FWFW 3 - 54

Wow! Is it September already? Thank you, Patrons, for staying with me :)

I should have another Victor chapter for you also in a couple of hours.

-Plum

Bronwyn looked down the hill at Whitestar’s camp and breathed out a soft, “Holy shit.” The Urghat had built a log palisade around their camp, and there had to be nearly fifty tents and a dozen wooden structures within. “It’s more like a town or village than a camp,” she said more loudly.

“Aye, Underclaw. Whitestar’s attracted a decent-sized force, and she knows what she’s doing,” Shadoweye said.

Bronwyn took in the wider vista of the vale, the twisted forest crawling up the hills and the rocky ground covered with scraggly brush at the center. Far off, beyond the encampment, she could see the ground slope further down toward a deeper canyon between two hillocks, and she knew that in those shadows were the cave mouths that led into the Hollows—a deep, partially natural cave system that used to serve as the home for thousands of Urghat.

“Well,” she glanced over her shoulder at Cal and Ironhide, “we ready to head down?”

“Yeah, I’m hungry,” Ironhide said, sniffing the woodsmoke in the air.

“Of course!” Cal replied, starting to walk past Bronwyn. Shadoweye gave Bronwyn a pained look and hurried to walk in front of the lanky, travel-stained man. Bronwyn chuckled and followed him, happy to let him have this moment. The journey hadn’t been particularly hard, but Cal had put up with quite a lot and ventured into the unknown to find his friend—why not let him lead the party into the camp?

They received a lot of hostile glares from the Urghat outside the walls. Some dug trenches, and others cleared brush away; further out, Bronwyn could see crews chopping trees and cutting logs. When they came to the palisade gate, which was open, five burly Urghat wearing heavy armor and wielding thick, brutal weapons like hammers and axes stood around the opening. The biggest one stepped forward with a growl and held his cleaver-like axe in their path.

“What’s the meaning of this, scout?” he growled at Shadoweye.

“Important people to see the Underclaw.” She stepped back and pointed at the band on Bronwyn’s arm. “Best move out of the way and let them through.”

“Huh,” the big, grizzled Urghat said, stepping closer. He was large but nothing like Spineripper or his Underclaws. And Bronwyn had gained a lot of power since she’d last faced an Urghat in battle. She stood up straight and summoned her hatchets, pouring some solar Energy into them with her Solar Arms spell.

“Back away,” she snarled, staring into his bloodshot, rust-colored irises between the gray plates of the Urghat’s helmet.

“I feel your mark, Underclaw,” he growled, backing off the path. “If you challenge Whitestar, don’t expect us to swear to you.” He spat into the dirt, and all the Urghat around the gate followed his lead, spitting wads of phlegm and saliva into the path in front of Bronwyn.

“Relax,” she said. “I’m not here to challenge anyone. I want to help her.”

“You know where she is, hunter,” the big Urghat said to Shadoweye, then stepped out of their way.

As they passed under the gate and moved a dozen steps beyond the guards, Cal turned to Bronwyn and said, “They don’t seem to like you much.”

“Urghat usually aren’t happy when an outsider takes one of their Underclaw titles. Ironhide and Shadoweye didn’t like me at first, either. Still, they respect me, at least enough not to challenge me. By the way, I doubt they like you much, either, Cal.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t getting any warm and fuzzy vibes from that crew,” Cal chuckled.

Bronwyn snorted in reply, striding alongside Cal as Shadoweye led them toward the center of the encampment. She kept her hatchets in her hands, but she’d let the solar Energy fall out of them. Still, they were impressive weapons, and, with her silvery chainmail, and her advanced race, she knew only an Urghat like Spineripper would dare to challenge her for her Underclaw title. She also knew an Urghat like him only came around once every few generations.

She was impressed by the layout of Whitestar’s camp and by the industrious nature of the Urghat who followed her. She didn’t see any of them lazing about drinking near their tents as she’d so often encountered when she’d visited the encampments on the plains. Every single Urghat seemed either alert, acting as a guard, or busy, improving the fortifications or managing the day-to-day upkeep. Shadoweye led them down a hard-packed dirt road to a wooden structure that reminded Bronwyn more of a Viking longhouse than anything else.

They approached the wooden doors of the building up a short flight of wooden steps and the two armored Urghat standing guard spoke to Shadoweye for a moment, giving Bronwyn, Cal, and even Ironhide dirty looks, but one of them went inside, indicating that they had to wait. A few moments later, though, the door was swung wide from the other side, and a different Urghat stood there. She was unlike any other that Bronwyn had seen, from her narrow, expressive face to her strange, for an Urghat, attire.

She had dark fur, but the white patch over her eye gave away the origin of her name. Whitestar was the first Urghat that Bronwyn had ever seen wearing robes. She was tall and lean, and Bronwyn knew the Urghat Underclaw had improved her race a time or two. The Underclaw reminded her a little of Bloodfang, though she wasn’t quite as large as the Urghat Blood Caster that had first challenged Bronwyn. Still, it was clear that Whitestar had managed to gain a much higher affinity to Energy than most of her race, her aura pushing out of her as she smiled wolfishly at Cal.

“Human! So the Ghelli didn’t eat you?” She laughed roughly and grabbed Cal in a bear hug, lifting the much smaller man into the air and clapping him roughly on the back. When she set the wheezing man down, she laughed again and said, “Did you come to sing me some pretty songs, Human? Don’t worry. We won’t eat you. Maybe I’ll eat this pretty Underclaw, though.”

She pushed Cal aside with one long, furry arm and stepped close to Bronwyn, putting her snout with too many long teeth sticking out right in front of Bronwyn’s mouth. She stared into Bronwyn’s eyes, and Bronwyn couldn’t help noticing how pretty the Urghat’s honey-colored irises were and took a deep, exaggerated sniff. “Bronwyn,” she growled. “I’ve heard your tale from Shadoweye and the twins. I suppose I can let you visit if you aren’t here to challenge me.”

“I’m not, Whitestar. I’m here as a traveling companion to Cal and to see if there’s any way I can help you with the trolls in the Hollow.”

“You are this softling’s mate?” Whitestar asked, resting a long, furry, clawed hand on Cal’s shoulder.

“No, Whitestar!” Cal said, faster than Bronwyn could. She chuckled at his words, a deep, throaty sound, and jostled him with the hand she’d wrapped around his shoulder.

“Still can’t find love, Human?”

“Whitestar! You left me with the Ghelli, and I married one of them. I have you to thank for a lot, but that’s the most important,” Cal reached out, putting a hand on Whitestar’s outstretched forearm, and the tall, wiry Urghat grunted, her wolfish smile twisting awkwardly as she pulled her hand back.

“Good!” she growled. “Come inside then,” she said to the group. “We’ll have some food and talk about how I can get this strange Underclaw to leave.” She gestured at Bronwyn, then turned and walked back into her longhouse.

“Now, Whitestar, that’s no way to talk about someone who’s come a long way to help you out,” Cal said, following the Underclaw through the doorway. Shadoweye turned to shrug at Bronwyn and Ironhide, and the three of them stepped through. The guard who’d gone to fetch Whitestar was standing within, and he glared as they walked by but stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him.

The longhouse was much like Bronwyn had imagined: high wooden beams held up the peaked roof, and a fire pit in the center of the structure provided dim, orange-tinted light to the space. Smoke drifted in the air, though most of it drafted toward the square opening at the center of the roof. Bronwyn squinted, her eyes stinging, and looked around at the crude benches and tables, noting that they were all empty. Apparently, the Underclaw didn’t allow her followers to loaf about inside her longhouse during the day.

Whitestar walked to a table that sat along the far wall and sat down in a heavy wooden chair at its head, gesturing to the benches along the sides of the table for the rest of them to sit. Bronwyn followed Cal to the table's far side, sitting on the bench near Whitestar. She didn’t mind the rude behavior of the Urghat thus far—she knew what they were like and that they viewed her as a threat to their traditions. She’s had plenty of fighting over the weeks she’d spent in the dungeon with Morgan and Olivia, and, as far as she was concerned, she’d eat plenty of crow to avoid hurting or killing one of them.

As she sat down, though, and images of her battles in the dungeon flashed through her mind, she thought about Olivia, and a little dip of vertigo or dizziness flashed through her. She couldn’t really explain the sensation, but one thing was sure—she’d hardly thought about Olivia since she’d left First Landing. That wasn’t normal, was it? Weren’t they in love? Hadn’t they been passionately kissing when the Summer Queen had sent her the message to help Cal? Had her feelings faded so quickly? “I’ve just been busy and distracted,” she muttered, her voice covered by the loud conversation taking place between Cal and Whitestar.

“... made you want to seek me out?” Whitestar was asking Cal.

“Well, I’d finally managed to move my family to First Landing, you know, the human settlement. I’d always told my wife and my adopted kiddos that I woulda died out there in those plains if you hadn’t decided to help me get free, and I felt like I owed it to you to follow up. You know, see how you’re doing, and let you know that I made it. I’m still alive!”

“You have a strange memory, Cal. Wasn’t it I that took you from the Humans? You’d never have needed saving if not for me.” Whitestar chuckled, scratching at the table with one of her long claws.

“That’s true, Whitestar, but I’d never have met my wife, then, nor would I have ever been able to join her family and earn the love of those wonderful kids. I owe you pretty much everything I’m happy about. I think fate has thrown us together, in a way. When I decided to come find you, Bronwyn here showed up to join me. Now, we’ve learned that you might need some help with yonder trolls,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the Hollows, “and, I don’t know if you know this, but Bronwyn is a pretty tough cookie. She’ll help you!”

“It does feel like that’s what I’m meant to do out here, Underclaw,” Bronwyn said, using the title in a show of respect.

“You assume I need help?” Whitestar asked, arching one of her heavy brows. The expression made Bronwyn imagine a wolf or bear sitting there talking to her, using facial expressions, making her pause for a moment. The Urghat she’d spent the most time talking to was Ironhide, and she couldn’t remember him ever making an expression like that, despite his colorful personality.

“Not necessarily ‘need,’ but maybe you wouldn’t mind it? I mean, I always enjoy an extra pair of hands on a task,” Bronwyn said with a shrug.

“Well, you’d have been correct if you thought I needed it. I do. The trolls are more brutal, resilient, and evil than I had expected. If we don’t take back the Well of Ancestors in the next few days, Soft-fur will die.”

“Shadoweye told us something similar, but she said she didn’t know anything about it. Some kind of curse?” Bronwyn said, leaning forward, hating the idea of the sweet, strange Urghat child dying.

“She is cursed with a certain type of Energy. None in her clan understood it, unsurprisingly. I had to read about it in an ancient text I stole from Spineripper’s lair after his army moved out to attack your people. She was born with a role to fill—as she gained level ten, she became a Clan Heart. Something quite rare, Underclaw,” Whitestar said, returning Bronwyn’s show of respect.

“What’s that got to do with her Energy? With her being near death?”

“She must release her Energy periodically into the Well. It maintains our link to our ancestors and makes it possible for our traditions to continue.” She tapped the ring on her arm, one that matched Bronwyn’s. “If she doesn’t enter the Well, her Energy will destroy her.”

“There’s no other way? A spell she could cast or something? You know, to release some of the Energy?”

“No, Bronwyn,” Whitestar chuckled. “I have tried everything.” The big Urghat paused for a moment, eyeing Bronwyn, then said, “Come. While these others wait for our meal, let me take you to Soft-fur. She’s spoken much about you, and I think it would do her good to see you again. You can tell her you’ve come to help.”

Bronwyn shoved her bench back, dragging Cal’s feet over the floor, and stood, “Yes! Please, Whitestar. I’d like to see her very much.”