The woods were deep and cold, although the full moon spread a sheet of silver over the snow coating the forest floor. The winds had finally settled, leaving the air crisp as fallen leaves, with tiny flickers of white that still drifted like embers across the night sky. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled, its low keen filled with loneliness and loss, fading slowly into the dark.
Erik stepped lightly across the snow-covered ground, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the snow shoes he was wearing. His breath blew in plumes that glowed white in the moonlight, tiny icicles sparkling like jewelry from his brow and his beard. Frost brushed the surface of the thick coat he wore, clung to his gloves and his boots in a thin crust of rime. Still, though the cold penetrated like an ache deep into his bones, the hunter showed no discomfort. His eyes were pinned to the ground, following a trail of hoof prints that broke the pristine surface of the snow, examining the small splashes of red that ran in a polka dot trail to the right of the prints.
The deer had bled heavily at first, but the blood drops had been appearing farther and farther apart for the last fifteen minutes. It couldn't have much fight left in it and Erik was eager to bring this chase to an end. He was tired and hungry and he wanted to go home, but he couldn't bear the thought of going back empty handed yet again. Ilya would bear her hunger with a staunchness befitting a daughter of the woods, but for days, maybe even weeks, she had been rationing out her own portion of their winter stores to the children. Stubborn or not, she had too little strength left in her. Without food to fuel her inner flame, she would too easily fall to illness, and that was a weakness that would not survive winter in the forest.
Erik exhaled deeply, calling forth his reserves of strength to banish his exhaustion, or to at least hold it at bay until he could capture his prize. No, there would be no returning home without the spoils of this hunt. There had been little enough game this winter, and he'd had to drive deeper and deeper into the forest to find fresh meat for his family. Coming across the deer, lean and starved-looking as it was, had been a stroke of pure good luck. Less lucky was the wind that arose the moment he took his shot, casting snow into his eyes and nudging his aim. He'd only managed a wounding shot, although he had faith that the wound would eventually be a mortal one. Erik had no intention of allowing this prize to slip through his fingers.
He continued forward, lightly placing one foot in front of the other, his every sense scanning the air for signs of his quarry. The wind rose again, sharp as a mountain lion's claws as it sent a spray of silver dust into the air, but it brought with it a faint, coppery scent. Not far, then.
Erik picked up his face, hustling as quickly as he could while still remaining silent. The deer had fallen - he was fairly certain of that - but too much noise attracted other things, and the last thing the he wanted was to end up struggling over his spoils with some other predator. The wolf that howled had sounded relatively far away, and Erik's instincts whispered that the howl had been a lone wolf calling for his brethren. If there was even a chance that a wolf pack lurked near by, Erik wanted to claim his prey and be gone as quickly as possible.
Then he crested a small hill, and there it was, only a few hundred feet distant. The deer had finally succumbed to exhaustion and blood loss - it was still breathing, but shallowly, and it was clear that death approached on swift wings. Erik started forward, then stopped. He had been so focused upon the deer that he never even noticed the figure walking toward it from the opposite direction. It was tall and slender, its features almost entirely masked by a pale cloak that covered it from head to toe. The cloak was lined with soft fur of the palest white, which glittered in the moonlight as the figure approached the deer.
"Oy there!" Erik shouted, fighting down a sense of unease. She - and he was certain the figure was a woman - was clearly not a hunter, and besides what sort of woman would wander the forest alone at night? "I have claim upon that deer!"
The figure stopped, watching him from across the distance. She did not respond, though Erik could feel her gaze as though it had solid force.
"If you are hungry, however, I am willing to part with a portion of it for fair trade," he said as he approached. "Perhaps we can come to an equitable agreement."
The woman hesitated, then in one smooth motion removed the hood of her cloak. A cascade of fine silver hair spilled out, framing a face pale and smooth as ivory, with features as sharp and as chiseled as the mountains. Around her head sat a thin band of silver, and underneath them her eyes burned with violet fire.
Erik gasped. Colder than the harshest winter night, more beautiful than a snowstorm at dawn, she could only be Jezeriah, the Lady of the Mountain. The cold that surrounded Erik suddenly seemed to wrap him in choking bands that threatened to crush the breath out of his chest. The Lady of the Mountain was only spoken of in muted whispers and hushed prayer, for it was said that no man could see her face and live.
"Do you claim this kill, hunter?" Jezeriah asked. Her voice was the splintering of the glaciers, the howl of a blizzard in the heart of winter, the roar of an avalanche from frosty peaks. "You have wandered too far from your home. These are my lands, and all things here belong to me."
"Forgive me, my Lady," Erik replied, dropping to his knees and bringing his forehead to touch the snow before him. "I meant no trespass. I did not realize how far I had wandered. I had only meant to find food for my family."
"There is nothing here that lives or dies but by my will, hunter," Jezeriah replied, "yet you dare claim a life for your own. This is a transgression that cannot be overlooked."
"Please, Lady Jezeriah. My family starves. My wife and children grow weak, and the spectre of illness knocks on our door. I can only plead for your mercy and your forbearance."
There was silence for a moment as Erik felt Lady Jezeriah scrutinizing him. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed - an icy, silvered laugh that held within it all the chill of the distant stars.
"Nothing happens here without my knowledge, hunter. I know of your family's plight, and you will be glad to know that it does not leave me unmoved. This deer is not for you, but there is something else I can offer your family. Food in abundance. Food enough to last through the winter, and the next, and the one after that. Food enough that your family shall never want for food again. Would you like that?"
Erik looked up at Jezeriah, hardly daring to hope.
"That would be a miracle of miracles, Great Lady of the Mountain," he cried. "You would have my eternal gratitude."
"Eternal, you say?" Jezeriah asked, her smile very white in the moonlight. "Well, never let it be said that I am not merciful. Never let any claim that Jezeriah cares nothing for the mortalkind who dwell upon her mountains."
Erik had only a moment to consider that statement before Jezeriah's hand shot out and touched him on the cheek. There was a moment of horrible, blinding pain, wet tearing sounds and streaks of liquid crimson that stained the pristine white of the snow. When it was over, Erik found himself lying on his side in the snow. Jezeriah was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any sign of the deer that he had felled. The night seemed different - crisper, clearer, somehow, and everywhere he could hear the sounds of the winter forest.
He felt different as well. His head seemed strangely heavy, and though he was lying in the snow he barely felt the cold. Erik raised his head to look himself over, and was stunned to discover smooth brown fur instead of a winter coat, and hooves in the place of his hands and feet. He struggled upright, his grunting and shouts clearly the sound of a terrified animal.
And he knew, in an instant of blazing terror, how Jezeriah intended him to feed his family.
You may return to them each winter, hunter, her voice suddenly whispered in his ears, cold and cruel and filled with a savage amusement. Death shall be no obstacle for you. It shall be your choice how well your family is fed.
As Jezeriah's mocking laughter slowly faded away, Erik rose to his feet and began the long trek home. As he knew he would each and every winter, until the end of his days.
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Bleh. Another fucking rush job. I really should consider doing these earlier in the day.
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