[northern territories, 16th century.]

[changeinasnap]

This far north, hang around long enough and your chances of survival dwindle their way down to zero pretty fast. Nomads wander through every so often, but they're gone quick enough, hastened along by awful dreams and shadows in the dark

Comments

[old_gods]

Weeks go by, and the short days slowly grow longer.

Spring has strengthened its tenuous grip on the chilly land, the day a traveler appears on the outskirts of Loki's new territory and doesn't turn aside.

[changeinasnap]

A guttural growl rises like mist from the warming snow. Scant yards ahead, a massive beast paces closer, teeth bared and dripping reddish foam; it's joined by three others, fanning out before the traveler.

Usually, that sight's enough to get even the most battle-ready guy to turn back nowadays.

When the new arrival stays put, the largest animal at the front of the pack lunges.

[old_gods]

The traveler, swathed in white fur over dark wool, keeps walking as though the beasts aren't there.

And a moment after it lunges, the lead beast ... isn't. There's a flare like sunlight reflecting off of snow, and it vanishes.

[changeinasnap]

The other three shy back from the light, but keep snarling, teeth snapping a foot away from the traveler's clothing like hurled insults and bravado. They keep pace to accompany him deeper into the territory, an escort ready to turn deadly at any further provocation.

Much further away, another cluster of shadows rise -- but these have a more human form, and flicker with firelight that twists them into frightening and unnatural shapes. The sudden moaning wind sounds like sobs of pain.