Realization One: "The Snowy Starting Point"
"In the farthest corners of this world, in the most isolate of places, in the darkest of shadows, there are things that await. Things that have been long forgotten. Things that are quite valuable both in knowledge as well as wealth. Yet, most of all, they are things waiting to remind us of our pasts, where we came from, and whom we should forever aspire to be; worthy, flexible, ever strong." - Ezreal, the Prodigal Explorer
For the frigid reaches located the furthest north upon the super continent known as Runeterra, for the tundra realm entitled Freljord where the various people were and had forever been as hardened as the ice stained land, the day in question was a Friday. As for the exact time as well as date, it was December 25th of 22CLE (Current League Era) at 8:25am. Therefore, clearly, with it being so very early in the morning on this certain day, the world as a whole was experiencing the dark, chilling, inconvenient season called winter where the temperature had noticeably dropped, and the daylight's hours were shortest while the nighttime's reigned supreme.
Truly, throughout the many provinces that made up Runeterra, the various peoples altogether were and had been doing their best to endure the more unfavorable part of the year since its first global snowstorm had finally hit a near month ago on November 29th. Of course, before that blizzard, with the formerly summer winds having been drained of their warmth by the passage of colorful autumn's coming as well as going earlier, be it in Demacia or Noxus or Bandle City or so on, everyone everywhere had been getting ready for old man winter's eventual arrival.
Yes, as the leaves had fallen from branches beforehand, as the warm breezes had become rare, as the fad of light clothing had been replaced by heavier material, farmers had put up their gear, sailors had anchored, armies had braced themselves, and all runeterrians had gotten as ready as they could for the first snowflakes as they fiercely swirled down from the gray skies in not random bits but in torrents!
Nevertheless, nowadays, even though having prepared themselves for the chilly inevitable for the longest time, even during what had been the first snowfall of the season, no one anywhere in their right mind had or could appreciate winter's presence. Not anyone south of the mountain ranges that divided the hardy Freljord from the rest of the world, anyway.
And, heh, it wasn't only people who didn't appreciate the season of snow. No, really, a person only had to glance out their frost tinged window to realize that animals - wildlife in general - didn't exactly appreciate old man winter's stay either. Where had the birds and their songs gone? Well, to warmer parts, obviously. Where had the predators departed to? Into their caves to hibernate until warmer times had come back, duh. And as for the rest of the animals, they were constantly inching, stepping, bounding along to find whatever food they could while also trying to stay comfortable the entire time.
Hmf, if only everyone could be like the magnificent City of Progress called Piltover where the streets were usually plowed, the housing everywhere was insulated not to mention gas heated, the star rods glowed as bright as the stars did during their time above, and things were just more advanced than most elsewhere in Runeterra in general.
Still, even though the current days were during so miserable a time of the year, even though everything was so very cold for everyone, there was a hint of growing excitement in the air... And that was due to the fact that, soon enough, on the coming 31st of December, there would be much celebrating. Why? Hah, only for the most historical, neutral, not to mention cheery holiday ever; that which had been written down in history as and was still known as Snowdown.
Much like the famously spooky, fun, mischievously costume dressed holiday of the Harrowing during the full moon on October 30th, Snowdown could be considered the same only ten times better. For everyone everywhere, for the rich or poor or middle class, for enemies as well as allies, the brief duration of the Snowdown was or would be a time of great happiness, of celebration, but of purity most of all. Yes, purity.
See, as it had been when it had started centuries way, way, way back and still was today, Snowdown was the day that the old year ended to pass over to a completely new year. Thus, this shifting from the old year to the new, with it being something of a chance for Runeterra to acquire something of a utterly clean slate altogether, the tradition upheld that everyone - Demacian, Noxian, Yordle, so on - obey the tradition that there would be nothing but peace on December 31st where friends gathered, families enjoyed themselves, and enemies - old rivals, bitter foes, vicious opponents - even got together to peacefully toast/discuss certain things of interest concerning one another.
Indeed, the beginning of winter, its slow yet sure progress into spring, was quite the inconvenience for the world of Runeterra as a whole. Yet, with the coming of the Snowdown Holiday - with the coming of a momentary day of gladness, joy, tranquility between all sentient men as well as creatures - winter became all that much easier for everyone to get through. And, in the least, there was always that fuzzily tender holiday of Valentine's Day to look forward to afterwards, right?
Refocusing back onto the subject at hand, for Runeterra as a whole, the season that brought snow wasn't nor ever hadn't been a well received thing. Regardless of what others thought though, no matter the peoples' opinions of how cold if not uncomfortable the days became with snowfall, there were and had always been a northern civilization of folk who had embraced the coldest of temperatures, who had drawn strength from living off of the harsh north climates, who had come to not care what blizzards came for them; the Freljordians of Freljord.
And it just so happened on this certain year that, for the first time - finally being or having become a part of the supposedly modern world by being included into the Institute of War/League of Legends about a year back during the unification of most of the Avarosan, barbarian, as well as other tribes - the northern reaches of icy Freljord were willing to take part in Snowdown. During this certain December 31st even, Queen Ashe along with King Tryndamere had done a very thorough job of inviting both local and foreign emissaries to join them at their palace to celebrate together.
As one for a change, delighting in the idea that they could be happy not only with their people but with others they had come to befriend during their participation with the summoners on the Fields of Justice, Ashe as well as Tryndamere were very happy to find that many of their invitations had been answered in a positive manner.
Indeed, despite their nations' occasional issues in the past, Garen and Lux Crownguard of Demacia would be attending to represent Jarvan the Third as well as Fourth. Hopefully, through this certain new year celebration, with help from hefty yet eager Gragas's brewed drinks, the Freljordian rulers would make good hosts not to mention friends to the Demacian peoples in the future. Especially when Noxus seemed so very interested in scouting the northern reaches these days.
And as for others being invited to Freljord's Snowdown celebration, many more answered the calling. From Bandle City, Teemo, Tristana, Lulu, Corki, and, ahem, hyper Ziggs, would try to make it to represent their homeland. Then, to the frost archer's not to mention barbarian king's amusement, there would also be Ezreal of Piltover who - even though he would deny it if asked - wouldn't really be coming to see the rulers of the north. Nah, being his usual day dreamy, adventurous, eager self, he'd most likely be coming to maybe get a peek at the palace's available treasures, keepsakes, and artifacts on display.
Well, hm, the Prodigal Explorer would either be doing that or would be dragged around by Lux when she eventually found out he was there. Being geniuses in their own rights, the two of them had a... well, they'd always had a budding connection. Maybe more than a connection, mind. Heh, as a matter of fact, it was plain that they had more of a relationship that was bound to go past just being best friends. Nevertheless, for whatever reasons they were coming, be it personal or political or whatnot, in Freljord or elsewhere, guests were or would be guests.
And thus, with excitement, with care, the queen and king of Freljord had been overseeing the preparations for their own coming Snowdown since the passing of the 1st of December. Of course, not everyone invited could make it to the north to join the party. The Jarvans had to remain home to attend to their own affairs. As predicted from the start, Noxus and Zaun outright didn't pay attention. In fact, when Ashe had opened the reply letter from Noxus... a sinister blade with a certain strand of red hair had menacingly fallen out to stick, point down, into the table. Then there was Piltover's Finest whom, understandingly, were much to busy with baddies these days - especially with a Loose Cannon - to be able to make it. Still that didn't keep the sheriff nor enforcer from sending back their best wishes to Ashe and Tryndamere for their generous thoughts.
Nah, being Caitlyn and Vi with a reluctant Jayce tagging along every so often, Piltover's Finest would being doing their own Snowdown Celebration by watching the river for any sign of Jinx trying to send freights towards the bay where they would drift and drift and drift until either towed back in or were lost forever. Anyway, the protectors of Piltover would toast to the frost archer's and barbarian king's thoughtfulness in good time. On that they promised.
Yet, if there was one individual that didn't shock Ashe, Tryndamere, nor the peoples under their rule in the slightest by declining the offer to come celebrate Snowdown at the Avarosan palace, then that was Winter Claw Princess Sejuani; also known far and wide as the Winter's Wrath.
Indeed, when the Winter Claw's leader had received the said invite, she had, with great disdain showing in her pale yet attractive face not to mention icy blue eyes, balled the parchment up before having Bristle - her loyal Freljordian boar mount - devour it with great gusto in front of her grim subjects. Then, with a simple gesture, she had called out one of her mightiest warriors to face her, dueled if not beaten him furiously in the snow to blow off some steam, then taken to remaining in her tent for the remainder of the day.
The Avarosans... Pah! The nerve of them! Weak, insignificant, cowardly, weak fools that always followed the ideals of a fragile archer and dull witted barbarian king formerly from beyond the southern mountains! At least the Frostguard, like their ancestors, knew where their attention, their strength, was to be directed at all times; on defense, on endurance, on tradition. Not on frivolous, pointless bantering with outsiders or with each other about what the coming days were to bring.
Had the future of Freljord never been so clear? So plain? So very obvious? What was there to discuss about it when every Freljordian - every true Freljordian like the Winter Claws - knew that snow, trials, and the unknown would be what always awaited in the future and nothing more? Yet, like she had done by sending grain to her on that grim day, here Ashe was encouraging Sejuani to desert old ways to pursue ignorant new ones! Here the frost archer was sullying, dirtying, hurting the true meaning of Freljordian spirit by inviting peace and not hardship into the northern realm!
Freljord was a place built from fighting, not this trash called celebrating, uniting, appeasing foreign dogs! Through conflict, a people, every people, became strong! This sitting around tables, dining on the finest foods, drinking until intoxicated, laughing long into the night, disregarding the ancient ways... it would catch up with dear Ashe. And when that day came where the frost archer would fall, where her people would abandon her as the Winter Claws triumphed, Sejuani would be all too happy. To her, that would be her Snowdown.
Until that day though, until the moment where Sejuani and her aggressive Bristle would snap Ashe as well as her bow in two, the Winter's Wrath had to keep to her ways. She had to remain loyal to that which had kept her alive while her siblings along with many others of her tribe had died. She had to continue to tirelessly work to believe in that which seer "Vanille" had said she was destined for; to be the true queen of all of proper Freljord. And to continue to believe in herself one day becoming the actual ruler of the north, there could be no rest, no waiting, no meeting with supposed friends during the new year, for Sejuani.
No, today, on December 25th of 22CLE at 8:25am during the early hours of the frigid and very dark Freljordian winter morning, the Winter's Wrath had prepared, supplied, as well as mounted her snuffling boar mount to begin a long, ancestral journey to one of the highest yet respected heights in all of Runeterra; Glacial Reach. Indeed, Glacial Reach, an isolate, elevated sanctuary of glacial rock half buried in snow and near the shoreline of the eastern Guardian Sea. Also, it was the supposed place where many a fearsome follower of the Three Sisters of Freljord had done a variety of their meditations, prayers, confessions in the past to the truer than truly icy winds that blew though to the righteous ancestors in the afterlife.
Yet, just before the princess of the Winter Claws was to head out to this holiest of places within of Freljord's borders, she was, as expected and subtly welcomed, to be sent off by all of her inspired tribesmen as well as women. Indeed, as she was urging Bristle to stomp his way out of the makeshift stables to exit the center of the large encampment that had been set for the last two weeks, Sejuani could not help but notice her many fellow Winter Claws begin to exit their tents.
Having always been raised with the senses to be alerted to any sound during the night or risk being ambushed by enemies otherwise, at hearing her and her large boar mount obviously scuffling by through the newly fallen snow, every Winter Claw was starting to awaken from their light slumber. In turn, as their princess passed them by, the hardened tribes people of Sejuani - kids, adults, elders, everyone - eventually exited their nomadic huts to trail behind her.
In the tribe folks' hands, to help their hardy ruler better see the way and also to thank her for her constant protection over them in a way, they raised torches, lanterns, anything that could illuminate the way through the chilly darkness to the outskirts of the settlement. Then, when outside of the encampment, it was there that the Winter's Wrath halted Bristle as well as everyone following her. For there ahead of her, like they'd always been since she'd begun journeying to Glacial Reach to be a princess, she found the tribes' holy figures, the elders plus seers, awaiting her in the snowdrifts.
"Princess Sejuani," A certain older, senior woman with the most fiery shade of red hair framing her wrinkled yet wise expression not to mention copper colored eyes in the gathered torchlight, said, "Winter's Wrath of the north, of the Winter Claws... Grant us a moment of your time to place upon you the blessing of your people, of your land, of your ancestors."
At this familiar request, at having heard this said to her every year just before the time of Snowdown and going along with this usual routine, Sejuani dismounted from her boar. Once on the ground, she firmly stepped closer to the red haired elder that had asked of her to remain a moment longer.
"Make this quick, Vanille." The princess of the Winter Claws commanded of the fiery haired, aged woman, kneeling down onto one knee along with removing her one horned helm so that the gathered elders of her encampment could place their hands upon her bowed head next, "Glacial Reach, the future, my cleansing, awaits."
"Quite true. Very well said, your highness." The red haired woman or Vanille replied, placing one withered hand onto Sejuani's pale blonde head while raising her torch high into the air for the rest of the tribe to copy her action, "Yes, yes, time is of great importance... I will not waste it rambling about nothingness. But do not worry. The ancestors will not be angry with you when you're only having the usual simple seeing off party."
"Just make this fast, seer." Was Sejuani's firm response, really not wanting to be held up for long when there was redemption, purity, possible revenge in store for her with the approach and arrival of the newest year, "Bristle and myself have plenty of ground to cover on this day. We would like to reach the sanctuary of our ancestors during sunlight. If we do not... it will prove to be most tedious."
"Tedious? For the Winter's Wrath? Hmf, such a thing cannot nor will not ever occur for you, my dear princess." Seer Vanille chuckled, her aged expression stretching into a knowing smile, "No. Nothing will ever prove to be tedious nor too great for you, my dear. Have you perhaps forgotten the day that you came into my tent to seek wisdom on how you would die? Have you forgotten that you are fated to be the queen of a most terrific Freljord someday?"
"No, almighty Vanille. No, heh, I haven't forgotten any of that." Sejuani answered, smiling to herself at remembering her being told by the seer in the past that was destined to not be a weakling but the strongest of the strong someday, "I am just... most eager to begin anew. I and Bristle are more than ready to see what the newest of years our ancestors will be blessing us with. The faster we go, the faster we see, eh?"
"The faster you go, the faster you will miss things, dearest princess." Seer Vanille interjected, her eyes showing concern when Sejuani's eager own looked up from bowing, "Over the years since we first met, you have indeed grown strong, promising, worthy of the throne of this land. All who follow you will grow to be the greatest of warriors. Nevertheless, recklessness, haste, these are not things that suit you. Remember your ways of cunning, of patience, of tradition. Only then will you stay the course. Only then will the throne come to be yours, my dear."
"Of course, of course. I understand. Bristle does as well." The Winter's Wrath admitted, bowing her blond head again with newfound determination to not make any mistakes when the new year arrived, "But there is just something... about this approaching year, almighty seer. I feel it in my bones when dream while I sleep. Yes, when I am cleansed by the newest of snows, I think I'll feel like I could... take on anything! Be it an Avarosan or barbarian or even a bloody Ursine, I would win! Ha ha, this newest year will be most satisfying!"
"And, soon enough, you will find out that you can conquer anything. You will find that this newest year to come will be most magnificent." Seer Vanille encouraged, feeling very happy to see the princess of the Winter Claws sounding so very inspired for what was to come, "Like you, I have dreamed many times. I have seen you sweep aside many an enemy to take your rightful seat upon the throne of thrones. And this year, ancestors willing... I believe we will see you at your finest."
"Soon enough, I will find out that I can conquer anything, hm? Heh, it cannot be soon enough then!" Sejuani exclaimed, putting a fist to her armored chest in pride, "All my life, I have been waiting for the year,. the answer, to when I will be the ruler of all of the north; an unrivaled north! If it is to be this next year then let me see it, seer! Bless me quickly! Bless me so that myself and Bristle can be off!"
"Hah, patience, patience, your highness! For the moment, you shall have your blessing from your people here with you now. Then, with the falling of the purest snows when the new year has begun... may the ancestors finally reward you, all of us, for our patience with those who have considered themselves our superiors for too long."
With everyone now very inspired to join in the early morning sending off ceremony, Seer Vanille turned her brown eyes as well as charismatic voice onto the gathered Winter Claws all around.
With one of her old hands resting upon Sejuani's bowed head and the other holding up the torch she held, the seer traditionally began with, "As it has been for the Winter Claws, with the coming of every new falling of the purest snow - during that time which the outside world has entitled as Snowdown - we have come together on this day to bid farewell to our fair princess, the Winter's Very Wrath, Sejuani. And although her going always leaves us void in a precious part of ourselves, we will remain strong. Yes, we will remain strong for our future, for her, for the Freljord."
"We will remain strong." The many voices of the many gathered Winter Claws repeated back to Vanille, making a part of Sejuani's heart skip a beat due to pride not only in herself but in everyone wishing her the best, "Yes, we will remain strong for the princess, for our ancestors, for this land which will one day belong to only the strong; us."
"Sejuani, the Winter's Very Wrath... Since you were brought into this world, always has Freljord been with you. Forever have you been if not rightly represented Freljord." Vanille mystically chanted, directing her torch to the south, north, east, along with west to signify the entire world in turn, "Thus, always will it protect you, strengthen you, guide you. Thus, as you venture to the Glacial Reach this day and reside there until the purest snow falls to rid you of your worries, your hesitations, your troubles, we of your tribe will pray to the Freljord. And in turn, the Freljord will bring you back to us renewed, revived, reborn."
"We will pray. Yes, we will pray for you, Winter's Wrath." Everyone chanted, waving their own sources of light to the north, south, east, west, to bless their princess, "And in turn, the Freljord will bring you back to us renewed, revived, reborn."
"Sejuani, Winter's Wrath, princess of the Winter Claws, she who will one day be the ruler, renewal of this breaking, crumbling, weakening land!" Vanille next exclaimed, her voice rising to a shout to begin making others stir with anticipation for what was coming, "Go now! Go to Glacial Reach! There, as it has been since the times of our most ancient ancestors, you will rest amid the falling of the purest snow. And when that snow has cleansed you of sin, when a new year has begun, you yourself will begin anew. Yes, while the world will shake at your reformed presence, you will come back to us all from Glacial Reach stronger than ever before!"
"Stronger than ever before!" The Winter Claws roared for their emboldening Winter's Wrath Yes, you'll come back stronger than ever before, Winter's Wrath!"
And for the next matter of minutes, waving their torches over their heads, stomping their feet, crying out towards the dark heavens for the ancestors to hear them, the sending off party rallied around Sejuani. Following Seer Vanille's speeches, everyone was getting pretty worked up to see their princess go to Glacial Reach to become pure, strong, able to come back and take the throne from Ashe so that a true, strong Freljord could be brought about!
And this practice of going to Glacial Reach, of the Winter Claws starting to rile themselves up at the early morning hours... this was their way. As this had been the way of their ancestors, this would be the way of the generations to come after them.
Yes, it was true. As the world outside of Freljord had celebrated Snowdown in their very own ways, the Freljordians - like the excited Winter Claws now - had had their own methods in honoring the purifying holiday. As it had been for the Avarosan for the longest time, even though they would be partying this year, Ashe as well as Tryndamere would take a moment to send off a pair of powerful hawks whom would both represent the rulers starting anew. For the Frostguard, they would simply light another beacon on the lanterns that ran up the length of the spire that loomed high into the sky from the center of their city.
As for the Winter Claw though, their tradition for celebrating purity was, without surprise from everyone else, quite a bit harsher. Indeed, like her ancestors before her, Sejuani was readying herself to go to Glacial Reach where she would be hungry, she would be cold, she would be tested in every way. There, for the next number of days until midnight on the 31st, while fasting, training, surviving, she would think over her failures, her flaws, her sins.
And then, when the purest snows would fall as they always did at midnight to signify the newest year had just started... Sejuani would be, like she'd repeatedly been since becoming a princess and had begun to make this recurring yearly journey, cleansed, reborn, wiped of her sins once again. Or that was how the routine/feeling went, so to speak.
And although it sounded crazy to do, although it appeared to be quite a bit of trouble to achieve something as simple as being able to sit in the first snowfall of the new year, never had a princess or leader of the Winter Claws complained, hesitated, nor missed going up to Glacial Reach. Whether one was crippled, sick, handicapped, that didn't matter. A Winter Claw leader either went... or they were not a leader. Simple.
Thus, neither being sick nor being a coward on this morn, adorned in her usual brown wool garments underneath her heavy set of true ice armor, upon the back of mighty, supplied Bristle who grunted while the Winter Claws chanted together their building encouragement to her behind the tribe's elders' leads, Sejuani was more than ready to journey to Glacial Reach when she was being blessed by her peoples' prayers.
Finally, when everyone raised their torches the highest in the air to honor her, when they hooted, hollered, and roared with pride, when Seer Vanille as well as the other elders parted to grant her a way out, the Winter's Wrath urged her growling steed to turn as well as begin bounding through the deep snow towards the northernmost, mountainous region of her homeland!
For the betterment of Freljord, for every Winter Claw as well as ally that she called friend, Sejuani was more confident than ever that this next year to come... she would finally be able to overrule Ashe, brush aside Tryndamere, and be the true sovereign over the peoples of the north.
She knew it! She just knew it! There was something in her bones - no, her gut - no, her mind along with heart, that was sure the throne was as good as hers with the passing of the old year!
Yes, during this visit to the Glacial Reach and her ancestors, the Winter's Wrath was bound to have a most successful Snowdown. One way or the other, she was going to return to her kin, to her tribe and allies, very much renewed, reenergized, remade for, ha ha, conquest!
Perhaps hundreds upon hundreds of years old, built up high by the Freljordian ancestors during a conflicted age amid a collection of snow covered mountains and some miles shy of the shoreline of the eastern expanse of water that was the Guardian Sea, Glacial Reach had obviously endured many passages of time. Truly, the site which Sejuani was having Bristle stride towards today and had had him stride towards since their becoming leaders of the Winter Claws had to be one of the last real relics around.
Correct, being a thing constructed long ago, Glacial Reach of the Winter Claws wasn't at all as glorious as it once had been. No, it had been made as a thing of the past, not present. Regardless, despite it being forgotten by much of the north these days, the Winter Claws' strongest had continued visiting the holy place for many a generation. And today, Sejuani was keeping that tradition alive.
Ah, but back then, when it had just been finished for all of Freljord to behold, the Winter's Wrath didn't doubt that Glacial Reach - standing defiant against the winds, the snow, carved expertly from the mountainside to lead inside where it was safe, solid, inspiring - must have been a sight to see. If only she could have seen it then. Today however, sadly, the haven's strength had ebbed as had its formerly sturdy appearance.
Nevertheless, like true Winter Claw tradition, even with its entrance somewhat caved in and its dusty insides askew, the sanctuary of the Winter Claws continued to defy the weather, the land, time itself, by still standing. It was a place that had and would continue to exist for many more years for many more Freljordians. Even when Sejuani would eventually wither away as well as fade with the comings and goings of days, Glacial Reach would not do so for a very long time. It would endure time. It would resist corrosion. It would aid other leaders of the north before finally caving in altogether.
The rigid Frostguard had always had their tomes, their artifacts, their secrets, true. These days, the passive Avarosan, hmf, had Ashe as well as her frost bow; the bow that Lady Avarosa had wielded herself when alive. Yet, going back to some of the oldest names in their clan's history, the Winter Claws had forever had the knowledge of Glacial Reach; the sanctuary where many a chieftain, a warrior, a hero, had gone in the past to learn of whom they really were, of what they really were worth, before the eyes of the hardiest of the Three Sisters, Serylda.
Indeed, Glacial Reach had been constructed by the fiercest of Freljord's fabled Three Sisters, Serylda the Conqueror; Sejuania's actual, oldest of old, yet lost ancestor.
As she was illustrated in the history books worldwide and especially described to the struggling children of the Winter Claws, Serylda had been an untamed, unrivaled, unmatched battle maiden who - riding upon her own battle boar - had fought anything and everything that crossed her. Hah, when the storms had howled, she had stood her ground. When the mountains had refused to move, she had smashed her way through them. When the oceans had roared, she had cut through them. And as for her enemies... woe be to her enemies whom she had crushed, smashed, as well as fed to her mighty boar afterwards.
Never had Serylda lost. Never had she wept. Never had she shown weakness. For if she had, if any Winter Claw did, then their lives were over. Instead, they were taken, beaten, worn down by the harshness that was the Freljord. And in Freljord, it was known that only the strongest lived while the weak were left behind to be buried in the snow. Such was the way of the north. Such had been the way of Serylda. Such had been and would be the way of Sejuani, of the Winter Claws, as well.
"Easy Bristle." Sejuani commanded of her boar as he began to traverse uphill, slipping a bit on the snow underneath his heavy set hooves every so often which made him grunt impatiently, "You shall make it to the crest of this hill and be allowed a moment or so to catch your breath. For having gotten us this far so fast, I might even give you a treat. How does that sound? Does a treat sound good?"
"Hrumph! Snort!" Bristle growled back, his sharp ears standing to attention and his efforts to climb redoubling at the sound of he might be getting a snack for the first time since he'd begun walking three hours ago, "Squeal, squeal, grunt, huff, pant, hurck! Snuffle, snuffle, snuffle!"
"Ah, that's a good boy." The Winter's Wrath congratulated of her mount as he finally got them up the side of the difficult hill to be at its peak, "Yes, you deserve a treat, don't you? Yes. Yes, you do."
"Squeal! Grunt! Snuffle!"
"And here it is! Your favorite meatiest of meat pies! That is, heh... if you can get it from me. Go on. Don't be shy. Get it! Get you reward from your momma!"
"Whine, whine, whine! Snarl! Grunt! Squeal!"
As it had been the way with all of the devious Winter Claws, if it were not obvious enough, there was, of course, a catch to the treat that Sejuani was willing to bestow upon her eager steed. The catch involved her not just handing over the reward - the reward being a kind of small time meat pie made from scraps of rabbit, fox, wolf, so on, thanks to the women back at the encampment. No, instead, she strapped the delectable treat to the end of her true ice mace/bola, taste tested it herself to recognize the good cooking skills her hungry yet skilled people boasted, then she dangled the meat pie just in front of her famished mount.
Instantly, at seeing food just before his snout but so tantalizingly out of reach, Bristle - with much annoyed squealing, grumbling, along with stumping about through the snow - tried to devour the meat pie upon the end of his master's weapon!
Mind, this slightly cruel game of keeping food away from the poor boar was a rather common thing/practice that Sejuani had performed all of her life on her steed since he'd been a/her adopted piglet. Because of this making him chase down his food or scraps or whatnot, that was why he was fit, why he was disciplined, why he was feared these days. And due to the fact that it was Sejuani and Sejuani alone whom had cared for him, hardened him, along with fed him during his years alive, Bristle didn't complain anymore about how he was rewarded, treated, trained. He no longer thought about pain but about progress. He didn't care that he was being tantalized, just that he wanted something to eat and his master had produced something.
"Nope. Not that way, Bristle. Here. It's over here now." Sejuani continued to tease her grump of a steed as he tried his best to get the meat pie off of her flail, "Come on, boar. You're better than this! Get it! Get that pie!"
"SQUEAL!" Bristle cried out, just nipping but not getting the pie he dearly wanted, "SNORT!"
"Oh, hmf, very well." The Winter's Wrath growled more in amusement than annoyance with her oh so pathetic steed, "Just like how I've done everything else for you since I got you, dung brain, I suppose I'll get your pie for you. Bah, you're useless. You can't even get scraps without me, can you?"
Bristle didn't pay much mind to what his half lecturing-half joking master was saying. By any means possible, he simply wanted the pie which he eagerly took into his maw when his rider dismounted him, un-strapped it from her weapon, then tossed it to him while she casually stood looking out over the surroundings to try to decipher where they were exactly.
So many times beforehand, since she'd turned fourteen, had the Winter's Wrath done the practice of going to be cleansed. So many times, for the past eleven years, had she remained, trained, and fasted in Glacial Reach until touched by the purest of snow under the gaze of Serylda. Thus, having been to Glacial Reach and having already had her sins wiped away during the first minutes of the newest year eleven repeated times ahead of now, Sejuani knew where to direct her boar mount through the northern of north lands, what areas to avoid, where they could momentarily rest like now.
As for where Sejuani as well as Bristle were currently at the moment, after having rode along without any real stops from the main Winter Claw encampment three or four hours ago, they had to be in the northeastern region of what was the Powder Plains.
Ah, yes, judging by the never ending view all around of and what had been only rolling hills of blistering, snowy hills for the last few hours, Bristle had carried Sejuani a good portion of the way through the Powder Plains already. In another hour then - around 1:00pm in outsider time - the boar along with rider would make it past the plains to see the eastern shoreline of the Guardian Sea. Following that shore north into the mountains and up a secretive path rumored to have been carved by Serylda herself, the Winter's Wrath and her steed would finally arrive to isolated Glacial Reach close to dusk's final light.
While others - others like a foolish frost archer - would be giving up on the old ways of Freljord by celebrating with foreign outsiders because the modern world supposedly demanded it, the Winter Claws would be remaining true to their heritage. Soon enough, for the next series of days, Sejuani would be awaiting the falling of the purest snow. And soon enough again, she would be facing a completely new year with her flaws, her failures, her sins wiped clean.
Speaking of the new year to come, it wasn't going to wait for the Winter's Wrath while she stood there upon one of the many hills of the Powder Plains sightseeing. Curse her for being slowed down by her daydreaming. She needed to get going once more, not fantasize over the coming days which had not even arrived.
"Break time is over, Bristle. Once again, let us be off to seek out our destinies." Sejuani said to her boar whom snuffled in the snow for any meat pie scraps he may have missed, "If you are as fast getting us to Glacial Reach as you have been so far then you will treated again. Come on, let's go, go, go."
"Snuffle. Whine." Was Bristle's response, turning about as well as trying to sniff out where his master had produced the first meat pie, "Grunt. Squeal. Whine."
"No. No more pies until you have earned them." Sejuani scolded of her rather suddenly stubborn mount, pulling on the reigns to get him to behave but to no avail, "Bristle, control yourself! No! No, more pies until you have gotten us to Glacial Reach! And the faster you listen, the faster you get us to where we need to get going, the faster I can reward you again! Cease this playing around and be off!"
"SNORT!" Bristle growled back, beginning to buck his forceful master to show his impatience with her too, "GROWL! SNARL! SQUEAL!"
"You will behave!" Sejuani cursed, feeling quite annoyed yet impressed that a little pie had given her mount the attitude not to mention will to try to get his way for a change, "You will behave or I will not give you another pie at all! Do you not hear me, Bristle? Behave or - Oh, why you rotten, stubborn, brainless piece of - FINE! Fine, here. Here's another treat for actually standing up for yourself for a change."
"Squeal! Grunt! Hork?"
"Ah, ah, ah... No. You see, I'm not just going to give it to you like last time." Winter's Wrath explained with humor, tying the second pie to her flail like last time, "This time, if you really want another treat... you're going to have to get it yourself. So, go on. If you're so independent, if you're so desperate, if you really don't need me, then get the pie. Get it, get it, get it!"
Again, Sejuani dangled another delicious pie of animal meat in front of Bristle who - with great effort, endurance, wanting - jumped, lunged, nipped, along with chomped at it. For several minutes this game between rider and steed continued. What they hadn't counted on was that they weren't as alone in the vast Powder Plains as forethought.
Compared to the bitter, plain smell of coldness everywhere, the smell of the first not to mention second produced meat pie distinctly stood out on the passing winds for miles around... leading a certain wandering soul to eventually discover the scent's source. And after having found the source of the delicious smell, taking position several feet from where the lunging boar as well as his amused rider, the wandering soul coolly observed the game of Sejuani tantalizing Bristle with food until - with their backs turned - it bounded through the deep snow drifts to roughly jump up into the Winter's Wrath's right side!
Immediately, when she was forcefully unseated from her mount, Sejuani had thought that Bristle had finally grown tired of being teased. Clearly, he had bucked her off into the snow where, quite a bit more easily, he could achieve getting his second meat pie.
However, when the princess of the Winter Claws sought to get off of the ground and back onto her feet, she discovered that wasn't the case at all. No, she couldn't even get up let alone see where her boar was, actually. Not when there was a wolf as white as the surrounding snowy landscape as well as half the bloody size of Bristle standing completely over her, anyway...
End of "The Snowy Starting Point"...