Kindred Folk -- Into Sidhe

[FennWenn]

Althyday Solo!
...I don't think the forum likes "Ã*"s? Someone, please fix.

Fenn had been here before.

All alone under the greying sky, the boy and his sleepy direwolf huddled on the lower half of the two-peaked mountain. He saw open tundra and silver seas to the north. To the south glittered the icy lakes of Hansley. Further south rose range on range of the Skavian mountains as they embraced wispy mists like a silken cloak. And still beyond, he had a glimpse of the rest of Salvar, small lights that shone out feebly against the blue-purple sunrise, towns and cities standing against the snow and the forest.

It was a lovely landscape, if a bit lonely.

With such a view, Fenn’s minimal cliffside “campsite” felt like a speck on the surface on the world. It was more or less a little hole he had dug in the endless snow for sleeping, the spot he had set his bag, and the place his dark direwolf companion, Daugi, had plunked down. His buddy rested over her most recent kill, a half-eaten snowshoe rabbit. It mystified him how such a creature survived all the way up here. Why Daugi still tried to convince him to eat it raw with her was also a mystery. Fenn made a face, recalling the icky itchy blood-taste, and sighed out over the open cliff.

The last and only other time the boy had bothered traipsing up these mountains, his nose had been firmly stuck in a map, and in his greed he hadn't made the time to enjoy the view. This time though, the boy had a better map in his head already, and a strong memory of the frozen landscape. Along with it were his memories of the dragon.

Fenn shivered and rested his chin in the wind-tossed mane of his worn buddy, biting his lip. Yeah, those weren't good memories.

It was impossible to forget Nippariess. So vast that her lair took up the inside of a mountain’s cap, silver as her gleaming hoard, and bitter cruel as the summit winds, she struck an imposing figure even in hindsight. Assuming that she was, in fact, not dead, Fenn hoped to drop in for another chat. First, he had come for shiny material riches, but now he sought a very different kind of wealth -- information. He ground his teeth together, trying to recall her voice. The sultry old snake had dropped a couple of hints that she knew something about his people… something about a nearby “winter court”...

And of course, past-Fenn had been more concerned about thumbing his nose at her grabbing a few shinies on the way out. Typical him.

Fenn sighed and leaned over to scratch Daugi on the chin, wondering if returning was at all in any way a good idea. There was a good enough chance that Nip might maybe forgive the whole rebelling-and-trying-to-kill-her thing if she was lonely and bored enough to tolerate his presence. Or, so he was banking on. After all, it was she who had accidentally sparked his interest in the other Frost Fae with her loose lips. If anyone could tell him where to find them, it would be her.

If, of course, she wasn't planning to murder him the moment he stepped foot in her caverns. He had hit enough dead ends by this point that it seemed a near-reasonable risk.

Fenn had wandered into abandoned mansions, dilapidated bookstores, and ancient libraries trying to find something about his people. His curiosity had been mild at first. All he wanted to do was learn a little about his roots, to understand what his kin might have been like. But each empty shelf and incomplete, crumbling piece of text tightened the noose around his neck a little more. There were a few very certain ways to make Fenn irrationally angry; withholding something from him did the trick.

Fuck you, Fate! Fenn stuck out his tongue to the falling sun. He’d find the other Fae, one way or another! And if that meant braving a dragon -- again -- so be it.

That left his other concern. Fenn’s ears drooped as he glanced over Daugi. Even while taking a break, she radiated a mounting wariness. He knew the look. Her ears pressed back and she snuffled at the snow, as if she was catching a whiff of a scent both familiar and suspect. Bright red eyes rolled back to consider her tiny boy-pup quizzically, to which he gave her an innocent shrug in reply. They were only halfway up the mountain and she was already suspicious.

Eventually, the wolf was going to catch on to the dragonsmell and drag his ass all the way back down the mountainside, away from the folly that his plans brought. Fenn stuck his tongue out again at the thought.

Maybe he'd just wing it and elude his canine companion when they got close enough to the top. Or, maybe, he'd consider letting her have her way with this. Grudgingly, Fenn admitted to himself that there were a couple of situations which might have gone much better had he let Daugi protect him from his own stupidity. That was, his stupidity among other things...

The direwolf pricked up suddenly. She rose into a defensive position, abandoning her meal to stand shieldlike over her small friend. A warning growl began in her throat.

Speak of the devil. Fenn rubbed his eyes and shook out of his meandering thoughts. He poked his head out from under Daugi only for her to shove him insistently back into the snowdrift. Rolling his eyes, he peered above the deep snow petulantly. She had started getting meaner towards strangers and potential dangers since Amar… since… nevermind. Fenn squinted uneasily into the distance, at the source of Daugi’s aggression.

A band of shadowy riders glided towards them, seemingly out of nowhere.