whipped back reminded me of the previous evening’s events. I was hurt that Scar had whipped me, but I understood why, even if I did not like it. He had tended to me afterward, tenderly even, and for that I was grateful. Ember lay pressed against me, her warmth a welcome comfort, though it did little to ease the heaviness settled within my chest. I drew a slow breath, pushing yesterday’s tears and humiliation into a place where I could bear to look beyond them, if only for a little while. My pride was more wounded than anything else, though my back did ache.

Then I saw him.

The ghost boy stood just beyond the edge of the furs, his translucent form barely distinguishable against the pale morning light. His old, ragged clothing stirred in a breeze I could not feel, and his young face held none of the playful mischief I had grown accustomed to seeing in him. His eyes fixed upon mine, grave and strangely urgent.

“It’s coming,” he whispered.

I stared at him, his words sending an unwelcome chill through me that had nothing to do with the cold. “What is coming?” I asked, pushing myself upright despite the protest of my body.

The moment Ember caught wind of him, the young panther scrambled backward with a startled snarl, her claws scraping against the ground as she hurried away from the shelter. The boy’s gaze flickered toward her, and then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone. I was left staring at the empty space where he had stood, the question still upon my lips and no answer to be found.

I turned toward the entrance, searching instinctively for Scar. I could not see him from where I sat, but the knowledge that he was somewhere beyond our shelter stirred me into action. I drew the furs more closely about myself before setting them aside and rising. My body protested the movement, and I paused briefly to steady myself, unwilling to allow the pain to dictate whether I would leave the shelter.

I wanted to see what had drawn him away.

Wrapping myself against the bitter air, I stepped outside and found him standing in the distance, beyond enormous stone figures mounted upon cross-like posts and a great stone ledge beneath them. He had his back partly turned toward me, his attention fixed upon something beyond the rise. Even at a distance, there was a stillness about him that made me hesitate. Scar was not a man given to idle contemplation, and whatever held his attention seemed to have claimed it entirely.

I began making my way toward him.

The petrified Kurii loomed above me as I passed, their enormous forms fixed upon their stone crosses. I slowed beneath them, tilting my head back to take in their dreadful size. Their presence made the landscape feel even more desolate, but the ledge and the towering figures blocked much of what lay beyond them. I could see only the empty stretch of frozen ground ahead and Scar waiting in the distance.

He shifted then, turning his head toward me.

Even from where I stood, I could feel the weight of his attention settle upon me. He watched as I continued toward him, his expression unreadable from this distance. I straightened beneath his gaze, conscious of my disheveled appearance and the lingering tenderness in my back.

As I drew nearer, he turned back toward the ground, and the landscape opened before me.

Scattered across the frozen earth at Scar’s feet lay the remains of people long dead, their bones preserved by the merciless cold. Some were broken, while others lay strewn among the stones, as though even death had offered them no dignity. I stopped a short distance from him, my eyes traveling over the remains and then back toward the towering Kurii behind me.

I moved closer to Scar, coming to stand beside him. His presence was solid and familiar against the terrible desolation of the place, yet even that familiarity could not settle the unease growing within me. I glanced toward his face, searching for some indication of what he made of the sight before us. Whatever he had discovered here, he had remained among the dead, and now I stood beside him, trying to make sense of what lay before us.

I had seen death before. I had brought it with my own hands, and I had lived among those who understood that survival sometimes demanded a terrible price. Yet there was something about this place that settled uneasily beneath my skin. These were not the remains of a single battle, nor the scattered remnants of a hunting ground. Whatever had happened here had left its mark upon the land itself, and I could not begin to understand its meaning.

I shifted my weight, my gaze moving from one set of bones to another. The silence seemed immense. I could hear the faint sounds of the wind moving across the frozen ground, but nothing else stirred among the dead.

Then the ghost boy appeared once more.

He stood a little to the side of the path, his attention fixed upon Scar. I might have missed his arrival had I not caught the sudden movement from the corner of my eye. His expression changed as though he were listening to something I could not hear, and a crooked grin spread across his young face.

Then he laughed.

The sound was quiet, almost delighted, and utterly wrong among the dead.

I glanced toward Scar, trying to understand what had amused the boy. The ghost’s eyes remained fixed upon my Master, his grin widening as though Scar had just confirmed some private joke. I could not hear what had passed between them, if anything had passed at all, but the boy seemed to understand something that remained beyond my reach.

I turned toward him, my brows drawing together. “What is so amusing?” I demanded.

He offered no answer. Instead, his gaze moved between Scar and me, and I felt an uncomfortable prickle along the back of my neck. The boy was laughing at something, but it was not the sort of laughter that invited another to share in the joke. There was knowledge in it, and perhaps a cruelty I could not yet name.

Then his eyes met mine.

For one brief moment, his laughter faded, and again I heard his warning.

It’s coming. It’s coming for you.

My breath caught.

I turned toward Scar, the boy’s words pressing against my thoughts. “The boy came to me when I first woke,” I told him, keeping my voice low as my gaze moved briefly toward the place where the ghost had stood. “He said, ‘It’s coming.’ When I asked him what was coming, he vanished as Ember scrambled away from him.”

I looked around us, searching the desolate landscape for the translucent figure, but there was no sign of him. Turning back to Scar, I continued, “He appeared again just now, and he laughed when he heard you say something as I was walking up” My eyes returned to Scar’s face, seeking to understand what, if anything, he made of that strange response. “Then he looked at me and warned me again. He said, ‘It’s coming. It’s coming for you.’”

I fell silent, watching my Master, uncertain whether the boy’s words meant anything to him. I did not know what was coming, or how the ghost knew of it, but I knew the difference between a child’s mischief and a warning delivered in earnest. Whatever the boy had seen, he had wanted me to know that something was on its way, and I would not keep that knowledge from my Master.

I glanced back toward the petrified Kurii, their enormous stone bodies looming above us. They seemed to watch over the bones scattered at our feet, silent witnesses to horrors I could scarcely begin to comprehend. I had no answers for what had happened here, nor could I understand why the boy had chosen to warn me. Yet his words had taken root in my thoughts, and I could not shake the feeling that we had been given precious little time to prepare for something neither of us had yet seen.

As I shifted my gaze back to the ground between us, something caught my eye.

The tattered Kur doll lay at my feet beside a set of bones.

I stopped breathing for a moment. The sight of that ruined little thing seemed to strip away the cold, the wind, and even Scar’s presence beside me. I knew that doll. I knew the hands that had held it, the small life to which it had belonged, and the terrible tenderness of the memories it carried.

Instantly, I knew whose bones they were.