The snow was fast, covering every inch of land and dousing all color from the setting while a light and gentle snowfall glittered the air. It was about midday and two sets of footprints flaked the snowy plains that lead into the tundra. Sylas, adorned in his annual hunting gear, was trailing behind and whistling his usual tune as he watched his now one year old Calemberger Beagle, Kindel, trotting through the snow. "Oi, not too far 'head now, Kindel yeh little pup!" the Velheim shouted with a laugh. The pair's goal this weekend was small rodent hunting, Sylas teaching the hound and preparing him to be a fine hunting dog.
In a small area shielded from snow due to a large pine is where Sylas set up camp. A single tent with a fire and cooking pot: all he needed out in this harsh land. With a stretch of of limbs and a twist of his upper body, Sylas began leading away into the deeper part of the woods. The crisp bark combined with the cool air left a scent that could only be described as fresh and cold within his nose as he marched through the forest. As it began to grow more dense Sylas slowed, giving a short and quick whistle followed by a wave of his hand. Like the well trained hound he was, Kindel slowed and paused by his master's side. Sylas slowly pointed towards two shapes in the snow ahead. Woodchucks. With a click of his tongue, Kindel was upon them. The dog lunged, grasping one of the small rodents by the neck between his jaws. After a short struggle, Kindel was lapping at his now bloodied jaws and a proud wag of his tail. "Bahah! That's me little pup! Knew yeh'd be a fine huntin' dog as soon as I saw yeh in that market! Isak was all, "Ooo but Sylas, yeh ain't responsible 'nuff to be takin' care'a that. He ain't no huntin' dog anyways." And I said phooey to that!" Followed by a yap from Kindel the two were heading back to camp with their dinner in tow.
That night, with the roasted woodchuck over the fire, Sylas hummed his usual tune with Kindel at his side. A sudden howling far off into the forest caught his attention, as well as a small growl from Kindel, but he judged it too far to of issue to them. "Hmph, them mutts ain't got nothin' on us, eh Kindel?" He chuckled and smiled down at his pup, showing off his single missing tooth before giving a playful rub to his head. "Suppose that'll be it fer today, aye? Got 'nother big day'a huntin' tomorrow. Yeh ready?" and after finishing their meal the two turned in for the night within the tent. Sylas, one arm over his beloved hound, sang his lullaby which he wrote specifically for the pup.
"♪ Oh dear Little Wolf, the stars had aligned,
Fer that day that I saw yeh, I knew yeh were mine,
And just always know that through the toil and trouble,
My heart fer yeh, pup, will always grow double ♫"
And sure as much both were fast asleep, the embers of the fire slowly dying with the howling of the wind.
The next morning was as cold as the previous, if not colder. The wind had kicked up and the snow was battering the earth in rapid flakes. Sylas was forced to put up his face mask as he had prepared the day for their hunt. Kindel was unbothered by the cold, seemingly enjoying the endless amount of flavorless snow-cone. Returning to the deeper part of the woods, Sylas remained wary about the howling he heard last night. "Stay wary, Kindel." he spoke through his face mask. His spittle freezing against the cloth and cooling his face even further than he preferred. Though he forgot about it all as he heard a single yap and spotted Kindel darting forward through the trees. Sylas ripped off his face mask as he sprinted after the pup "Oi, Kindel!" he screamed as he raced through the trees, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as fear took over his emotions.
Before he knew it he was faced with a horrifying scene. Kindel was staring down a full grown Northern Grizzly, yapping away at the beast. Sylas' hand immediately went to his hunting knife, drawing it as he slowly made his way forward. The snow hung still in the air as not a single figure in the small clearing made a move, each awaiting the first action to be taken by the other party. Sylas prayed that the bear wouldn't be the first one to make that move. His prayers weren't answered. The overgrown Ursa drew its attention to the new threat. It slowly prowled forward before lunging after the man. Sylas dove, seeing his wife and unborn daughter playing in the river, his brothers at home waiting for his big catch, his father waiting for him on the battlefield, his mother handing him a newly sewn face mask. Though dread filled him as the next thing he saw was Kindel locking his jaws upon the bear's arm, causing the monster to rear back. He didn't even have time to react as he managed to his feet, only for the bear to lurch forward and strike the pup's neck with its jaw. Sylas' forgot all that was previously filling his mind, only flying forward through the snow as a claw caught his right eye. His vision was blurred, his mind was raging, but his goal was clear. As the bear came down upon him again, the knife in Sylas' hand found its mark. Only a gurgled growl and a stumble were the monster's form of retaliation before enveloping the snow in its corpse.
Sylas was unable to relish in his victory. His knees planted firmly in the ground while he looked down upon the whimpering body of Kindel. The pup's eye rolled to meet his, giving a single lap of his bloodied jaw. "I know, pup... Say hello to Varfal fer me, aye? I'm-... I'm so sorry..." He spoke softly as his hand trembled, feeling every nerve in his skin as he slowly brought it around towards Kindel's neck. His throat tightened, a redness in his eyes burned as tears began to pour down his cheeks and salt his facial hair and through a shaky and broken voice, Sylas croaked out "Oh dear Little Wolf... The stars had aligned..." and he continued on as he slowly slid the knife into the hounds throat. He remained there for what seemed like hours even after he was done with the requiem, tears gently staining the cold fur of his lost friend. Sylas finally turned to depart, leaving a small grave marker and a lit fire to keep it warm.
The Velheim returned home, hunting gear adorned as usual and met with a happy welcoming party. Though it fell hush as Sylas dropped his bag by the front door, looked around with his one good eye and retired to his room without a single word said.
This is my first attempt at a Lore Story, so please give me that juicy feedback and thank you for giving this a read!
