Ipar put his supplies inside the bag and walked outside the inn before sunrise. The foreigners and Amane were already in the Town’s square. The man was kneeling, checking his bag and his daughter was hiding behind his big body, unsettled by the presence of Pigeon, who was barking at them, moving his tail in a friendly manner.

“My daughter doesn’t like the company of dogs, shepherd,” said the man. “Me neither.”

Ipar whistled, and Pigeon rushed to him. “You better go play somewhere else, boy.” The dog gave him a little cry but ran away shortly after. Ipar wished Pik would join them later, as he was useful in the mountains.

‘Where are you bringing them?” asked Amane.

“Up to the Jentil-Pla. To the Fangs.”

“Where is that place?” asked the Norseman.

Ipar pointed north. The man looked at the girl, who nodded slightly. “We are good with that,” said the man.

“We will have to stay overnight,” said the boy.

“We are good with that as well.”

They started their journey in silence. Ipar was not used to talking to people and his companions seemed like people of the same kind, but after a while, his curiosity about the two increased enough.

“My name is Ipar,”

“I know that.” was the answer of the man.

‘Where are you from?”

“From very far.” was his answer. Ipar didn’t talk more. If the man didn’t want to chat, he was fine with it. The girl talked to the man in a soft voice with a language Ipar didn’t understand. The Norseman grouted and replied.

“My daughter’s name is Oydis. You can call me Bjørn. We are from land north of Alfheimar Earldom.”

He didn’t dare to ask about that place. Her knowledge of the world was elemental, and he didn’t know any country further than the Gothia kingdom.

They took the trek of the Anjana forest, with the lake on their left side and the trees on their right. It was not a convenient place to walk, as the Anjana was home of many spirits, but it was a shorter way to reach the Jentil’s plane. At the end of it, where its creek was born, there was the Forest of the fangs. The only place Ipar’s old man ever saw the mountain spirit. It was unlikely they would find him. As old Titu said, Father Wolf was elusive and only showed himself when he wanted, but it was the only place the boy knew they had a chance.

“You don’t need to worry about that forest, young Ipar.” said Bjørn, noticing the shepherd was continuously checking the woods. “My daughter can smell and hear things you and I can’t. She says that woods are safe.”

It was an eerie morning, and a mist started to form as soon as they reached the Maruga’s rock. It was a big elongated rock half-buried at the riverside. With the top of it over the water.

The Norseman put his hand over Ipar’s chest. “We wait here.” The girl climbed on the giant boulder up to the edge and shouted in her language. It felt like she was reciting an enchantment, as the rhythm of her words was like poetry. She remained quiet and steady, looking at the mist over the lake. That rock had lots of tales surrounding it, some good and many more bad, and no one was supposed to climb it.

“She shouldn’t cli-”

“She will be fine,” Interrupted Bjørn. The Norseman sat down and started to carve a little horse out of wood with his knife. Ipar seated next to him. The girl remained over the rock, shouting the same words from time to time for an hour.

“Is your daughter a mage?”

“She was a bandruí once. A kind of mage.”

“And you?”

“No. I was just a simple farmer,” answered him. Ipar looked at him in disbelief. The man was almost twice his height, with broad shoulders and hands like his head. He looked like a warrior or a bear hunter. He was going to ask why they were looking for Father Wolf when the Norseman stood. His daughter was climbing back.

“We can go now.” said the man throwing the carved horse on the floor.

They reprise the journey in silence as they did before. Ipar raised his speed, annoyed by the hour wasted on the rock. He wanted to climb to the Plane before dark. His companions followed him no matter how fast he walked or how difficult was the trail. It was clear that their journey to Arun got them used to walk through any terrain.

At the end of the lake they could see the Giant’s seat at the left, and then climb to the Jentil on the right. There, at the lake’s side, were the furthest inhabitants of the village, Casas family farm. The oldest son was on the palisade, feeding their pig. Ipar waved at him, and the boy answered with a subtle raise of his eyebrows.

The rest of the way was uphill. following small trails that Ipar used with his flock. It was a difficult route, but Ipar knew it well. Bjørn and Oydis, who had already shown their skills, followed closely behind. Without any misstep.

“That’s the Jentil-Val. We will follow the creek to a shepherd’s hut at the top. From there we can start looking for the Father tomorrow.” said Ipar.

“Have you ever seen him?” asked the Norseman.

“No” lied Ipar. Or at least, he thought. His father used to leave bread and ale inside a box outside the house. He used to say ‘if the Father comes, he will be pleased, and his wolves will never attack my flock’. One summer night, when father was shepherding, Ipar saw a strange figure in the woods striding towards the hut and making the earth tremble at each step. It could have been a giant, as it was twice the height of a normal man. Or a Basajaun as his body was covered in grey thick fur. Terrified, the kid didn’t wait to have a better look and hid under the bed. The growls and heavy breathing of the monster lasted an hour, then he left striking the earth the same way as he came. When the old shepherd came back, he was so happy that the mountain spirit took his food that bought his son a full berry cake.

“I know he is around there. My father told me.”

“I know,” said Bjørn. “My daughter feels it. We followed your river all the way to the top, but there were mountains we couldn’t pass.”

“So, you needed a guide after all,” said Ipar. Bjørn grouted in a way that made the boy regret his comment.

Although he walked without problems, Bjørn didn't seem to like that part, and from time to time, he grunted and mumbled words in his language. Every time his father showed signs of annoyance, Oydis would whistle or sing softly a nice song that pleased him. The more they walked through the day, the more often the girl had to use her pretty voice to calm her father's moods.

“I like them!” said Pik suddenly. Ipar was so lost in his thoughts that didn’t realize the cold. The goblin took him by surprise and he almost shouted. That would have made him look like a madman in front of the foreigners, or even worse, uncover his secret. He excused himself and went to pee behind a tree. “Can’t the girl see you?” whispered him nervously.

“No, she can’t. No worries. I checked the sheep in Isil. Arnau was right. They only have one thousand eight hundred forty-two. Only stupid Jan and Tomas ‘the idiot’ will shepherd this year. I don’t like them. I can prank them well, can I? Can I?”

“Leave them alone, Pik. Are you sure she cannot feel you?”

“No, no, no. I’m sure. What can I do now? What can I do?”

“Just look around for dangers. We are going to the fangs. Let me know if there are wolves or bears around.”

“Yes, yes, yes. I can do that. Bye. I like that task. Bye.”

They reached the top plain late evening and the shepherd’s hut at dusk. Bjørn was going to enter when Ipar put his hand in front of him. “You wait here,” said the boy with a smirk. The boy got closer and took a pebble from the ground. He hit the heavy wall and repeated the process seven times.

“What was that for?” asked the man.

“To tell the Carmecos, we are going. They are genies from the forest that take care of the huts.”

“There was nothing there, young Ipar. My daughter would have told me,”

“Maybe Oydis cannot see all the magical creatures out there,” replied the boy, annoyed. The Norseman gave him a gaze that made him apologize immediately.

The hut was dirty but in good condition, The two foreigners left all their bags and went outside. Ipar who as soon as he entered began to clean his corner for the night, followed them, curious. They walked towards the forest that was at the feet of the Fang’s mountains but stopped not too far from the hut. Ipar felt the cold of Pik coming.

“There are wolves in that forest. I can see them, they can see you, but you humans cannot see any of us.” said the little folk. Ipar frowned.

“There are wolves in that forest,” said Bjørn. Pik snapped his tongue and remained quiet. Ipar had a hard time controlling his laugh.

“That’s the forest we need to search. Tomorrow we can-”

“We won’t enter that place, little shepherd,” cut the man. “If we do, we die.” The man raised her daughter over his shoulders and the girl shouted words that echoed through the mountains. They repeated the same strange ritual until dark. Ipar, tired of waiting, went to gather some wood to heat the cabin for the night.

“We don’t need to look for him. He knows we have come.” said the man once inside. They sat next to Ipar, who was already eating. The Norse took from his bag salted meat and a strange wine made of honey and shared it with the boy. Ipar, grateful, shared his bread, cheese, and beer with them.

They didn’t start their sleep when the wind started to blow hard. Bjørn was more grumpy and nervous than usual, and the songs of his daughter seemed to have no effect on him. Ipar was closing his eyes when the wind brought a strange sound that scared him. It was like a melody he heard before.

“That’s the chanting of a serena. Do not listen to it!” said Ipar.

“A siren? In the mountains?” said Bjørn.

“No, I said a serena. It’s a beast. Half woman, half-bird.”

“You mean a harpy,” answered Bjørn condescending.

Oydis talked to his father. He snapped his teeth and stood. “All right, sorry little one, you are right,” shouted the big man. Ipar didn’t understand the sudden burst of anger of the man. “. I’m going out!” said the man, shutting the door with fury. Ipar wanted to tell him not to go out, as it was dangerous, especially with Sirens around, but he was terribly scary.

“He shouldn’t go out,” whispered the shepherd.

“He will be fine.” said the girl in the common language. Ipar looked at her with his eyes wide open.

“Yes. I speak your language. I just prefer to use mine.”

“He shouldn’t go-”

“I cannot stop him always,” interrupted her. “Don’t you worry, Ipar the shepherd. He will come back when he calms down.”

“What did you say to him?”

“Just that men used to confuse sirens with mermaids,” said her with a timid smile.

“He got angry just because of that? It doesn’t matter that much.”

“No, it doesn’t. It was not my words that anger my father. Rage is a part of him he cannot handle sometimes.” She sang her song softly, like a whisper.

Ipar fell asleep but his dream didn’t last long. It was about the witching hours when howls echoed in the distance. A loud growl and cries of beast preceded. Oydis was still awake in the same spot, singing her song, now loudly. The boy got up to check that the door was properly closed and threw a log in the fire. The night noises lasted all night and Ipar didn’t close his eyes again.

Morning came and with it, Bjørn. He was completely covered in mud and blood. He seated with difficulty, with a grimace of pain, and started washing himself with a cloth. “Ipar couldn’t take his eyes off him. “I’m fine, little Ipar. The siren won’t hunt us anymore,” he said.

“And the wolves?” Asked Ipar. Bjørn didn’t answer.

They spent all day in the hut, sleeping, and eating. Oydis would sing from time to time to calm his father’s mood and delight in Ipar’s ears. Occasionally Ipar would go outside and wander the meadows, thinking of his shepherd’s days. The day passed faster than he wished and the night was due again.

He came back to the hut to find the two foreigners at the door. Bjørn was dressed with a leather breastplate, and he was carrying a small axe with strange engravings. With it, he had a small sword and a knife hanging from the belt. The man kneeled in front of his daughter and said some Norse words. The girl kissed his forehead, and the man walked uphill. “You stay there inside the hut. Don’t leave my daughter alone, little Ipar!” shouted from the distance.

The shepherd stood there looking at the man until he entered the forest. The wind was blowing with fury. He didn’t hear the steps of Oydis and the girl scared him from behind.

“We should stay inside,” she said.

“I will follow you shortly,” said the boy. “I just need to pee.” He remained there for minutes. The moon was full, and the night was bright. “Pik?” he said. The familiar didn’t answer. The howls of the wolves came back, and He went inside with Oydis. She didn’t sing her song that night. She crawled next to him and grabbed his arm. Soon after, she was snoozing on his lap. Ipar’s heart was pumping hard. He was not sure if it was because of the girl or the wolves. With the heat of the fire and the warmth of Oydis touch, he fell asleep for a moment. Suddenly the wind struck the hut with such force, the wooden window opened. An ethereal voice came from the wind.

“You,” said the voice with a lugubrious tone. The girl stood suddenly and shrieked. The wind was blowing so hard through the window that it almost put out the fire. Ipar rushed to close it. “You!” blew the wind.

“No! No!” screamed Oydis. When Ipar closed the window, she was not inside anymore. The door was open and moving in the wind. He ran outside, but she was not there. Then he walked further, to the stream of water. Where he saw the man leave for the woods. She was anywhere around. She banished.

There was the grey silhouette of a man at the forest edge. It was far but Ipar knew he was the same strange creature that was the same he saw years back. The wind turned into a breeze that carried whispers that became words. Words of a forgotten language. “He is here,” said Pik. The night was cold and Ipar didn’t notice his familiar. It didn’t scare him this time. As he couldn’t be more frightened than he was. The next words riding the winds were ones that the shepherd understood.

“Who is this, who brings the Curse of the berserk to me?”

“He’s just Ipar, the sheep shepherd.” Shouted Pik. His voice sounded as scared as if he would say the same. The wind answered with the ancient tongue. “Tell him! Tell him, Ipar!” Said Pik to the kid screaming out of his mind. “Tell him you mean no harm! Tell him you are a good boy!”

“I am Ipar, son of Unai. I shepherd in your mountains as my father did once. You knew him, didn't you? I didn’t come to harm anyone!” shouted the kid.

The wind hissed in discontent. “However, you are bringing doom to my realm, son of Unai.” after a gust of wind that knocked him to the ground, the grey shadow disappeared.

For a moment, the night was quiet. Ipar could not feel Pik anymore. Then the howls of the wolves came back. He stood and rushed to the hut as fast as he could. The howls repeated, louder and closer. He turned and saw the shadows of the beasts popping out from the trees, right at the same place their father was standing.

Before he entered, he took a last glance, and the animals were halfway. He closed the door and dragged the old provision trunk to bar it. He felt safe for just an instant. When he turned around, Father wolf was behind. How he had entered was magic for the boy, but from the shock, he fell to the ground and shouted.

The forest spirit stared at him. Without saying a word. His face of resentment was lined with deep wrinkles and surrounded by long gray hair and an unkempt beard. As long as her mane. He dressed in a wolf fur coat, dirty and old as the man himself. He was tall. Not as a giant as Ipar remembered, but much more than any man. Much more than Bjørn, who was the tallest human Ipar ever met.

The Father took a step towards him that sounded like thunder when the door of the hut exploded. The trunk flew away in pieces. On the other side of the entrance was Bjørn, who had to duck to enter. He was somehow taller and bulkier than before. His breastplate was gone, and his clothes were all ripped out. He was bleeding everywhere. He was clenching his teeth and growling and drooling. His bare torso was full of tattoos. An enormous tree surrounded by a multitude of wild beasts that were moving up and down, following his heavy breathing.

“Release us from the curse!” roared the Norseman.

“Your curse is not my doing.” said the Father with his ethereal voice.

“Liar! Shouted the man. “Release her from the curse!” Bjørn leaped onto the wolf and in an instant, they were locked in a hand-to-hand battle. The two of them were so powerful that at every push and hit on the walls, the whole hut trembled. The roof Shaked and dust and splinters flew everywhere. Ipar, who was in one corner petrified by terror, found a moment of bravery and stood. He ran for his life and left the interior just at the same moment that one wall and half of the roof collapsed. That did not stop the combat. The boy could hear the rumbling and pounding inside.

“Run Ipar, Run!” said Pik. he didn’t waste time and ran downhill as fast as he could. He didn’t reach far when in front of him there was a grey wolf. Staring at him and growling. Many came from every corner. In silence. The one in front, the biggest, growled and closed quarters slowly.

Ipar fell on his knees waiting for a fast death when a shadow crossed his side fast as the wind. It was another wolf. This one white and bigger than any of the others. White and grey locked in battle, growling, crying, and biting each other. Their movements were fast as lightning. The fight ended up being brief and uneven. With an unnatural speed, the white beast clenched his jaws on its enemy’s neck. The gray wolf tried to escape but his attempts to get rid of the bite were in vain.. Defeated, it fell at the mercy of its opponent, who without any mercy, ripped its throat and swallowed the flesh. The rest of the pack didn’t retaliate. They just stared at the new leader in silence while it liked the blood of his mouth.

The wolves didn’t stop looking at their new leader until the sound of footsteps behind Ipar caught their attention. It was at something behind him. Ipar turned as well. Father wolf was staggering towards him, trying to stop the bleeding from his neck with the hand. With every step he took, clumsy and rough, the earth no longer shook, only the rustling of leaves and branches was heard.

“You brought harm to the Val, after all.” His voice was not of a spirit of the mountains anymore. It sounded like any other old man. rough and weak. When he reached Ipar’s side, he stumbled to the ground. The wolves hauled so loud, it hurt Ipar’s ears.

The pack left as silent as they came. The white wolf looked at Ipar and approached him until the wolf’s nose was in front of his face. The animal sniffed him. Ipar held his breath and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the animal to dig its fangs into its throat, as it did the other wolf. However, the wolf lightly licked the tip of his nose. When the boy opened his eyes, the wolf was slowly moving away. It turned to look at him one last time, and with a little jump, it trotted away to its pack.

The boy stayed on his knees for a long time trying to understand what had happened. He stood slowly, scared the wolves would come back and finish their job. The night was calm like none of that madness had ever happened. He wandered around looking for Oydis. Shouting her name. He shouted for Pik as well. Neither answered. He went back to the cabin, but it was empty. There was no sign of Bjørn, either. The interior was a mess of blood and debris. He took a piece of the Father’s coat and huddled in a corner.

The next morning Ipar returned to the village. He said wolves attacked them. No one asked further. Everyone knew the dangers of Arun. Amane asked much more, but he didn’t reply. He left the inn and his gold with her and took the trek uphill to the Goian water mill, alone and silent.

All the way to his home he couldn’t stop thinking of what happened. What would his father say to him? Possibly encouraging words, thought Ipar, as he was a great man. Maybe he’d been secretly disappointed by his son’s cowardice. He didn’t know. Then he imagined what his father would have done in that situation. That thought didn’t last. His father would never agree to go with the foreigners. He’d never disturbed the peace of the mountain spirits.

He felt guilt for being scared. For annoying the spirits. For failing to protect Oydis.

He reached the mill and walked a few more steps to his house. It felt more empty than ever. He took a last look at the mountains, a place he loved but wished to never have to go back and closed the door.