Soul Seeker

13: The White Rider

The long line of sleds and reindeer approaching Jost resembled soldiers trooping home from war, bowed by defeat. Even as he looked back at them, Sköll could see that, and he hated to think what the civilians thought. It was a pity they had to use the main street to get to the Outriders' compound, but there was nothing else for it.

"Chin up, Orn," he said to the scrawny freckled youth riding a reindeer beside his sled, who had always reminded him of the omega, the lowest of the division but whom he had a soft spot for despite that. Perhaps because of it.

"Yes, sir." Orn tried to straighten up in his saddle, brushing light brown hair out of his eyes. "Sorry, sir."

"No need to apologise."

If Orn was the omega of the division, there was no doubt who the alpha was.

"It's just... how could they have vanished without a trace? We searched everywhere. You didn't let us leave one stone unturned. Where could they have gone?"

Sköll had made his men be so thorough that there was no doubt it wasn't the Outriders' fault they had missed their quarry. He had run them into the ground, reminding them that he was still fit to search, even after he had been caught and escaped.

All thanks to her.

He pushed those thoughts away.

"We just need to muster more forces and widen the search," he said. "They've moved faster than we anticipated."

As always, Sköll found it easy to ignore the whispering townspeople who watched them pass, but Orn's eyes wandered.

"They're really a threat, aren't they?" he said. "You look tired, sir. If I can say that."

"You are allowed. I value honesty." Sköll had not let criminals get the better of him since before he joined the Outriders. The time before was a murky blur of confusion and uncertainty, but as soon as he had joined up, his thoughts became crystal clear. He had found something he naturally excelled at, enabling him to rise more quickly through the ranks than anyone else.

Now, being at a disadvantage for the first time... some of the confusing fog had returned, and he hated it.

It was a relief to enter the Outrider compound and let the gates shut behind them. Sköll handed his sled over to a kennel hand and, after dismissing his division, headed for the barracks. He longed to be alone.

"Sir?"

"What is it, Orn?" He tried to keep the bite from his voice, really, he did. But he was exhausted.

"Sorry, sir, I just – I wanted to thank you for bringing me along. Some of the captains have been avoiding choosing me for missions. They think I can't do the job. I just wanted to let you know I'm loyal to you, and if there's ever anything you need..."

"It's all right, Orn. Get some rest." Sköll had reached the door to his quarters. Knowing he was being abrupt, he closed it with a snap, leaving the youth in the hallway.

In the bathroom, he sighed, bracing his arms on the sink. He should go and apologise, or at least make small talk. Why did these people like small talk so much? Why did they talk so much at all? It drained him. He knew there were many Outriders who found him unlikeable, and only his rank and proficiency kept him afloat. Backstabbing could be common among the lower order, and the social hierarchy was full of rules.

This was what happened, he thought, turning to the steaming bath which a maid had drawn up for him, when you put a load of humans together in the same cramped barracks and the same mess hall.

Thankfully, he had rooms to himself.

It was only when he sank into the hot water that the ice finally thawed from his bones. Finally, finally, he was truly warm. When was the last time he had been as warm as this?