Worth more than you were given

The night following the raid was surprisingly quiet compared to the clashing and gnashing of fangs and claws that had been the sounds of the day. Ember had quite enjoyed the spectacle and getting to watch the Hemlock wolves at work against the Raiders. It had been an enlightening experience to be sure, but it also highlighted some of the areas of opportunity she could help hone the Hemlock fighters on. She'd watched as the first five fighters of Hemlock were thrashed, including her dear viking prince. Watching Erik get trounced by the massive Raider had been a disappointment, Ember recalling how she'd watched Erik get thrown from atop his foe to the ground. While she was sure his pride was more bruised than anything, she knew how bitter the taste of defeat and disappointment were, so she made it her mission to make sure her mountain man wasn't too beaten up over his scathing loss.

Trudging up through the snow along the mountain paths to the peaks, Ember made her way up, up, up the Fenrir Mountains with her bag around her body, following a combination of directions from the other Hemlock wolves and the lingering scent of Erik to find his hideaway. The bastard prince's den was high on the mountain, facing the northeast towards the sea. Gods damn, did Erik make this climb and descent every single day?! No wonder he was so fucking shredded; this was a workout on its own! The night was cold and the wind whipped around the mountain, bringing with it fresh flurries of snow. Em pulled her cloak tighter around herself as she neared the top, rounding a bend in the path and finding Erik's scent stronger here. Up ahead she spotted a cave with a light spilling out from around some thick fur coverings. That had to be it!

With renewed vigor, Ember pushed through the snow and wind, gritting her teeth and squinting against the gale until she made it to the mouth of the den. Ember all but stumbled inside with a sigh of relief, pushing past the furs and making sure they were shutting out the cold before shaking the snow from her fur and cloak. "Knock knock! Oh mountain man, your best friend in the whole wide world is here with some pick-me-ups! Oh, and I'm coming in whether you like it or not because it's fucking cold outside!" Ember called out, stepping gracefully from the mouth of the den further inside, her bag clinking softly as glass knocked against glass. She was grateful for the surprising warmth inside, given by a lit brazier she saw just ahead. Em walked slowly, studying the den that was still only partially moved into, the faint smell of tea leaves underneath the overwhelming smell of Erik everywhere. It very much felt like a brute's den.

"Ember Carpathius" | "Carpathian"