Icy wind blew up the snow and sent it pelting through the air in a never-ending war of freezing cold and white halestones. The land was barren and desolate, the wind howling it's loneliness for all to hear. No path to follow, no sun, no stars, only the cacophany of shrieking air. Empty, flat, and so easy to get lost in.
Crotos Quillus was covered in layers and layers of blankets and cloaks that made him look three times as tall and five times as hunched as he truly was. He was shivering loudly and his teeth clicked together. What fur and spines of the porcupine were visible were grey and black respectively. His cloaks and blankets had been soaked through and then hardened by the snow that flew around him, and the cold, making his shivering and small movements slow and stiff. He rode atop a large bear of brown, similarly dressed in piles and piles of cloaks and blankets that had since then hardened. But the huge bear ploughed on stubbornly, leaving a trail behind them that would soon be swallowed up in a storm of icy hale and snow.
"Come on Licky," he urged his bear on, watching his hot breath mist around his features and small piggy black eyes. "First place we can, we'll stop! And I'll give you anything you want to eat. We just gotta get there first." He didn't know when they could stop, let alone where. Villages could be weeks away from each other. And they could be going in circles for all he knew. Lost in a snowstorm was about the worst way to die… Quillus urged the bear on with more empty promises and lies. He had survived the slave pits of Ashtar, he had survived life as a slaver, he had cheated death and had cheated justice… He couldn't die to something as petty as the cold… But this was so much worse than that. It seemed to gnaw at him and chew his fur off piece by piece, it seemed to snatch at his sides and spit in his face, like a great big dragon, toying with her food. Crotos Quillus, however, was not food for any dragon or the cold. He would rip his own head off before the cold killed him.
What he was doing in Mongolia in the middle of winter not even he knew. He had felt an urge to come here that he could only describe as a prodding of destiny. Yet his destiny was playing with him. What was his destiny? The Prophet had said it was to be rich and be smothered in gold, the slaving pits had thought it was for him to die an early death. Yet here he was, not dead and still riding, and smothered in ice, not gold. Fate was cruel.
"Bit more." He continued to urge on as the wind tore up the cloaks about him and made him look even larger than before. "Bit more." He was urging himself on just as much at this point. "Bit-" The wind howled so loudly his sentence was cut short.
Then the wind stopped suddenly, and swirled around in the snow in front of him. His eyes widened, his bear stopped just as suddenly.
A figure rose from the cloud of snow, and made Crotos Quillus' heart shake.
It was a corpse, he was sure. It had once been a tortoise, though now it wore a shell of gold that had clearly been forged. It's cheeks had gaping holes in them and it's empty,white eyes were the furthest thing from life. Strapped to it's wrists were two white jewels, shaped like an egg cut in two from above. It wore an old cloak with many holes in it, and ice clung to it's edges. Long, thin claws pointed at him.
"What are you!?" The slaver bellowed. He had seen many things, but this dead tortoise that the snow had called and could stop the winds? It was a first.
"What are you?" The creature asked in a loud whisper, one that made his dead voice shake.
"I'm Crotos Quillus!" The porcupine snapped, hating himself for getting scared. "Which way is it to the nearest village?" He demanded of the dead man.
"You are Crotos Quillus…you shall not see another village while you live. This place is where you meet your death." There was no emotion in the reptile's cold voice, but his certainty chilled Crotos Quillus to the bone more than any wind had. He didn't know what to do,he had a dagger buried in his cloak somewhere, but what would that help against a demon of the cold?
"Goodbye Crotos Quillus." The tortoise said, slamming an old,gnarled hand into the snow.
Gnarled hands punched through the snow all around him, wrapping around the bear with an iron grip. Crotos Quillus snatched at his dagger and sliced at one of the hands as it crept towards him. The hand flew off and landed in the snow, before crawling towards him like a wretched kind of spider. Crotos Quillus slashed at the claws pulling his struggling bear into the snow. A large, clawed hand wrapped around the back of his neck and squeezed. It was cold and hurt more than the wind had. It made him shiver and renew his struggles. He sliced at the claws and threw himself off the bear, tearing and slashing at the claws holding his bear. Lucky gave a sudden lurch and pulled herself free,before racing off into the snow.
Quillus felt the tortoise's grip around his feet, and saw that golden dust was crawling up his feet, and squeezing at his knees. He tried to move, but felt nothing but cold. The gold was t his chest now.
"No!" He screamed, thrashing about desperately. "Please! I'll do anything!" The gold wrapped around his throat and cut short his begging. He was trapped in it, unable to move an inch in any direction. A sword was plunged through his guts, and he felt his insides freeze. It rose around him, and slithered through his blood, making him grow gradually colder and colder. Then, just as his heart was freezing up, the sword was pulled out, and he was ripped free of the gold by the strength of his steed. Taking her master, Licky raced off, leaving the turtle where they had found him, though his expression had yet to change.
"Thanks girl. You really pulled me outta that one. Moment I can you'll be dining good. I swear my heart was beating so fast-" He placed a paw to his chest and discovered that his heart was not working. Then he glanced over himself. He felt no cold, no heat. His quills were an icy blue, and his blood had frozen around where the demon had stabbed him. He looked up,to see his bear. She was untouched, and still shivering, but his insides had frozen solid. How then,was he still alive?
He screamed and ripped his cloaks off, he still felt no cold, and the wind had died away. He was pale, and his spines were stiff. He stared into his bear's eyes, and saw his reflection in them. Bright blue, glowing eyes, ones that were just as cold and empty as the demon's had been. He screamed, and clawed at his fur, trying to rip it free. But he was as tough as ice. Licky moved over to him, and let her warm tongue travel slowly over his head. Crotos Quillus felt dizzy, and pulled away from her. "D-don't do that. I'll m-melt." He was crying now… He was a monster. His tears were freezing as they rolled down his cheeks. Crotos Quillus fell to his knees and cried, the empty land and his feral bear were the only thing that heard his wailings.
The dead turtle had not moved, nor changed expression. "We are done here. The spell is incomplete… Evidently it only works on dead men." A howling wind picked up the snow around him and a second later the land was empty, save for Crotos Quillus and his bear.
Footnote: Just a bit of a creepy thing for an early Halloween. It may look a bit disconnected, but it will play a part in future tales.
No longer canon. My meta is always changing... for better or for worse. My plans for Crotos Quillus have changed slightly
