Submission to be judged on written content. Picture provides imaginative aid.
Frost Cove
Tev’ra Sar'Dükhar was old. She felt this as the icy wind bit through her furred clothing and sought to dissuade her from following the winding path along the north shore of Frost Cove. Every year the wind seemed to be a little colder and cut a little deeper, and her steps were hesitant as the rocky terrain continued to rise further above the grey waters of the bay. Long ago she remembered standing tall and proud against weather and enemies alike; immune to both cold and fear as a Brudvir should be. She had participated in the hunts of Winterswatch and brought back food and furs for her village. She sighed, all of that was years ago; now she felt like it took all her strength to slowly climb the narrow track to the top of the cliff to visit Wolf-Father.
The meager sunlight was suddenly blocked, and she raised her head to look up at the creature before her. Whether the giant stone wolf had been carved by hand or the elements was a question whose answer was lost to time, but what everyone who sailed the western coast of Aranor did know was that when you saw Wolf-Father silhouetted against the sky you could breathe easy, for you had made it to the safety of Frost Cove.
Tev’ra turned and looked at her surroundings. Old she might be, but her eyes were still sharp, and spread out around her was the land she loved. To the west, perched on the edge of high cliffs above the rough ocean was the village of Wolfal. With it’s elevated view of land and sea, it had long served as a watchpost over the entrance of the bay. Opposite Wolfal on the southern peninsula was the small fishing hamlet who’s goods fed much of the region. And nestled at the calm east end of the bay, at the mouth of a long and winding river, was Hayden Burrow, her home. In her youth a mere coastal village, it had grown before her eyes into a bustling trade port. Every year more commodities came down the river from all over Krovahal, and the city had become a favored way-point for ships sailing north or south along the coast.
These changes were good, but not all the ones in Tev’ra’s long life had been. She turned back to Wolf-Father and knelt down to place a small memento between his mighty paws, next to countless other trinkets. She bowed her head as memories flowed through her mind: Her husband, who broke his leg and withered away when he could no longer run with his brothers; her daughter, who got lost during a hunt and never returned, and most recently her son, who’s boat had not been seen in much too long. This was the reason for her trek today, for Tev’ra knew, like all who lived in Frost Cove, that Wolf-Father was more than just a landmark. Sailors leaving the bay would lift their eyes to the figure on the cliff and ask for safe travels, trusting that he would grant them protection, but it was the ones left behind who would offer treasured items, knowing the spirit of the great wolf roamed far to watch over loved ones and ensure that their souls were never lost in the watery unknown. Wolf-Father would guide them home, either in the flesh, or to the Akashic Records, where they would be at peace, ready to rejoin their kin when the time was right.
Tears slid past Tev’ra’s closed eyes and made thin lines down her cheeks that the cold wind turned painful. The simple prayer came readily to her lips, “In body of blood or shrouded soul, guide him home.” She startled as the great wolf answered, for the wind carried a howl to her ears. Or perhaps it was just the wind.
Either way, the old woman raised her head and opened her brilliant golden eyes. She took a deep, strong breath of the chill air and pushed herself to her feet, defiantly brushing the remaining moisture from her cheeks. Maybe she was old, but what were years but a way to measure experience? She was rich with that, and could spend it to the benefit of others. The ancient guardian remained watchful and enduring behind her as she made her way down to Hayden Burrow with steps that, while careful, had life in them yet.
