Legend of the North

Chapter 2: Cold End

Fenrir didn’t hesitate and bolted, taking large strides across the white expanse. Snow flew into the air with every stop it took. Each movement aggravated Cristian’s injuries, but he gritted his teeth and held his tongue. The wolf bounded into the forest and past the dead trees as white breath left its maw. Cristian glanced back occasionally for any signs of pursuit and saw nothing.

However, he refused to let his guard down. After being caught off guard and losing his legs, he refused to also lose his life.

Soon they burst through the other side of the forest. Suddenly, something erupted from the ground, and Fenrir barely avoided the creature bursting forth from the snow. Cristian’s eyes widened in horror at the frost worm staring down at them, or rather, its mouth was pointed towards them, as it had no eyes to see.

What was it doing there? He had never seen one in the area before. If he had known, he would have made sure to avoid it completely. The only thing worse than a frost worm was an ice worm, which was far more terrifying.

“Fenrir,” he barked.

His companion seemed to understand his unspoken command and darted around the frost worm. The creature screeched, giving chase. Its giant maw shot towards them but barely missed. The ground rumbled and broke apart as the creature broke the surface and dug back into the ground. Fenrir ran nonstop as the frost worm was in hot pursuit. It would rise out of the ground, sending large chunks of earth and snow in all directions before diving again. With Fenrir’s speed, they avoided being struck by the debris, but the worm was persistent.

Cristian couldn’t believe their horrid luck. First, a giant. Now a frost worm. If they didn’t lose it, it would end up following them back to their camp.

He wracked his mind for a solution when he heard a large cry, piercing through the cold wind. His head shot up, and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the sight of an ice dragon flying overhead. With each flap of its wings, a large burst of wind bombards them. The frost worm quickly realized the danger, giving up on them and running back into the earth to escape the dangerous monster above. Unfortunately, it was too late for that as the ice dragon spun around and headed straight in their direction.

“Fenrir!” Cristian screamed, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he gripped the wolf’s mane.

The wolf didn’t need to be told twice as it charged headfirst over the nearby cliff. Rather than risk facing the ice dragon, Cristian would take his chances with surviving the fall, and he watched the ice dragon slam into the ground near where they had been. Snow shot towards them as the ice dragon tore into the ground until it ripped the frost worm out from its hiding place. He turned away, listening to the frost worms’ death cries as the ice dragon sunk its teeth into his neck. Then the duo landed hard into the snow below.

In a daze, Cristian wondered if he had finally met his end before snapping out of it. No, they were still alive. They had somehow survived the fall mostly unscathed.

Fenrir pulled them out of the hole they made and limped across the snow, dragging its legs. Seeing his companion’s condition, Cristian felt guilt gnaw at his heart and ran his hands through the wolf’s fur to comfort it.

“I’m sorry, Fenrir. It was my mistake today. I shouldn’t have let my guard down,” he said, his eyes softening.

Suddenly, he spat out a mouthful of blood. Staring down at the red staining Fenrir’s fur, Cristian finally noticed that a piece of rock had pierced his side. His hands shakily hovered over the rock as he wondered when it had happened. Then he fell off Fenrir’s back, landing on the snow with a soft thump, the snow acting as a cushion for his fall. Already, he could feel his body growing weak and clawed helplessly at the snow. Fenrir whined and pressed its nose against his side.

Cristian gave a shaky smile as he said, “Sorry, Fenrir. I really messed up today.”

He coughed up more blood, fighting to stay awake even though it was pointless. His companion stared at him with those knowing eyes as Cristian reached out with a bloody hand to comfort him.

“I have failed you as a summoner. I’m sorry. If you had a better summoner, maybe you wouldn’t have to suffer like this with me,” he said.

A competent summoner would have been able to raise their summon with great care, but he had been unable to give Fenrir anything except hardship. Once he was dead, perhaps the wolf would be able to find someone better, or maybe it would return to whatever it came from.

Chuckling self-mockingly, he wondered how everyone would think of him now if they were even still alive. His arm fell back to the snow as his breathing slowed.

As he waited for death to come from him, Fenrir suddenly spoke, “Are you really going to accept death?”

What? Was he hearing things? He could have sworn that the wolf had spoken, but that was impossible. Fenrir was an ordinary wolf. It couldn’t take. Even if it could, why would it choose now of all times to speak?

“Answer me, summoner. Are you really going to accept your death like this?” Fenrir asked again.

Maybe it was a hallucination caused by his slow death, but he answered in a weak voice, “No, of course not. No one wants to die.”

The wolf hummed. “You have been a good summoner to me. Despite summoning me against my will, you have never harmed me. Out of all the humans I’ve met, you are probably the most deserving to survive this apocalypse. That is why I will bestow you a second chance at life.”