Once she was past the great storm that circled her home and out onto the Sea of Glass, Rúna took a form she felt more comfortable in. One of the great winter wolves was more agile a form than the behemoth of a bear she'd been to charge through the blizzard. The skies here were clear, perfect blue, a beautiful backdrop to the mountains of Ash Kordh rising to the south. They were breath-taking things, some so tall that one could gasp for days at the summit and still die for want of air. More than anything else, that was the true landmark of passage into Ash Kordh: passing beneath the great peaks and into the untamed, primordial wilderness. Rúna looked forward to it.

There had been seals enough on the way that she was well fed and insulated against the cold that forever shrouded the frozen ocean. The slight crunch of snow beneath her paws was a reminder that she had come far already, though she had yet to see a person. Only animals roamed here, though Ghurgha was not far. The city of orcs and northerners would be her first opportunity to observe the little folk, though she was wise enough to know it would be weeks at least of observing from the outskirts. The forms were not so different from her own true one, not when stacked against the difficulty of flying or swimming as primary modes of travel, and yet they would need just as much study if not more. She spoke the tongues of the little folk fine, but the manner of speech, the posturing and behaviors of a culture, those were nuances that were not transmitted merely by changing her shape.

For all the bold nature of giants, Rúna could temper her curiosity with caution. She had been taught well to avoid discovery by the little folk. The world beyond Stormhenge had all manners of danger for creatures as magical as her people. People either seeking to destroy or command a giant were not difficult to find in the south. The only reason they had been open during the Great War was the fact that they had numbers. One giant armed for war could be overcome. Challenging ten thousand of them was an entirely different beast.

Rúna pulled in a puff of air and paused in her step. She was almost to the woods that marked the beginning of solid ground beyond a shoreline. Ghurgha was further west and south, where the ice shelf thawed enough for ships to travel six months of the year. At least another three days, even if she pushed hard.

It didn't make sense this far from anyone, on the frozen and desolate shores far from the warmth of civilization, for there to be one of the little folk. Her nose honed in on the smell. Remnants of dirt and sweat, faint traces of smoke, and...tears.

Rúna padded towards the copse of trees nearest the ice. Ghurgha could wait. For all the size of her paws, the size of dinner platters, they made very little sound. Her white fur blended with the ice and the horizon. She would have been a complete ghost except for her dark eyes and dark nose.

Kneeling beneath one of the frozen pines, curled in on herself, was a human woman. Rúna didn't know how they aged, but this one seemed past her middle years. Her flame-colored hair was threaded with grey and hardship had worn lines into her visage. She was painfully thin, clearly starving to death, and also dangerously exposed.

The woman looked up to see a winter wolf standing before her and started to cry, though no tears fell. She had exhausted them already, perhaps days and days ago, leaving only harsh sobbing.

Rúna's heart ached. She knew nothing about this woman, but no one deserved to die alone in the raw elements. She didn't shift out of her form, but she approached until so close the woman should have run. Instead of dropping her pack to attack, she carefully placed it beside the woman. Rúna was geared as a warrior, though all of that was tethered to her by magic, hidden in a place without sight or space. This contained only her spare clothes, spare camping supplies, a pouch of salt and another smaller one of black pepper, and a bedroll. She had also taken the time to dry and salt a fair bit of fish, just in case there came a shortage of seals.

The look that the woman gave her was supremely defeated, quiet and terrified. She seemed to be waiting for Rúna to devour her alive.

The young giant knew her wolf form was intimidating, but more useful than her others. She just needed to convince the woman that she was safe. Rúna cocked her head at the woman and then nudged the pack closer before laying down. She yawned and then rested her head on her paws, the most calm she could seem.

The woman uncurled tentatively and opened the pack. When she saw the contents, warm clothes and food, she looked up at Rúna with wide, vulnerable eyes. "What god sent you, wolf?" the woman said in the southern tongue. Her voice trembled like a twig in a gale. "What divine mercy comes so to the undeserving?"

Rúna lifted her head and leaned forward, close enough to put her nose against the woman's shoulder and huff comfortingly. She expected the woman to scream and flee, but maybe not.

Thin arms wrapped around Rúna's neck and a face pressed the fur of her cheek. The woman sobbed again, but this time in relief. All her sorrows remained, but in this moment, they were forgotten. "I do not know your name, wolf of winter," she whispered, stroking Rúna's fur. "But if it is alright, I will call you Ixtaro, because you are my hope."

Rúna pulled back and licked the woman's bony hands in approval. Seeing a light back in the forlorn human's made the sympathetic ache in her chest ebb. The loss of her supplies didn't trouble Rúna. She could hunt for food and move in the form of an animal, as she intended to do anyway. The clothes would be loose on their new owner, but they would be warmer.

The woman smiled. "My name is Terese," she said, still petting Rúna's face. "Come, we have fish to share."

Rúna picked up the pack in her jaws ever so carefully and then laid down, gesturing towards her back with her head. Terese hesitated, then climbed on. Rúna carried her with ease, weaving her way between deep snow wells.

There was a cabin here, though one that looked long ago abandoned. The roof was mercifully intact in most places, but the walls seemed inadequate at keeping much of the chill out. The sturdiest place was the hearth and the chimney that rose above it, carved from solid stone. It looked orcish in origin, but that owner had long ago died or moved on to better weather.

The woman had a thin bedroll on the floor next to the hearth and a fire burning low, maybe nothing more than coals. Some wood was around, but little. The woman had barely enough strength to walk, so carrying in bundles of branches was beyond her. Everything here had been dragged.

Rúna dropped the pack and then laid down to watch the woman heat up the salted fish. Terese moved with stooped shoulders, carrying the weight of a life lived in difficulty. Rúna cocked her head, studying her newfound friend. In the dancing light of the fire, hope shining in her eyes, Terese was transformed from hollow and ragged to radiant. Her eyes, the color of midsummer skies, seemed to remember peace for a minute or two.

In a few minutes, the fish was warm. The human tried to slow herself, but she wolfed down almost half of it so quickly that a stomach ache was all but guaranteed. Then Terese offered the rest to Rúna.

Instead of eating it, Rúna nudged the outstretched hand and its fish back towards Terese. She had eaten well on her way, an able hunter, and felt no need for the fish. Seal was far tastier anyway. If she could, she wanted to catch one of those for her new friend. Few foods could keep a person as warm as seal blubber.

"You're too good to me," the human said. This time as she ate, she paced herself now that the need wasn't overwhelming. Once she had eaten her fill, she unfolded the blanket and the clothes. Everything was thick, fine wool with patterns worked into the grey, green, and brown. The human looked up at her giant companion. "Did these belong to your master, Ixtaro?"

Rúna ruffled her fur indignantly, to say without words that she had no master. She calmed when Terese's hand petted her muzzle. The woman changed into Rúna's clothes, cuffing the pants and sleeves, drawing the belt tight around her waist to meet her wasted flesh. She looked almost comical, like a scarecrow arrayed in a parka meant for someone twice its size. That said, she also looked very much warmer.

There was something else made plain by Terese's undressed body: suffering. The woman bore terrible scars all over her body, disfiguring and indicative of wounds left to heal on their own with barely any touch by a healer. By age, Rúna suspected they were carved around the same time, but she couldn't imagine what had left them. They were not battle scars, too even, as though Terese had not fought or been unable to. And yet, most were applied with distinct savagery.

Rúna's parents had told her quietly as she was growing that the hearts of men held shadows as deep as midnight, as cold as midwinter. It was not always there, not in everyone, but it was a danger in the south that Rúna needed to be aware of. Rúna didn't understand it, but she knew these were its marks. The thought of cruelty made Rúna's temper flare. She wanted to protect, not to punish, but these wounds had long ago closed.

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The visible ones, anyway.

"I have never met a creature like you before," Terese said, approaching Rúna again once she was dressed. She seemed to sag, weariness threatening to overtake her. "Will you be here when I wake?"

Rúna yawned and snapped her teeth in answer. She could have run another fifty miles, but she didn't mind the thought of sleeping here. Every day she spent with Terese was a day she could study the human form. Besides, it wouldn't be right for to leave Terese to starve or die of exposure.

She needed to get the woman to Ghurgha. If she knew anything about orcs, it was their rough and ready hospitality. Surely they would care for this woman as she desperately needed. That would take some time, of course. Terese wasn't strong enough to make the trip.

Terese smiled, eyes full of tears. "Thank you," she whispered softly before laying down. Exhaustion pulled her almost immediately into sleep.

As the sun set, the temperature dropped and dropped. Rúna watched the burning coals in the fireplace grow dimmer and dimmer. She needed to fetch wood, but she didn't want Terese to wake up alone. She could already imagine the look of devastation on the woman's face. Instead, the giant rose in her wolf form and padded softly over to the sleeping human who was beginning to shiver in her bedroll.

Rúna laid down around the woman, her form as a dire wolf large enough that she could guard Terese from the chill by covering the human in her warm fur, bushy tail laying across most of Terese's body. It was nice not to be on her own, if she was honest with herself. Giants could be solitary creatures, accustomed to long bouts of time away from Stormhenge, but they preferred company.

Besides, this one needed her.

In the morning, Terese woke before Rúna and almost sprang up, but the fur was too comfortable to leave. Instead, she hugged the wolf tightly, which was enough to stir the giant to wakefulness. Rúna flicked her ears and huffed, studying the human tucked against her body with golden eyes.

Terese seemed to be searching her lupine gaze for answers as well. "Thank you for keeping me warm," she said quietly. "I do not think you are a wolf, Ixtaro. I think you are an angel."

Rúna licked her ward's face and then uncurled, removing her warmth from the woman. The sun streaming down from the hole in the roof beat back some of the chill. A proper fire would do better. She bounced lightly on her paws, shaking all the stiffness from her walk.

"Excited?" Terese said lightly, smiling in a way that suggested she had almost forgotten how to.

Rúna flicked her tail and then charged out of the cabin, grateful that the door was orc-sized and not human. Even so, it was a squeeze. Winter wolves were not small, most the size of a draft horse, some greater. As soon as she hit the snow, Rúna rolled and scratched her back on the rough ground barely reachable through the snow. Then she was up, bounding between trees, grabbing chunks of wood as she went and then depositing them at Terese's feet. The human watched, laughing. Every time Rúna reached her, Terese ruffled her fur with weathered hands.

Soon the stack of wood was substantial enough to last a few days. Now there was just the matter of food. Rúna glanced at Terese, who was now stacking up the wood as best she could. Then giant melted into the trees like a ghost, moving in a low crouch as she drew in deep breaths through her nose, hunting for any sign of prey. After about ten minutes, she caught scent of a herd of caribou nearby. Rúna let her form's instincts push away her thoughts. She sank into sensation, predation, like into a hot bath.

A giant in a form was still their own self, but they took on aspects of the folk or fauna they took the form of. Learning many forms meant many selves, different slivers of experience. It was the only true path to wisdom, as far as a giant was concerned. The shape of a wolf had taught Rúna much about the world. How to hunt, certainly, how to battle with her jaws and claws, but also the importance of kinship, the desire to protect, the immense bravery necessary to undertake battle without the protection of armor, the power to take life as intimately and instantly as one could with a single snap of lupine fangs. Wolves were savagery, nobility, loyalty and courage all at once—predators of great power and great defenders of their packs.

Every step was breathless intensity, her mind perfectly focused on the beasts before her as she tracked, pulling in their scent until its presence was fixed firmly in her mind. There were no unnecessary thoughts now, no room for doubt or hesitation. Instinct, action and reaction, ruled with only cunning as a guide.

Rúna flowed from hiding, racing like a flame after one of the herd. She was alone, so she couldn't hunt well enough to bring down the largest of the herd. Instead, she separated a weaker member from the rest of the herd and snapped its neck with a bite. They were smaller than her, but still plenty of meat. She dragged the caribou carcass back towards the hut, allowing her true nature to surface once again.

There would be enough meat on this beast for the woman to eat for some time. It would have been easier if Terese could become a wolf too, but she was human, imprisoned in her form. Rúna would need to hunt for both of them.

The wind shifted and a new smell caught her nose. Fear.

Nor was it from a beast. Rúna knew that smell. She was almost to the little cabin. Terese was nearby and afraid.

The idea of it being nothing never occurred to Rùna. In her wolf mind, there was no room for second guessing. Something had entered these woods that frightened the woman, and Rúna would protect her. The sound of voices removed whatever doubt she might have had.

"So you're still alive, if barely. Good. He isn't paying for a corpse. Not yet, anyway," a man's voice said, a rough chuckle following the words.

"Please, don't," Terese pleaded.

"You have nothing to offer us any longer, Your Grace. Nothing that we cannot take," a different man said.

Rúna ghosted around. There were five horses tied up outside the cabin, as oblivious as their masters to her presence. She could see through the open door that Terese was on the ground in the middle of the room, curled in on herself as much as she could be while her cheek dripped blood. Her look was terrified, horrified, but not surprised at the violence that had come her way.

Rúna's hotheadedness came from her mother, but mostly from her sense of justice. This was not acceptable. Rúna had to make a decision, and it was not a difficult one.

She didn't move as the wind shifted, carrying her scent to the tethered animals. The horses reacted as any beast would when Death entered the area: panic. They struggled to break their leads so they could rip away and flee the predator near them. As they did, Rúna rubbed the blood from her body with snow, returning her fur to enough whiteness to blend with the landscape again.

"Something's spooked the horses," a third man said. "Iker, you're the huntsman, you take care of it."

Rùna moved even as he spoke, circling around to the side of the doorframe, allowing the horses to continue attempting to flee unhindered. It wasn't hunger gnawing at her belly, only a fury building in her chest. She doubted she could take five all at once, but she knew how to hunt.

The human who stepped out, dark haired and lean, face hardened by a difficult life and unpleasant deeds, only made it three steps. Then his scowl vanished, replaced by shrieking terror as Rúna seized him by his legs, ripping jaws sinking into his very bones and dragging him screaming into the dark forest. She had shredded his legs and all the vessels of blood that filled him. He would die swiftly, and so Rúna opened her jaws to drop him in a snow well to die screaming.

Killing something was not new to Rúna. She had slain many great beasts and small ones, and this felt just as necessary as feeding for survival. From the shadows of the dark wood, she watched as two more men stepped outside, their blades drawn and faces pale when they saw the blood.

"Iker!" one shouted.

Rúna resumed the smaller version of her form for just a moment, filling her lungs with a single breath. She let out a sound that she had never made before, not truly: a war scream. The banshee wail shattered the cold air, hitting the minds of the little folk with the force of coming death, their dread fueled by her own rage. Her next steps towards them were on paws, a terrible charge building momentum with every stride. By the time she broke the treeline, she was at full speed. Neither were fast enough to bring their swords up.

The giant slammed into one of the men, crushing his torso with her claws. The wall of the cabin bowed on impact. Her jaws snapped the sword arm of the other, maw soaked in crimson. Every bone in his arm broke, leather armor no matched for the sheer force. He careened backwards, mouth agape in horror.

The one she had crushed was dead, his ribs smashed by her weight and claws. Blood streaking Rúna's face and paws, she lunged after the one with a broken arm. He couldn't flee fast enough. She seized his shoulder in a crushing bite and then shook him like a terrier with a rat, flinging him into a snow bank. She turned to see two men stepping out of the cabin, one dragging Terese by her arm.

"Is this your pet, bitch?" the one holding Terese demanded. He wore armor that was metal over his furs and an emblem on his surcoat: a red bird on a field of black.

"Run," Terese said, her eyes fixed on Rúna. "They will kill you, Ixtaro. You must run."

The second man drew back his bow and let an arrow fly. It clipped Rúna's ear as she dodged. Instead of running away, she hurled herself at the archer, closing the distance at wolf speed.

The man holding Terese dropped her, lunging at Rúna's side as she ripped out the archer's throat. His sword stabbed into her side. Her thick fur and dense bones protected her heart and lungs, but it was a deep and dangerous wound.

Rúna spun and surged, hitting the man with her shoulder hard enough to knock him back, bowl him over. She stopped between him and Terese, growling and snarling. The wound to her side was painful, but she was resolute in this. He would not hurt Terese, not if she had anything to do with it.

The man rose to his feet and charged. His blade slashed not across her face, but across her chest, leaving a gash, though it was not as deep and impressive as it could have been because of her fur. Rúna knocked his sword wide with a a snap of her jaws. The predator was taking over the more wounded and tired she became.

His armor was ample protection against her fangs, but she was no beast. She knew how to hook her claws around his breastplate and yank, cracking it open.Then her jaws tore into him, doing the rest.

As soon as she was certain he was dead, she retreated back and spat out his heart. Rúna had no desire to eat humans, though her wolf form would accept their meat without a problem. They weren't her kind, after all.

She relaxed her snarl, let the fur along her spine lay down again. She turned to Terese, bloody and wounded. The woman was frozen, her eyes wide with terror.

Rúna was fairly certain that her savage visage was the cause. She padded over to a snowbank and rolled in it, using the ice and snow to wipe the blood from her fur. Once she was mostly successful, she padded back over to Terese. She cautiously stretched out her muzzle towards the woman.

Terese placed a shaking hand on Rúna's nose. Her eyes were full of tears. "No one has ever protected me, not from them."

Rúna huffed at that and then pressed her nose into Terese's shoulder.

The human wrapped her arms around the disguised giant's neck, snow still clinging to thick white fur. "My guardian angel," she whispered.