When the village elder warned everyone of the approaching barbarian hordes to the north, they could no longer pay the mercenary company to stay and defend them. Their scouting missions which brought the timely news of the coming horde had dried up the village coffer like a blood thirsty vampire. So, the villagers were on their own now. Orisha's father had urged her to leave with her younger brothers for the forest, but she had resolved to stay and fight this time.

The village of Clearwater was a small hamlet sandwiched between the tundra and the Sliver Forest. Not even Lord Ostric's corrupt tax collectors traveled this far north much less lords and knights in their shinny armors. The route to the village was treacherous, even if one took the King's Road all the way around the silver forest.

Without any protection, the Barbarians raids were part of life for the residence of Clearwater, this was especially true during harsh winters. Orisha could remember two of such raids, but in both cases, she was told to run into the forest with her mother and young brothers. When the raid was over, no one ever talked about it in public as if the mere mentioning of the barbarians' names would summon them to their door steps. However, during the night, Orisha's father had told her many stories about about these Barbarians, that they were huge in size, that they snack on babies foot when hungry, that their women lay with ice giants and trolls, but to Orisha, the the most terrifying thing of all was that they were also human. How could a human be so cruel and inhuman?

Orisha's grandfather was killed during the last raiding and so were her best friend Lori's grandmother. She often wondered why the Barbarians preferred killing the elderly if their favorite snack was babies's feet.

On the day when the elder told the villagers of the news about the coming horde, her father had ordered her to run for the forest as usual. But she had insisted staying behind and fight back. She was sixteen, old enough to lift a spear, plus she had her new bow and archery skill that was unrivaled by any hunter in the village.

Orisha's father was a hunter, a common occupation in the village. The poor soil and the harsh climate meant that the people couldn't do much with the land. However, food were abundant in the forest if one knew where to look and where to stay away.

Orisha had her first bow when she was six, and ever since then, she had displayed an incredible talent in archery. At age of eleven, she became the first girl to join the hunting party and over the years, she had impressed everyone with her agility and precision. Two days before the elder's announcement, Orisha had just bought her first thirty-five-pound bow made out of silver ash from the local Fletcher. The bow was light, incredibly responsive and had a draw that was as smooth as silk: A huge upgrade from her crude and cumbersome yellow oak. Although the draw weight was light comparing to a long bow, Orisha knew that it was the accuracy and speed that mattered the most during a real fight.

With her new bow and the knowledge of the land, Orisha thought that she was ready for the Barbarian horde, but she was wrong.

She was feeding the live-stock when she heard the strange noise coming fitly from north, it was half human and half something else. Then she hard the alarm bell went off: the barbarians were coming.

She ran off to her room, grabbed the bow and a quiver full of barbed arrows and join the men outside. By the time she came out of her house, the strange sound had gotten louder and it sound like a group of people singing. She clambered up the roof and found cover behind the chimney wall; it was perfect sniping spot she had picked out long time ago; she poked her head out and then she saw them.

Hundreds of massive frames descended from the hill top north of the village and each was bigger than the largest man Orisha had ever seen. They wrapped themselves in tattered pelts and hides that linked with iron chains. Some of them wore necklace fashioned out of animal, or perhaps human bones. Their faces were painted red as if smeared in blood. Most of them wielded pole arms, and some used blunt two handed weapons but all of them were massive in size and crudely fashioned. The thought of being hit by one of those large hunk of black iron was chilling. There was an unmistakable raw energy about these barbarians, like the sharp instinct of a hungry beast. At the front of the marching formation was a huge barbarian covered in a snow lion pelt. Sun light ran down from the the fur that made the silvery pelt look almost gold in color. The snaring head of the snow lion, now fashioned into a helmet, covered the barbarian's head. From a distance, the barbarian lord looked like a walking beast with fans and claws. Beside him, two barbarians, held a banner that flapped in the wind: a snaring wolverine on the field of snow.

Orisha wagered that the lion-man must be the leader but she was surprised to see that he didn't carry any large weapon like the rest. He only had a moderate battle ax hitched to his belt. The lion-man was leading the choir, but Orisha couldn't make out the lyrics. They appeared to be singing in a different tongue.

When the marching band was just a few hundred feet from the village, they stopped the advancement and the singing.

"Hoo!" The lion-man exhaled a brisk battle cry.

"Hoo! Hoo!" His soldiers responded as they shouted in unison. Their voices were deep and hoarse, and it gave Orisha's goosebumps on her skin. Not far from Orisha, chunk of snow that clung to the roof fell to the ground.

"Who-we-are?" the lion-man shouted.

"We are the wolverines!" The horde replied, their voices held the eagerness to kill.

There was a pause, and then the lion-man shouted again with more resolution: "Who do we fight for?"

"FOR TYNOS!" The Horde replied with a clap of thunder.

All of a sudden, the horde started charging as they shouted out the name of their god, Tynos. Their heavy boots trampled the ground under their weight and Orisha could feel the roof shaking. The defenders of the village were already wavering and failed to muster enough courage to lift their weapon.

Orisha drew an arrow with two deft fingers and nock it on the string. She was impressed by how quick and responsive it was. She kept on pulling the string until it kissed her right cheek, then she fired.

A barbarian took an arrow in the knee and collapsed heavily under his weight in a painful howl. He dropped right in front of a frightened villager, his head was inch away from the tip of the villager's spear. But instead of finishing off the stunned Barbarian, the villager turned on his heel and ran away.

Orisha managed to fire one more shots before the battle was over, if one could call that a battle. Most villagers had laid down their weapon and turned on their heels the moment barbarians started charging.

Orisha remained hidden from the barbarians. She lay flat on the roof and watched as the raiders rounded up those who couldn't run away. To Orisha's terror, she saw her father among those who got caught.