Chapter 1: Not quite knights

Aoife couldn’t see a thing, but she had to escape.

The snow drifts were up to her knees, and the blizzard gusts were working against her. Not only that; the snapjaw still tailed her. “Hoarding season,” as one of her village’s guards once said. As if seasons still even occurred in the perpetually winter-ridden highlands of Coerthas.

She tripped, her boot not quite lifting high enough to clear the drift. Faceplanting into the snow stopped her only momentarily; she scrambled back to her feet right away.

She took a quick look over her shoulder.

The snapjaw was still within her sight. And by its course, she was too.

She began running again.

While the snow was thick, she could at least tell that the elevation of the terrain was increasing. That was a good sign. Camp Dragonhead was surely somewhere ahead of her. But the more she slogged, the more her pace slowed. Treading through this weather was draining her. Haze rapidly infiltrated her head. Behind her thick eyeglasses, the radius of her peripheral vision began to shrink…

Plop.

The small crevice her body made wasn’t enough to hide her from her predator. The snapjaw lumbered up to her, perturbed by neither the weather nor terrain. It sniffed at the warm body in the snow, circling and examining its prey.

Satisfied with its find, it opened its mouth. The top of its head split in two—as is natural for snapjaw anatomy—revealing its hideous inner face. Warm, stinking breath wafted out as it growled and prepared to snap her up.

Suddenly, a small blade darted through the blustering blizzard and pierced straight into the hide of one snapjaw. The creature roared and recoiled away. Its great head bucked and tossed. Provoked and confused, it roared and searched wildly for the assailant hiding somewhere in the blizzard.

To the shrill tune of a much bigger blade, it found itself on the ground before evaporating into aethereal nothingness.

With the monster slain, its aggressor—tall, sturdily built blond Hyur—emerged from the blizzard and stood beside Aoife’s body. He sheathed his great sword and looked in the direction from where the first, small blade had come. As he did, a second Hyur, shorter and leaner with brown hair, joined him.

“Nice ambush, Eoin,” the blond said, a grin on his face from ear to ear. “Those eagle-eyes of yours came through once again! It was the perfect distraction.”

“Heh,” was all the shorter Hyur managed in reply before crouching down next to Aoife and checking her vitals. “She’s alive, but out cold.”

“And a cutey too,” his companion said, taking a closer look at her.

Eoin shot him slight scowl. “Zane.”

“What, she is! I’m just saying!”

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Eoin sighed. “We’ve got to get her to Camp Dragonhead before she catches a chill—or, more of one.”

“Leave the carrying to me, mate!” Zane hovered his hands over her, carefully deciding where to place them. “Hmm… Now where’s the most gentlemanly place to pick you up…?”

The tall blond slipped one arm around her shoulders, and the other arm beneath her knees. Then, he collected her dainty form and held her fast against his chest. He beamed at his shorter friend.

“Like carrying a princess,” he said proudly. “Feels like we’re knights already, doesn’t it?”

Eoin offered an amused grin. “We’re not quite knights yet though. Isn’t that the whole reason we’re on our way to Dragonhead?”

“You’re bloody right!”

=-=-=

When Aoife came to, she didn’t know where she was. The last thing she remembered was being out in the blizzard, trying to escape a couple of hungry snapjaws. She vaguely remembered tripping and taking a plunge into the snow, but she wasn’t even sure that’s what happened anymore.

How could that have been the case, when she was now lying on something warm and comfortable? Had she entered the Fury’s halls?

“If you think you’ve passed on, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

Her thoughts disrupted by the voice, Aoife turned her head slightly to her bedside. A young man with short, brown hair sat in a chair, smiling at her.

“You’re just in the medical building of Camp Dragonhead,” he added.

Feeling strong and conscious enough, Aoife sat up in bed and looked around. Indeed, it seemed like a medical wing. There was a white curtain behind her visitor in that fashion. Looking past the foot of her bed, she spied another bed across from hers. It was occupied by an Elezen man who was stripped of his shirt as he sat upright. Someone dressed in chirurgeon’s garments tended to the injuries along his arm.

Aoife turned to the young man next to her. “What happened? Are you the one who brought me here?”

“That’s right,” he said, his smile broadening proudly. Then his lips toned the display down as he added, “Well, not me specifically. My best mate Zane was the one strong enough to carry you here—”

As if on cue, the curtain behind him slid open and revealed a tall, well-build blond with a playful smile that showed all his teeth. “Is it time to introduce myself, Eoin?”

Both Eoin and Aoife jumped in surprise.

“By the Fury, Zane!” Eoin exclaimed, a hand clutching his heart as he looked at his friend in bewilderment. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Ah—sorry about that, mate.” Zane rubbed the back of his head in apology (though his oh, so innocent smile suggested he wasn’t really all that sorry). “I just figured our new lady friend would like a good morning present of flowers for when she finally awoke.”

"Oh? So, where are they?"

"I… couldn't find any..."

"We do live in Coerthas, after all..." Eoin patted his dejected friend on the arm.

No one quite understood why, but the once lush, green highlands of Coerthas saw a drastic change after the Seventh Umbral Calamity. The event ushered in a winter that refused to end. Flowers like the ones found in the Shroud were, of course, a rarity now.

Eoin pushed off from his knees to stand and turned to Zane. “We ought to make our way to the registration office to complete our enrollment.”

Zane crossed his arms, faking aghast at him. “And leave such a lovely young belle alone in this strange place?”

“It’s Camp Dragonhead; it’s not what one would consider an unknown—or even dangerous—part of Coerthas…”

His voice trailed off into a mutter. The uncomfortable fidgeting and the aversion of his gaze towards the floor made it clear that Eoin was embarrassed by his previous suggestion. Aoife felt a bit of sympathy tug at her, seeing him suddenly go quiet.

“It’s quite all right,” she said with a smile. “Truly. I really must thank you for saving me from the cold. I’m sure I would have been snapjaw meat by now if you hadn’t come along.”

“Ha!” Zane blurted out, nudging Eoin with his elbow. “Hear that, mate? Your skills saved the day!”

Eoin blushed, shooting a dry grin at his taller friend. “You’re the one who dealt the finishing blow…”

“Details,” Zane said with a shrug. Then he offered one more, bright smile to Aoife. “But my best mate’s got a point. We ought to get our paperwork in order. You can rest easy and recover here for now, belle.”

“It was nice meeting you.”

Aoife held up a hand in a small goodbye wave as the two made their way across the room and out the door. Once they were gone, one of the chirurgeon assistants approached her.

“It sounds like you had an exciting day, is that right love?” she remarked with a grin. “Let’s get you checked up; you’ll be on your own way in no time.”