The continent of Jrrilia is vast and open, stretching across the oceans of the Elderworld. Just as it is grand, it holds the precious moments that make lives-- hundreds and hundreds of lives. Not all exist to be sung for, but some do earn the honor...
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The warmth of the fire was comforting, reminding me of home. Though the ring of flames was not yet that familiar, I found solace in the warm blanket around my shoulders, shielding me from the icy glint of the stars.
Before myself and the others, a petite figure in garnished purple robes moved around the pit, the swing of her incense pendulum accompanying her stride.
"It has been a lengthy day of insight." Her voice, as shadowed as the night sky above, cut clearly through the crackle of fire. I could feel the lean of the others around me as they came to attention, drawn in by the allure of her melodic tone. "The sun closes on our day's chapter, and leaves for the new one of tomorrow. But before the light fades from our grasp, I tell you to remember; a time before ours, in the frigid tundras of Orden." Exhaling, I rested back against an unforgiving stump of stone, watching the embers spark to life. "We begin with the doomed fate of a hunt..."
...
"This is a poor idea." Sitting at the wooden bench of a bar, Zalla took a long draw of her mead, eyeing the other huntress over the rim. Ber, oblivious to her statement, pointed at the bottom of the bounty paper.
"Zal, listen! A thousand deeskin's worth if we bring back the horns– oh, we'd be rich! No more rabbit scrounging for us..." She sighed dreamily, pulling the paper close. "A nice little cabin in the village... always lumber to keep the fire running... Can you imagine?"
"I can imagine alright. And I'd rather not risk my life for something we'll have in a few years."
"Oh– you bore! Always off about 'the long run', just live a little!"
"I live in the hunt." Scoffing, Ber stood up, pulling the bear fur around her collar close.
"Hunt schmunt, you live for a toilesome day's work. Come, we have things to prepare. Don't want the beast to catch us ill-prepared~" Zalla grumbled, looking down into the depths of her mead. The cold current of a winter frost blasted in with the slight opening of the door, and she sighed, standing up to follow after her wife.
"Oi, out after the Tetjhi?" Pausing, she turned to face the bartender, who'd leaned across the counter to pick up her tankard.
"What did you call it?" Tilting his head inquiringly, he nodded gruffly to the pinned bounty. The looped, curved horns of the shadowy animal framed a face she'd never tire of looking at; a bear-like muzzle protruding from a patchy furred skull, with two small, beady little eyes that were unnervingly alert.
"Tetjhi. Wintr's Call. They say those who go seeking it find a cold grave." Eyebrows furrowing, she gave an incredulous chuckle.
"Graves are for the old and sick, friend! A frosthunter such as I would not fall to a superstitious shadow of a myth." Frowning, the bartender set down her clean tankard, then turned away.
