The frost giant was coming for him, but this was all part of the plan. Fenris had laid several lengths of rope around the snowfield, tying them to anything he could find. He hoped that they would hold fast when the beast came walking. He knew well enough that frost giants were better than humans at navigating the low vision of blizzards, but he hoped the snowfall would be heavy enough for it not to notice the traps. As he heard its thunderous footsteps for the second time of his life, this time he was not stunned. This time he jumped into action. Fenris opened up his pack and retrieved the forbidden item he’d brought with him.
Three lengths of rope, three traps set for the giant. It would only need to come crashing into one for his plan to work. In his hands Fenris held what was considered an abomination in the Northern Haunts, but a ‘spark pistol’ in all other parts of the world. This small weapon had a curved wooden handle, a long metal nozzle, and a mechanism at the top that he could use to prepare a shot.
It was already loaded, he’d made sure to follow each step the merchant at the docks had shown to him. Merchants were allowed them whilst they visited, but if you were caught with one in the town then you’d be in deep trouble. It had cost Fenris every penny he’d owned, but now that the giant was walking towards him it felt worth even more than that.
One trip was all he needed, one trip and one well placed shot. Spark pistols were nasty weapons, they had caused no end of grief in the world outside the Haunts. Fenris laid on his belly in the snow, holding the pistol out with both hands, pointing it in the direction of where the footsteps were coming from. Each footstep was more thunderous than the one that came before it.
He’d watched the giant for a few hours before setting the trap. He’d had to wait until the second snowstorm had blown in, but as soon as it came he’d been quick to work. It would have been easier had he not been etched, for even in the snowstorm he was too easy to spot. But Fenris had covered his body best he could, then went to work setting the lengths of rope and waiting for the giant to move.
The other plan—the one that he still wondered about—would have been to wait for the giant to sleep. But the small cave where it made its lair could well have been dotted with traps and the last thing Fenris wanted to do was to be stuck in a confined space with a thing so large and dangerous.
So he’d gone with the open field plan. The closer the giant got the more he started to doubt himself. He’d only observed it from a distance and that far away it hadn’t seemed like such a terrible thing. It had two arms and legs like any man, as well as a long orange beard that joined at the bottom of its chin to create two distinct braids. Its clothing was in tatters, its face wrinkled and lined with scars, and it had two curled horns on the top of its head that reminded Fenris of a mountain goat. But it wasn’t so different to any man he’d seen before—aside from its great height and imposing ripples of muscle.
Strangest of all was how docile it seemed. The giant had hardly moved from his fire since Fenris started observing it. In many ways it was much easier to track than any other beast he’d hunted before. Most prey was cautious, prone to startle at the smallest of noises. More than once he’d considered simply firing at it with his pistol from afar, but the merchant he’d bought the pistol from had told him that it was most effective at close range. Fenris didn’t know exactly how close that would be, but he supposed the traps he’d set would be close enough.
Each step sounded like a bell tolling, or a drum beating; like the ones that would play to send warriors from his town off to battle.
Doom—they seemed to say. Doom! Doom! Doom!
Fenris took a deep breath in as the lumbering figure started to materialize through the layers of snowfall. He tried to stay very calm. This was no different to any other hunt. It was just like when his mother had taken him hunting for the first time, when she’d made him take a long pause before loosing an arrow.
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Take a deep breath. He heard her words clear in his mind then. Take a deep breath and focus.
Doom! Doom! Doom! Details of the frost giant became clear through the falling snow. It was following the glow of his etchings, just as he’d planned.
In this moment, Fenris, it is only you and your prey; nothing else matters.
He knew that the first shot would have to count. He would have to hit this monster square between the eyes. If it failed to kill it, he supposed he would have enough time to get close and hit the giant with his hatchet. Perhaps he could deliver a blow before it found its footing.
Doom! Doom! Doom!
There is no animal here before you now. No Caribou. There is only prey.
The giant reached the first rope trap and Fenris grimaced as it took a wide step over it. His fingers trembled against the trigger of the spark pistol, hoping that he wouldn’t miss the exact moment to fire.
The frost giant moved towards the area of the second rope trap, and now he could see every inch of it: the beard dotted with snow, its mouth open wide and furious, the immense size of its body. Fenris gasped as the giant stepped over his second trap.
There are many moments you can take, but only a few of them will be the right ones to take.
Doom! Doom! Doom!
The ground shook as it got closer, leaving terrifying footprints in the snow. It had its eyes on him now, and for the briefest of moments Fenris was sure he saw a human expression in its eye. It could have been fear, awe, or some strange combination of the two emotions.
But sooner or later, you have to take the shot. For better or for worse.
These final words echoed in his mind as the giant approached the third rope trap. It stopped, it looked down at its feet. Then, after a moment that felt like an eternity, the giant lifted its leg high to step over it.
Fenris scrambled to his knees, planting on deep in the snow and rising to his feet on the other. Then he raised the spark pistol high and aimed. He narrowed his vision, he braced his hands even as they shook, then let loose on the trigger.
A deafening crack sounded and Fenris found himself blown back from his kneeling position. A puff of smoke plumed up from the novel of his pistol and he watched as the giant tumbled back. Then Fenris sat for a moment in the snow, as he had done all those years ago when he’d first encountered the giant, and watched as the monster before him grasped its right shoulder.
Ice through his heart, the sudden fear of death pumping rising in his chest. For a moment Fenris was too stunned to move. The shot had missed. The giant looked to its palm that was now covered in thick blood. Then it looked back to him, roared, and charged forward.
One sight of its sudden momentum was all Fenris needed to set off, one rumble of the snow around him and he found himself running. He left his pack and the spark pistol on the ground next to it. He even forgot to take his hatchet. For some strange reason his mind fixated on that. It had been his mother’s hatchet when she was a girl.
He could feel the giant getting closer behind him, he could feel its anger as the dooms got louder and closer. He would not allow himself to look back, he would not do anything but run as fast as he could-
But then Fenris found himself tumbling over. One sweep from the giant’s arm was all that it took to send him toppling. It wasn’t until he landed and tried to scramble away that he realised he'd been caught the leg. Soon he found himself hoisted up into the air.
Then he was face to face with the frost giant, as it held him up above his head so that their eyes met. The reek of body odour and foul breath, the fear of being inches away from its mouth was all Fenris needed to recall a hundred stories about what giants do to humans they manage to catch: boiling them alive, grinding their bones to sprinkle over their food; or even worse, tearing them apart in a sudden rage and eating each piece of them raw.
But as he stared into the giant’s face he saw only confusion in its eyes. It let out three gusts of breath, the two of them trapped in stasis for a time. Fenris reached for the dagger fastened to his belt but before he could he felt a dull impact, his head reel, and a sudden darkness fall across his vision.