The Ancestral Home

[Bloodrose]

Solo

How long? The sled bounced over a snow drift, rocking the wood and wicker frame on its runners before the vehicle evened itself out and continued steadily on its way. Twenty years? Twenty one? Teric was bundled heavily against the harsh Salvic wind, his entire body swathed in shields against the cold. He had on his usual coat, but he had added a knit cap and mittens to the ensemble, as well as a heavy black cloak and a pair of alchemist's goggles to protect his eyes. The goggles limited his vision, and the mercenary was finding that he had to repeatedly wipe snow kicked up by the sled dogs off the lenses. It was annoying, but it was better than trying to peer through an arctic wind that could freeze a man's tears to his cheek.

Twenty one years since I've gone... home...

That word, home, sent more of a chill down Teric's spine than the winter cold around him could ever hope to. For a man who had spent almost his entire adult life travelling the world, home seemed almost like a foreign concept. He'd stay in inns, sleep in tents, board in a ship's quarters, but none of those places were lasting or important. The next morning brought no commitments, no responsibilities, and it was off to the next anonymous place where the veteran could lay his head. Home was where everyone knew your name, and you couldn't just slink off in the shadows without notice.

After that long, I wonder if anyone is still alive who will remember me? Teric tugged sharply on the leads to slow the dogs before they ran headlong over another nasty looking drift. Milo, the big Drave/Coyote mix at the lead of the six dog team, turned and raised his head questioningly as he ran, and Teric could empathetically decipher a 'What?' from the animal. Three days they'd been running from sunrise to sunset, piling up the wilderness miles of the Salvic States behind them, and Milo's only complaint was that they were slowing down.

Farrowmoor had been the last settlement at the outer edges of the neighboring fiefdom, and from there the landmarks Teric recalled from his youth had started passing more frequently as the terrain became more familiar. Gregor's Rock, Witch Pine Grove, the old copper mine, the old watchtower; all disguised in snow, but that was how Teric remembered them. And there's Caddy's Bridge. Teric thought as the sled flew right by the stone construction and across the frozen stream it spanned. Which means I should be able to see Lothiaan from the hilltop after next.

The sled dipped as the dogs accelerated downhill, heading into the shallow valley between the past hilltop and the next. A cloud of white powder shot up from under the sled as the weight of the vehicle fell to meet the angle of the terrain, and Teric reached up to wipe flakes of snow from his goggles. As he cleared his vision, he saw the hindquarters of the dogs rise as they instinctively leapt over something buried under the snow.

"Milo!" Teric's panicked shout was drowned out by the yelping of a half dozen dogs as the runners slammed into the buried obstacle, snapping sled and animals alike to a sudden and violent halt. Wooden joints bound with leather exploded as the sled tore itself apart under the strain of its own momentum, and Teric was sent flying forwards over the front of the vehicle. He landed in the snow with a muffled "Oomph!", cold snow cramming itself into the neck of his coat, around his eyes, and in his mouth even as it cushioned his fall. Everything under the snow cover was dark and suffocating, like a wall of sand pushing in around him...

"Fucking dogs." The mercenary was grumbling to himself as he pulled his body from the cold snow and pushed himself up onto his knees. He'd been tossed a good dozen feet or so by the impact, and Teric could see the long impression of disturbed snow where he'd landed and slid further down the moderate incline. From this side of things he could also make out the obstacle which had been buried from above: a fallen birch tree.

Picking himself up, Teric climbed back up the hill to where the sled and the dogs were stuck. The animals seemed fine, sitting and panting with their tongues out like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and like this was just any other rest break. Five pairs of dumb, happy eyes followed the old fighter as he slogged through the knee deep snow to the vehicle. Milo's brighter, more intelligent eyes were busy scanning the valley. The Drave-mix's ears were flattened aggressively, like a guard dog who knows something is up.

"Great..." It didn't take much to see that the sled was a lost cause. The runners were jammed up under the tree trunk, which had been sheared of its branches sometime earlier. Probably a tree felled in late autumn for timber, but not chopped and hauled before the first snow. The basket part of the sled, which had Teric's supplies tied to the frame, was broken in half and crumpled. It looked for all the world like a wicker basket after someone has stepped on it, crushing it underfoot.

"Just my luck." The veteran muttered darkly, sitting down heavily on the fallen birch. "Now I have to walk the rest of the way to Lothiaan."