Fate's Forge

Chapter 7

The Wagon Train trundled across the frost-kissed plains, each wheel's groan a testament to the weary resolve of its travelers. Jas Cutter, with his tousled brown hair catching the late afternoon sun like golden threads, crested the final hill and beheld the caravan below. His heart, a wild thing within his chest, beat with an eagerness that matched the brisk pace of his boots crunching upon the hardened earth.

"Jas! Jas!" The cry came as a swift wind, carrying the voice of young Luka who had spotted him from afar. Dropping everything, the boy dashed towards Jas with the boundless energy only an eleven-year-old could muster, his smaller frame becoming a blur against the backdrop of wagons and tired faces.

"Thought you were wolf chow!" Luka exclaimed, throwing himself into Jas's arms with such force it nearly bowled them both over. His hug was a fierce clamp, the kind that spoke volumes of nights fretted away with worry.

"Hey, I'm not that easy to eat," Jas chuckled, ruffling Luka's hair, relief flooding through him at the warm welcome. It felt good to be back, to be embraced by the tribe he called family.

Laughter and murmurs rippled through the ranks of the Wagon Train as they caught sight of their returning wanderer. Mathen Cutter emerged from the throng, his strong frame cutting a reassuring figure amidst the sea of relieved smiles. He clasped his son's shoulder with a grip that conveyed all the fear and love of a father.

"By the stars, Jas. You're alive," Mathen said, every word heavy with emotion. His short dark hair seemed to have accumulated more gray in the span of Jas's absence, the weight of leadership etching deeper lines around his eyes.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," Jas replied, meeting his father's gaze, recognizing the silent questions there. He had tales to tell, but they could wait.

As dusk began to tinge the sky with shades of lavender and rose, the camp bustled with activity. It was then they shared the grim news, their voices somber under the lengthening shadows.

"Misty led us to a clearing, Jas," one of the wagoners said, gesturing to the sleek cat winding her way through the crowd. "Found nothing but blood-stained snow there. Thought we'd lost you."

Jas followed Misty's sinuous path with his eyes, the gravity of what could have been settling in his stomach like a stone. He had come perilously close to being a mere memory, a whisper on the frozen wind.

"Guess I'm harder to lose than you think," Jas quipped, offering a lopsided smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Inside, he wrestled with thoughts of mortality and chance, grateful for the bear-aided reprieve he had received.

Jas raked his fingers through his brown hair, pushing the lingering chill from his bones as he settled by the campfire. The warmth licked at his skin, a stark contrast to the cold dread of the Eastern Wastes that nipped at their heels.

"Saved by Ulec, you say?" Luka's eyes were saucers in the growing dusk, reflecting the dance of flames. "But...how?"

"He sent a bear Lord to scare the wolves away. Then he took me deeper into the forest to a place I could heal. Jas answered.

"But how did you catch up to us then?" Luka asked confused. "We'very kept moving all this time."

"Believe it or not," Jas began, his voice steady despite the disbelief that would surely follow, "I was on the back of a dragon. Flew right over these wastes as if we owned the skies."

"Wow, a dragon!" Luka bounced on his heels, the sheer wonder of it all igniting his imagination. "Was it scary? Did you feel like you could fall any second?"

"Scary? Yes, but also thrilling." Jas allowed himself a small smile, remembering the surge of adrenaline when the world had dropped away beneath them. "And no, I didn't feel like falling. Ulec knew what he was doing and the dragon was strong; they wouldn't let me take a tumble."