Chapter 3

In a vast wasteland of unending ice, there was a group of less than two dozen nomads. These nomads were all dressed in thick furs and marching forwards, as if their lives depended on it. Between these two dozen nomads, two people held a stretcher, which carried a bundle of furs. The air seeped with desperation, as they did all they could, just to get away from there. They had been taken unaware by a snow storm, and had gotten trapped in a cave for a whole month, before getting back out again. And now, when they had finally escaped death, they were met with the scene behind them.

Dark roiling clouds, covering the entire sky a few kilometres behind them. The clouds were shooting out several strands of lighting, each followed by a thundering explosion, as the clouds made their way forwards. Just a few days after escaping death, they were met by a huge thunderstorm. Luckily, the storm was quite far behind, and they might be able to escape it, if luck was finally on their side. But that, was only part of their problems. They had no food, and no way to get any food. They had tried to find something to hunt, but there was only ice; ice as far as the eye could reach. In the several days, since they left the cave, they had not come upon a single animal. And food had finally run out.

Ahead of the small tribe they could see a vast mountain range. This mountain range went as far back as they could see, and was completely covered in ice. The tribe had never seen landscapes such as this, but they still determined themselves to continue onwards. Rather go to unknown lands, than get caught in a thunderstorm of ice and lightning.

Thus, they could only continue to tread forwards. They walked for half a day, before they got to the foot of the mountain range, but now they were truly in dire straits. The thunderstorm was quickly closing in on them, and the terrain of the mountains was truly treacherous. It was steep, and got colder and colder, the higher they went. They had already started climbing upwards, but it was tiring and hard.

“Skegg, what are we going to do? We can’t continue on like this,” Rafarta said. She looked worried, and glanced over to her oblivious son. The times when he was conscious were getting rarer and rarer. Most of the time, he was unconscious, writhing in pain.

“Hǫfðingi* Skegg, that boy of yours… He’s a burden, if I’m to be frank. I’ve always cared for Valdr, but face it, he’s a lost cause. He won’t be surviving this,” a tall man said. This tall man, was even taller than Skegg, and was also his best friend. He always cared greatly for Ulfvaldr, because he never had any children of his own. He was never able to because of a tragedy, which happened in his childhood. On his fifteenth year of life, when he was deemed ready for his first hunt, disaster struck. A great elk had struck him right in the balls, sending him flying several meters. One of his testicles even exploded. Ever since that day, he was never able to spur any offspring.

*Hǫfðingi means chief, and is pronounced like, ‘hoefdingeh’ with a soft ‘g’.

“Knǫttr, Ulfvaldr is my only son, and I won’t abandon him! I’ll even carry him on my own, if necessary,” Skegg said. Knǫttr could only sigh, but he kept carrying his end of the stretcher. He wouldn’t make his friend carry him on his own. Especially, since he was basically Ulfvaldr’s uncle.

As they tried to climb up the mountain in front of them, the thunder storm was creeping closer and closer, ever so slowly. The tribe’s people were climbing sideways along the mountain, trying to get to the other side, but the terrain was treacherous. Sometimes, they would have to climb further up, and then they’d have to go back down again to find another path.

While they were walking along a seemingly safe path, one young boy slipped. No one reacted quick enough to catch him, and he fell down along the mountain. They were already quite high up, so they couldn’t even see the ground from their position. All they knew was that the boy was dead. They saw his limbs get mangled in unnatural ways, as he fell, so he might even have died before he reached the ground. No one could save him.

However, that didn’t stop the mother from trying. She screamed the boy’s name, and tried to climb down after him, but it was impossible. She slipped, and ultimately fell to the same fate as her boy. Just like that, they had lost another two people. The father of the little boy, was one of the original people to go missing, when the initial snow storm happened, so just like that, their entire family was wiped away.

The people of the tribe, however, could not afford to wait, so they immediately continued onwards. However, Skegg did tell everyone to be careful. He didn’t want anyone else to die, no matter what. He had already lost a third of his people to this great catastrophe.

Eventually, they got to a little clearing where they could relax. However, none of them wanted to relax, they were too scared by the incoming thunder storm. But what could they do? The sun had already set, and they could barely even see their own feet anymore. To continue walking, meant walking towards the jaw of death. However, all of them could clearly see the boiling thunderstorm in the sky, quickly reaching towards them.

“Ah, this time we might truly be toast,” someone said. If they got caught in the thunderstorm, they would really be in dire straits. Because, there was no such thing, as just a thunderstorm. Where there was a thunderstorm, there was a snow storm. Rain was not something these people knew of; it was always snow. And with wind, even if it didn’t snow, there would still be a snow storm, as all the snow would be thrown around.

People were walking in circles, wrecking their brains, trying to find a solution, but these weren’t exactly the most intelligent bunch. Others, sat down on the ground; some even cried. Ulfvaldr, however, just lied in his little bundle of fur, in the corner, still oblivious as ever. He didn’t even know of the impending doom that neared them all. His body was truly a wreck. He was thinner than before, his skin was wrinkly, and shrivelled, and there were red and blue veins all over his body.

While everyone was either wrecking their brains, or praying to their gods, the thunderstorm quickly came towards them. And it wasn’t long, until it was actually there. It was already too late to leave now, as it was upon them. It would only be at most half an hour, until it reached them. Skegg had gone over to unwrap his son, to see if he was unconscious. All the villagers were close by them, or sitting around the area. It was one of those rare moments, where Ulfvaldr had his eyes open, and Skegg was about to tell him about their current situation. He wanted his son to at least know what struck him.

However, when Skegg was about to tell him, one of the men was playing with his spear, and accidentally cut his hand. He yelped in pain, as his blood fell to the snow, colouring it crimson. Just as this happened, Ulfvaldr shot his eyes open, and looked over to him, with a never ending hunger in his eyes.

‘This, this smell, it, it, it’s delicious!’ He thought. He wanted to scream those words, but he had already lost his ability to speak. The sweet aroma, which entered his nose, drove him crazy. He felt the aroma seep into his lungs, then spread all over his body, causing a nearly ecstatic feeling. Then he felt a deep hunger, a never ending thirst, well up inside the pits of his body. His eyes flashed, with a crimson light. Suddenly, what no one expected to happen, happened.

Ulfvaldr shot up, of off his stretcher, and lunged towards the bleeding man, like an arrow. The speed surprised everyone; they were completely at a loss for words. Then, something even more shocking happened! Ulfvaldr opened his mouth, and his canines visibly grew, into fangs, like those of a wolf’s. And they sank into the flesh of the bleeding man’s neck; and he drank.

He drank his blood, in front of everyone. As they watched, yet another shocking thing happened. They could see that his skin was visibly healing. The veins visibly disappearerd, where he was once small and fragile, he grew larger, until he seemed almost identical to before, except he seemed a bit older. Then, as the corpse fell to the ground, Ulfvaldr had almost regained his former appearance.

No one could say a word. They were complete speechless. They were either shocked, terrified, or both. Ulfvaldr had a mad look in his eyes; his irises shone a crimson red, his sclera was pitch black, with blood red veins throughout it. His mouth was bloodied, and his fangs were bared at everyone. Then, like a flash, he shot at the victim nearest to him, and bit into him.

That was when the screams began. The women ran away, and the men grabbed spears. Only Skegg and Rafarta stood still. They were too shocked to even move. The men charged at Ulfvaldr, with their spears in hand, but they couldn’t do anything. He was too fast; they could only watch, as he went from one victim, to the next. It only took him an instant, to completely drain a person of their blood. After only a few moments, he had already killed sixteen people. The rest were staring at him in horror, realizing another catastrophe had struck them; one they had no chance of surviving. However, as Ulfvaldr went to drain his mother, everything came to a halt.

Suddenly, the crazed look in his eyes, vanished. His sclera went back to being white, but his irises remained crimson. He stood, stopped in his tracks, as he looked around himself. He saw the several bodies around him; some looked like a wild beast had torn them apart. One man’s head hung to the side, half torn off. He clearly remembered everything; he knew that he was the one who caused all this carnage. He killed them himself.

“What have I done?” He asked himself, as well as his parents. And those, were the last words the tribes people ever heard. The thunderstorm had already reached them, and furiously struck several lighting strikes on the mountains. Then a deep rumble resounded above them. Everyone looked up, not knowing what was about to hit them, nor knowing what to expect. However, what they saw, scared them witless. They no longer cared about the carnage caused by Ulfvaldr. There was a huge mass of whiteness, tumbling down towards them, and everything else in the surroundings. Everyone screamed in horror, as they grabbed the ones near them. Skegg and Rafarta hugged their son, and Skegg said,

“Remember, my son. We are your parents, and we will always love you, so never forget us. Remember, Ulfvaldr, live up to our hopes! Live up to everyone’s hopes!” He screamed, with a look that made it seem like he knew something no one else knew. Something, not even Ulfvaldr knew. The last movement Skegg did, was to put his hand on his son’s chest, where there was once a deep wound, piercing his heart. Ulfvaldr could only look on, in confusion, as the rumbling mass, of ice cold whiteness, tumbled down upon them. Then, everything was covered in white. An avalanche had struck, burying both the living, and dead.