The Ice Walkers

[Vin]

Emmathea Pointe
Muskrat
19

[spoiler]The sun began to set, and Emmathea was sure she would be dead before it was over the horizon.

---

"It's said that your first hunt tells us who you'll grow up to be." Her grandmother's words echoed in her mind. "The lowborn sons with everything to prove will risk all for the sharp-mawed beasts of the ice or the horned giants of the woods."

"Our family," she said, "know better."

---

Some of us don't, apparently. She grimaced at herself.

The muddy banks of the river she was half-buried in leached the warmth from her fur and flesh, and she kept as still as the wound across her ribs allowed. A thrashing from her left made her flinch and then suck a silent pull of air into her lungs as an aurora of pain radiated from the wound.

She turned her head.

There, in the carefully planned holes she'd dug -- traps for the swift and clever short-horned deer that drank from it -- was a monster. It thrashed and bellowed, struggling against the thick muck and flinging it in every direction like a blizzard.

Her molars ground against each other as she levered herself upright with the haft of her short spear. It wasn't the kill she was after, but she'd be buried before she came back empty-pawed again. She moved to firmer ground and broke into a slow trot.

A wide, short-horned head turned her way, and the beast bellowed again. One of its legs must have found purchase, because it began to work its shaggy-furred body around. It whipped its head back and forth, letting its wide-set eyes get a fix on her.

Then it charged.

The earth beneath her quaked with every slam of its hard hooves on the ground. She leaped to one side, ducking behind a fir tree for cover.

The giant didn't slow. It slammed into the tree, the crack of green wood louder than its own roars as a shower of splinters and snow rained down on her.

Emma scuttled sideways, looking like one of the shore crabs, her spear held out before her. A free paw reached into her belt, finding one of the broad, sharp knives there. With a grunt, she threw it.

The blade barely broke the beast's skin.

It charged again, this time in the open ground between them.

The muskrat shouted a curse and dropped low, anchoring her spear against her footpaw. Within a moment, pain flashed across her vision, blinding her, as the bulk slammed into her spear, then her shoulder. It sent her flying with a wet crunch.

The gamble worked. The tip of her spear was deep in the horror's neck. She struggled to stand once more, waiting, wary.

It turned again, slower this time. Her eyes danced around her, searching for something, anything. There!

As it worked up another slow, wobbling attack, she grabbed the wide branch at her feet, felled from the assault on the tree, and swung.

Her aim was true. The blow hit the end of her spear, driving it in further.

The creature's front legs gave out, and it fell before her, still thrashing, driven by instinct.

She shuffled forwards and drew a second knife.

"Give me your power."

She struck.

"Give me your speed."

She struck again.

"Give me your endurance."

She struck again and again, until the creature finally stilled.

Emma was panting at this point, hot breath pooling in clouds about her face as she leaned against the creature's wide flank. She knew the next part of the rite and steeled herself for the grim work ahead.

The broad knife fell from her paw, and she drew a smaller, sharper one. Grunting with exertion, she began to peel and tear, working fur from flesh, mumbling prayers under her breath: "And let your life pour into mine. Fill our bellies. Keep back the winter's chill."

She set the hide aside. Emma's entire body felt like a day-old bruise, pains sharp and dull competing for her attention.

She closed her eyes and lowered her snout to a fresh cut at the creature's neck. The sick warmth bloomed in her stomach as she drank down the still hot blood.

---

"The wide-horned giants, why they grant you presence. Nobility. The short antlered beasts that we choose? They're speed and cleverness. The greatmaws? Raw power," her grandmother had said. "But there's whispers of a beast all fear to hunt. A behemoth with a determination so great it could move the hills themselves."

---

Emmathea rose and stretched, feeling renewed. Whole. It was a long trek back to her village, and she had to move as much of the kill as possible before other beasts caught its scent.

But she could do it. She could do anything, now.[/spoiler]

Bahto
White Wolf
Adult

[spoiler]Bahto was a beast of few words but many beliefs, the first- one that countless shared.

Whether it was the might of Kastor's army or the ferocity of the Greatmaw, it was strength and savagery alone that ruled the Whitelands. Nothing proved that more to the white wolf than the sight before him.

It was the evening after a successful hunt, and the meat had been scarce for several days. By chance, the youngest of their pack, Kipper, had stumbled upon a wounded Longtusk and managed to slay it with his bow. Bahto's knife flashed a hot gold as he carved fresh arrowheads for the pup, glancing up occasionally to watch as the other Walkers, Ferro and Kaia, carved silhouettes in the firelight.

The Ice Walker's role was to feed the villages but they had to eat too, and the portions of the Longtusk they could claim as their own were running low. They were hungry and like all things in the Whitelands, it would be a ceremony of strength that decided who received the last cut.

A Lunar Trial.

While it had many names across the Whitelands, it was the wolves who called it by that name, for they were the progenitors of the practice. The rules were simple. To win, a challenger had to best each member of their pack in single combat and prove themselves the alpha. No weapons. No rests. Thus it became known that the largest packs bore the toughest trials and the strongest alphas.

Kaia and Ferro looked to the moon and howled as one, and then they began.

Kaia was faster than Ferro, but Ferro was born wide and sturdy. The quick wolf's fist glanced his muzzle but Ferro hardly flinched, striking back not with a punch, but with his claws.

Bahto set aside his work and watched with Kipper as the two wolves' fight escalated until they rolled against each other in the snow, snarling curses and clawing at one another like feral creatures.

"You don't deserve it!" Kaia screamed as he clawed at Ferro's chest.

"Do you? You wouldn't be eatin' at all if it weren't for Kip!" Ferro howled as he managed to pin the smaller wolf.

"Then give it to Kip! He deserves it too!"

Ferro snarled as he punched Kaia hard in the snout twice. "Kip ain't a pup. He can fight his own battles."

Bahto caught the third punch before it could land, and Ferro turned slowly to face the older white wolf.

"Got somethin' to say, Bahto?"

Bahto's narrowed gaze revealed his intentions.

Ferro smirked at the look. " Gotta wait your turn first, right, Kaia?"

Kaia scrubbed a fist across his snout. "I yield."

"Thatta boy."

Bahto released Ferro's arm and allowed the other wolf to get to his feet as Kaia retreated from underneath him. He waited by the fire next to young Kipper as the two older wolves widened their stances and prepared themselves for the start.

As the ceremony required, Bahto let the wind hear his voice, expecting his rugged song to mix with the hollow chill of Ferro's- but Ferro's didn'. Bahto's howl was cut short as the other wolf barreled into him, grabbing him low about his middle and carrying him forward off his feet into the snow.

Bahto covered his face instinctively to block Ferro's punch, but howled as the other wolf's claws sank into his chest instead. Before he could dig deeper, the white wolf kicked Ferro off him and clambered to his feet.

The wolf's grasp clenched inches from Bahto's face and he slapped the paw away before striking back with a heavy punch to the wolf's gut. Ferro staggered back in the snow, but wouldn't allow himself to yield.

Bahto realized then that he couldn't win this fight with strength. Because as Ferro charged him once more with tears held back in his eyes, Bahto understood his desperation. The food was growing scarcer, the hunt harder. And he had to be strong, like an alpha.

Bahto caught his next blow and pulled the other wolf close, Ferro's eyes shutting as he expected a blow. But the white wolf instead wrapped his arms around him, holding him close as he let him cry. And Bahto let his voice join Ferro's.

"I yield," Ferro said finally, wiping his eyes.

"Kaia?" Bahto said, his voice soft like snow.

"I yield."

"And Kipper?"

"I yield," the pup answered.

Bahto was a beast of few words but many beliefs, the second- one that many likely doubted but he believed to be true.

It was strength that ruled this crumbling land, but it would be kindness that held it together.

Bahto strode to where the last cut of the Longtusk was kept and carved it into four pieces with his knife, and together they ate in the firelight, as one.[/spoiler]