MIKO
Silent snow descends,
Embracing all in its chill.
Life finds peace in white.
– A poem from the New Royal Collection (unknown author)
When the first howl echoed through the trees, Miko wondered whether it was wolves calling in the distance or her lord father. She was not sure which outcome frightened her more.
The wind was swirling again and with it came snow, wet and heavy. Miko’s thick hair was a tangle of hoarfrost as she carried herself dutifully through drifts of snow that cracked beneath her feet.
She sported an unruly cascade of red hair (a lucky sign, if one believed such things) and freckles scattered across her cheeks like tiny constellations (lucky again!).
The living ball of fur she held tight against her heart squirmed but did not whimper.
“We’re almost there,” Miko whispered, not sure whether she was talking to her companion or herself.
Either way, that was a lie. She was in the middle of nowhere, further from the village than she’s ever been, with nowhere to go and nothing to guide her.
If only I could see the stars. She might have been able to find the directions.
But the only direction she cared about right now was away. As far as possible from the village.
She was in Narwa, the northernmost province, so the only logical thing was to go south.
Am I? I cannot tell.
When Miko first began her trek, the ground had been littered with dead brown leaves. But here, deep in the Laughing Forest, everything was still clad in white, and even the tallest trees bowed under their armor of snow.
The sun was casting its last rays, and the shadows from the trees behind her crept like long fingers against the white, out to get her.
Something dark croaked above her. She only caught a glimpse of black wings and heard the faint rustling of a disturbed branch.
Otherwise, the only sound she’d heard was the crust of last night’s snow breaking under her weight—and now, the howls.
A few more steps. Maybe he won’t take my scent, she half-thought, half-prayed. There was a small chance of that since she had been walking upwind this entire time.
She could have made it further if not for the heavy bag she was carrying. Resolved to leave her home—for good this time—she packed enough food for a couple of days, an inkstone, a few brushes, and all the scrolls from her father’s study that she had dared to take.
With every step, the weight of the bag slammed hard against her leg:
thun thun thun thun
Miko couldn’t help but notice that the farther she went, the longer the pauses grew between those heavy thuds. The brisk pace slowed to a walk, then to a crawl, each new step more laborious than the last.
The only thing forcing her forward was the image of her father’s rage if he were to catch up with her.
Not IF, Miko thought with a sad smile. It’s WHEN. She was losing hope almost as quickly as she was losing her strength.
In the corner of her eye, she saw a thin silver shadow move and disappear.
“Fool.”
It wasn’t a word, not truly. It was a whisper of a whisper, faint and dull, like a painting left out in the sun for too long.
I’m starting to hear things. The wind must have been playing tricks on her.
Another gust pierced through her layers of cloth and sent her shivering. The snow was stuck to her feet like heavy boots.
If I fall, I’m done. I need to move.
But as she was about to make another step, the ground under her feet moved.
For a split second, she couldn’t tell up from down, as the world spun around her. Miraculously, she found her footing at the last moment and managed not to face-plant into the ground.
She gasped for air, only now realizing how close she was to falling to her knees from exhaustion.
Then, something moved beside her, and she looked up.
An ice hound.
She’s only ever seen one in pictures, but you couldn’t mistake it for anything else. Its eyes glowed an eerie blue, its breath visible in the cold air. The blue-white fur was hard to see against the snow, even at this distance.
“An ice hound never walks alone”, the old proverb said.
To Miko’s dismay, this proverb proved not just another empty saying as half a dozen dark shapes emerged from the snow around her.
An entire pack of rabid beasts.
What am I doing here? Miko thought to herself. Suddenly, her escape plan seemed so stupid. Why couldn’t I just stay at home?
Back home, at this hour, she would probably be reading another of her father’s scrolls in secrecy. She had read close to everything she could get her hands on, nearly a dozen times over, and committed every line to memory.
And now, unbidden, with a certain death staring at her face, the things she’d read started flooding her mind.
ICE HOUND
Threat level: ★★ (two stars)
Affinity: ice
A robust, thick-furred canine species, typically weighing around eight stones with a height of up to five elbows at the shoulder. Its coat is a blend of icy blue and white, with sharp, protruding icicles that emerge along the back and flanks.
Average lifespan is 8-10 years, although most die younger due to their perilous habitat and predatory lifestyle.
Ice hounds thrive in extreme cold and are seldom seen to the south of the Larpa province. They are territorial and will protect their hunting grounds if encroached upon.
They form small packs of 3-6, led by a dominant alpha, and spend their lives following the migratory patterns of larger herbivores. Active in the early dawn and dusk hours.
The text floated in her mind for all of a fraction of a moment before the first ice hound leaped at her.
Miko took a sharp step back with her hand outstretched, as if to say No, please, that wasn’t me. The other hounds haven’t worked up enough courage to attack yet, but they were circling closer.
There must have been something useful in that bestiary. Backing away, Miko tried to think about what else it said about the hounds.
Scavengers, stalkers and hunters. Diet consists of small to medium prey.
And stupid little girls.
Her heart beat once and seemed to stop.
On his own, even a master like her father could not withstand the beasts like these.
But he had soulbonded with a beast, which had greatly enhanced his skills and magic, and all Miko had was a tiny clump of whimpering fur, even less powerful than she was.
It wasn’t a matter of discipline or wit or talent. Without soulbonding, it was a gap she had no hope of crossing.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
If only she could…
Miko gathered her wits and tried to attune to the hounds’ senses. She knew how to do this much.
She hoped to feel at least a little bit of fear in them, at least a sign of weakness, but there was only rage, hunger, and hate.
The only fear she felt was her own—and that of the pup beside her chest.
What was I thinking?
Another passage from the bestiary came to her:
Primary defense mechanism: icy hide. These icicles can detach and serve as projectiles when the hound feels threatened.
Oh, great.
As if by command, an ice hound a dozen steps away shook its body like a dog coming out of a river. With a flick, the icy spikes protruding from its hide propelled themselves towards Miko.
She dove to the side, nearly losing her balance. The icicles embedded themselves in the show where she had just stood.
Bad, bad, bad, was all Miko could repeat. She couldn’t even think in full sentences.
Another hound charged, launching more icicles. Miko rolled and came up on one knee. One of the icicles grazed her cheek, leaving a stinging line of cold pain.
They’re going to kill me, she realized suddenly. What disturbed her most was the strange calmness that accompanied this thought.
There was no other way. Miko would have to rely on her blood magic now, as weak as it was.
She drew a sharp breath and dragged her palm across the jagged edge of her belt buckle until the skin broke. Blood welled up, warm and thick, pooling into her trembling hand.
She focused, willing the crimson stream to harden, to take shape.
For a moment, the blood shimmered and began to coil into something resembling a blade, but the edges wavered, trembling as though mocking her effort.
Concentrate. Concentrate.
Then, with a sickening lurch, it all collapsed back into liquid, slipping through her fingers and staining the snow at her feet.
Not enough… it’s not enough! Miko’s heart pounded. Her arm throbbed, and a sharp, searing pain shot through her shoulder.
The wound wouldn’t close by itself, she knew. A bleeder’s disease, they called it. A tiny graze could be a death sentence if you weren’t careful.
An incredibly rare disorder (lucky again!).
It took precious extra energy, energy she barely had, to force the wound closed. But it was either that or bleeding to death.
Or…
A sudden thought occurred to her and in one swift move, she turned her bag over. A myriad of different items dropped into the snow.
Was I really carrying all of that? No wonder I’m tired.
A well-worn inkstone, a brush wrapped in cloth, a small pouch of salted plums, some herbal salves, a faded good luck charm.
And then, there it was. An oil lamp.
Before she could even formulate her plan, the lamp was already in her hand. It was a small, compact thing and, thankfully, pre-filled with oil. She threw it hard against the larger hound, hoping against hope that it would break on its hide.
It did.
The hound did not like it.
It let out a low, rumbling growl and lunged at Miko. Miko’s breath was coming in short bursts and her heart didn’t seem to beat at all.
All of the world around her narrowed to one sensation—blood trickling down her hand.
The hound’s lunge was a bit too predictable. It’s like I’m seeing everything in slow motion, it occurred to her suddenly. She recalled the stories of soldiers who, moments before supposedly sure death, experienced the same feeling.
They lived to tell the tale, and so will I.
As soon as she jumped out of the hound’s way, Miko snapped with her blood-coated fingers. Immediately, she felt warmth in her fingertips.
Transmuting blood into fire was a child’s play. Even Miko, who was banned from training by her father, knew how to do that.
A tiny flame erupted, barely more than a spark, but a spark was more than enough.
In a flash, the oil on the ice hound's fur blazed to life. Flames roared up its back, sending waves of orange and yellow across the clearing.
The hound howled, thrashing as it tried to shake off the fire, but the oil clung to its fur like a blanket.
The other hounds could do nothing but watch the burning beast thrash in the snow, snarling and rolling.
It was in a colossal amount of pain… but it was still alive.
For just a few precious moments, Miko felt uncertainty in them. Was this prey worth the effort?
Then, they circled around the burning beast, slowly, their eyes now fixed on Miko.
Miko backed away, her breath now a chain of ragged gasps. Her vision blurred, and for a moment she was afraid she was losing consciousness.
But it was only tears.
What can I do? What can I do?
She took a quick step back, and another scroll slipped from her robe, tumbling into the snow, unrolling. Instinctively, stupidly, she bent down to catch it.
The largest hound leaped, its maw wide, teeth bared. Time seemed to freeze, and Miko couldn’t feel her heartbeat for what felt like an eternity.
Then, fire.
A wall of fire, as high as her, erupted in front of her.
It lit up the night and melted the snow all around her, the way her weak flame never could. The hounds yelped and jumped back as a massive shadow descended from the sky.
Father.
A large banewolf—Lord Takami’s banewolf—moved with lethal grace.
The ice hounds, now faced with a far superior foe, snarled and snapped but they must have felt that they were outmatched.
Still, the lead hound, larger and more vicious than the rest, lunged at the banewolf.
With a swift, powerful strike, the banewolf slashed through the air, sending a cascade of ice shards at the hound, piercing its fur and sending it howling into the night.
Another hound tried to flank the banewolf, but it was met with a blast of icy wind that froze it mid-leap, turning it into a lifeless statue that shattered when it hit the ground.
The remaining hounds hesitated. The price of attacking was too high even for them.
Then, the banewolf made a blood-curdling roar. That was enough to make the ice hounds break away and scatter.
For half a heartbeat, Miko wanted to run away with them.
The banewolf turned to look at her.
Uh-oh.
It stood like a statue chiseled out of marble, as white as the surroundings, almost as if someone fashioned it out of snow. The fur on its back was alive, like fire. The only bright spot was its impossibly red tongue.
And eyes.
The cold yellow eyes glared at her, but it was her father's eyes—Lord Takami’s eyes—she saw behind them.
“Father,” Miko said, her voice muffled by the makeshift scarf across her nose and mouth. The ball of fur under her robe stirred, as she hugged it tighter.
“I never intended to shame you,” Miko said meekly. “I only wanted to...” The words got caught in her throat. What could she say that would satisfy him? “...wanted to...”
“I am not a child anymore,” she protested.
The last part wasn’t a request. Her father never made requests.
“Yes,” Miko agreed. What little strength she still had, the cold sapped out of her.
“Yes, Takami-o-toki,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation. Even after all these years, she hated having to address her father like that. None of her half-brothers did.
They turned back, both of them.
No, there’s three of us, Miko reminded herself, feeling the tiny heartbeat next to hers quicken. She half-expected to see that silver shadow again on their way back home, but father’s banewolf must have scared it off.
The wind that blew in her face all the way from the village was now mercifully pushing her in the back, filling the sleeves of her robe like a sail. Even so, she struggled to keep pace with the banewolf.
The beast was limping on the hind leg, just like its owner, but otherwise, it was quick and agile and knew the forest well enough.
A couple of times, she once again imagined she saw a silver shadow but surely her father’s banewolf would have smelled an intruder.
“Fool.” Miko kept replaying this word in her mind.
She knew someone said it. If not father, then who?
The wounds on her fingers finally closed, which didn’t stop them from throbbing with a dull pain. A pleasant reminder for a pleasant trip.
Before long, they were back at the village. It was the hour of the Rat, so thankfully not many gawkers would be there to witness her disgrace.
Miko only prayed that Genki would not be among the few who were. She would hear no end to his mockery.
Her father stood in the distance, alone as always. His back was turned, but Miko could just about picture him crossing his thin, sinewy arms against his chest in anger.
His robe looked almost black against the moonlight, as black as his sash, and on his back he bore the proud family crest of Takami—a black triangle facing upwards, with four dots above, two on each side.
A wolf’s paw.
Lord Takami family crest [https://i.imgur.com/wyjSz8X.png]
It was her father’s crest, and her half-brothers’. But not hers.
Only when the banewolf approached her lord father, did he turn. Lord Takami patted the beast and limped closer.
“A runaway,” he spat, wrinkling his nose. He stood as a man before her now, not a beast, yet his expression seemed just as wild. At least his voice no longer reached deep inside her mind. A small mercy, that.
“Your good daughter got lost in the forest. It was gracious of Takami-o-toki to have searched for me,” Miko bowed as low as her tired back allowed. She braced herself for an outburst, but Lord Takami simply snorted in derision.
“You tried to rob your brothers of their heritage. The pup is not intended for you.”
“They’re not my brothers,” Miko protested. It came off more bitter than she intended. She didn’t hate her half-brothers. How could she?
Lord Takami ignored the outburst. “You will return the pup at once. Same for the scrolls. Do not argue.”
Miko didn’t plan to.
She unwrapped her robe and let the pup poke out its nose. It was a tiny creature, more fur than muscle, yet one day it would grow up four times as heavy as Miko.
Father’s banewolf took the pup from her trembling hands.
“We will deliberate on how best to punish you later,” her father continued. “No doubt you will find a better excuse in the morning.” Lord Takami turned sharply and left, the banewolf padding silently at his side.
Alone at last, Miko took a deep breath, letting the frigid air sting her lungs. The wind shifted, carrying with it faint murmurs of late activity from the village square—a world she felt increasingly unfamiliar with.
Far in the distance, a wolf howled again.
She knew how he felt.