The last of the slavers were defeated, and their home successfully transformed into a temporary base of operations for Petra and her barbarian friends. The presence of the Winter’s Daughter provided a settlement-wide respite from the cold as Petra sat before a roaring bonfire, a semicircle of enthralled children seated in front of her.

“So, kiddos,” she said theatrically. “Who knows who my daddy is?”

“The Father of Winter!” some children shouted. “Ymir!” others cried with glee. “The Frost Axe!” came from a few of the children.

“That’s right,” Petra said grinning. “So tonight, while your mums and dads are talking, I’m gonna tell you a little story. The story of how a humble barbarian warrior-chief ascended to the rimed god of the frozen wastes!” A cool breeze tore through the camp. Petra made sure it was just chilly enough to get the kids’ attention, but not make them uncomfortable. Petra grinned and the kids giggled in glee as the chills ran down their spines.

“Can anyone tell me what the biggest city of the frozen wastes was?”

“Fargard!” cried out an older little girl. She always answered Petra’s questions. Petra pretended she did not hear the girl, and pointed to a young boy instead.

“Hans, do you know?”

“Uh,” the young boy said, shyly pulling his hat over his face. “Uh, I think it was the town that Ymir is from. It’s uh... It’s uh,”

“Is it Nordheim?” Petra quizzed.

“Uh… no,” Hans responded, pulling his hat onto his head again, finding some sort of confidence. “It was Fargard.”

“Right you are, Hans! The Fractal Fortress of Fargard! So many winters before, before you were born, and even your parents’ parents were born, Ymir lived in the fortress.

“He was the greatest warrior in the city, his battle axe was sharp enough to fell the greatest tree and lay low the greatest beasts. His war cry,” Petra paused, widening her posture and screaming into the sky with a ferocious battle cry. “Could turn away the largest of armies!

“But he was not strong enough to stop the winter.” Petra summoned another breeze. The children cooed as they shuddered.

“As the sun set in the south, the glowing eyes of monsters covered the horizon and the grey clouds of blizzards began to drift over the city.” Snowflakes began to drift down over the crowd of children. “The armies of the fortress rose up! Every man and woman strong enough and mature enough to take up arms were ready to brave the cold of winter. They pleaded with Ymir to remain, and if the worst would happen, he would protect the young, elderly, and ill of Fargard.

“Now, would any of you be out there fighting the monsters in the snow?”

“Yeah!” most of the children cried, but a tiny little girl stood up.

“No, because we are too little and our moms and dads. They would have to go and then-”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Petra smiled as she gently interrupted the young child. “That’s right! You would have to stay behind, despite how big and tough you all are. But would you feel safe if Ymir were with you?”

The “yes!” was unanimous.

“Well, only one day passed as those inside the city waited for their families to return. Out of the one hundred or so warriors that left the city, three returned far less than had left. Wounded and bloodied, the returning fighters described hordes of indescribable horrors just over the horizon. Fargard was doomed.” Petra dramatically paused and the children shuffled nervously.

Petra knelt down. “But there was still hope, right? Because Ymir rose, battle axe in hand, and offered to fight for the whole city.

“‘But Ymir, who will protect us?’ the people asked. Do you know what he said?”

The older girl stood up. Petra decided she would allow it. “With me out there, you will not need someone here to protect you!” the girl shouted confidently. Petra beamed with pride.

“Ymir hefted his axe over his shoulder and stepped out of the city walls and out into the Frozen Wastes, the great glowing eyes of the wintery beasts glaring at his approach. The people of Fargard watched in fear, as their hero disappeared into the darkness.

“For ninety days of pitch dark night and bone-white blizzards, the people of Fargard waited for their doom. Carried on the winter winds were the roars of countless demons. Were they roars of pain or victory? No one knew. They could only wait.

“Then, the sun broke over the southern horizon. The blizzard abated and the winds slowed, and the monsters of winter were nowhere to be seen. The only shape in the Frozen Wastes was the slowly approaching shape of a colossal man with a battle axe on his shoulder and a massive bag in his hand.”

“Ymir saved everyone!” a little boy cried out from the back, and his genuine excitement brought a hint of tear to Petra’s eyes.

“That’s right, he did. And when he returned to the city, everyone knew their hero was not the same as when he left. His beard was white as snow, and his breath as cold as ice. His eyes were frosty and his hands chilled. Ymir had ascended, and his dominion over winter was asserted!

“But to prove it was not the harshness of winter that he had personified, Ymir brought with him gifts. Toys carved from monstrous scrimshaw! Coats sewn from leviathan hides! Blades forged from the rarest ores of the wastes! Winter had ended, and its departure meant a season of recovery for the people of Fargard.”

“But Ymir couldn’t stay,” suggested a young girl.

“That’s right. Ymir was the winter now, so when winter departed, so must he. But he promised something. Does anyone know what he promised?”

There was quiet murmuring in the crowd. No one wanted to speak up, so Petra took a deep breath.

“He promised that ‘no matter how cold and dark the winter gets, just as our bonfires hold off the darkness and chill, Ymir, the Winter Father, would hold off the threats to the people of the frozen wastes.’”

A gentle quiet fell over the group of children, and only the crackle of the fire could readily be heard.

“Ymirstottir?” The call came from the side, one of the children’s fathers.

“Well, kiddos, I have to talk to your parents! Be good, okay. Otherwise Ymir may forget your gifts.”

“Wait, Petra! What about you? When did you get born?” one little girl asked.

Petra grinned. “A story for another time, little one! I’ll be back to say goodnight to you all.” Petra crossed over to the father. “What was decided?” she asked quietly.

“Well, our town was razed and this one has no resources of its own. We think our only choice is Bridgefort.”

Petra frowned. “Truly? The Church of the Will treats us like a necessary evil. You think they will offer us any help?”

“What option do we have, Ymirstottir?”

Petra shrugged. “I’m just here for the kids, and if Bridgefort is where you intend to go, then I will make sure they get there safely.”