Around dusk on the third day, Celest and Garran sat huddled in their prison awaiting Vasili and Saena to be escorted back from the mines by Piggy. The temperature dropped considerably that morning and the mountain mist hanging in the sky was replaced by thick, angry snow clouds. Another storm. Maybe Barnabas was right. Maybe the storms are following me, Garran thought.

He had shown his human cellmates how to dig holes and build mounds to use as barricades to block out the chilly wind. This brought up the temperature of the cave by several degrees. The young girl sat in the hole with her knees folded up and the furry wolfkin on her other side. Her skin was still icy to the touch, but she was no longer shivering.

Garran looked out at the clouds. The sky was beautiful with the yellows and oranges of the setting sun diffused by the plump grey-rimmed clouds. The effect blanketed the camp in a golden glow that gave it an almost pleasant feel. Oh good. A ray of hope. That’ll be helpful. If only… Garran let out a huff of amusement at the farcical thought.

If a storm was imminent, Teya would use it for cover tonight. He told Saena that morning to prepare only the other prisoners that she trusted for the escape. They would have to trust that any others would follow in the moment. It would be dangerous, and if any were caught, they’d be killed on sight. Orcs had a low tolerance for disobedience. And sarcasm, Garran remembered, rubbing his right cheek.

If one of the prisoners gave their plan away out of fear of death or some misguided loyalty, there would be no chance of success. Garran would either be killed outright for inciting, or would be taken down to the mines and kept there. Saena had told him that some of the more troublesome prisoners were chained to the cave walls and forced to work longer hours under constant watch to keep them busy. Or keep them exhausted, Garran thought. And that would not do.

In the quiet of the evening, as he was going over the plan in his head, something snapped him from his ruminations. A flash of black and white... and spots. Looking up quickly, the pit of his stomach churned with fury as he realized what he saw. It was her. Up the path, heading towards their cell, a female gnoll walked with a purpose and her dark eyes trained on Garran.

He growled deep within the back of his throat causing his cellmates to jerk awake in fear, “She’s wearing my armor!” he growled in outrage.

The female gnoll’s expression matched his in kind. There was anger and hatred within those reflective eyes. In her clawed hands, she gripped the two-handed axe that the orcs had confiscated off him, and the look she fixed Garran with said she knew how he had come by the weapon.

“Get back,” he growled behind him, and the three humans scrambled to the rear of the cave in hasty compliance.

Looking around, he had nothing to defend himself with. No rocks, or sticks, or anything; just snow, mud and his own claws. As she approached the gate, never losing eye contact with her target, Garran realized Piggy was with her. He shuffled nervously with the keys and unlocked the cell door clumsily.

Not knowing what to expect, Garran took a step back and crouched as low as he could; his muscles tight and ready to spring if either of them attacked. “That’s my gear,” he growled, motioning to his black and white leather she was wearing.

Her slim body fit it decently enough, but it was crafted for him, and his body. The high collar looked quite comical with her hunched hyena-esque neck protruding from it. I guess they found someone that could somewhat fit in it...

The door swung open with a protesting creak and she stepped inside. Piggy stood outside looking on disapprovingly, but did nothing to intervene. He was armed with a longsword, judging by the size of the scabbard, but it was still sheathed. He was clearly not privy to whatever the she-gnoll had planned.

Garran could see fight in her eyes, however. It was vengeance she was after. He couldn't say he blamed her. He remembered the younger male gnoll picking up her unconscious body and running off into the woods the day he’d met Sius. Then there was the small fact that both of the gnolls she was with that day now lay beneath the snow with two others on top of a cliff near a cave. She did owe him one. Or two...

Not shifting his gaze, he spoke slowly to the humans behind him, “Saena, cover the girl’s eyes and stay back. This will not be pleasant.”

“Stay low and stay patient. Wait for your opponent to strike. Then, pull them off balance and go for the disarm,” Sius had told him in one of their training exercises.

He didn’t have to wait long. The gnoll lunged, swinging the axe from the side to account for the low ceiling. Whether it was due to the side-armed fashion of the attack, or the unfamiliarity with the weapon itself, Garran saw that she had too much weight on one side. The look in her eyes said that she realized this too, but far too late.

Garran stuck out a foot, catching her at the ankle, and grabbed the weapon hilt. Then, kicking his right foot towards the ceiling at the same time, launched himself upward with the momentum. This maneuver, snatched the gnoll off her feet and she landed on her back with Garran on top of her, pushing the handle of the axe down onto her throat to keep her quiet. Rage in her eyes, she grabbed at the axe handle with both hands while gasping for breath. Trying to use her powerful legs to gain leverage, she kicked at him but to no avail.

His own wrath pounding in his ears, Garran was having none of it. He pushed down hard on the axe handle and kicked a leg out from under her that was seeking purchase on the cold cell floor, “You shouldn’t have come back for more. Now you’re going to end up like your friend, Big Ugly,” he snarled through gritted teeth. This solicited a snarl in reply from the gnoll.

Piggy stood momentarily shocked with a dumbfounded expression written on his pudgy face. When finally he did react, he grabbed for the hilt of his sword and stepped into the doorway. As the orc closed the gap, a flash of realization hit the Steward. The gate was open, beckoning them to freedom.

“Go!” he hissed to the humans, trying to keep his voice down. “Get out of here! Go! The noise will likely bring more, but you can escape if you go now! Head down the hill. She will find you and take you to safety. Just get out of here!” He couldn't see them but he knew the three of them were standing there watching.

Momentarily focused elsewhere, Garran looked back at the subdued gnoll just in time to see her head coming at his face. He tried to dodge, but her massive forehead connected with the side of his tender nose. The impact made his head spin and his teeth rattle, and caused him to rock backwards. The two opponents then locked into a rolling grappling match; both trying to gain leverage.

Finding an opportunity, the female pulled her feet up with precision and rabbit-kicked him square in the chest with her muscular legs, sending Garran flying into the opposite wall. He slid down to the ground and landed with a grunt, but got his hands up in time to block her next attack.

Abandoning the axe, she lunged at him, mouth agape. Her razor-sharp teeth found purchase on his right wrist as she bit down with such force he thought his bones would snap. Garran swallowed down a yelp, trying to stay quiet, as her incisors scored his flesh.

The she-gnoll was exceptionally strong. He pushed up with all his might to keep her serrated fangs away from his face. Suddenly, there was an odd sensation as he heard a dull thud followed by a sickening crunch. All at once, the female gnoll’s jaw slackened and her eyes went wide with surprise for a moment then shut as she fell limply onto Garran’s chest.

Confused, he shoved the gnoll off of him and glanced around. Embedded in the back of her skull was the blade of a large axe. Attached at the other end of the massive weapon, Vasili stared down at the now-dead attacker. His face was ashen from shock and exhaustion as he still gripped the long shaft of the battleaxe. The blade had sliced completely through the back of the creature’s skull and lodged itself. Had the man been at full strength and not utterly exhausted and half-starved, the blade would have gone clean through the gnoll’s skull and likely injured Garran as well.

Vasili reached down to help Garran up, but as he did so, a glint of metal flashed as the orc’s blade plunged into the human’s back and burst out of his chest. Vasili let out a surprised gasp then looked down at the blade and back up at Garran. A dark red stain began to spread across his dirt-covered shirt. Saena stifled a scream, likely knowing the consequences if more attention was brought to their already noisy cell. She was not quick enough for Celestyna, however.

“Uncle! Uncle, no!” the girl exclaimed as she bolted around her mother and ran up to the man.

Garran grabbed her and shoved the girl behind him. Vasili crumpled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings as he slid off of the blade. He lay staring blankly at some distant object above him as he mindlessly reached a hand out for his sister. Saena fell to her knees beside him and cradled his head, speaking softly.

The orc trained his eyes on Garran and held out the now blood-soaked sword in his direction. The axe still lay embedded in the skull of the fallen gnoll behind him, and there was no way of getting to it before Piggy ran him through with the longsword.

Surprisingly, the swine-faced orc hadn’t called for reinforcements yet. Perhaps he thought he had things under control since he was the only one currently armed. This was beneficial, but with one glaring obstacle: the fact that Garran was still unarmed.

“Move back, Celest,” he half growled, trying to keep his voice steady. “Get behind your mother.”

But the girl did not comply. He felt her wrap onto his leg and his tail with a bear hug grip and yell at the orc, “Don’t hurt Mr. Garran!”

Ignoring the girl, Piggy smiled a most unpleasant smile at the Steward. Cavity-riddled teeth yellowed with stains, protruded grotesquely from beneath his flat nose. The green-skinned creature took a step forward to close in on his target and raised his weapon.

Garran took a step back and reached his arm protectively towards the girl. Knowing what was coming, he flinched and turned slightly to the side hoping to shield the child from the brunt of the blow. He couldn’t protect her for long, but he would while he was still able.

Why does everything have to be so complicated? he wondered randomly.

‘An unchallenged fighter will wither. Overcoming obstacles is how we grow stronger,’ his brokta’s words came to him.

Garran remembered the moment Sius had spoken these words to him. He thought of the moment often. The two of them had been training while he was recovering from the axe wound he had suffered three years ago. Garran had been deep within the pain stage of the healing process and was admittedly feeling somewhat hopeless. Everything hurt. Every movement pulled on the healing muscles. Every breath seemed to reinvigorate his pain receptors and reignite the agony from his wound.

Sius had seen the falter in his eyes--that brief thought of giving up--and stepped in with the right words; as he so often did.

“It will be hard. Healing is more of a challenge than fighting in a lot of ways. But an unchallenged fighter will wither. Overcoming obstacles is how we grow stronger and you are already stronger than you know, brokta,” he had said.

A noise ripped Garran from his reverie and returned him to the present. There was a meaty sound of flesh being punctured and the sickening wet noise as muscle and sinew were ripped from their supporting bones. The wolfkin was struck by the oddity of the sound. It wasn’t what he expected a sword stab to the gut to sound like…

Not feeling any pain to accompany this series of noises, Garran gave a tentative peek. Piggy’s wide eyes met his own. They were filled with fear, surprise and more than a little confusion. The creature rocked to and fro once or twice before toppling sideways onto the floor, in a heap. There were a few choked gurgles, then silence.

Standing directly behind the orc, muzzle now wet and painted dark red, was Teya. She’d severed the creature’s spinal column with one bite. She spat a mouthful of blood, hair and various other matter out onto the cave floor and gagged, “Ughhh. So gross,” she said, shuddering.

“Timing couldn’t have been better, though,” Garran said, placing his hand on the wolf’s shoulder. “Thank you. You’ve saved me. Again.”

He turned and began quickly pulling his armor off of the gnoll’s now cooling corpse, “I can’t believe this bitch wore my armor,” he grumbled, enunciating each word in tandem with his tugs at the leather.

“Is… is that a talking wolf??” Celest’s tinny voice piped up.

Remembering the humans in the room, he glanced up quickly. Saena was still hovering over Vasili’s still body, staring wide-eyed at the bear-sized blood-soaked wolf standing before her, “Celest?” was all she could manage.

“I will not harm you,” Teya said, as comfortingly as she could, though Garran had to admit, she looked quite savage. She took a tentative step forward towards Saena and the fallen man, “Is he…”

Garran could already tell that Vasili was gone. His previously heaving chest from the labored breathing now lay still and silent. With tears in her eyes, Saena reached a bloody hand down and shut her brother’s eyes shaking her head, “We canna stay here. They will kill us all. We need to move.”

Garran was in agreement and donned his armor as quickly as he could. Annoyingly, his high collar was ripped almost in two and covered in gnoll blood--among other things--from the axe blow. He couldn’t begrudge Vasili, however. The act had likely saved Garran’s life and he would be grateful for the rest of his life for what the human had done. However long that might be, he thought darkly.

“What were you able to bring?” he asked the wolf.

“I brought everything. Stashed it in the snow behind this cavern,” she replied. “Had to make two trips, but covered my tracks. The bow was the hardest to carry. This form has its... limits…”

He nodded at his companion and turned to Saena and Celestyna, “Saena, can you lead the way? Celest, you stay with me. I will keep you safe.”

Both mother and daughter nodded with the same determined expression on their faces. No doubt they were trying to be braver than they felt. At least that was how Garran was feeling. Saena kissed her brother’s forehead and said something Garran couldn’t make out. Then she stood, hugged her daughter, and nodded.

“Aye,” she replied simply.

The girl stared wide-eyed at her uncle lying on the ground, but said nothing. A single tear trailed down her cheek leaving a single line of cream-colored skin in contrast with her dirt-covered face. Garran turned to her and placed his hand gently on her shoulder.

“There will be time to grieve. Right now I need you to be brave. Stay low and stay quiet. Ok? Malak siska?”

Celestyna nodded in response and huddled close to him. Reaching a paw up as Garran had seen her do once before, Teya flicked his sigil from around her neck and handed it to him. He pulled it over his head and immediately felt comfort in its weight. He then picked up the sword and the group headed towards the entrance of the cell.

Poking his head out, Garran surveyed the surrounding area. It had started to snow; heavy flakes floating down on the icy winds. By some miracle, their scuffle had not immediately brought backup to investigate; likely due to inclement weather and the noisy blacksmith hammer pings coming from down the way disguising some of their scuffle. I’ll take all the good luck I can get, he thought as he stepped out and ducked around a rocky corner, motioning for the others to follow. Luck or no, they did not have long.

Slipping behind their prison, Garran found his gear. With a sigh of relief, he quickly shouldered his pack, equipped his shield and mace and picked up the bow and quiver.

He held the sword out towards Saena who gave him her signature speculative stare. “If they catch us, they won’t ask questions. They’ll aim to kill. You may find it useful, and she may need protecting if something happens to me,” he gestured with a nod to Celest.

With that, the woman grabbed the weapon with both hands and gestured behind Garran, “Other prisoners are that way,” she said and stepped around him.

The four of them skirted around the outer ring of the camp, pausing regularly to wait for patrols to pass. Saena led them to the first of the other prisoners’ cells. Similar to the cell they were kept in, this one was also a dug out section of rock with a barred gate affixed to the outside of it. Garran groaned. The gate, he thought.

He cursed, “The keys. I didn’t get the keys off of the orc.” Putza, how could I have been so stupid for not thinking of that until now? he berated himself.

Saena, Garran, and Teya looked at each other and sighed, “Och? Do ye’ mean these keys then?” asked a small voice cheekily.

Celest stood next to her mother with one hand on her slender hip and the other holding up a small ring of keys by a forefinger, “Oh ye wee rascal. I could kiss ye’ girl,” her mother replied, embracing her and giving her a quick kiss on the girl’s forehead.

By this time, the tenants of the cell were emerging curiously from the shadows. Once the gate was unlocked, Saena instructed them to head to the back of the mine. Once there, they were to wait for the rest of the group by the runoff tunnel. The mine should be empty at this hour except for the prisoner section that was always guarded, so as long as they stayed away from there, they’d be ok.

There were three other occupied cells; all of which were along this small strip. Just south of there location was the trail leading past the blacksmith and to the mine; to freedom. Sneaking through this busy camp unseen would be hard alone. With a group of untrained, exhausted escapees on his heels? Nearly impossible.

If they could put some distance between the orcs, they could-- Could what? Garran thought, these prisoners are tired and weak and the orcs are well-rested and well-fed. They’ll catch up to us within minutes. If we’re lucky, half an hour…

The Steward knew there was no going back, and he wouldn’t change his mind even if there was. These prisoners deserved a better fate than this. No one deserved to be subjugated. Living up in the mountains with his tribe had not taught him the ways of the world outside the Icy Peaks, but it had taught him to appreciate their own ways.

The Darkfrost leadership was based on knowledge and the Tribe Elder was chosen by the members of the tribe. They didn’t seek conquest or seizure. They thrived on shared knowledge and growing their family. Conquest and subjugation were two foreign concepts to his kind.

By the time they reached the final prisoner quarters, nearly twenty captives had been released. Nearly twenty faces covered in dirt, grime… and fear. The disheveled group was quite eclectic, the wolfkin noted.

Most of the prisoners were human, but there were other races as well: elves with their pointy ears and long faces, about half a dozen male dwarves with full braided beards, and a single massive minotaur that was skulking near the back of one of the cells.

The other captives gave the bull-like creature a wide berth when he ducked out of the low cave. Standing to his full height of nearly nine feet tall, the creature’s nose could touch the top of Garran’s head. A large pair of manacles clinked as the minotaur raised his hand and inclined his head in appreciation. Apparently, the orcs were intimidated enough to leave him in chains.

“We need to head past the forge, then straight down the hill. Stay low and stay quiet. Try to stay in cover when you can, and don’t stop until you get into the mines, ” Teya instructed the group, ignoring the looks of shock at a talking wolf.

As they turned to go, the sound of shouting erupted from behind them. Visibility was low due to the snow, but Garran knew what had happened. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as the shouting was quickly followed by the blaring of a warhorn. It’s too soon. We don’t have enough time. We’ll never make it out of here alive, he thought.