Alph woke to the soft, rhythmic sound of Iska's breathing. The snow wolf was curled up near the hearth, her fur a stark contrast against the warm, orange glow of the embers. Alph rubbed his eyes and sat up, taking a moment to let the events of the previous night sink in. The village was in danger, and it was up to them to face it together.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded softly across the room, careful not to wake Elara. She was sprawled out on her bed, her face buried in her pillow, her breathing deep and even. The night patrols had clearly taken a toll on her, and she looked exhausted. Alph felt a pang of guilt for not being able to help more, but he knew that his Awakening was just around the corner, and he needed to be in peak condition for it.
He made his way to the pantry and rummaged through the shelves, pulling out a loaf of dense, dark bread and a jug of chilled milk. He poured himself a glass and took a long, satisfying drink, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. He tore off a chunk of bread and munched on it absently, his mind already racing with thoughts of the upcoming ceremony and the unsettling presence of the armed men.
After finishing his simple breakfast, Alph decided to go outside for some exercise, a new urgency thrumming beneath his skin. He pulled on his worn boots and thick woolen coat, quietly opened the door, careful not to let the old hinges creak. The cold air hit him like a physical slap, sharp and invigorating, and he shivered involuntarily before taking a deep breath, savoring the crisp, clean scent of pine and freshly fallen snow.
He trudged through the deep snow, his boots crunching with each deliberate step, the sound muffled by the thick white blanket. He made his way to the edge of the village, where the trees grew thick and dense, their branches heavy with their snowy burden. He could hear the distant, almost hesitant chirp of a winter bird, and the faint rustle of small animals scurrying through the underbrush, their movements nearly silent in the snow. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus, to feel something beyond the biting cold, perhaps the profound stillness and hidden life of the forest that Elara seemed so attuned to.
He opened his eyes and began to run, his legs pumping as he weaved through the trees, dodging low-hanging branches and leaping over fallen logs concealed by snowdrifts. The initial shock of the cold air gave way to a burning in his lungs, and his face stung with the icy wind. He felt alive, invigorated by the raw chill and the rush of adrenaline. He pushed himself harder, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps, the rhythmic thud of his boots the only sound in the dense woods. He could feel a strange, unfamiliar energy coursing through him, a warmth spreading from his core despite the frigid air, and a fierce hope took root – a hope that he might actually be, or become, ready for whatever the Awakening had in store for him.
As he ran, his mind replayed Elara's words from the previous night. She had promised to protect him, and he knew, with a certainty that she would do everything in her power to keep him safe. A surge of gratitude, profound and a little overwhelming, washed over him – gratitude towards her, and towards the entire village. They had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go, when he was a disoriented soul in a borrowed body, and they had, without question, become his family. He vowed then, with each pounding step, to do everything in his power to protect them, just as they had, in their own ways, protected him.
He finally slowed to a stop, his chest heaving, leaning against the rough bark of an ancient pine as he tried to catch his breath. Steam rose from him in the cold air. He looked around, taking in the stark, silent beauty of the snow-laden forest, the way the weak morning light filtered through the canopy, creating shifting patterns on the white ground. For a fleeting moment, a sense of profound peace washed over him. He knew, with a clarity that surprised him, that he was exactly where he was meant to be. He took one last deep, lungful of the icy air, and then turned, making his way back towards the village, his resolve hardened like the frozen earth beneath his feet.
***
As Alph made his way back towards the village, the earlier exertion leaving a pleasant warmth under his cloak, he noticed Borin near the southern edge, crouched low to the ground. The Ranger was meticulously arranging twigs and small, almost invisible tripwires made of sinew, partially concealed beneath the fresh layer of snow. Curious, Alph approached, careful not to disturb the man's focused work.
"Uncle Borin, what are you working on?" Alph asked, his voice quiet.
Borin looked up, a brief, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips before his expression settled back into grim focus. "Setting up a few alerting snares, lad. Simple things, but they'll make a racket if anyone unwelcome tries to sneak past. With those mercenaries lurking, we can't afford to be careless."
A flicker of something – excitement, a desire to be useful – sparked within Alph. This was a tangible way to contribute, to help protect Oakhaven. "Can I assist you with anything?"
Borin seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Aye, you can. Gather some small, dry stones and pebbles for me, the kind that will clatter loudly. We'll place them in these little pouches," he indicated a few small leather bags tied to the snares, "to make sure we hear if anything triggers them."
Alph nodded eagerly and set off to gather the requested stones, his earlier fatigue forgotten. As he worked alongside the Ranger, carefully selecting pebbles that would make the most noise, he couldn't help but voice a thought that had been taking root. "Uncle Borin," he began, trying to sound casual, "do you think someone like me… could be suited to become a hunter? Like you and Finn?"
Borin paused in his work, his gaze thoughtful as he studied Alph. "Well, Alph," he said slowly, "I've not seen you handle a bow or track game, so I can't speak to that directly. But I do know you have a keen eye for detail and a quick mind. You notice things others miss. Those are valuable traits for any path, hunter included."
A small swell of pride warmed Alph at Borin's words. It was one thing to believe in his own observational skills, honed by years as a lawyer, but to have it recognized by someone like Borin felt significant. He decided to test the waters, to see how the Ranger might react to a carefully phrased hint of his broader knowledge. "I've… I've read a fair bit about tracking and understanding animal behavior, you know," Alph said, still aiming for a casual tone. "From some of the old scrolls."
Borin raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine interest in his eyes. "Is that so? Book learning is one thing, the forest is another. But a good head on your shoulders is always a start." He grunted, returning to his snare. "My father took me out hunting when I was barely old enough to hold a spear. It's how these things are passed down. You know, Alph, being a hunter isn't just about the kill, or even the tracking. It's about understanding the rhythm of the land, the ways of the creatures that live on it. It's about respect, and taking only what's needed, ensuring the forest continues to provide."
Alph listened intently, absorbing the Ranger's wisdom. It was a far cry from the abstract theories in his books, a grounded, practical philosophy born from a life lived in harmony and conflict with the wild.
Borin let out a slow breath, the sigh carrying more weariness than usual as he gestured vaguely at the forest around them. "Finn, now, he has the heart for the hunt. Takes to it like a fish to water, and for that, I'm grateful. This life, it chooses some and passes over others." He shook his head, his gaze distant for a moment before continuing, "It's a hard thing to see a good family craft fade, or a youngster struggle to find their place if the old ways don't call to them. Everyone has to walk their own trail, I know that." His eyes then seemed to focus on some inner thought. "Young Kael, now... he's got a fire in him. I just hope he finds a strong anchor here, on the mountain. Wouldn't want to see all our spirited lads thinking the only way forward is to follow Leif's path down to the trading posts, chasing coin."
Alph pondered Borin's words as they finished setting the last of the pebble-filled pouches. The Ranger's quiet lament about traditions and paths resonated with his own recent discoveries in the scrolls. It seemed this world, for all its harshness, placed a deep value on lineage, on skills passed down, on finding one's 'place' within the community's needs and the land's rhythms. His own path, the one he was now desperately trying to understand and prepare for, felt like an anomaly, an unknown quantity in a village that thrived on knowns. The desire to not just find his own strength, but to find a way for that strength to belong, to contribute meaningfully to this small, vulnerable community that had become his, grew even more potent.
With the last snare set, Borin clapped Alph on the shoulder. "Good work, lad. Every little bit helps." He straightened up, his gaze sweeping the treeline. "I'll make a wider circuit, check the perimeter again before dusk settles. You head on home. Elara will be wanting to know you're safe and sound." Alph nodded, a sense of quiet accomplishment mixed with the ever-present undercurrent of anticipation. He watched Borin melt back into the shadows of the forest, a true guardian of their mountain home, then turned and began the walk back towards his own cottage, the afternoon sun, now past its zenith, casting stark shadows from the snowy peaks.