"A Great man masters nature, but the greater man is its friend."

~ Unknown Wise Man

It'd been three days since Emeline had left Aysgarth with Avétk. Three nights of travel and three days of sleeping on slabs of rock, except for day two. Sometimes Avétk started a fire (if there weren't any trees overhead) and her body was warmer as she dozed. On the second morning, it had been snowing. It had been Emeline's hardest morning of travel. They'd had to push on without a fire, or a time to rest. Avétk would not even allow her to catch her breath under one of the massive fir trees that decorated the landscape. He said that it was dangerous, but she saw no risk, only a marvellous reprieve from the icy persistent wind that had cut through her skin and burned her lungs. A few moments of dryness before she'd had to face the cold, wet snow which had fallen steadily throughout that day.

    Avétk had been watchful of her and Emeline felt herself warming to his company. She sighed and followed his footsteps as the sun sank below the horizon. It was not full on dark yet, and the sky filled with amazing colours. She was fee, her hair blowing in the icy wind, her fingers dancing on the breeze. Well, she imagined they did anyway. The air was an instrument she played in her mind.

    The snow called to her. Emeline grabbed some of it from the ground, patted it into a ball, and threw it at Avétk. She missed, laughing, but the snow did splatter and ricochet onto his boots. He looked down, shaking his one boot – and looking very funny - but barely responded otherwise. The icy wind whistled around them, whipping her hair around delightfully, but she was isolated in her joy.

    Having dreary company was such a bore. Avétk seemed worn out, and she guessed he'd probably been on guard when she slept, instead of taking his rest too. They needed to find a place to sleep, for his sake, or he might end up killing her with his sour mood.

    'You need sleep!' Emeline yelled.

    Avétk shrugged nonchalantly as he walked on.

    'Let's find a place to rest,' she suggested, 'I can take the watch. I've slept through the day.'

    Emeline watched him for a positive response, eager to prove herself to him. To prove she was not a scared little girl.

    'We need to keep moving,' he mumbled, and it sounded as though the words slurred together a tiny bit, as though his tongue was too tired to form the words proper. 'We've only been travelling a few hours.'

    'But, Avétk—'

    'No,' he cut her off, and it grated at her.

    'Avétk! If you don't rest, you put us both in danger!' She balled up her fists and breathed trhough her nostrils. Stay calm.

    He looked at her, plainly unconvinced, just humouring her, as if she was a child. Fathers' it made her angry, but how could she argue with the Blackblood Cleaver?

    'You know it's true,' she said in a more reserved fashion, rubbing her fingers.

    He turned back to the road and started walking again.

    'Avétk!' Emeline stood waiting for him to respond, but he only kept walking. How would she get him to rest, or listen? She had no idea. Eventually, she relented her argument and jogged to catch up with him. The corners of her lips curled ever downward as she followed him, while the darkness ate the sky, popping out stars as it went.

    The shadows devoured the air. Emeline shivered and promised herself she wouldn't cry that night. Shadows weren't a thing to fear, nor the darkness.

#

    Just a few more minutes and they would be there. Avétk encouraged himself to take a few more steps. He was a man of destiny. A man who did what he had to. He could go a few days without rest. Still, he knew he had to get to the farm within the next few hours. Even the invincible Blackblood Cleaver needed to sleep sometimes. Refusing to acknowledge the fact would end in loss, loss of time and loss of life.

    Joheyn's face popped into his mind and he squeezed his eyes together for a second, trying not to relive the pain. Luckily that was the moment he spotted the turn-off beside the road, between the thick brushes that marked where the oak trees grew. He glanced briefly over his shoulder at the sulky girl and then turned left into the brushes. She had a curious nature, he knew, and would not be able to keep silence for long. Avétk waited to hear a question burst from her, but she was quiet. It didn't bother him though, a man of discipline and purpose such as he had more important things to think on than little girls and their unpredictable behaviour. Only a few more steps.

    Ketiya's little farm came into view. If he'd had a heart, it might've warmed a bit at the sight of the familiar farmstead, but he didn't. The old place looked as though it could use some maintenance. The wood slat roof leaned somewhat precariously towards the right, making it seem as though the little house was tired. Smoke rose from the lopsided chimney, an omen of comfort and warmth. Before he knew it, he stood before her door and knocked in the customary way. Three loud knocks and two gentle taps. He finally allowed himself a peek at Emeline, but when he turned back, she was gone.

    A shock of adrenaline hit Avétk's system, and his eyes widened with sudden clarity. 'Emeline?' he whispered, every muscle tense, and then he shouted, 'Emeline!' Years and years of fighting had drilled into him the protocols that could save his life. Before he knew it, his axe was in his hand, held before him.

    Avétk crept back the way he had come, crouched in readiness to pounce and observing every angle for possible attack. His left fingers tickled the hilt of his dagger in readiness. Lanky hair hung over his face in a dishevelled manner, but he had no time to care. His face was in a snarl, he realised, one he had not even thought to make, bared his teeth to the possible enemy lurking somewhere close by.

    Then he heard it, a scream, to the right. Towards the Pluimie brushes he leapt, moving with stealth and ease through the dense surroundings and making barely any noise. Then he saw her. Emeline was cornered against an oak tree by a great, white wölvi. She looked so scared, he thought her heart might leap out of her chest. She was panting and heaving, clutching the bark of the tree behind her like it could save her. The wölvi growled a deep, feral growl.

    Avétk relaxed, breathed a sigh of relief, and popped the axe back in its sheath. 'Böksa, down!' The wölvi pulled his ears back with a small whine, and turned his head towards Avétk.

    The wölvi's ears perked up, his tail wagging like a puppy's and he started bounding towards Avétk. 'Now, Böksa...' He held his hands out, trying to calm the wölvi and defend himself. It wasn't much use though. Böksa leapt through the air and knocked him off his feet. The wölvi licked his face and Avétk tried to wrestle him off, laughing. 'Ok, ok. I know, I know.' he sat up, patting the wölvi and scratching him behind his ears. 'It's been too long for sure.'

    Emeline sat in a heap right where she'd been cornered, looking ghostly pale. Was she shivering? T'was most likely shock. He jumped up, brushing himself off as he went, and lifted Emeline into his arms.

    'Don't worry child. I've got ya. That there's just old Böksa.' He indicated to the wölvi with a nod. 'Got no bite to him, just a grumpy old wölvi he is.' He smiled at her, hoping to reassure her. Avétk fancied himself looking almost proper, but in truth he knew his yellowed teeth, in their ragged state, only served to make him look more menacing. Emeline smiled a little smile at him. He would need to make amends somehow for nearly losing her. Avétk lumbered back towards the farm, following Böksa back to that old, familiar door.

    Ketiya stood in the door frame, her fiery red locks strewn wildly about her sharp edged face. They looked as though she never brushed them, and he knew she never did. She leaned against the door post with that crooked smile on her face, arms folded.

    The fiery woman looked just the way he remembered her. A scar through her one cheek added to her beauty in his opinion, but he knew she did not share that view. The thing he found most attractive about her, though, was her smooth, dark brown skin. Like coffee.

    As he admired her sharp, slender figure, she unfolded her arms and placed them on her hips. 'And what brings you here, my vagabond friend?' She mocked him, he knew. He hefted Emeline up a bit more in a show, and Ketiya's eyes widened with sudden understanding. She sped forward.

    'Is she injured?' She leaned fussily over Emeline, who was still in Avétk's arms.

    'Not really. Böksa nearly took a bite out of her, though.' They all looked at the old wölvi who had curled up under the brushes behind them. It was a strange moment of silence.

    Ketiya gave Avétk an understanding look, cocking an eyebrow. 'That old wölvi?' She swatted at the air. 'He wouldn't hurt a fly! Well, come inside. I'll cook you up some of my famous coffee.'

    Oh, yes that sounded amazing. He through the door, with Emeline still in his arms.

© Joy Cronjé 2015