The Rune Stone

Blood

During the first lights of the morning, Varonno made rather good progress through the Iron-pine woods. As he reckoned he should. Before his exile he used to trek and train in this place, it was where he became a ranger proper. A career choice his father did not especially condone but one he did not mind either, as he was meerly a second son and not the heir to the throne. But still, in his eyes, the family name had to still be represented with honor. And as such, Varonno climbed the ranks of his proffesion quickly, due to both skill and background.

All of that was not on the ranger's mind however, but the myths that started to surround the area in the last few years. One he heard in a tavern some months back from a woodcutter foreman who was there to sell some of the wood : "Some of my lumberjacks tell stories about a strange tree that towers all the others in the middle of the forest. They say that bears pray to it, and some even saw them putting berries and pieces of meat into its hollows as an offering. One of the men once went to cut this tree as a bet. He no longer cuts trees." That gave Varonno no pause, simply shrugging it off at the time he heard it. But now, now he could not help but feel a little bit uneasy in the twisting woods. The trees were massive here, ancient and towering seemingly long before any humans settled and began harvesting them. It was an imposing sight to say the least, but it did not make the man steer away from his goal. He went forth, on a small winding path, barely visible from the lack of travel. All that day he plodded along, until the cold and early evening came down. The land became drier and more barren; but mists and vapours still lay behind him from the colder and higher parts of the woods. A few melancholy birds were piping and wailing, until the round red sun sank slowly into the western shadows; Here, against the fallen body of an old pine he decided to set up camp, by his reckoning he must have gone atleast three quarters of the way, and judging by his luck, the wendigo had lost sight of them in the hills. Or had decided to chase down the larger group...

In about half an hour Varonno, Shadow and their horse were sitting around a small fire the ranger used to toast the meat of a bird he managed to snare up. It was tangy and fatless but he could not afford to be picky, nor Shadow who had also taken a bit out of the food. The moon was waxing, and in the early night a ghostly shimmer of light permeated through the whole forest. Then, after a bit more waiting around, thinking about what he was going to do once he gets home, the ranger slowly drifted to sleep alongside his dire wolf.

Then, out of nowhere, a scream stirred the ranger from his sleep. When he looked around he noticed that his horse was missing and Shadow was up on all fours growling to something hidden in the darkness. It then occured to Varonno that the scream must have been the pained yelps of his horse. Something had grabbed him in the night. And the ranger knew exactly what... He rushed for the dying embers of his fire, trying to revive them as fast and best he could. It was his only hope of fighting what was coming. But the creature knew that as well. It struck at him in a quick succession, dissapearing as soon as its strike hit its mark. It clawed the the ranger's back, making him dodge to the side, to avoid falling on the fire he was trying to reignite. Shadow started barking fiercly but he was no match for the speed of the creature. While his thick cloak was now tattered alongside his shirt, it prooved enough to cause the wounds not to be too deep, the ranger clawed back to his feet, fumbling for his tinderbox. He struck it once and twice and thrice until sparks came out again. The fire ignite, just as the creature sprinted towards him again. Just in time for Varonno to turn with a flaming branch in his hands, waving it in a panicked motion in front of him, trying to get a grip. It then saw it. The wendigo. A twisted creature that looked more animal than man. Feral, with wild hateful eyes that glowed with cold radiance, socketed in a face that had been twisted to resemble a deer skull, complete with twisting antlers. It's hooved feet stoped dead in its tracks, stalking the fire stick and the ranger alongside his wolf. It let out a shriek, expanding its clawed apendages forwards as it sprinted towards Varonno with no concern for its own safety, soley driven by unholy hunger. Varonno struck at it with his torch, prompting the creature to shriek in pain, but not deter it from its flurry of attacks. It pushed on, hitting relentlesly at the ranger who tried to deflect the blows with his blade an well as trying to strike back with the torch. It went back and forth for a while, but the Varonno was getting visibly tired, whereas the wendigo seemed to hold his own with no sign of sweat. Shadow growled at the creature, detering from trying to attack it after he was swatted away like a fly and after Varonno commanded him to sit still, since the blood of the wendigo was like poison. It paced around the back of the creature, uneasily. But then, the wendigo leaped up into the air, high into one of the iron-pine trees, away from view. It let out a howl like screech, followed only by the gentle rustle of the pines and the crackling of fire. The ranger took a moment to catch his breath, clutching at one of his arm wounds. A short thump was his only warning as the wendigo leaped again, for a different tree, on top of the ranger, knocking the torch out of his hand, pinning him to the ground and sinking its teeth into his shoulder.

Shadow sensed its master and friend in danger, and as such, disobeyed his first command in years of training; the wolf jumped on the back of the wendigo and bit down on the back of its neck, dark blood gushing out all over. This offered an opportunity for the ranger to wiggle free of its grasp and crawl away twoards the fire where he grabbed another flaming branch before embedding it in the eye socket of the creature who then caught on fire in an instant as if covered in lamp oil and kindling. The wendigo let out a series of pained and short shrieks as it flayed around and then went still, the light in its other eye dimming forerver. Shadow was now laying on the ground yelping and kicking away with its paws at nothing. A sound of pain and fear.

Varonno panted, clearly in pain. Shadow was not much better either, a huge claw mark made the creature bleed for its side, the blood mixing with that of the wendigo, dripping from its mouth. The ranger was worried to say the least. He hurried to his pack, attempting to clean the wound best he could, thanking his lucky stars that he had some herbs left over from when he deal with Torstein's leg. After he supplied the barbarian with enough to keep him going ofcourse. He chewed on the plant furiously before applying the poultice to the wound of the wolf, paying no mind to his own bleeding. Shadow snarled, clearly in pain. "There, there, old friend. You are gonna make it. I can't lose you, not so close to home." the ranger murmured, as he tied a bandage around the beast who was now panting heavily. Once done, he carried it to the fire, wrapping it into his tattered cloak before pouring some water from his flask into its mouth, trying to wash away the poison that was the wendigo blood. Only afterwards, when Shadow seemed into a deep slumber did he bother to try and tend to his own wounds, much in the same manner. The shoulder wound could hardly be treated here, it was too big to apply a poultice and bandage on. But he had no other alternative. Once done he stood watch over Shadow's sleeping body, tending to the fire until the first rays of the sun crept up on him, catching him slowly drifting asleep.

When stirred by the sun, the ranger woke, and in an instant rushed to the side of his old friend to check up on him. Shadow was not breathing. He had drifted away into the long night, and no manner of healing seemed to save him. The ranger began to shed many muffled tears over the lifeless body of his wolf, soaking his once white fure that was now mixed with mud and blood. A bad death for a proud and noble creature thought the ranger. He then lifted the body in his arms, wrapped as it was in his cloak, taking him to a nearby stream. There he washed himself and the wolf as best he could, the cold water biting at his skin, making it numb. Then, he took to gathering stones from the bank, the biggest and roudest ones, to place around his friend in a burial mound. He layed him atop a small and barren hill, which overlooked much of the surrounding area. He dug a hole, not too deep, but not too shallow either, before covering the body that he placed within with the stones he collected. He engraved a few simple words on the headstone with his dagger, before wrapping a part of his cloak to it, so it would flutter in the wind, marking the spot for all who might come this way. 'Here Shadow is laid to rest, fierce protector, noble companion and friend.' was the engraving the ranger chose. He stood there for a while, until the sun crowned over head, casting no shadows around anymore. With his horse gone, the ranger began to walk the remainder of the way on foot, as if in a trance, he remembered little of the walk through the forest, only thinking about and reliving the memories of his friend as silent tears continued to pour over his face.

This march must have went on for what seemed like the entire day, eventually forcing the ranger to his knees at the edge of the forest, just as he was getting out of the thicket and just far enough for him to see the border of his father's land, of his home. It was barely visible, the sun slowly dissappearing behind him and behind the silhouette's of the great iron pines. More importantly; before he could even make out the shape of the two people approaching him, with their weapons drawn... No matter how hard he tried, he could not keep his eyes open, feeling dizzy and disoriented, he fell to the ground with a loud thud and all went dark around him...