"You will be strong. Stronger than anyone else."
The voice sounds like a lullaby. The small, horned kid nuzzles at his mother's stomach. "Will I? Really?" He looks upward toward the woman. The magenta nightgown she wears is ruffled just a little bit.
She smiles. The kid knows that she's smiling.
But a sudden pang stabs at his heart. He knows what's coming. He doesn't want it to happen, but it will happen anyway.
"Yes. Yes, you will." Her voice is soft, and it tears straight through him. The air carries a faint scent of smoke and something sweet, fruit left too near the fire.
Soundlessly, she kisses her son's forehead. He feels it like a small light set there, warmth against the cold. A smile stirs in him, helpless and bright, yet it will not cross his mouth. He holds still instead, as if the moment might last if he does not move
"Mother… can I look at your face?" The question comes up suddenly; he has never asked this before.
"…"
His mother goes silent.
"Mother... I no longer remember your face." The kid nuzzles her stomach once more, knowing that the answer will never come.
He can still feel his mother's arms tightening around his body. He can feel the flames around them blazing. The room starts to crumble. Heat licks the edges of the bed. Shadows climb the walls.
The magenta nightgown becomes a bit darker at the stomach.
The kid looks up.
His mother's eyes are still wide open. The light no longer shines.
The flames devour everything around them. The ceiling gives a soft groan, then a rain of embers.
"Boss."
"Hey. Boss."
The whisper wakes him up instantly. He sits, eyes open, focused. Cold breath fogs the air. In front of him is the long-faced Geherrim, Nouz.
"The snow has cleared a bit. We can descend in half an hour. Just need to wait for the sun." Nouz crouches in front of his sitting position, and even in this position, Nouz is still visibly smaller than him.
Rahzar runs his left hand through his own thick, wavy hair, deliberately avoiding his horns, smoothing it back.
"How far are we from Dalmas?"
"The river? Half a day, give or take. Today's weather is clear up till… noon." Nouz licks his lower lip, seemingly uncertain about something.
Rahzar looks around. Behind Nouz, sitting in a cross-legged position overlooking the entrance to the cavern, is Gazmir, the one-eyed Geherrim. He does not find Yarda and Weaz anywhere.
He stands. The cavern is big enough for his towering stature. They have used this particular spot often; this place feels like a second home.
"Yarda and Weaz?"
"Gutting hares outside. Good haul. Still can't believe the avalanche last night didn't take anyone from our group."
Rahzar walks toward the entrance of the cavern, ruffling Gazmir's curly hair on his way. The sky is gold; the sun will come up soon. Frost rims the stones like thin silver.
Smoke rises from the small fire near the cavern. A fire pit has been made, Yarda's fine work. Above it, impaled on two big sticks, two hare carcasses slowly cook, beautifully skinned by Weaz. Fat spits into the coals and hisses.
"Boss." Weaz nods at him. Yarda ignores everything as always.
"The Nhiven?" Rahzar crouches near the fire pit, looking at the plump hare carcass, slowly cooking over the fire.
"Went further north. I won't bother trying to follow it; the poison must've pissed it greatly." Weaz impales another hare, a bit skinnier this time, and roasts it near the open flame. The snow around them works perfectly as insulation. The fire pit was made with deliberate thought, as expected from members of his party.
Rahzar takes one of the hares, definitely still quite rare. The amount of time it has spent near the fire is not nearly enough for it to cook perfectly. Rahzar doesn't really care.
He takes a massive bite near the neck of the hare, devouring even the bones. The meat is a bit softer than eating it raw; some exposure to the heat helped it a bit.
The sounds of his mouth crunching the hare's bones can be heard even from inside the cavern.
Rahzar is big, even for Geherrim standards. At two meters twenty, he towers over everything with ease. His body is naturally muscular, and his activities as the village's hunter have toned his body even more, giving him an extremely intimidating look.
His hair is long, wavy, and dark. He lets it down, never ties it up or anything; he has never thought his long hair a hassle. His eyes are sharp. His face is almost always accompanied by a massive, confident smile, showcasing his sharp teeth at almost every opportunity that arises.
The other members of the party are impressive in their own right. Nouz's body is long and nimble, not quite muscular, but he doesn't really need it for his position as the eye of the party. Gazmir is stocky and stout, a body built like a barrel filled with rocks. For the party's main man for destruction, he certainly fits the part.
Yarda and Weaz are similarly built. Both lived as orphans together for so long that they move with the same habits. Built like nimble fighters, if they are not helping the party survive, they spend their time fighting each other.
These four Geherrim of impressive strength from Elm can make a great hunting party on their own. With Rahzar spearheading them, they are just unstoppable.
"The runt?" Rahzar chews the bones of the hare loudly. The hare is already halfway gone.
"Went north, toward the field where the Nhiven went," Weaz replies curtly, skinning another hare. Behind him, Rahzar can see there are still three or four left unskinned. They work efficiently.
"Took weeks to make sure the poison worked. I think some other animal also ate from the same carcass that we supplied to feed the dumb buck." Yarda steps closer to the flames, supplying them with more dry sticks. The flames get a little bit bigger.
Hearing that, Gazmir's ears perk. He speaks with his old, deep, bellowing voice from near the cavern's entrance. "What other animal?"
Yarda and Weaz look at each other. There's a very small hint of worry there.
Gazmir stands. On his back, two greataxes are crossed. He may be smaller in stature, but he can disable Yarda and Weaz together with one hand even while half asleep.
"Look, Gaz, the village is safe, there's no way—" Weaz gets cut off in the middle of his excuses.
Gazmir already stands there, eyes sharp, trained upon both the orphans. The two fighters know he is always a man of few words, always preferring action rather than a lengthy, unproductive discussion.
Yarda's left hand stealthily works its way toward the hilt of his dagger. Weaz eyes his own shortsword on the other side of the flame.
"The people of Elm are protected." Gazmir stands there, hands clenched. "The Garm guards low, so that the Nhiven guards high. This is the natural order!"
Nouz peeks from inside the cavern, munching on some berries. He can see all of this unfold right in front of him. There's a desire to try and prevent this from snowballing into actual conflict, but what can a person do in front of seasoned warriors bickering at each other?
Nouz knows it is foolish for someone to be mad at the rain; one just tries to find his way through it, trying one's best not to get wet, if possible.
Besides, if he interjects now, it would start another problem. And Nouz is anything if not a careful man.
Yarda's left hand is already at the hilt of his dagger. Weaz already has every intention of using the sticks for the hare to stab Gazmir's only good eye.
All three are dripping with the intention to kill.
Nouz's sharp eyes move naturally toward Rahzar, who is currently sitting right across the potential conflict, seemingly brimming with disinterest. Nouz smiles. There's about to be a fourth.
"If the Garm—" Gazmir stops his warning abruptly.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Rahzar's gaze on him, still crunching bones inside his mouth. "Killing intent" does not really justify what Gazmir is sensing from his boss.
Yarda removes his left hand from the hilt. Weaz continues to skin a hare.
"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Rahzar's thunderous voice reverberates through the walls of the cavern.
Gazmir swallows a bit.
He continues, "Nhivens."
"Garms." He stands up. The sky above him is no longer adorned with deep blues and grays.
"Runts." He looks at the members of his party, who are currently trying their best to avoid his gaze, except for Gazmir.
"Humans." He walks toward the entrance to the cave, moving past Nouz, who is currently looking at the three Geherrim, standing right in front of death's door, and he smiles a bit.
Rahzar stops right in front of a massive bone scabbard.
"Geherrim." He pulls his massive, slab-like steel greatsword from its scabbard a bit, just enough to look at his own reflection, a bit obscured by the darkness of the cavern, the light from the flame, and the faint gold of the sky.
"What are all of them, if not just a means to an end?" He stretches his body a bit. His black-furred coat tears a little at its seams the moment he flexes his shoulders. Greatsword sheathed once more.
The hare in his hand has been gone for quite some time; no bones were spared. The stick is thrown back into the flames. He runs his left hand through his hair, deliberately avoiding his horns.
A big, confident grin decorates his face.
"Time to pay the village a visit."
The sky gets a little bit more vibrant.
Rahzar steps out of the cavern, his massive weapon on his back, strapped tightly.
Nouz leans on the entrance of the cavern, looking at the impressive charisma that his boss exudes.
"You guys heard the boss. Let's go back to our village."
Rahzar stops in his tracks; his grin doesn't change. The light in his eyes, however, does.
One swift movement, and his massive left hand already covers Nouz's face, slamming him into the rocky cavern entrance where he leans. Some snow falls down from the slope above them, quenching the fire pit; Yarda and Weaz stand up reflexively; Gazmir refuses to look.
"Did I mishear? Nouz, sweetheart. Did you say our village?"
Rahzar's voice is low. The pacing of the question is slow; it's the same voice he uses on the things he deems beneath him.
Nouz's eyes redden. Rahzar is not a man of light jokes and comedy; he's seriously holding back his anger right now. One misspoken word, and Nouz can just close his eyes forever—why bother opening them again? Rahzar's hand is so massive that just one squeeze might be enough to seal the deal.
"Nnnnot mmoursh bbillaje, yyyoursh." His voice sounds muffled.
"What was that? Nouz? My village?"
A desperate attempt was made. Nouz can only hope that it reaches his boss's inky, black heart.
Rahzar looks at Nouz's reddened eyes that start to water, and releases him.
"Cough, cough, kofff…" Desperately, Nouz inhales as much air as possible, trying to recover.
"Care to repeat, Nouz?" Rahzar's towering physique crouches right in front of his powerless, kneeling body.
"Yours—wheeze—boss, it's—wheeze—your village."
The fiery reds of dawn flame along the eastern horizon.
Rahzar stands, his grin even wider. He steps out into the open, trampling the fire pit and the roasted hares without a thought, moving past the other three Geherrim who could not hope to match his strength, even together. Snow spits under his boots. The cold lifts his breath like smoke.
He stops on a small mound of snow and turns his face toward the party.
"My village? You're goddamn right." His teeth are bared for the whole world to see. "And as celebration, I am going to light it on fire."