Kindred Folk -- Into Sidhe

[FennWenn]

Fenn did little but hold his breath as the riders swooped towards them. Their steeds closed the distance in swift strides, a menagerie of odd creatures; deer, mountain goats, and elk, riding without complaint alongside wolves and bears. Silent as the creeping dusk, the party swirled around the two in swift circles. Foreign words slipped by on the icy wind that followed them.

Daugi lashed her tail and snapped her jaws at the intruders. Several animals snapped back wickedly.

Her boy, meanwhile, stared breathlessly.

The riders were as queer as their rides. They were done up in leather armor and fur, their faces hidden in masquerade. Most were humanoid in form, but they were not human. At the fore of the party was a man brawny and elk-masked, long vulpine ears displayed regally. Both his dark mane and tail were tossed by the wind. “Stad!” he commanded his riders, the word cutting through the cold winds brought with the riders. Their mounts snorted and reared as they came to a standstill.

Fenn tensed uncertainty. Frost built up on the tips of his fingers, cold, yet bright with his magic. If this was going to end in violence, he didn't feel like going down without a fight today.

The lead hunter slid off his own mount, a stately elk to match his mask, and approached the two with dignified strides. He possessed a spear, but did not draw it; the man was careful to maintain a distance from Daugi, and with good reason. Her growl grew into an outright murderous snarl as he drew closer. “Ce tusa?” the man inquired, looking to Fenn.

The boy stared blankly back. What?

“Ce tusa?” the man repeated, his voice booming.

Fenn shook his head uneasily.

Another moment of silence rang hollow in the air. The leader frowned, twitched his ears, and tried again. “Ahh. Do you speak the common trading tongue?”

Those words made sense. Fenn perked up and nodded, only for Daugi to push him flat-on-his-face back into the snow, uttering a commanding bark. The band laughed uproariously at that. A whispy groan escaped the boy. He lifted his hands into wolf’s view, exchanging few curt gestures she couldn’t ignore. Safe people? Free me. Reluctantly, Daugi stepped aside and allowed him to stand up, still fixing the strangers with a trustless glare. He dusted the snow off of his cloak and peered up at the unexpected visitors surrounding him.

When the rider’s fit of guffawing tapered off, their leader spoke again. “It seems we have made a mistake in approaching you, lonely traveler,” he declared. Fenn shrugged and clasped his hands together inquiringly, still not sure as to what was going on. “Know me as Sir Aengus of Oisin’s hunters. Your wolf, we took for a nightbeest we hunt. But when we saw you, we thought you belonged to the Regent Morrighna, who allowed us use of her lands, or perhaps to the Regent Taliesin. But I see now that you are neither of here, nor there, and we are curious. What brings you to the domain of the Winter Court?”

Court? Books on the southern fae spoke of Courts as gatherings of fae (he, having no Court, was apparently a “solitary”). But so far to the north… Fenn clapped his hands over his mouth, feeling as if he had been bowled over by the rider’s steeds. Frost Fae?

“You need not ask the boy-creature anything, Aengus. I know this one,” someone shrilled suddenly from atop a sturdy goat. “I’ve seen it before.”

Fenn whipped his gaze towards the new speaker. The voice came from a rotund being covered in a white fuzz that stuck out like icicles, snuffling through a flattened hoggish nose. Unlike the others, he had no mask. Thorny teeth poked out of thin lips. Beady coal eyes bore down on the night-black direwolf and her rider eagerly. If Fenn didn’t know better, he would call the being a squat, swinish snowman brought to life. He shuddered and sneered right back at it in confusion; how did it know him? If he met such an odd creature before, he was pretty certain he would have remembered it.

The creature and Aengus exchanged a curt few words in their foreign tongue before turning back to Fenn. “Knarl, the servant of our host, declares you our guest. Do you mind if our mounts rested here?” Oisin’s hunter asked. “They are weary.”

Would he! Fenn gleefully patted the ground next to him. For all he knew, this was going to be his first and only chance to meet his own kind. Rest away!

With another sharp command by Aengus, the warriors dismounted and stretched their stiff muscles. Their steeds caught their breath and settled comfortably into the snow. The winds whipped over the cliff, scattering loose snow and running its chill hands through hair and fur alike. Most of Aengus’ men chatted away in their own tongue, seeming pleased for the moment of respite, yet eager to get back on their feet again.

Fenn himself just felt stunned. His mind reeled from the realization that he had just stumbled into other Frost Fae when a few years of looking had turned up nothing at all.

Maybe the lady of fate didn't hate his guts after all.