UUUUUUUUUUUUUU!
Now that's some real shit.
The howl came from dangerously close. Looked like fate had finally decided to screw me over. I dropped my kill without a second thought and bolted forward. I knew there was no chance of getting away but what was I supposed to do, just stand there and wait to die? I wanted to live too damn much. Climb a tree? No way. I'd just freeze to death up there or end up as wolf chow.
They were probably waiting nearby, having caught my scent. Maybe one of them had been watching me this whole time, like a hunter stalking his prey. And now that I'd walked straight into their trap, there was almost no chance of making it out alive.
The crossing wasn't far. It was an old spot fallen trees long ago had formed a makeshift bridge. We used it sometimes to get across the river, to move between hunting grounds. The current there was so strong it never froze, even in the dead of winter. My only hope was to make it across and somehow destroy the bridge behind me. If I managed that, the beasts would be left with nothing. Never thought it would end like this.
UUUUUUUUUU!
The howls grew louder. They were coming from all directions now, wrapping around me like an invisible net.
My legs burned from the strain, but I kept running. I had to make it. Just reach the crossing!
UUUUUUUUU!
I glanced back for a second and saw them closing in. Their eyes blazed with fury, a raw, primal rage that twisted my gut with fear. Only now did I realize how stupid my idea had been. Childish. Reckless.
With trembling hands, I yanked the axe free. Any hope of survival felt like a fading dream, but I ran harder than ever. I wanted to live. God, I wanted it so badly. Why did I have to chase that kill? Why didn't I just let it go? I wanted respect to be seen, to have my trophy recognized by the clan. But was that worth my life?
My fingers tightened around the axe handle cold metal, but somehow it gave me a spark of courage. The crossing was close now. Just a few more meters.
RRRRRRRRRRR!
A harsh growl erupted right beside me, and in the next instant something sharp sank into my shoulder. I hissed in pain and crashed face-first into the snow. Summoning the last of my strength, I swung the axe and buried the blade in the creature's neck. The wolf gurgled, its jaws clamping down harder for a heartbeat then went limp, giving me a chance to break free.
Adrenaline dulled the pain, but I could still feel the hot blood running down my clothes. Limping and stumbling, I finally reached the crossing. The wooden bridge barely held together but I didn't care. All that mattered was getting away from the pack.
I stepped onto the bridge, trying to keep my balance. The roar of the river below blended with the pounding rhythm of paws closing in. When I turned around, the wolves were already at the edge of the crossing. They snarled, their burning eyes cutting straight through me.
One of them larger than the rest, probably the alpha stopped right before the bridge. Its jaws snapped in the air, like it was already imagining my throat between its teeth. It glanced down at the rushing water, then back up at me.
"Come on, then, you bastard!" I shouted, my voice cracking with fury. "I'll take you down with me if you dare!"
I swung the axe, trying to look fierce but instead of scaring the wolf off, I only provoked it. It growled low, then lunged forward in one explosive leap, straight at me.
Instinct took over. I thrust the axe out blindly, the blade slicing deep along its flank but the beast was still faster. Its fangs flashed in the moonlight, then sank into my arm as I raised it to shield myself.
For a heartbeat, everything froze. The world stopped moving. Only pain and rage remained.
Summoning the last of my strength, I finished what I had started. The axe, guided by instinct more than thought, drove straight into the wolf's skull, piercing through its eye. The creature let out a guttural rasp but its body still thrashed, driven by dying momentum. Its jaws clamped down harder and in that same instant, I was pulled over the edge.
With a violent splash, we crashed into the raging river below. The freezing water hit my face like knives, stealing my breath. Images from my life flickered before my eyes fleeting, like a final farewell. All I could do was struggle… and sink.
***********
Through the whirling snowstorm, a figure trudged slowly forward. Wrapped in layers of fur, with skulls dangling from her belt and wrists, the silhouette looked almost spectral. In one hand, the woman held a staff, stabbing it rhythmically into the snow as if testing the ground with every step.
Suddenly, the old woman stumbled upon something.
"Hm," she murmured, kneeling to touch the obstacle before her.It was a boy, lying motionless on the riverbank. His frail body was barely visible beneath the snow. Beside him lay a dead wolf, the signs of a fierce struggle etched clearly into the scene.
"Looks like you picked a fight way above your strength," she said softly, her hands gliding over the boy's body.
After a short pause, she added,
"But it seems the gods do not wish you to die today."
She raised her staff and struck it against the ground several times. Small bluish flames appeared around her, swirling as if in a dance. One of them darted toward the body of the dead wolf. When it sank into the carcass, a yellowish light burst forth like fire whirling above the body before rising into the air.
The old woman swept her hand, guiding the dancing lights toward the boy. One of them entered his chest.
"If I'm not mistaken, you'll live. And if not then it is the gods' will," she muttered, straightening up and walking on as if nothing had happened.
The boy remained lying motionless on the riverbank beside the dead wolf. Shortly after the old woman left, two tiny flames escaped from his chest. They circled each other in the air, as if competing or fighting for something.
*****************
Cold and darkness surrounded me, seeping into every cell of my body. Once again, I felt death's touch. On the other side, there was nothing only emptiness. Dim, endless, horrifying emptiness. That feeling was all I remembered; no sounds, no images just that.
Suddenly, the world trembled, as if shattered apart, and a crack opened beneath me like a shard of a broken mirror.
RRRRRHHHHH!
Out of the darkness emerged the same wolf. I remembered its coat dark, almost black and its eyes burning with fury. It was the one that had thrown me from the crossing.
My hand found the handle of my axe. So, I would have to fight. Here, in this endless nowhere. Fight to the death, again and again, as if there were no escape. Like in Valhalla.
"Didn't I tell you I'd take you with me, you damned beast?!" I shouted, gripping the axe.
My voice echoed through the void, as though the emptiness itself accepted my challenge. The wolf lunged.
"Let's see who's stronger! I'll cut you down again and again for killing me!" I roared.
I rushed forward, driving the axe into the beast's flank. It howled in pain, but like a serpent, twisted and sank its fangs into my arm. Sharp pain flared through me, forcing my teeth to clench. We both fell to the ground, locked in a savage struggle.
I struck with all my might, over and over, yet each time the wolf came at me again, trying to tear me apart. We rolled across the ground, leaving bloody streaks in our wake. My blood mingled with his, and it seemed this battle would leave no victor.
Then, suddenly, the wolf's strength failed. Its body went limp beside me. I lay on my back, staring into the dark sky. Pain pierced through every part of me, as if molten needles stabbed into my flesh.
From the wolf's corpse rose a faint yellowish glow. It hovered for a heartbeat, then shot straight toward me. Before I could understand, it entered my body. A strange feeling took hold as though a light within me was pulling me somewhere far beyond.
***************
"Aaahhh!"
With a gasp, I drew in a sharp breath, as though waking from a long nightmare. My lungs filled with icy air, and a violent cough wracked my body. I tried to breathe, but all I could hear was the rasp of my own voice.
I'm alive?
My hand touched the ground cold, soft snow. The riverbank lay around me, and a few paces away was the still body of the dead wolf.
How? How is this possible?
My clothes were soaked through, and the cold crept deeper into my bones. If I didn't dry them soon, I'd freeze for good. The thought of more wolves following along the bank made me move faster.
I staggered to my feet and, swaying, tied a rope around the wolf's body. Then I started forward. The river lay behind me. My thoughts tried to settle, but everything still felt unreal.
"What a mad day," I muttered, shaking off the last traces of weakness.
There was only one goal left to reach the village before it was too late.
*************************
At last, I reached the tribe's camp, barely standing. I collapsed into the snow before them. How had I even found the strength to make it this far? The distance I'd covered so quickly it all felt impossible after what I'd been through.
"Look who's here! The one who won't drown!" one of the sentries called, coming closer.
"And with quite the prize," another added, nodding toward the wolf's carcass I had dragged behind me.
"Not bad for a boy," Yoric, the tribe's chief hunter, said with a smirk.
"No longer a boy a man now," Surk added, looking at me with respect.
"Looks like you went for another swim," Yoric said, pointing to my clothes, drenched and stiff with ice. "Get inside before you freeze."
Yoric grabbed my arm to steady me while Surk took the wolf's carcass. I had no strength left to speak I only looked at them in silent gratitude. The only thing that mattered was that I had come back alive.
The whole camp seemed to gather around. People stopped what they were doing to stare and murmur about the beast I had brought. Their eyes were full of surprise and respect. Some of the men nodded, whispering about my miraculous survival.
"Son, you are a true warrior! To bring down a direwolf that's a feat!" my father exclaimed as he approached, pride lighting his face.
"He would've frozen if he hadn't made it back in time. Took another dip in the river, did you?" Yoric chuckled.
"Then get him inside! Anrakin, he's wounded!" my father said firmly, though his voice carried warmth and concern.
I only stared at him in surprise. Father seldom showed his feelings, much less worry for me.
They took me into the hut and laid me down by the warm fire. Mother was already there her hands deftly stripping away the ice-hardened clothing from my body. I looked ghastly my skin had taken on a pallid, almost deathly hue. I felt less like a man and more like a ghost. Perhaps I had truly died.
"Where did you get that tattoo?" my mother asked, examining my shoulder.
I barely managed to turn my head and looked at myself. Blood still seeped from the wounds left by the direwolf's teeth, but what struck me most were the strange marks fine lines, as if branded, crossing the skin and appearing from nowhere.
"I don't know," I forced out.
"The gods have touched my son," Father said with a half-smile, standing in the doorway. "Even death does not scare him!"
I only shook my head weakly. Everything felt like a dream. How could these wounds be closing? They still bled, yet it felt as if a day had already passed and they were knitting shut.
Memories swirled in my mind but would not form a clear picture. I remembered the cold water, struggling to swim, hitting the rocks again and again. I remembered the darkness swallowing me. And after that? I came to on the shore but who had saved me?
Mother tended my wounds carefully, bound them, then made me lie down and rest. After a while she brought me a bowl of hot food and helped guide my hand with the spoon there was almost no strength left.
My thoughts kept returning to what had happened. Who had pulled me from the water? How was I alive? The questions circled and circled, but fatigue soon took hold. I did not notice when my eyes closed; sleep claimed me and wrapped me in long-awaited silence.
****************
From the moment I came of age and went on my first hunt, they stopped calling me a boy. I was a man now. Four years had passed. In that time I had grown stronger, though not particularly tall just under average, about one point eight meters. In my old world that would have been middling height, but here in the North, where men were famed for their hulking frames, I was on the modest side.
With independence came freedom and responsibility. I could choose my work, set my own course. But I also bore the duty of defending the clan from raids by rival families and bands.
I took up a craft. Even the few basics I knew proved useful in making things the clan had never had before. At first many regarded my efforts with bewilderment. Perhaps they were simply afraid to try the unknown.
A proper forge or complicated tools were out of the question. We moved often, and building a smelting furnace seemed impossible. I had to work with what lay to hand. On my knees, with simple tools and stubbornness, I made progress.
My first success were light sledges. They glided over the snow and did not get stuck like the old ones we'd hauled before. The idea came to me from memories of sleds in the world I'd left behind. I adapted it to local materials.
The sleds were quickly appreciated: hunters and elders alike approved. They made hauling loads across the white wastes far easier. After that I made other useful things, though there's no need to list them all. The point is I found my place in craft and proved myself valuable to the clan.
The strangest part was how I changed. The tattoo sharpened; its edges became clearer with every direwolf I killed. On my shoulder the silhouette of a wolf was already visible. But that wasn't the only change. I grew faster, more enduring, my senses keener as if I absorbed some of the strength of the beasts I had slain.
It all began after I killed the wolf with my own hands and fell into the river. What happened then? Perhaps it truly was the gods' intervention. Though I had never been a man of faith, somehow I had been blessed. And power is power. It would help me survive in this mad world.
Though I longed to stay at home, I hungered to travel and see the world. I did not want, like many others, to be tethered to one place, watching the endless white wastes that never changed.
So, with resolve, I went to my parents. They were displeased, but they gave their blessing for the journey. To earn it I had to fight Father such was his condition. The duel was hard and fought bare-fisted, but I won. Only then did Father acknowledge I was ready to go.
I packed some provisions and my weapon. The axe still not quite finishe now had a blade about five centimetres long. The haft was hewn and fit the hand well, roughly eighty centimetres. The blade, crude though it was, allowed quick blows. It was far from ideal; I wished for something sturdier, but it would do for a beginning.
*image*
I also carried a bow, though its string needed replacing far too often. The frost did its work no matter how tightly we reinforced it, the string would wear out quickly. That was the extent of my gear for the journey. The long road ahead didn't frighten me; my endurance was beyond ordinary.
I knew there were several ways to cross the Wall. In the tales those I remembered from the old world the Free Folk used axes to climb its frozen face, though that was perilous. Others crossed by water, but that required a ship, or at least a small boat and I had neither, nor any idea where to find one in these lands.
At first, I chose to wander the lands beyond the Wall, to explore them. To hunt the most dangerous beasts there and take their strength for myself my gift seemed to work that way.
It didn't take me long to discover that my strange power responded only to wolves. No matter how many deer or hares I killed, nothing changed. Perhaps I could draw strength only from predators? Beyond the Wall roamed beasts worth the risk. Bears, for one if I could claim their might, I would surpass many in sheer strength. They were hardy and powerful; such prey would demand better weapons.
After a week of trudging through the wilds, I learned how deceiving this land could be. Even though my clan and I had once traveled far, the true North stretched on endlessly. Once I left the familiar hunting grounds, I walked through lands unknown. I had no maps, no clear path only instinct to guide me. I moved by what I remembered from my former life: the pull of north and south, the fall of the sun, the lay of the land. The people here used different signs to find their way, but the essence was the same.
A strange scent reached me one day. I stopped, realizing it was human. Someone had passed through recently. It seemed I had wandered into the territory of another tribe. Lone wanderers beyond the Wall were rare almost unheard of. Most lived and died within their clans, bound to their kin. It made sense trade between tribes was rare, and usually only for one reason: to bring new blood into their line.
I had to be cautious. To them, any stranger was a threat. And if that stranger carried anything of worth, they would sooner spill his blood than welcome him inside.
I carefully surveyed the place, circling wide to avoid any sentries that might be watching.
As I continued on, the same thought kept returning: why am I in this world at all? Was it part of some greater design a whim of a mythical being watching over mankind? Perhaps it had chosen me for its own purpose, blessing me in ways I could not understand. Or maybe it was nothing more than chance.
But one thing I knew for certain: if I had been given this second life, I would use it. Whatever the cost, I intended to keep my head on my shoulders.