Aerlinn POV
She did not turn back.
When the roar came, it carried across the ice and broken ridges behind her causing the snow to vibrate and the air to tremble. A herd of deer nearby startled and hopped off as fast as they could for cover, their ears high and alert.
She let the vibration pass through her, feet to head and back down again as it faded. Then she smiled.
She could feel him. His sorrow at her departure and his invitation to return.
She had wandered for many decades before she found him, broken and bleeding, but life since had been filled with company, smiles, and belonging. She was grateful and… no, it's too soon.
Shaking her head, Aerlinn settled her thoughts and raised her vigilance once more. The journey ahead would take weeks, if not months, and danger would lurk around every corner along the way. She must stay vigilant.
The ground dipped ahead as she followed the usual paths the hunters and she had used many times. Her hands swung freely, ready to draw a weapon but not willing to exert unnecessarily as her boots tracked a firm line in the snow.
Energy was the most important resource in these icy wastes, that was the first lesson anyone learns when living here. The ones who survive, of course.
She crossed half of the Tribe's territory in the first day, finding shelter in one of the caches established in a small cave. The entrance blocked by a pre-arranged rock that fit snugly in place. Many such hideaways were scattered throughout the area as frozen stock was kept as well so if a hunter was lost or injured they could find shelter and sustenance.
In the morning, Aerlinn moved up the slope, angling where the wind curved around rock, reducing the buffer as she trudged through snow leftover from last night. She stepped over deceivingly small cracks and navigated the valleys, so they aligned with her direction while providing the most protection.
She stopped in one such valley for the night, utilizing a hidden shelter once more. Two days to reach the edge of the Tribe's territory, though it was not even half of the area the dragon patrolled. She warmed her hands by the fire as she missed the vents of the basin already.
On the morning of the third day, she packed her belongings and returned the shelter to its hidden state. She would be trekking through territory no longer supported and although the danger was still lower, her pace would slow as she would need to pick out a campsite for each night.
The days folded into each other as the first week passed and the familiar emptiness crept back in. The harsh ice of the Northern wastes was slowly giving way to more normal conditions, still ice and snow, while the wind lost its bite.
She found shelter as she could. A narrow crevice in the rock, a ledge blocking wind from the east, and once beneath the branches of a tree standing all by itself, not a single leaf adorning its gnarled branches. She built no fire; no one could afford to in this accursed land especially the closer she got to the edge of the dragon's patrol area.
Tomorrow, she thought. I will reach the edge.
Was she happy to be returning to Lindon? She had questioned this throughout her journey, seeing as there was nothing else to do but think.
She was torn. Bitter at the duty she had been given in such a remote place by herself, but happy to see the faces of her parents and friends again.
Would they even recognize her? This place had changed her, she knew. Her time in the tribe had repaired some of the damage, but the change was still there. She was not the same elf that had so excitedly strolled into the wilderness decades ago.
Weeks later, she reached where trees began in earnest, the air changed from biting cold to a milder flavour. The ground was littered with leaves and the sun bathed the area in its soft embrace. In the Northern Wastes, the sun clung desperately to you as it fought to give the warmth it could, now the gentle caress brought a smile to her face.
She did not slow. The path here was much older, and worn not by boots, but by the animals and foul beasts that lurked in the depths. Her alertness rose as the terrain lent itself to better ambushes as opposed to the wastes that were mostly open ground. She camped in trees, tied to branches by rope, and hunted the plentiful game.
After days of vigilance, the trees started to thin, and the land dipped gradually until it opened into a rolling plain filled with grass.
A bird whistle sounded and her head snapped in its direction. Cocking her head to the side, she returned the call with one of her own.
From the shadow of a tree, an elf detached himself with grace and approached her, footsteps near silent as he stepped to avoid the crackle of fallen leaves. With long, easy strides he closed the distance with his hand raised in a gesture that matched the smile on his lips.
"Aerlinn," he greeted.
She stopped. She recognized that voice.
Reaching her, his hand briefly touched her arm before she instinctively tensed. His smile dimming a little, he retracted his hand while scanning her appearance.
"You have returned," he said, raising his eyebrows in concern. "I have not seen you in many seasons."
Aerlinn inclined her head in acknowledgement. An awkward pause followed as he expected words to follow, none did.
Shaking his head in exasperation, he blew out some air. "They will want to see you."
They was referring to her parents. The elf standing before her was Eryndor, who grew up next door to her home and attended the same classes.
"I know," she replied.
Her parents had not exactly been happy with her decision to become a scout and even more that she took an assignment for a few decades. They would have preferred she stayed safe at home and learned to sing.
He studied her a moment longer, then shifted his weight, turning slightly.
"Well… I have to finish my station here, but the way back should be clear as we just destroyed an orc war band last week," he hesitated, wanting to say more. Ultimately, he decided to leave it at that.
Aerlinn gave an appreciative nod before stepping past him, her cold shoulder increasing his worry, revealed by the scrunch of his brow.
She should say something, maybe make small talk or at least smile, but she found that, oddly, she could not muster the willingness to do so.
Continuing her journey, she found Eryndor to be correct as she did not encounter any danger before reaching home. Standing on a cliff overlooking the majesty of the elven race, her breath caught in her throat as the familiar admiration came back in full force. Lindon.
Hugging the new western coastline were low cliffs and narrow beaches that gently rise into dense forest with clear sightlines and running streams. Winds blew in from the Sea, caressing the various settlements while the morning mist lingered near the water before drifting inland.
(IMAGE)
This was her home. Where she grew up, where her family was, and what she fought for. What she suffered for. Just as beautiful as the day she had left.
So, why did she have a sinking feeling in her stomach?