Wind roared as it pushed against the branches of hundreds, thousands of pine trees carrying snowflakes that piled against both branches and the ground, the storm was at an all time high and it had just barely started, such was the strength of the weather in the north
Technically it was already day time, but the sun was nowhere to be found, covered by the dense storm clouds that shot snow towards the earth, bone shattering cold made it even more difficult to traverse the dense forest, still, a sledge slid over the snow, being pulled by a figure covered in leather and fur that walked not without difficulty among the trees, its breath visible before turning against its master due to the wind
Gerd was already an oldman, 56 years old he had faced worse, far worse, and a storm such as this was not going to get between him and the meat of the small game he had left traps for the previous day. Pulling his sledge that had met a particularly big stone on the ground he kept walking heavily, his shoulders tied to the front of the vehicle with strong cords.
He stopped for a second, catching his breath as he put his hand on a tree, Gerd examined the bark, marked with an X, he had made that mark during the summer time, in preparation for situations like this, he only had to follow the marked trees back to his cabin
After clearing his throat the old man started walking again, pulling his sledge behind him
He lost his track of time as he walked, arriving at one of his traps, the metal had indeed captured something, The man untied the rope that allowed him to pull the wooden apparatus and approached the trap, taking out a knife from his thick coat. He stabbed the red-furred creature with his knife and made sure it didn't move before kneeling down
With a few grunts the old man freed his prey from the spring trap and looked at it. It was a red ferret, its fur thick and comfortable, sadly, not much meat to take from an animal so small, he had hoped for a fox or even a deer. Gerd got up and put the ferret on the sledge, tying it up carefully, at least it's furr would sell well once the winter was over
The old man took the ropes once again and tied them on his chest before starting to pull the contraption again towards the next trap. This winter was being far harsher than usual, the snow storms were being far too frequent, previous winters he had preferred to wait for them to stop before going to check on the traps, but with the weather as it was he feared more starvation than freezing to death, witch did not mean he like any of the two
As he moved forward he heard something over the storm. A crack. And it was not a lightning strike, he had heard those and they didn't feel like that. Gerd took his hand to his waist and with a metallic rustle, he unsheathed the blade he had on his belt, a longsword that shone silver on the darkness created by the clouds. The old man sharpened his ears and eyes, looking around with the weapon on hand. Then he saw it. An anthropomorphic figure standing at most three metres away near a tree
It was slim and short, barely making it to the height of the old man, and he was not very tall. Only one thing met that description in a place like this: A goblin, and he was not taking chances during winter, if he was going to deal with beasts again he'd do it the proper way
Gerd squatted and slowly untied the ropes on his chest, that fell to the snow, examining the shadow near the tree. The old man stepped forward, sword ready to pierce through the chest of the beast that hadn't yet spotted him, he took in a breath of the cold air and prepared to strike
The creature fell to the ground
But Gerd had yet to attack it
The man walked up to the creature, his sword still ready to strike true… until his eyes met the figure and could make up what he was really looking at
Because it wasn't a goblin, not even close
Half-buried in the snow now lied a small creature, yeah, but it was missing the long angled extremities, the claws, the sharp edges and most importantly, the green skin. Before him was no goblin, but a human, a child no less, Gerd put his sword back on its sheath and examined the pale child
He was covered in a coat, far too wet to do something for the cold snow storm, a powerful blow of wind passed by, making the branches of the nearby trees creak under the weight of the snow and Gerd's brows furrowed as he examined the black haired child, his pale skin and blue lips, his breath, weak but there, he was still alive, but it didn't look like he would still be that way for long with a sigh the man carefully grabbed the unconscious child
He was cold, very cold and very young, if he had to bet he'd go for barely five winters old and he was sure he wouldn't have lost his money. The old man carried the child to the sledge and covered him with as much leather and covers he had on it. The ferret falling aside, and he didn't mind, food could wait but this? this child? couldn't
Gerd took the cords and started pulling again, this time he was not resting with each step, this time he had something to do as fast as possible, with urgency the man started moving through the snow storm, the way there had taken him at least two hours
It took him less than one to arrive
There, on a clearing of the forest, a wood cabin awaited for the man and his precious cargo. It was not the biggest, but two different stone chimneys surged from the roof, growing bigger as the old man started running through the snow-covered path, sledge in tow and a very cold child covered in pelts over it. He was happy to have cleared the path that spring, now his sledge would not get stuck on stones or roots and he could go as fast as possible
He didn't even tie the sledge down once he got to the porch of the cabin as he used to, instead, he scooped up the child and the pelts that covered him and ran into the cabin, kicking the door open, Gerd left the child on the rug before the chimney of the main room and after grabbing a pile of firewood from the storage, he lit a fire and closed the door
That had to be his record for fastest fire pit lit, at least thats what he thought as he undressed the child, wet clothes were not going to help the boy warm up, he took the coat off the child along with his shirt, he stopped for a second as the sight of a black pendant grabbed his attention, but there were more pressing matters, he finished undressing the kid and covered him in the pelts, leaving him near the fire pit and looked over to the rest of the cabin
The room had only two doors and not a single window, windows let the cold in, the wooden floor had a variety of rugs made out of animal pelts, the fire pit was to the other side of the main door, at it's left, tha firewood storage and to it's right, several shelves with all kinds of metalware and jars
He looked at the boy, his little chest going up and down still breathing, still weak, he wasn't out of the woods yet, Gerd grabbed a pot from the shelves, small and filled half way with water, he put the pot over the fire and took a jar from the shelves, this one had some dry leaves inside
Opening the jar, he took a hand full of its contents and let them fall on the heating water, Gerd sighed and put his hand on the child's burning forehead
"C'mon boy" he whispered "You are not mine to bury"
Gerd glanced at the child, then turned to the damp clothes he'd stripped off him. With practiced hands, he hung each piece near the fire to dry. As he shook out the coat, something slipped from its folds and landed softly on the rug.
He bent down and picked it up — the pendant.
It was as black as coal, smooth to the touch, and hung on a braided leather cord of surprisingly good quality. Far too fine for the ragged clothes the boy had been wearing. A gift, perhaps? Or something stolen?
Gerd turned it over in his hand, squinting at the symbol etched into its surface. It was difficult to make out — the metal was dented and worn, obscuring the design. He couldn't tell what it was supposed to be, only that it had once meant something. Something important.
He stared a moment longer, then set it aside. Questions could wait. The boy still lay by the fire, fighting for warmth. And Gerd, for all his years and suspicions, knew this much: no pendant, no mystery, was more urgent than a life hanging by a thread.
The old man heard the pot bubbling and took it from the fire before taking a bowl from the shelves and dipping it on the still hot liquid, he kneeled down near the child, carefully the man raised the kid's head and after blowing it for a bit, slid the liquid on his mouth, the weakened body of the child drank the water and the herbs it had dissolved