“Can I ask what kind of leather armor you have?”

Lyeneru nodded and gave her stomach and chest protective areas a firm thud with her fist.

“Many different beasts roam our lands. One you may get to fight goes by a few different names but often it is just called a harog or harw. Your people I believe call it a… wolf.”

“And you dye the armor red?”

Smiling, she shook her head.

“No it is red and about as big as your horse.”

Blinking rapidly, Einar noticed she was smiling just slightly at his reaction.

“As big as my horse? And do they travel in a pack?”

“Thankfully not usually. Only during mating times does a pair often work together. Sometimes a mother may have her young but those are about the height of a short dwarf.”

Snorting, Einar tried to consider what running into even one of those might be worth. He had seen the name in the book and his mind recalled that parts of them were used for runes focused on agility.

“Well perhaps one day, for now tell me more about these miogs if you are willing. Varitan didn’t seem to want to share as much as I hoped.”

Sighing, she nodded and shrugged.

“They are crafty hunters. The more that are in a pack, the worse they are. Thankfully the female does not let them get above ten. She directs the movements of the pack. Often you may never see her but she is around, hiding and giving orders.

“Somehow the gods have gifted them with the ability to communicate without sound. So they are silent. Stories say of them appearing, eating your heart and being gone before you know it was missing.”

“And the rules of the hunt apply? The one who kills it, keeps the trophy?”

“You only brought one archer and if I help, I’m not certain he will manage to out do me.”

Shrugging, Einar pointed at the two goats behind them.

“Hopefully the trap will allow those of us without a bow to land a few hits.”

Lyeneru retrieved her bow from her back and held it out toward him.

“Have you ever held an elven bow before?”

“I have not,” Einar replied as he took the bow carefully from her hand.

It was heavier than he had anticipated. At least three times heavier than he expected. Intricate carvings and what had to be elven words based on the script ran along the sides. A white string connected both ends and giving just the slightest pull on it spoke about the power it held.

“What kind of wood is this? I can feel the power and strength in it. Not to mention it is far denser than typical wood I’ve held before.”

“A keen eye. We have a tree that grows only in our capital. Only a certain number of bows are made when the tree gifts us with wood. Those of us who have earned the honor to carry one, know the value of them. You do not have a name that we would call it… for us it serves as a symbol of Yggdrasil. Pure white, the foliage turns multiple colors during the year and occasionally it sheds a branch. That is what you hold in your hand.”

After handing it back, Einar bowed.

“Thank you for honoring me by allowing me to hold it. I shall always treasure that opportunity.”

Scoffing, she rolled her green eyes slightly.

“You have a tongue that might give our best storytellers competition. For now you should focus on the forest. Learn how the trees move and what they are saying. Watch the trails and see how the creatures who live here move. What is coming tonight will be the real test.”

Nodding, Einar moved away, joining Thorodd and Osvif.

“Should I tell a shield maiden about how you flirted with the first elf you encountered?”

“Perhaps, but instead I need your mind, Osvif. You’re one of our best trackers besides Hogni. Use those skills and make certain the best place for us to lay a trap. Take Skaldi and Geir. Make sure he has a bow even though he doesn’t like using it.”

Nodding, Osvif moved away quickly, calling the other two to join him.

“You send a giant, a midget and our best well rounded warrior into a forest they know nothing about. Do you really trust that one so much?”

“You’ll see. You did bring that small jar with you right?”

Thorodd’s nose scrunched as he opened up a pouch and pulled out the clay jar.

“This smells so bad and yet you are certain we should use this on our first hunt?”

“We can’t fail and that jar holds the trick I hope will enable us to take down one if not two of the pack we are hunting. I warned Hogni of the smell but told him if he is successful in taking down one of these miogs, his rune will come from their remains.”

“I’d be willing to almost bathe in this stuff for the promise of a rune,” Thorodd replied. “For now, I’m just praying Odin and Ullr is watching. We need some luck today.”

Giving his second in command a pat on the back, Einar moved toward Thorve. He had preparations to finish and part of that included a few extra prayers.

Odin if you’re watching… I’d like to cash in some of my chips.

***

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Three trails had been found that formed almost a triangle through a section of the woods. The tall, thick trees and the underbrush created sections that made moving through harder. Each step they took left their scent and Varitan had begrudgingly agreed to try and mask it for this first hunt.

Two goats were staked to the ground in a small fifteen yard clearing between a section of trees and the men had quickly chopped down branches after scaling a couple of the shorter ones. Red sap like blood flowed as they cut the limbs and three blinds were set up to pinch the area. Working fast while trying not to sweat, they covered the leaning blinds to help give them a viewing lane while being able to hide back in the darkness of the shadows inside.

A small fire was lit near each of the goats, and its cries increased as darkness set upon them.

The stars were so much brighter here and even with the thick canopy, they could be seen shimmering in the night.

“Are you certain he should be alone?”

“He is our weapon for this fight,” Einar whispered. He could see the expression of concern on Lyeneru’s face. “They should not be able to detect him and he is tied to the tree. He has walls around him that hide him. When the arrows come, the miogs won’t know from where at first.”

“And your hope is to drive them towards him after they come for the goats… not a foolish plan but you haven’t yet seen how these cats hunt. We shall see if Odin or Freyr care about your actions.”

Nodding, the two waited with two others in their blind.

Each one had someone with a bow, and three warriors.

All Einar could do now was wait.

***

Another log gave way underneath the weight of the one resting above, its red coals now acting as the fire that burnt the next one in the pile.

They had been impressed with Einar’s camp fire trick. Logs stacked at an angle from both sides, using sticks to keep them on top of each other. As the bottom one burned, it lit the one above it, gravity feeding it.

A bleat came from the goat as the fire sparked, lying as close as it could to the fire, glancing around the darkness in the forest.

Fingertips brushed Einar’s shoulder and he let Lyeneru move his head. The slightest movement came behind the goat, in a shrub that didn't sway as the others were in the gentle breeze that blew.

Noise from the leaves came but the difference was the forest had gone silent around them. As if sensing something dangerous, the insects and other creatures held their breath, lest they give away their position.

An orange reflection showed as a few sparks popped into the air, two ember eyes appearing for a moment in darkness, announcing the presence of death.

His eyes had adjusted and now with the creature able to be seen, all that was left was wait for his archer to fire the shot.

It was about fifty yards, in thick brush, only a small window to shoot from and yet there was no doubt when Lyeneru let go of the arrow it would find its mark.

Had he not been next to her, hearing the slightest sound of the arrow moving against her finger, Einar wouldn’t have known it had been drawn.

A single shriek came and then went silent from where her arrow had struck.

Movement came from three other areas surrounding the bait they had tied up.

Black shadows moving toward the two goats who were not rising, crying out for safety and for help.

Two arrows struck a second miog, neither taking it down but it stumbled as both found their mark. Each one was at least four feet tall and about six or seven feet long. Huge padded feet muffled their steps and in seconds the two who were not injured had reached their prey.

Right before the goat furthest away from Einar, closest to Hogni, found itself in the jaws of the cat, a white spot appeared for a moment on the large cat's back.

It rolled and as it rose, another arrow struck.

Soon a third and then a fourth as it tried to find where its attacker was.

The fifth struck the heart, causing the beast to jerk and then go still.

Shouts came as everyone raced forward, leaving their blinds.

Lyeneru had moved to the side, letting them out as the Vikings knocked down the limbs that were leaned against the front.

More arrows had impaled the injured one and while it was alive, the advance of eight warriors didn’t bode well for the third one that had just clamped its jaws around the goat it killed in a single bite.

It snarled, turning to move and run when the rope it had bit into bit back.

Crying as it opened its mouth, flesh was torn loose, revealing barbs that had been set inside the rope, each covered with a slight bit of wood to keep from injuring the animal. The rope was braided metal, costing more gold than Einar wanted to admit, had done its job. A four foot metal spike with blades was set and as the miog tugged, trying to get away, teeth and blood flung across the ground, slamming into the fire and sending up sparks, littering the ground with embers and shedding light into the area.

No matter how hard it tugged, the hooks held, created for fish far larger and more powerful.

Ospak reached it first, his massive two handed dane axe slicing along its back haunches, sending the miog to the ground. Four of them surrounded it, while the others finished off the injured one.

The trapped beast tried to maneuver, unable to put weight on its back left leg, stumbling and rolling as the rope held against it.

Skardi roared as he swung his axe, nicking the beast's side as it dodged to the left, trying to avoid the death it had seen coming.

As it rolled, escaping being cleaved in half, Ospak was ready, his axe coming down and cutting its spinal cord near its front shoulders.

Pained cries and shrieks came as it wailed in pain.

Turning its head it glanced up into a tree across the clearing, away from where all of them had been.

A shriek so high pitched came forth and then a thud as a black shape fell from the trees near where it had glanced.

Racing toward where the shape had been, Einar called upon his Wyrd, flames appearing over his single axe as he moved toward the one that had to be the female, shield out.

Ragged breathing came and as he drew close, thankful for the light of his weapon, there the leader of this pack was. Blood ran down her front chest, a hole where an arrow had almost pierced its heart, instead having lung shot it.

Weezing came and it tried to scare him with its roar yet the blood and lack of air made a noise that was anything but intimidating.

Its right front paw was held a little off the ground, showing it was injured, not putting weight on it.

“Only one pack leader leaves here tonight,” Einar said as he moved around the beast, forcing it to turn its back toward the others, waving his weapon in the air.

Those black eyes followed the flaming axe, sensing the box he was putting it in.

Another arrow came, piercing through the miogs body, stuck in the dirt, the white feathers now red.

It wheezed, faltering as the attack struck its other lung.

Einar moved.

This was his kill. He wouldn’t pass up a chance to claim a trophy. Not on the first hunt.

It tried to move, tried to lunge at him but without the front leg, the miogs pounce was off and Einar easily blocked the attack, driving his flaming weapon into its side.

A gurgle that should have been a loud noise came as his weapon bit deeper than he expected, cutting the flesh and bone like they were nothing but straw.

The entire head of the axe moved through the spot where he had struck, traveling over halfway through its body.

Yanking his weapon back, more flesh tore from the movement, the hooked edge gutting the once black hide, now covered in blood that reflected the flaming weapon before it.

“You lose. Odin wills it.”

With those words spoken, Einar swung the axe downward, severing the head from its shoulders.

[ Rune Experienced Gained ]

[ Your actions have earned the favor of Odin. ]

[ A wager was won about your bravery. Bonus experience granted. ]

[ A boon has been gifted for two months. Wyrd of Odin - Your pool of Wyrd is doubled. ]

Power surged through his body as the notification appeared.

I guess that means you were watching afterall. Thank you All-Father.