"Yfelli, I ask that you and your people be patient. I'm off to Sovngarde to bring help. I'm gambling the Wendeego will take some time to heal, so I'll get through the mountain pass alright."
"When I return I'll need one of your folk to come with me as a guide. You may not know the mountains, but I'll wager you know the lands on this side of the mountains better than any Sovngarder. That, and I'll want someone known to your families, so we'll know them and they will trust us."
"Don't go up into the mountains yourselves. Mend your nets and your boats, gather the sea bounty and repair your town. I hear tell that a wife returning home to find things less than when she left can be as dangerous as a wild boar."
The sailors chuckled.
"And when I get back I'll want to hear how it is that you here have families and raise children, while the Sovngarders do not. It seems to me that your lot may have the better of the deal."
Even Yfelli smiled. "Aye, Sovngarder, we can do that. May thy gods watch over thee."
"My gods and yours both, I hope."
My stomach grumbled. "Umm…"
Yfelli laughed out loud. "Now that we can fix. And you should get a night's rest before trying the pass."
I awoke on a cot in Yfelli's cottage to a breakfast of salt herring, a snowberry tart and a thick, dark ale. "The last of my Minardi's tarts," quoth he. "But I be more than glad to share it."
"Minardi?" I managed between bites. "Your wife?" I drained off the last of the ale.
"Aye. Her folk were from the far west of Atmora. I met her as a youth, sailing the coastlands in trade. Long and long ago it was, but her eyes still sparkle like dawn over the waves."
"I'll bring her back if I can, Yfelli."
"Aye, I believe ye will, if ye may."
My ice-bitten hand was hale and whole again. I flexed my fingers, hoping the Wendeego couldn't heal as quickly.
The townsfolk had gathered to see me off. They pressed gifts of scrimshaw and carven shells into my hands. A shimmering pearl, a small bottle of roe packed in fish oil and a reddish bracelet of sea-coral found their way into my pouch, alongside more practical supply of smoked fish and a skin of fresh water. I was grateful when one sailor threw a heavy fur cloak across my shoulders.
"Wish I'd had this on my way here," I grinned. "Thank you, all of you. I'll return as quickly as I can.
I waved goodbye and took off at a trot. The thought of the ice-demon recovered and waiting for me spurred me along as I left the coast behind and strode into the high country. I kept a wary eye out, avoiding coverts and stands of trees and giving any wild thing a wide berth.
I reached the chill highlands as night fell. I considered making camp so as to avoid turning an ankle or falling into a crevasse in the dark, need pressed me toward my goal. The gloomy mountain cleft beckoned.
Icy winds began to beat on my face. I remembered the wind blowing into my face on the way from Sovngarde. It seemed wrong that winds would flow out of the pass in both directions.
Wrong? Well, unnatural. Which was natural after all, given that a Wendeego lurked in that brooding pass. I hunched my shoulders, pulled the furs tighter and pushed on.
My boots sank into icy snow. I forced my way through knee-high drifts as the winds howled and shuddered, up whipping snow-dust to freeze my nostrils with every breath. The cold seeped through my boots to nip my toes. I dared not stop to rest; if I did I'd just go to sleep and never wake up. I'd seen that happen in Skyrim. All the while my ears were alert for that spine tingling keening of the fell wraith I'd heard on my first trip through the pass.
At length the snow drifts lessened. The wind was now at my back. Finally, the first rays of dawn filtered from behind me, sparkling as they lit blown snow and ice and teasing my weary body with a tickle of warmth.
Before me in the distance lay the lights of Sovngarde. It seemed the gods were with me, if only for the moment.