Azrael looked at the enormous pile of stuff that Bartlos unloaded. It was massive. How two horses had managed to carry all that, without collapsing under the weight of it, was a mystery. Either that, or a miracle.
There were metal pots and pans, which Azrael took, along with the salt and spices. A pair of iron daggers adorned his hip, while two more were in a pouch for Alena.
Seeds, Oil lamps, oil, bolts of cloth and the like he left for the villagers. After receiving that news from Azrael, Cairn didn’t stop bowing to him for the whole time he was in the village.
Azrael felt the pouch of ten gold coins at his hip and listened to them jingle. It was nice to be a rich man, even if he wasn’t exactly sure how much the money was worth. Hoisting everything he’d claimed onto his shoulder he set off home with a spring in his step.
Salt! He had Salt! Gone were the days of bland foods. Sure, the village had provided him with a greater variety than just meat, but Potatoes and Bullas butter just didn’t taste as good as they would with salt. Stews, beef jerky, salted fish. The possibilities were almost endless. He’d have to test the spices, but potato curry was another option.
With his mouth watering he entered his house like father Christmas. Alena was inside, cleaning, but she froze when she saw him walk through the door. He dropped the sack.
“What’s wrong?” He signed.
It took a moment for her to reply. “Smile. You smile. Happy like never before”.
He touched the edges of his mouth, surprised to find them turned upwards.
“I suppose I am” he said. Hefting his Santa sack back over his shoulder he was about to carry it into his room when a random thought struck him.
“Oh, hey, Cairn mentioned the midwinter festival. What’s that?”
Her fingers flashed again “On Midwinter. Long night” She corrected herself “Longest night. All come together, give gifts. Fire, food, fun.”
He nodded “Thanks.” It was a bit like Christmas then. Except that the village was one big family.
Tossing the sack onto his bed he pulled out the pots and pans, bringing them into the kitchen. Alena stared in amazement at their shiny surfaces. He laughed at her expression. Huh. Maybe he was in a good mood.
“They’re ours” he said. Placing them in an empty cupboard he went to the window and checked the remaining day light. “I’ll be back in four, maybe five hours. I’ll cook dinner.”
She nodded. Going back to his room he pulled on some water-resistant boots he’d acquired and a thicker jacket. He touched the hilts of his new daggers. Dinner was a perfect excuse to try them out.
Exiting the house, he saw Alena hold up a hand to make him stop. He paused as she vanished back into the house and returned a moment later with a small pouch. He looked inside to find some dried and smoked meat strips. He accepted it, before turning to the mountains. When the winds blew down from the mountains, he sometime heard the cries of unknown beasts. He bit into a piece of smoked meat. Hopefully they were edible.
The going was tough. Melting snow and wet leaves made the footing slippery, while the hills themselves rose and became steeper mountains. A seemingly ever-present breeze blew chilly air against his face, once he left the protection of the forest. The ground itself became rockier the higher he climbed.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Azrael sighed, chewing one of the last pieces of meat. He’d been hiking for maybe two hours already, but except for a few brave hares and a small fox, he had yet to encounter anything that might resemble dinner.
Reaching the top of a particularly steep incline, he decided to take a break. He found a lichen covered boulder and leant against it. If he didn’t find anything soon he’d have to use some of the Bulla meat that they were keeping fresh in the snow. It wasn’t bad or anything but hunting for such a monumental dinner as tonight seemed… right. After all, it was only once in your life that you had salt for the first time. Well, in this world anyways.
Feeling the boulder he was leaning against shift, he carefully pushed himself off and went to move away from it. If it moved, he didn’t want to be between it and the bottom of the slope. It was big and probably quite heavy.
Looking back, he watched the boulder rock first from one side, then to the other, before spinning in place. He watched it intrigued, before coming face to face with one irritated horned face. It dawned on Azrael that what he’d been leaning against hadn’t been a large lichen covered boulder, but a large woolly ram. The entire creature was almost as big as he was. And it seemed to dislike the fact that he’d woken it from its nap.
Azrael tried to smile disarmingly “Hello.”
The ram snorted and a second later Azrael found himself flying backwards as the ram’s head rammed into him. Some things it seemed were quite aptly named.
He hit the ground and gasped for breath “Point taken.”
The ram ignored his words and charged again, but Azrael had already rolled to the side. Instead, it ploughed up a good few meters beyond where he’d been.
The beast inside of him raised its head from its slumber, looking at the situation with interest. Azrael ignored it, summoning a [Fire Bullet].
The projectile bloomed like a flower in the cold air, before curling in on itself and launching at the ram. The creature didn’t even notice, its fur too thick and caked in wet mud to even catch alight. A small patch of singed hair was all that remained of the attack. That and the smell of burnt hair.
The beast in him seemed to raise an eyebrow in mock amusement, which a second later turned into a toothy laugh as an [Earth Bullet] bounced of the ram’s shaggy fur. It seemed that he would have to close the distance.
Azrael drew his new iron daggers, adding [Reinforcement]. The beast inside him pricked its ears in interest and anticipation. The ram however ignored his new weapons, charging in once more.
Azrael dodged to the side, swiping at the creature’s side, before landing in a roll on the wet ground. His daggers sliced through the shaggy fur effortlessly. His landing however was a little more hazardous. The ground was slick with snow melt and covered in broken rocks, which made for treacherous footing.
Rolling up into a standing position, Azrael nearly found himself falling down the steep slope he had climbed up. Quickly back pedalling to regain his balance Azrael barely managed to avoid the perilous demise.
The ram behind him decided to take advantage of his distraction and charged at him once more. Stuck between a ram and a high place Azrael could only brace for impact. With a flick of the creature’s mighty horns he was in the air again. For a brief moment he hung suspended in the air above the ram, before gravity claimed him again and he went plummeting down, straight onto a shaggy carpet. One of his daggers clattered onto the ground below as he landed.
For a brief moment nothing happened and it took both Azrael and the ram a moment to realise what had occurred. Neither of them expected to end up in this situation. Then the rodeo began.
The ram bucked and wiggled, trying to throw Azrael off its back. He clung onto its fur, for dear life. It jumped in circles and tried to gore him with its horns, but Azrael still managed to cling on. Inevitably though, he felt himself slipping.
The fur was wet and his finger cold and cramping. Coupled with the creature’s wild movements his fall eventually came. Azrael went crashing to the ground and lay there winded. The ram continued to buck around, momentarily unaware that it had shed its unwilling rider. Eventually though it noticed the prone figure on the ground. It thundered towards him, wanting to end the intruder that had disturbed its rest.
The said intruder barely managed to roll to the side, one of the hooves clipping him in the head, while another caught him in the ribs. He could have sworn he heard something crack. As the ram passed him, he stabbed his remaining dagger into one of its front legs. It bit in deep.
With one leg injured the ram faltered in its next step and was sent careening into the ground. Azrael’s vision was blurred due to the blow to his skull, so he listened. Other than the sound of rocks tumbling down the slope and the ever-present cool breeze all was otherwise silent. Then, eventually, only the cool breeze remained.
Azrael waited, listening and when he continued to hear nothing he entered [Meditation].
In the silence, the beast inside of him curled up and closed its eyes. It would be here. It would wait.