Calamity Awakens

The staging room dissolved like mist in sunlight, and the cold bit into them the next instant. They returned exactly where they'd left, hidden in the shadow of jagged stone.

The packs hit the ground with dull thuds. The chest groaned beneath its own weight.

Kelan let out a breath and stretched his arms. "That was... a lot of loot."

"Too much to carry on foot," Harold agreed, already scanning the treeline for fallen branches. "We need a sled."

Kelan nodded. "I'll cut what we need. Hal, keep watch."

The frost wolf gave a low whuff and trotted up the ridge, tail alert.

Harold moved methodically, pulling free rope, canvas, and metal spikes from the gear pile. "We'll lash crossbeams with rope, use the tent frame as rails, then tarp the bottom for slide. Doesn't need to be pretty—just fast."

Kelan returned minutes later dragging two sturdy branches, still frozen solid. They made quick work of the frame. Harold threaded rope through drilled holes in the chest, anchoring it to the sled with tension pulls. A layer of folded canvas beneath it all served to protect the base and let it glide easier over the snow.

Hal barked from his perch.

"Something out there?" Harold asked, tension creeping into his tone.

The wolf stared for a beat, then gave a short chuff and turned back toward them—clear for now.

"Good," Harold said, patting the sled. "Let's move."

The sled groaned under the weight but slid surprisingly well on the frozen snow. Kelan and Harold pulled from the front while Hal took point. They followed the ridgeline until they saw the slope spiraling down toward the valley's ruins.

They paused just before cresting the final hill.

From this distance, the shattered remains of stone walls and broken towers poked through the snow like old bones. Faded banners clung to ruined posts. A watchtower had collapsed, leaning into the mountain like it was bowing to time itself.

"This was at one point an impressive fortification, I'll need your help to revive it, Kelan." Harold said from the hill top.

Kelan grunted in quiet approval, eyes already scanning the terrain

Suddenly Hal went still.

No growl. No whine. Just frozen—ears perked, hackles raised, eyes locked downhill toward the treeline beyond the valley floor.

Harold didn't speak. He didn't need to.

He followed Hal's gaze, muscles tensing as he spotted motion between the trees. At first, it looked like the wind—then the snow scattered in too deliberate a rhythm.

Shadows moved through the white.

One. Then three.

Then more.

The pack emerged—lithe shapes with lean muscle and glinting eyes. Frost wolves, these were wild. Hungry. Their fur was mottled grey and white with streaks of black, blending perfectly into the terrain. And there were too many.

"Eight… nine…" Harold counted under his breath. "No, eleven. They're 2k out."

Kelan stepped forward, stone already beginning to crawl across his forearms. "They're flanking."

"I see it. They're pushing us away from the ruins."

Hal snarled low in his throat, stepping protectively in front of the sled.

"They're herding us," Harold said sharply. "Toward the ravine."

Kelan glanced sideways. "We'll be trapped there"

Harold's lips pressed into a grim line. "Our only choice is to fight them in a choke point or maybe..the only thing out here that a pack wouldn't fight is the Frost Bear.."

A high-pitched yip echoed across the snow. The lead wolf's lips curled back.

"Time to move," Harold said. "Fast."

Kelan grabbed the rear sled rope, Harold took the front, and Hal surged ahead as their guide.

The wolves gave chase instantly.

They bounded over snowdrifts like shadows with teeth, moving in coordinated bursts—one flanking from the left, another darting up the ridge, testing the group's movement. But Hal kept pace, weaving through broken terrain, leading them toward the one thing even predators feared.

"We have almost two kilometers to go before we get to the bear's cave!" Harold shouted over the crunch of snow and the rising howls behind them.

"Two kilometers too far," Kelan growled, glancing back. "We're not outpacing them."

The wolves didn't slow. They chased in staggered bursts, always at the edge of range—just far enough to stay out of striking distance, just close enough to keep the pressure on. A hunting pattern, not a sprint.

Harold's breath came in tight gasps, each exhale misting out into the frozen air. His legs burned. The sled groaned with every bounce, threatening to tip with their salvaged loot.

"They're trying to herd us!" he called. "Watch their spacing—they're leaving gaps and then collapsing them!"

Hal darted sideways, intercepting one that tried to climb the slope and flank them. He snarled, jaws flashing with frost as he drove it back with a headbutt and a slash of claws. The wolf retreated, bleeding, but not broken.

Kelan cursed and tossed a chunk of stone from his pack behind them. It shattered against a tree, sending snow cascading—but no howl followed. The wolves weren't dumb enough to fall for that.

"They're testing us," Kelan muttered. "Watching how we respond."

Harold swore. "They're hunting us."

"Hal, if you're ever gonna use that Pack Instinct skill you got now is the time. We need the speed. They should have already ended us, that Alpha looked like it could rival the Bear……he's training his pack members against us!

The terrain didn't help. The old road they followed had long since vanished beneath the snow. Jagged outcroppings and uneven ground made every step a risk. The sled lurched, one runner catching a buried root. Harold staggered but kept them upright.

Then came the next move.

A single howl from the rear of the pack—low and deliberate. Three wolves peeled off, vanished into the trees.

Harold's stomach sank. "They're circling ahead."

"We cut right," Kelan said without hesitation, steering them away from a narrowing ridge. "We make for the gorge. It's longer, but we'll be harder to surround."

Harold nodded and followed, every sense screaming. He could feel the pressure mounting. This wasn't a chase. It was a slow collapse.

Hal ranged wide again, ears pinned back, his breath coming in icy bursts. He was the only reason they hadn't already been torn apart—his presence alone seemed to give the wolves pause.

As they reached the edge of a frozen stream, the snow ahead exploded.

A wolf erupted from beneath the powder, jaws snapping for the sled.

Kelan pivoted and slammed his arm down like a hammer. Stone met skull with a sickening crack, sending the beast tumbling. Blood stained the snow.

"Trap," Kelan growled. "They're digging in ahead of us now."

"They're trying to bleed us," Harold muttered. "Make us waste energy. Delay us just enough."

"We're still over a kilometer out."

"Then we better change the game."

Harold skidded to a halt beside a massive boulder and yanked the sled behind it. "We take five seconds. No more. Hal, guard perimeter."

The frost wolf darted ahead, fangs bared.

Kelan knelt beside Harold, breath ragged. "This isn't just about survival anymore. They're setting up an ambush."

"I know," Harold said. His eyes burned with resolve. "So we stop running scared. We run smart."

He pointed toward the ridgeline on the far side of the stream. "That outcrop up there—if we make it, we'll have a height advantage. We can draw them into a bottleneck."

"And if that doesn't work?"

Harold cracked a grin. "Then we keep running—and pray that bear's still home when we arrive."

Kelan grunted. "Pray to who?"

Harold's grin faded. "Doesn't matter. Just run."

They burst from cover, snow spraying in their wake as they charged toward the ridgeline. Hal took point, a blur of motion that weaved between rocks and brush. Behind them, the howls sharpened—closer now, more urgent.

The wolves had decided it was time to end the game.

They hit the slope hard, boots slipping on ice-hidden rock, the sled threatening to slide sideways. Kelan kept it steady with brute strength while Harold scanned the treeline. Shapes moved between the branches—three, maybe four. Fast.

"They're not falling for it," Harold hissed. "We need to make them commit."

Hal reached the top first and turned, snarling. Frost laced his fur. The Pack Instinct skill flared between them—Harold could feel it. A sudden synchronicity, like his heartbeat and Hal's had aligned. His muscles surged with borrowed coordination, his footing more sure despite the incline.

"Now!" Harold shouted. "We hold here!"

Kelan dropped the sled behind a line of jagged rocks and slammed both fists to the ground. A ripple of stone spread outward—spikes erupted from the frozen earth, forming a partial barricade across the ridge's narrow approach.

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Then the wolves came.

The first wave—five of them—charged up the slope as one. They didn't hesitate, didn't howl. Just ran.

Hal met them head-on, leaping into the middle of the pack like a falling star of teeth and frost. His jaws closed on a throat and he twisted mid-air, sending the body tumbling down the slope in a red blur.

Kelan smashed the second with a stone-covered elbow, sending it reeling into the barricade with a crunch.

The third leapt for Harold. He sidestepped, fast, faster than he should have been—and brought his pickaxe down like a guillotine. It didnt do any damage but the wolf was thrown back with the momentum and strength Harold had.

"We need to break the momentum!" Kelan shouted, slamming a fist into the ground again. This time, a line of jagged stone jutted up—cutting the ridge in half. A wall.

The remaining wolves hesitated—then backed off.

"They're regrouping," Harold said, panting.

"Only a dozen seconds bought," Kelan growled.

Hal stood between them, body tense, growling low. His breath misted like fog, ears twitching at every sound. Then—

A new howl.

Low, deep and commanding. Hal whimpered from where he was next to Harold.

The Alpha.

Through the trees on the far slope, the pack leader stepped into view. Massive. Mottled gray and silver, with one eye white from a scar that carved from brow to jaw. His breath steamed like a forge, and even from here Harold could feel it— the pressure.

"He's not like the others," Harold whispered.

"Nope," Kelan grunted.

The Alpha didn't run. He walked, deliberate, down the far slope. And the pack moved with him, shadowing him like extensions of his will. They weren't chasing now. They were coming to finish it.

Harold backed up toward the sled. "We're not winning this fight."

"Then we don't fight," Kelan said. "We run."

"Down the gorge?"

"No," Kelan said grimly. "Through the gorge. We lose the sled."

Harold's jaw clenched. "There's gear in there we need."

"Won't matter if we're dead."

Hal growled once—short and sharp. Agreement.

The Alpha crested the opposite ridge.

Harold didn't hesitate. "Alright. Cut loose the sled. Take what we can carry. We head for the bear."

The Alpha crested the opposite ridge and stopped.

Not to sniff the air. Not to assess.

To stare.

His one good eye locked onto Harold, then shifted to Kelan… and finally settled on Hal. The low growl that rolled from his throat sounded less like an animal and more like a warning bell—low and resonant.

Hal didn't flinch, but his ears flattened. Muscles coiled beneath his fur.

The rest of the pack fanned out behind the Alpha, their formation loose but deliberate. They weren't hunting anymore. They were enforcing order.

Harold swallowed. "That's not just a wolf."

The Alpha threw back its head and let out a howl—not a hunting cry, but a command.

The pack surged forward.

"Go!" Kelan bellowed, already pivoting. "NOW!"

Harold didn't argue.

They bolted down the slope, snow kicking up in clouds around them. Hal took point again, leading the descent with supernatural grace, threading between trees and jutting stone as if he'd run this path before.

Behind them, the wolves poured over the ridge.

The sled was lost, abandoned with all but the most critical supplies stuffed hastily into packs. They ran light, but not unburdened. And the wolves were faster.

Branches snapped. Ice cracked. Breath came in searing gulps.

Harold's legs burned. His lungs screamed. Still he ran.

"We're not going to make it!" Kelan shouted. "They're gaining!"

"Trust Hal!" Harold rasped. "He knows the way!"

The terrain narrowed—walls of jagged stone rising around them, snow thinning beneath their boots. The world funneled into a ravine, steep and sharp. There was only one direction now: forward.

A roar shattered the air.

Not a howl. Not a scream.

The bear.

The air vibrated with the power the bear exhibited. Harold's heart leapt. Relief and dread warred in equal measure.

A great shape lumbered into view, fur the color of storm clouds, matted with old blood and bits of bark. The bear's eyes glowed faintly gold in the dimming light. Its breath curled in hot clouds, and its claws scraped lines through frozen stone as it turned its head toward the new arrivals.

The wolves slowed.

Even the Alpha hesitated, his formation faltering for the first time.

Kelan skidded to a halt, panting. "This was your plan?"

"I didn't say it was safe," Harold snapped, backing up slowly. "Just that it was our only shot."

The bear let out another roar—louder now, deafening in the tight canyon.

The wolves wavered… then the Alpha stepped forward and howled back.

Challenge issued. The bigger wolves charged.

The bear's bulk shifted, then moved.

"MOVE!" Harold screamed.

They dove aside as the two forces collided—bear and Alpha meeting in a blur of claws, teeth, and frost. The rest of the pack swarmed in an instant, a chaotic snarl of motion. Wolves leapt, the bear swatted, blood flew.

The younger wolves noticed the group escaping and gave chase.

Harold didn't look back.

He and Kelan sprinted, Hal bringing up the rear, glancing back once before bolting forward again. The walls opened and they were out of the gorge, the sounds of battle echoing like thunder behind them.

Then—mist.

They skidded to a stop at the edge of a rushing river.

A waterfall thundered beside them, the water cascading down into a narrow pool. It was ice-fed, brutal, and loud enough to drown out the sounds behind.

"There's no bridge," Kelan shouted.

"No time to go around!" Harold called back.

He scanned the mist looking for any options. A howl sounded out behind them.

Kelan didn't hesitate. He grabbed Harold's arm, and together they leapt into the river.

The cold hit like a hammer, stealing breath and numbing limbs. They fought the current, boots scraping rock beneath as Hal followed in with a splash and a snarl. The cold wasn't just freezing, it stung as it touched their skin and they immediately went numb.

They broke the surface just under the waterfall, the wolves behind them running up and down the water looking for a way to get them.

"Get onto the wall! We need to get out of the water before we cant move!"

Harold's fingers found purchase on slick stone just beneath the waterfall's edge. Water pounded down beside him like a living wall, deafening and relentless. He reached out blindly, hand scraping along the moss-slick surface until—

"There!" he shouted, catching a ridge.

He hauled himself up onto a narrow ledge barely wide enough for his boots. The cold had already set in deep—his legs trembled from shock, not effort.

"Hal, up!" he called.

The wolf paddled beneath the spray, then lunged upward, claws digging into the ice-slick rock as Harold caught his scruff and helped haul him up. Hal shook violently, spraying freezing mist.

Kelan surfaced beneath them, spitting river water and curses.

"Grab the ledge!" Harold called down. "It holds!"

Kelan didn't answer, just surged forward and punched his hand into a crack in the rock face. His other arm followed, and with a grunt, he heaved himself out of the churning water, soaking wet and furious.

They clung there for a moment—soaked, shivering, breath steaming in the cold.

Then Harold spotted it.

A faint indentation in the rock, half-concealed by the waterfall's constant spray. A shadow where the ledge curved inward.

Harold reached toward it, fingers trailing along the edge. The sound shifted slightly with hollow resonance.

"There's an opening," he breathed. "Behind the fall."

"You sure?" Kelan asked.

"No, you're the one that can check." Harold laughed. "But it's better than staying out here waiting to freeze. We need to build a fire and get dry."

With Hal braced behind him and Kelan steadying the ledge, Harold pressed into the cascade. Water hammered his head and shoulders—but beyond it, the pressure lessened.

A gap. Not wide. But real.

He squeezed through—and stumbled forward into darkness.

Cold stone gave way to damp air, and the roar of the waterfall dimmed behind him. A natural tunnel sloped upward at a shallow incline, just wide enough to walk two abreast.

"I found it!" he called. "It's real. It's a cave!"

Kelan shoved through a second later, followed by Hal, who gave a full-body shake once inside and growled softly at the unfamiliar dark.

They stood there dripping, breathing hard, water pooling at their feet.

But they were inside.

Harold slumped against the cave wall, gasping, fingers shaking. The cold was still in him—deep, like it had soaked into the bones. His muscles ached, his teeth chattered.

"We need light," Kelan said.

"Working on it," Harold muttered.

He shrugged his pack off with effort, the straps clinging like frozen vines. It hit the cave floor with a wet slap. His fingers, half-numb, fumbled with the buckles until he finally tore one open and dug inside.

"C'mon, c'mon…"

His hand closed around the tinderbox. He pulled it free along with a small bundle of battlefield-looted torches, still wrapped in oil-soaked cloth. It was the kind of thing he'd nearly left behind. Glad I didn't.

He struck the steel against the flint once. Nothing.

Again. A spark—then nothing.

Hal gave a quiet whine from beside him. Even the frost wolf was soaked, tail low, ears flicking.

"Little help?" Harold muttered toward the universe as he struck again.

On the fourth try, the tinder caught.

He shoved the end of a torch into it, shielding the flickering flame with his hands until the oil hissed and bloomed into fire.

Warmth hit his face like a blessing.

He lit a second torch and handed it to Kelan, who accepted it wordlessly and moved to hold it aloft. The fire danced along the damp stone, shadows lurching across the uneven walls.

"We need to get dry before we continue." Harold panted.

The torchlight revealed more of the cave—slick with moisture, but stable. The floor sloped upward, winding deeper. Water dripped faintly from overhead, echoing into the silence beyond.

"Looks like it keeps going," Kelan said, peering forward.

"Alright ... .let's move, maybe it'll dry us out" Harold said. "The faster we're out of this icebox, the better."

He adjusted the torch in his grip, shoulders still trembling, but the warmth helped.

Behind them, the roar of the waterfall faded slowly.

The tunnel wound on, curving gently through the mountain's interior. Step by step, they climbed, boots squelching against damp stone, breath still fogging in the torchlight. Hal padded ahead with quiet confidence now, ears forward, nose twitching at every shift in the air.

Water dripped from the ceiling in sporadic rhythms, echoing faintly through the tunnel. As they moved farther in, the cave floor began to dry. The air warmed—just slightly—but enough to notice. The cold that clung to their skin began to loosen.

"Feels like we're coming out of something's lung," Kelan muttered. "Air's too fresh for this deep."

Harold nodded. He couldn't shake the strange sense of anticipation rising in his chest. Like the mountain wasn't just holding them—but guiding them.

They rounded another bend—and suddenly the tunnel opened.

Not gradually.

One moment, rock framed their view. The next, it dropped away entirely.

Harold halted mid-step. "Whoa…"

Torchlight met sunlight, silver and blue washing over the ledge they stood on. The mouth of the tunnel opened onto a wide stone shelf, just a few paces long, jutting out above a hidden valley shrouded in forest and mist.

And it was beautiful.

They stepped out together in silence, holding the torches close for warmth.

Below, the valley spread out like a bowl cradled in the hands of ancient gods—five miles across at least, ringed on every side by jagged mountain walls that soared impossibly high. Some peaks were capped with snow, others with ice-glazed stone, and still others looked like the bones of something too large to ever live.

The valley floor was covered in dense pine, oak and frostbrush, a carpet of deep green and muted white. A narrow river glittered like a silver thread, winding through the trees. At the far end, raised slightly above the forest, was a rocky plateau—flat, open, and exposed to the stars.

"There," Harold said, pointing to it. "That's where we put the recruitment stone."

"It's defensible," Kelan said, eyes scanning the perimeter. "Elevated. Narrow approach. Good stone around here. We could build something solid there."

"And it's hidden," Harold added. "This whole place… it's invisible unless you're inside the tunnel. You could fly right over it and never know it was here."

Hal let out a quiet whuff and sat at the edge of the ledge, tail thumping once.

Harold took a long breath, filling his lungs with the crisp air.

"No one's disturbed this place in centuries," he said. "And now it's ours."

He glanced at Kelan. "Let's get down there and start building. We've got a healer to invite home."