From the Shadows

Northern Thule was a cold, harsh place, they said, where only the hardiest of people could survive – much less thrive.

Along the coast stretched vast inlets with staggering, sharp cliffs on either side. Inland, the mountains continued for a ways, then thinned until they only dotted the horizon. Between them lay rich valleys and clean lakes, filled with the glacial waters of the yearly melt.

Though the springs were late and cool, and summers were warm and pleasant, the autumn air brought the famed chill to hills and mountains.

When winter hit the land, it became unrecognizable.

The sprawling meadows were transformed into vast stretches of barren snow, the forest grew still and empty spare for a few game animals that could also survive the harsh climate. The whole North became a wasteland of white for months, though they stretched on like years to the few who were brave enough to stay for them.

The reasons why some chose to stay varied greatly, but the main reason was evident in the Southerners who chose to venture to Thule; despite the challenges of climate, and the loneliness of living so far from the great cities of the South Lands, harsher places always held on firmly to their natural wealth. There was no end to the ancient timbers, the healthy game, and the dense ores which were long exploited in areas to the South, and all that lived so far North were aware of that fact.

In the West, near the mountains, there was a small town by the name of Ljosavatn, which was home to no more than twenty families and a hundred others. The population rose and fell with the temperature, it seemed, and this cool morning in early spring marked the beginnings of its growth.

The past few days, familiar travelers and strangers alike had been filtering in from farther south, heading up to follow the snow line. While the weather was good, they would attempt to gather up what precious commodities they could, then head back when the chilled autumn air signaled their departure. Among those who came, many found shelter in the inns and taverns of the North, and the Inn of Ljosavatn was no exception.

The town's largest tavern was on the first floor of the inn, and so it was often packed until the late hours of the night. On the days when travelers would stay for more than a quick rest, the merriment could be heard until the sun cracked over the tall forest to the East.

Today, the sun had already journeyed from the forest and across the sky, and had just dipped below the towering mountains in the West, setting with a brilliant display of red on the horizon.

Within the tavern, under the inn, both travelers and village-folk had begun to drink and talk, discussing the various rumours that danced on tongues throughout the land of Thule.

“Did you hear that the King is entertaining a party from the far South?” one man passed on to the table of people around him, while another went on about the state of the fleet.

One man's story about his last raid was abruptly cut short as the barmaid passed by and his table-mates called out their orders for another round of mead.

“I'll have it right to you” she called back, moving through what no one but a Northerner would describe as a crowd.

The long wooden tables with benches on each side made for a great deal of seating, but moving between then could be quite challenging when loaded down with several litres of alcohol. Before Erika Hallisdotter had gained her many years of experience, she had always wondered how the barmaids made such things look easy.

“Don't hurry past” a man said, turning to her as she moved by him. She instinctively twisted her body and shifted around him, trying to stay far enough away that he couldn't touch her body as she passed.

Dealing with drunken men with no manners was also part of the job, and one which she was growing tired of. Though she was a practical woman who spent little time on her appearance, her wide hips and beautiful face made up for any advantage that might give her.

You're heading home soon, and he isn't worth your time she thought to herself, deciding not to have him thrown out of the inn.

After she had made her way around the tavern a few more times, she was done for the day and more than ready to leave. She preferred the calm, familiar tone of the off-season, and was already becoming tired of the constantly changing crowds. Granted, having consistent pay and therefore a place to sleep were perks of her job, and she wouldn't have traded that for the world.

“Heading home, dear?” the Innkeeper asked her, noticing that she was packing up some fresh bread to take with her.

She turned to him and smiled, her soft features looking as charming as ever.

“Mhm” she hummed. “Could I take home some of that fresh roast?” she asked, beaming.

He smiled back.

“Help yourself, dear. Gods know you're half the reason I have customers at all” he joked, though it might be true had they any other place to buy fresh drink.

Erika thanked him and sliced off a portion of the tender roast, which had just cooled enough to eat. As she cut, the smell of it made her mouth begin to water.

“I'll be back in the morning, Thorstein” she said to him, still smiling.

He nodded to her and wished her well, and she headed toward the entrance of the tavern.

Half way there, she ran into a couple of regulars who passed through each year on their way farther North, and considered saying hello to them before leaving. They were having a conversation about their journey, and she overheard one of them mention turning back, which caught her attention.

“And why would you do that?” she asked them, cutting into their conversation.

They looked up surprised, but then smiled as they saw her familiar face.

Both opened their mouths to answer, but the thinner and taller fellow responded first.

“There's rumours of dire wolves all throughout these parts... and a dark cave to the Northwest where you can hear the screams of the cursed!”

“He's become the coward I always knew he was” the other chimed in. “A true Northman doesn't fear stories.”

“I swear I saw one!” the other man shouted back, obviously sincere. “It was big, half your height, and it looked just like they say!”

The shorter and hardier man laughed, causing his thick beard to shake and scatter some bread crumbs over their table.

“Pay no attention to his imaginings. He had too much ale the night before last” he mocked.

“I did no such thing! I was steady on my two feet.”

“Enough!” the stout man called. “There haven't been dire wolves in an age.”

Erika hesitated.

“You mean that they're real?” she asked the thick-bearded man.

He nodded. “Indeed, but gone for so long it matters not.”

The other man didn't seem convinced.

“It does. Dire wolves are the fiercest of breeds, lone wolves, and they were known to hunt a grown man.”

Erika shrugged.

“I'm a grown woman. I can handle wolves” she assured them.

“Grown, but still young. They'd like to handle you” the thin man chuckled.

“What do you mean? Do wolves care for young women more than any others?” Erika asked, now curious again.

This time, the wider man answered.

“Before else, you should know that dire wolves are wolves by name only; They're magical creatures, not mere beasts. You should also know that in all the tales of dire wolves, there was never a female to be seen.”

“And? What does that mean?” she prodded.

“As the stories go, they would breed with the women of the North who ventured too far into the wilderness...”

Erika laughed, amused by the imaginings of men. “I'll be fine, then. I'm not venturing beyond the town.”

At that, another voice came up from behind her.

“Beasts more dangerous than dire wolves are roaming these parts, and they would gladly venture into town to get between thighs as smooth as yours.”

The three of them spun around to look, and found a man who had been sitting in the corner quietly until that night. Her face soured; She had no more patience for rudeness this evening.

“The only beast in town this night is you, and Valhalla will come before you get between my thighs” she teased.

The other two laughed, as did a few others who overheard.

“I should be heading home, now.” she said to the two men. “I'll see you both at first light, or after you sleep off all that ale.”

The two gave a hardy chuckle and bid her farewell, and she finally continued on her way.

As she passed through the door.

“Be careful” the lone man said, but she ignored him and walked out.

As Erika began to walk home, she felt the familiar chilled air of the early spring. It nipped at the exposed skin on her neck and legs, and make her shiver. Luckily, she would be back home in a few minutes.

The sun had fallen deep below the mountains now, and the only natural light was shining down from the bright moon.

Those people and their stories. Who would believe such ridiculous stories? She thought to herself. They must think that I'm terrified, walking along like this.

As Erika reached a small corner house, she turned around it and suddenly jumped – spotting a large figure standing by the path, only to realize that it was just another person walking. Taking a moment to breathe, she began to realize that the talk of dire wolves had bothered her at least a little.

I should be worried about real wolves, not 'magical creatures' she chided.

As she continued, however, she noticed herself starting to shake slightly and feel uncomfortable. The person standing by the path hadn't moved, but she felt as if they were staring into her.

As they finally took a step forward, she stopped in her tracks, blood cold as ice.

Standing in front of her was a wolf, as tall as a towering man, standing on its hind legs.

She swallowed hard, barely able to breathe and unable to make a sound.

What is that thing?