I stumbled back, my overly wide, shaggy feet crunching in the snow as the massive bear lunged toward me. Bitterly chill wind wrapped around me, and heavy, wet flakes swirled into my face, held out of my eyes by my long lashes. I staggered slightly, not used to my new lowered stats or my overly large body. The spear I held felt awkward in my hands. That was probably because I’d never had call to use one before, and my entire understanding of it was to jab the pointy end in the other guy. So, that was what I proceeded to do.

As the bear surged toward me, I jabbed at it with the crystal-tipped spear, expecting it to slide off the bear’s fur or maybe lodge harmlessly in a rib. Instead, the sharp tip punched into the animal’s chest, low on the left side, and tore through its cartilage to sink deep into its flesh. I was shocked at the weapon’s effectiveness, but not shocked enough that I didn’t lurch backward when it roared and swiped at me with a paw. Unfortunately, I misjudged the creature’s reach, and its arm smashed into my shoulder, knocking me sprawling in the snow.

To my surprise, the blow that probably should have broken my arm and maybe even laid me open to the bone simply knocked me down and left my arm throbbing as the thick fur wrapped around me cushioned the hit. I scrambled back to my feet and hefted the spear again. I didn’t know how to use a spear, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know how to fight. When the bear lunged for me this time, I stepped sideways and thrust at the thing’s side, hitting it in the stomach below the ribs. The spear sank into the bear’s middle, and I took a moment to twist it around the way I would have a knife before yanking it free. The bear roared again and spun toward me, slapping at me with a paw, but I was expecting it this time and ducked rather than trying to retreat. As the blow passed over me, I stabbed again, then moved, forcing the larger and heavier creature to scramble to keep up. If the bear had walked on four legs, it would have been able to keep up with me, but on only two, it simply couldn’t match my speed.

I danced around the bear, thrusting and stabbing, dodging the bear’s blows and pricking it with my spear. I aimed for its stomach; a stab in its throat might have been more lethal, but I simply didn’t trust my skill and accuracy with the weapon. If I missed, the bear’s long arms might swat the shaft from my hands, and weaponless, I’d probably be done for. Its middle was a much larger target, and there were all kinds of things in there that could bleed. I didn’t care if the bear died from a surgical thrust to the throat or a thousand cuts to its stomach. In fact, I didn’t even care if it died at all as long as I lived through the encounter. Blood flowed freely from the thing’s midsection and stained the snow beneath it crimson, and I felt the end of the fight nearing.

Suddenly, the bear reared up, and I felt a strange sort of energy gather around it. It didn’t feel anything like the solar magic of Soluminos or even the rune magic of Puraschim. Instead, it felt hotter, angrier, and almost alive as it settled over the creature. The bear seemed to swell, and when it roared again, the sound triggered a deep, almost primal fear in me. Part of me wanted to drop the spear and flee, racing away from the suddenly terrifying monster, but I pushed that urge aside. I honestly thought that I could outrun the bear if I had to – it seemed slow and awkward compared to the similar creatures I’d seen on Earth – but I’d faced my fight or flight response far too many times to give into it.

I was glad I did when the bear rushed me, moving much faster than it had before. My reflexes saved me as it swatted a paw at my head, and even though I ducked the blow still smacked the top of my skull and made my head ring. I stabbed outward almost blindly while scuttling sideways, but the damn thing kept up with me, turning to face me and slamming a paw down onto the snow as I barely slid to the side. I stabbed again, not trying to wound the bear as much as holding it back, keeping it away from me. Despite my intentions, though, the creature kept flinging itself onto my spear, burying the weapon in itself in its desperate attempts to reach me. Spittle flew from its mouth and froze in the air as it roared; its eyes glared red from blood vessels that had burst in them. It slapped at me and gnashed its teeth, roaring furiously, and it was all I could do to keep it off me. I stopped thrusting and just held the spear between us, letting it impale itself over and over again.

The bear stumbled and staggered as I jumped out of its way again, and whatever strength it held seemed to rush out of its body. It dropped to all fours and brayed at me, and now that it was relatively still, I lunged forward, stabbing the spear into the thing’s throat. It screamed and gurgled, trying to rise back to its feet, but its arms slid out from under it, and it tumbled heavily into the snow. It lay there, panting for breath as its blood spilled into the snow, rumbling and growling but unable to summon enough breath or energy to roar.

I stood back and watched, too pooped to even consider finishing it off. The bear’s claws hadn’t gotten me, but my body still felt battered and bruised. My back ached; my shoulders throbbed; my neck was starting to stiffen. The cold wasn’t helping, either. Fortunately, the battle was over – at least, so I thought until I heard loud growling rolling over the wind behind me.

I spun and lifted my spear, guessing that the bear must have had a mate, or some kids, or whatever that were out of the cave. I didn’t really want to go through round two, but I wanted to end up in some bear’s belly a whole lot less. I froze as, instead of a bear, I found myself facing a half-dozen shaggy, bipedal creatures. The things stood a bit taller than me and looked more or less like what I imagined sasquatches to be on Earth – or long-haired wookies, I suppose. Their hair, or fur, or whatever tended to be dark shades of red, brown, and black, and their faces – while surprisingly human – were buried beneath that shaggy fur. Five of the six carried spears similar to mine, while the last held a long staff with an irregularly shaped clear crystal stuck on the top.

The staff wielder growled at me, the sound deep and guttural, and gestured toward the dying bear. I blinked in surprise as the bestial growls suddenly became intelligible speech.

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“...of this creature, Hunter?” the creature spoke in a tone that sounded impatient and demanding.

“I’m sorry, I missed that,” I replied, feeling the words come out as deep, guttural growls that emanated from low in my throat as Sara turned the words I meant to say into the local language. I tapped the side of my head, realizing that I had a normal shaped if somewhat large ear hiding behind the fur there. “My ears are still ringing.”

“I asked if you intend to claim the stornbyor’s spirit,” the creature that I guessed was the leader of the little group spoke in a deliberately loud tone. Its voice was deep like mine, but not as guttural, smoother and more practiced.

“Any idea what it’s talking about, Sara?” I asked silently.

“Sorry, John, I don’t. I haven’t had a chance to figure much out about this world, yet.”

“Uh, no,” I said after a second or so of thought. “I don’t.” I didn’t know what was happening, but this group looked like what I thought a primitive hunting party would. If they were, they might consider this bear – or whatever they called it – as their rightful prey. This place didn’t look terribly hospitable, and that meant that its inhabitants might get territorial about their food sources.

“A wise decision,” the creature nodded. “It’s been possessed by a spirit of rage, and unless you’re a letharvis, its power could corrupt you.” It hesitated. “Would you be offended if I claimed it? It would be a great crime to let its energy go to waste, and it could be a powerful protector for our valskab.”

“No, I don’t mind,” I shook my head. The creature gave me a strange look but stepped past me to the dying bear. The bear shifted, trying to bite and slash at the creature that I guessed was some sort of priest or shaman, but the shaman stopped just out of the bear’s reach, and the wounded beast was too weak to go after them.

“Be at ease, elder brother,” the shaman said soothingly. “Soon, you will run free in the Vyelbyeg with your ancestors.”

The shaman stuck the butt of their staff in the snow and walked around the bear, leaving a line in the ice that quickly formed a circle as they made a complete circuit of the creature. They touched the crystal on their staff to the circle, and both the crystal and line glowed faintly blue for a moment. The shaman lifted their staff high and spread their arms, tilting their head back as they stood just outside the circle.

“I call you, fallen brother. By the ancient powers, I call your spirit to join with the valskab. Lend us your strength and protection, and we will grant you the peace this world denies us all.”

As the shaman spoke, the bear’s fur began to glow, a hazy, gray radiance that I could barely see against the snow. I focused on it, peering closely, and realized that the haze wasn’t completely gray. Dark red striations twisted through the glow, staining it faintly crimson. The shaman raised their staff, muttering under their breath too softly for me to hear, and the grayish glow began to seep upward, twining out from the red bands ensnaring it and flowing into the air in thin tendrils. The red streaks flared brightly, and I almost heard a snarl of anger rise up from them. In response, the shaman lifted their staff higher and waved it from side to side, the crystal atop it glowing brighter as they did. The gray mist swirled upward even faster, and while the red bands reached upward as if to snare that mist, they seemed unable to grab it. Soon, the gray mist hovered alone above the bear’s form, and when I glanced at it, I was surprised to see that it formed a vague, ephemeral mirror of the fallen bear below, almost like a vaporous projection of the creature. The red bands, on the other hand, twisted together into a convoluted knot that pulsed and throbbed angrily, hovering between the bear and its shadowy mirror image.

“Come, fallen brother,” the shaman spoke in a firm voice, reaching a hand out toward the misty gray mass. “Join with us, and leave the hurts of this world behind you.” They spoke in an authoritative, almost commanding tone, and while the grayish mist seemed to hesitate for a moment, it quickly flowed toward the shaman and vanished into their outstretched paw. The shaman lowered their arm and pointed their crystal-topped staff at the pulsing, red object.

“Begone, spirit of rage,” they commanded, their voice sharp. “Return to the fires of Enverthen, and trouble this world no longer.”

The red bands pulsed, and I swore that I felt them fighting against whatever the thing was doing, but the crystal atop the staff flared an icy blue. That light seemed to eat away at the crimson mass, devouring it like water sprayed on sand. After a few moments, the crimson light sputtered and faded. The crystal on the staff slowly faded back to clear translucence. At the same moment, the big bear let out a deep, shuddering breath and fell still at last.

“What the hell was that?” I thought silently.

“It looks like he captured the creature’s spirit, John,” Sara said thoughtfully. “And banished another spirit.”

“What does that mean, Sara?”

“I’m not sure yet. You’ll have to learn more before I can give you any clear answers, I’m afraid. You might want to try using See Magic next time he does something like that, though. That will certainly help.”

I felt a little embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of that, but before I could apologize, the shaman scuffed over a patch of the circle with their foot and turned to face me. They looked a little unsteady, wobbling slightly in the wind, and one of the other creatures walked over and took their arm to stabilize them.

“It is done,” the shaman said in a tired voice. They gently pulled their arm away from the creature holding them. “You hunt the high reaches alone, Freyd?”

“That’s a term of address, but I’m not sure what it means exactly, John,” Sara said in my head. “It seems to indicate something like, ‘friendly but unknown hunter’, but there are other shadings to it I don’t really get yet.”

“Yes, I’m alone,” I answered. I didn’t really need to know everything, and honestly, “Freyd” would serve as a name just fine.

“A difficult path to walk. The peaks are dangerous in the best of times, and this storm makes them more so.” They took a deep breath. “You have done a service for the valskab, Freyd. The stornbyor was driven by rage, and it had to be laid to rest. In return, I offer you shelter from the storm. Would you join us and take food and shelter?”

I considered refusing, but I quickly dismissed that thought. I was alone, in a world I didn’t know, apparently on a mountainside in a blizzard. None of those situations screamed, “Go it alone!”, at least not to me. I’d probably end up dead of frostbite or starvation in a week with my luck.

“I’d be happy to,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

The shaman gave me another strange look, but when they spoke, their voice was calm and unruffled. “Then come, Freyd, and partake of our hospitality. I am Aeld, and I bid you welcome.”

The creature placed a paw across their chest, and the hunters behind them did the same. I copied the gesture, and Aeld dropped their hand and turned away from me. I followed, and the others fell in behind us. As they did, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was a guest – or a prisoner.