Zeth - Merdihan Ridic (the red fox clan .txt) 📗

growling at the elk, ready for a fight, although obviously afraid. The pups were the only remaining wolves out there, he thought they were brave and endearing to stand up to a giant compared to their small frames. Zeth grabbed his hood and face cover, pulling them off, making him lose his breath as the cold air invaded his lungs.

His silver hair was short and spiked, an oddity considering neither one of his parents had this trait. He always wondered why he was different, he looked nothing like either one of them. His eyes were long and shone in the same platinum as the hair atop his head and as sharp as the blade he held. His nose was short and round, but he could catch an odd smell from miles away, earned from years of being a hunter. His mouth stood out with full lips. On the rare chances he smiled you could see all his straight white teeth in his wide grin. His face only blemished by a deep scar running over the right side of his cheek and jaw line. A long, deep cut that he got as a kid that never healed properly, leaving an angry faded mutilation that nicked at the edge of his right eye tracing down into the top curve of his lip.

“Don't touch them.” He demanded as he started lowering himself down the tree. The elk stopped in his tracks and kept his head raised in defiance. The pups stared at him, their eyes lighting up with anticipation.

"Who do you think you are mortal?" The elk snarled as it swung its head back toward him, seemingly considering whether he feels disrespected or not. Zeth dropped down from the tree and locked eyes with this beast, his steel held in front of him and his head held high. He could see the elk flicker its eyes from his own to the weapon then back. It seem weary of the dagger, or perhaps of him, Zeth couldn’t tell. He spread his stance slowly as to not trigger the animals. The dagger in his left hand hung upside down, burning his palm as he clenched it tightly. He should have brought another blade for longer range.

"My name is Zeth Ikdo, I am the son of Alan the blacksmith and Eyja the huntress." Answered Zeth, gaining confidence as he stared down the Liege. His breathing was calm and his body was relaxed. Even the wind had died down around them without notice, bringing everything to a standstill. Locked in observation with the elk in what seemed to carry on forever, nothing dared to move. Suddenly Zeth heard a deep rumble of laughter, the elk’s head pitched back as if it was deeply amused, it turned and started walking back into the deeper part of the woods.

"The son of Alan and Eyja…What a time to be alive!" The voice resonated in his head even after the elk was no longer in his direct line of sight.

“Take the pups with you when you leave. It is my gift to you Zeth Ikdo. Perhaps it’ll help fill that void you carry around in your chest." The voice echoed, hardly a whisper in his head now but still clear. A deer carcass was tossed out of the wood and landed at his feet, the throat ripped out , no doubt by the wolves before the elk confronted them. “Feed yourself and those children or you’ll all die in winter tide.”

Zeth fell to his knees, releasing the tension he didn’t realize he was maintaining out of fear and respect for the elk. If they would have fought, he would’ve easily have been the loser in the match. He scrutinized the deer cadaver before him and then looked at the pups as they slowly inched towards him unafraid. Zeth looked at the trees where the elk had disappeared, seeing nothing but evergreens and darkness, chills going down his spine at the realization that the elk somehow knew about his parents: knew about him.

He watched the wolf pups in front of him, as they waited for him to make a move. Glancing at spot where the elk disappeared one more time, he headed towards the deer meat that the king of forest bestowed as a gift for survival. It’s a large enough buck that it may get him and his family through the winter. He made sure to make a mental note of thanking the elk if they were ever to cross paths again. He dragged the body near the same tree he was just perched on and pulled a thick rope from his bag. Proceeding hang the animal by its back legs on the lowest sturdy branch he could find. Once getting it to his desired height, Zeth grabbed his dagger and drove it in the deer stomach that was hanging upside down, ripping it open from the already torn throat to the base of the belly. Its entrails spilling out onto the earth, the wolf pups jumping their chance at food, chewing and gnawing at the organs. He watched them in their desperation to eat,

“You guys must have been starving too, huh.” he said aloud. He sighed loudly and brought his mask back over his face, “It’s going to be a long winter…”

Zeth broke through the forest out into an open field, lugging the deer meat over his shoulder. He’s always been strong, with a naturally lean build and years of labor to strengthen his core, the weight was practically nothing to him. The pups were still following him, and he knew it was only matter of time before they were fully grown wolves. He needed to train them to help him hunt and comply with his orders. The wind had finally dissipated and the sky was clear, all the clouds blown away. But the bitter cold still remained, Ice and Snow will invade everything in a few weeks, and things were looking meek for him. Thank the universe for uncommon encounters.

Zeth reached the top of the hill overlooking the Wolfwater, it wasn't a huge village by any means, but had a huge river flowing down the middle of it providing good water supply. Surrounded by the dense forest and the mountains, it was tucked away on the edge of Dalhurts Kingdom. The village was known for its beauty, smooth rum, and its craftsmanship, but like any place in the world it had many shadows to it. Over the years trade and merchants brought a lot of crime to the community and in order to deal with the growing lawless population, they held a duel between prisoners, jailbird games they called them. Zeth hated those games, he couldn't stomach watching starved, half naked men and women fight for their survival.

From the top of the hill he could see the whole village, even his house at the edge at the end, almost detached from the rest of it. The streets were usually lively, traders and townsfolk alike, getting ready for the winter. He could make out the town hall, where the lord of the Wolfwater resides. The massive building stuck out like a sore spot, it was bigger than any other structure in the village. Lord Akenin assured to make the statement about who was in charge clear. Zeth had a strong distaste for this man, on the smaller side with a firm build. His hair was long dark and curly, and always tucked behind his ears. He had a scar along his left temple, and known for his fast tongue. He will insult anyone and everyone, no one dared challenge him because “his bodyguards” were always around. He knew it and everyone else knew it.

He sat leaning back against a tree, his eyes scanning the whole village, taking a steely turn when they laid upon the Ironbolt prison. It was a long and plain penitentiary, the walls stained a dark grimy color and overgrown with moss from age. The structure was built solid and thick; the guards never bothered patrolling the perimeters, it would be pointless. No one was getting in or out without permission. Wolfwater was known for its dexterities for a reason, Ironbolt could easily hold hundreds of prisoners. It confined a variety of different races, Dalhurts knights delivering prisoners from the capital periodically. Zeth’s uncle, Grayson, was one of the unlucky beings that were damned to reside inside. He taught Zeth all of the skills he relied on, hunting, fishing, harvesting, combat, etc. and Akenin despised him, going out of his to make him suffer as much as possible. Every time Grayson came out to “play in the Jailbird games”, he had new scars and injuries, no doubt from torture that Akinen was putting him through. But his uncle never gives in; he remains the champion with or without weapon.

The final rounds of games are scheduled to be next week, ending its season before winter rolls in. Zeth knows he'll find more work with all the outsiders coming in to watch the morbid event, they always get lost in forest and hire hunters from Wolfwater to guide them to town. Will is the one who handles all the communications with the outsiders. He trained his pigeons to serve as messengers, although knows how. The flocks wait outside the forest and wait for outsiders to appear. When strangers approach and offer food would dignify the indication of wanting to send a message. The bird then carries the memos tied around one of their legs and are released. Whenever there was guide needed, Zeth was the first to be contacted, much to his appreciation. He and Will got along well for the most part, clean business, and it helped him earn money to feed his family.

Zeth swung his head to the right as a mammoth of a man exploded from the forest, landing face down next to him. The pups jumped in surprise and started growling at the man before them. Zeth's hand immediately went to his dagger within a second and had the blade against the back of his neck. The man was softly groaning and seemed to breathing hard, as if he ran trying to escape from something.

Zeth pressed his knee into the mans spine as his eyes explored the forest from where the man came, readying himself in case more intruders were to show up. His blade still pressed down hard enough against the man’s neck that if he moved it’d slice into him. The stranger’s bald head was covered in sweat, the caramel skin underneath wrinkling from his expression. Given his huge frame, Zeth was surprised he didn’t hear him approach sooner, the man must not be hostile because he would have been dead by now.

“Zeth, Lad, can you kindly remove that cursed blade from my nape? It’d be much appreciated, thank you.” Said the man in a higher pitch voiced than you would expect from someone oh his stature. Zeth pressed the blade a little harder against his neck, threatening to draw blood.

“Who are you and how do you know who I am?” he asked in a monotone way. He dug his knee harder into the man’s spine. The pups were circling and growling softly, as if waiting orders from Zeth to pounce on him.

“It's me, Don!” The giant man proclaimed in an accent, he was obviously in pain and out of breath from running. At suddenly realizing who it was, he pulled his dagger away and released his detainee. The wolves backed away from the men understanding their masters intentions, keeping on guard in case they need to pounce. They stood near the deer meat, as if guarding it is as well. Zeth was surprised they were so obedient, as if reading his mind they follow his lead well. They’ve imprinted on him almost immediately.

“Don! Geez, I’m sorry, I wasn't aware you were back after so many years. Plus, hardly anyone ever sneaks up on me anymore.” He said with a smile and extending