39. Unexpected Visitor
As Varhog walked toward their hut, Willow alternated between eating some of the food and offering him some, continuing this pattern until it was gone. "I'm still hungry," she regretfully remarked.
"Aye," Varhog agreed. "I am too."
"But I'm so tired that I think I would prefer to go straight to sleep once we get home."
"Aye," he repeated. "I'm glad it's so cold out here. Otherwise I might fall asleep holding you. I didn't sleep at all that day I spent away." Their breath made puffs of steam as the snowflakes swirled around them.
They soon arrived at their hut, which was exactly as they had left it, the front door wide open. Snowflakes drifted inside. Varhog approached the door.
"Oops. I didn't even realize I forgot to close the door. I was terrified when we left . . . whenever that was. My sense of time is so off right now, with how much has happened in such a short period—" He abruptly stopped speaking and walking, and his nostrils flared as he caught a scent in the air near the entrance of the hut.
"What is it?" Willow asked in concern.
"There's an animal in there," Varhog quietly said, backing up a few steps. "A wolf, if I'm not mistaken."
Willow's brow creased in worry. "What do we do?"
"Wait, I suppose." Varhog set her down, gently forcing her behind him. "Stay back there. I don't want to hurt it, but I can kill it if I need to." He tensed as he caught sight of the unexpected visitor, feeling Willow peer around his arm, obviously too curious to remain oblivious.
A huge wolf slowly padded toward the door from inside, its yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness of the hut. It was as tall as Willow, and the top of its head only cleared the doorframe by about a foot as it passed through, its eyes locked on Varhog. Willow gripped the back of Varhog's shirt, and Varhog guessed she was worried thinking about him fighting the beast. Though either one of them could have immediately killed it with magic, they reverenced life too highly to even consider it, especially before knowing its intentions.
Varhog carefully reached a hand behind himself and around Willow's waist to keep her there. Don't move, Willow, he warned, thinking of something his uncle had once shared with him of the time he had run with Firesword to the dwarf kingdom. Then, an enormous wolf—larger even than this one—had approached their camp. His uncle had prepared to fight, but Firesword had addressed the beast with words. His uncle hadn't understood them, but Varhog was sure Firesword had used the ancient language. After eating some of the food left from dinner, the wolf had peacefully left.
From the look in this wolf's eyes, it was hungry, and Varhog had no food to offer him, but he had to try. In the ancient tongue he said softly and without threat, "Brother Wolf, my mate and I wish to return in peace to our den. I will not harm you if you allow us to do this."
The wolf's eyes flashed toward where it had seen Willow, apparently thinking it could take her down, though it knew it stood no chance against Varhog. Varhog clearly understood its intent. "I will kill you and your whole pack, which I'm sure is near, if you try to harm her," he warned, deathly calm. "Do not doubt that I can. I am stronger and more capable than you think, and she is my mate. Though you will not triumph, I would die to protect her."
The wolf bared its huge yellow fangs, a low growl issuing from its maw. Varhog didn't want to fight or kill the noble beast or any of its pack that would run to assist him, so he tried once more. "If you leave us in peace, I will ensure that a great kill is delivered here for your pack to enjoy. It would be far more meat than you would get from her. I know food is harder to come by when winter arrives early."
The wolf turned as if to go, but Varhog wasn't fooled. He could see the animal's intelligence in its eyes. Though Varhog spoke the ancient language and the beast knew he could not lie, it seemed to doubt that Varhog was telling the full truth. The wolf must have believed that Varhog was somehow using words to deceive him so he wouldn't fight.
Varhog said to Willow, Stay right next to me, Willow. He means to fight, and his pack is probably near. He knows he can't defeat me and intends to target you. They will try to separate us so they can get you unprotected. I will never allow it, but stay by my back. Hold my shirt if you need to. I won't use magic unless I have to. It wouldn't be fair to them, and I'm strong enough to subdue them with my hands. I hope they will surrender when they see that. There's a chance I can heal any injuries I'm forced to inflict.
I understand, Willow thought as the wolf loosed a terrifying snarl, turning back toward Varhog right before it would have been fully facing away from him.
As the wolf sprang through the air, its maw agape and aimed right at Varhog's throat, which wasn't much higher than the wolf's head, Varhog braced himself against the ground, leaning forward to absorb the impact of the wolf's huge bulk into his legs so he wouldn't stumble into Willow.
Varhog was in his fighting mind, and the wolf's intention was so clear to him that it was nothing for him to reach out, close his hands around the great jaws, and snap them shut. He maintained his grip, swinging the wolf around in the direction of the numerous howls that rent the air behind him. The rest of the pack was on its way now that the scout had located a meal and was in danger.
Willow stayed right behind Varhog, moving as he did. At exactly the moment when the wolf's bodily momentum tugged at his arms, Varhog hurled him into the nearest tree. There was a sickening crack as the wolf's body slammed into the trunk and slumped to the ground. The fearsome snarl faded into a whine of pain.
He's not dead, Varhog mechanically assured Willow, sensing her concern that her would-be killer was now gone. As a Dragon Rider, it was hard not to be concerned about even the smallest life, and this wolf was a magnificent beast. I will heal him if he and the rest of the pack let me. I only want peace and your safety. I don't want to kill them, but they're on their way to fight me. I'm sorry, Eartheyes.
Willow shook her head, which Varhog felt against his back where her face was pressed. She didn't expect him to apologize, and he refocused his attention on the sounds indicating the arrival of the wolf pack.
Varhog was grateful that his calm, emotionless awareness of his environment gave him the ability to observe everything at once. Eight wolves simultaneously raced out of the trees, spreading quickly to surround Varhog, which forced him to turn to his right to keep the closest one from reaching Willow. He smacked its jaw sharply to the side, crushing its throat with a powerful blow. The wolf collapsed. Varhog just needed to cripple them long enough to subdue the pack, which would hopefully be quickly enough that he could heal any damage he inflicted.
Even as he was doing that with his right hand, he was aware of the others springing toward him. He thought to Willow, I need to back up now! She swiftly moved back, and he did the same at the exact moment that four wolves would have landed on him. The other three were circling again. They were so fast, and Varhog was so outnumbered, but that didn't matter. He was more motivated than they were, no matter how hungry.
Varhog grabbed the nearest two by their necks and smashed their heads together. They both dropped instantly. One of the four retreated quickly enough to avoid his deadly hands, but another wasn't as fortunate. Varhog did the same to its throat as he had to the second, aware of that one convulsing near his feet.
Varhog had taken four of the newcomers down in about as many seconds. The fifth, who retreated after jumping toward him, hung back warily, but the other three were determined to move around him. Varhog reached behind himself, pinning Willow to his back with his hand—which was as far as he could bend his muscular arm—since he needed to move more quickly than he had time to communicate. The wolves had nearly surrounded him and if he turned to face the three, the one that hung back would have direct access to Willow.
Varhog moved off to one side so he could attack the nearest wolf, which snarled fiercely. It had observed how quickly Varhog had incapacitated its pack with only his hands and decided to stay low, lunging forward in an attempt to hamstring him. Varhog anticipated the move, and just when the wolf thought he had him, Varhog shifted his weight to the other leg—the one the wolf wasn't aiming at—and turned, kicking the wolf's head with his foot. Varhog winced as he felt the skull give way under his boot, almost sure the blow had been fatal.
Varhog roared his frustration. He didn't want to kill them! But he had no time to mourn with the other three still on the loose. He sensed that one had gained too much ground in his hesitation, and Willow gasped, shifting slightly to one side. Varhog turned in the opposite direction—toward the threat—and his roar transformed into a bellow of rage as he slammed the wolf who had sprung at Willow into the tree behind them. Another sickening crack accompanied the impact, and the wolf slumped to the ground, whining in pain.
The other two now hung back warily, apparently convinced that Varhog could take them down as easily as the others.
Varhog shouted in the ancient language, "I will let you all go and heal those of your fallen brothers that I can if you will leave us in peace. I do not want to kill you, but if you attack again, I will do whatever it takes to protect my mate." Then he promised again, "I will have a great kill delivered for your pack if you leave us in peace."
The two standing wolves surrendered by sitting back on their haunches, their tongues lolling out and their eyes watchful.
"Stay by me," Varhog commanded Willow, dropping down next to the nearest wolf and beginning to mutter the words of healing.
-:-:-
Willow anxiously observed the bodies of the other fallen beasts, knowing that those whose throats had been crushed would soon be dead. "I can help you!" she cried. "They're almost gone!" Tears filled her eyes. She couldn't bear to sit idly by and watch the beautiful animals die, though they had meant to kill her.
"Please!" she begged Varhog when he denied her with a sharp shake of his head. "They won't try to kill me anymore. Besides, I could dodge them in time for you to get to me or even use magic."
Willow jumped up with an exclamation of impatience when Varhog again shook his head, darting to the side of the second wolf he had felled by crushing its throat. Its eyes were rolling in its head, its convulsions weak and hopeless. Willow had healed an injury such as this twice before, and she prayed that the structure of the beast's throat was similar enough that she could begin without studying it.
Placing her hands right in the animal's fur, she murmured the words of healing, empowering them with energy from her mind. Her gedwёy ignasia flared silvery-white and tears spilled onto her cheeks as Willow sensed her life—for she knew it was a female—slowly ebbing. Desperately, she willed the magic to take effect. It took a few seconds and new tremors gripped the wolf's body at the irritating sensation of having crushed tissue and bone knit back together, but it was soon enough. The beast took in a great shuddering breath, then another.
Willow wanted to search the animal's mind to ensure that damage had not been sustained during the prolonged lack of oxygen, but the other wolf whose throat Varhog had crushed was also in dire need. She crawled to its side and repeated the magic, though her energy was already dangerously diminished. But she didn't care. She couldn't let them die! Sunset's energy was suddenly filling her, keeping her from tumbling over the brink as the magic drained her of life. Her dragon and Black Thunder were swiftly approaching.
Willow was aware of Varhog moving over to heal the broken body of the first wolf—the one who had been in the hut—after he finished his first healing effort. The two dragons now joined them, landing with deafening booms of their wings. The wolves who had sustained no injuries whined in terror and shied back, apparently reluctant to abandon their pack but also fearful of the vast and intimidating new arrivals.
Willow soothingly said in the ancient language, "They won't harm you. They come only to help us heal your fallen comrades." She returned her attention to one of the wolves Varhog had bashed together. It wasn't dead but unconscious, with no other apparent injury.
Willow placed a hand on the deep brown fur of its head, sharing energy until its eyes fluttered and opened. The wolf looked at her in confusion, as if trying to understand the strange sight. Once it seemed to recall the situation that brought him there, Willow could have sworn his eyes took on an expression of gratitude. She was amazed to think that she could recognize emotions in the creature's intelligent eyes.
Willow did the same thing with the other unconscious wolf, this one an all-white female that slowly sat up as she regained awareness and strength. Willow was kneeling and when the wolf was sitting, its head was higher than her own. The wolf then lowered her face until the tip of her snout barely touched Willow's abdomen.
"How did you know I'm expecting?" Willow breathed in awe. The situation was so odd, but she couldn't deny how amazing it was. "I'm sorry my mate had to hurt you. He didn't want to, and he meant it when he promised we would have food brought for you. Our dragons will search until they find a meal for your pack." The wolf's eyes showed her understanding, and Willow wondered if she could read them so well because she was so used to Varhog's yellow eyes.
The wolf lifted her snout enough to touch her wet nose to Willow's forehead. Then she let her long tongue roll out, licking once all the way up Willow's face. Willow flinched back in surprise, laughing as she wiped the saliva off her face. She turned to Varhog with wonder in her eyes.
He was crouching tensely by the side of the wolf whose head he had kicked, clearly prepared to spring to her defense should the situation turn. Willow could see the open astonishment on his face that she and the wolf seemed perfectly capable of understanding one another.
Willow turned and bid the wolf goodbye, stroking the side of its jaw. Then she crawled over to Varhog. "Did this one make it?"
Varhog's eyes filled with regret. "He's not dead, but his skull is crushed. From what I can tell, his brain seems to have withstood serious damage, but blood is pooling and he is fading. I need your help. You know the healing art better."
Willow nodded, gingerly placing her hands over the wolf's deformed skull. She remembered Arya's words in Ilirea and tried to trust that Blödhgarm's praise had been sincere. Using her mind to assess the damage, she immediately observed the blood, its vibrant energy outshining the more muted light of the bone. The blood angrily pulsed and throbbed, come to help at the site of the severe trauma, but unable to do much because of the damage to the surrounding blood vessels and the hopeless mess of the wolf's skull.
"Lend me your energy," Willow firmly said. "This is extensive. I'm not sure I can do it but I'm going to try." Willow was barely aware that the other eight beasts had grouped themselves back together and were cautiously watching her. They seemed to sense the pain of the last wolf as if joined by some kind of mental link, which wasn't difficult for either Rider to imagine.
Willow felt the dragons adding their energy to Varhog's since his was also significantly drained from his exhaustion, the fighting, and the magic he had performed. She didn't really even know where to begin, but it seemed like she needed to give the blood a way to escape the trap of the wolf's skull or the brain would begin to suffer damage. So she started farthest away from the worst of the mutilation and began carefully mending delicate blood vessels and tissue.
The process was slow and painstaking, and Willow felt the immense strain as her tremendous exhaustion only increased. When she arrived at the mess of the bone, she was overwhelmed, knowing she was far from being finished. Was it worth it? The beasts had attacked after fair warning, and their purpose had been to kill her. Why was she now showing them mercy? Willow knew why. Because they had attacked out of instinct, their need for food as strong as her own, as strong as Varhog's instinct to protect her. It was all part of the circle of life, but if it was within her power to prevent the unnecessary death of this creature, who had an existence as meaningful to him as hers was to her, Willow would do it.
She relied on the fragments of bone to understand where they fit within the greater structure, not knowing and not having the strength to determine at that moment. She simply provided them with the ability to greatly accelerate the healing that would have taken place had this injury been able to heal naturally, which never would have happened, as serious as it was. The bone seemed to understand her desire and took advantage of the time she was giving it to speed the healing process. The blood was finally able to fulfill its purpose, bringing vital nutrients necessary for the regrowth of the bone and removing the resultant waste.
Willow wasn't sure how long it took, but it seemed like an eternity and she felt even the dragons tiring. After one final exam to ensure that she hadn't missed anything serious, she ended her effort and slumped onto the wolf's body, where she was grateful to hear his strong heartbeat.
-:-:-
Varhog pulled Willow into his arms, and her head drooped against his chest. "You did it," he told her as the wolf shuddered, stretching and raising himself.
The wolf blinked, solemnly regarding Willow. Then he reached his head forward until his great snout rested against her cheek. Varhog held his breath as the wolf closed its eyes, its face mere inches from his own. Then Varhog felt energy flowing from the wolf into Willow and understood that the wolf was repaying her for saving his life.
Varhog was stunned. The wolf withdrew and looked at him. What was that in his eyes? Forgiveness? Understanding? Willow would know. At the very least, Varhog knew the wolf was not his enemy and wouldn't attack him again, then or ever.
The other wolves approached and repeated the gesture to Willow. After the first three, Willow was strong enough to hold her head up and watch the rest of them. By the end, tears were streaming down her face.
When they were done, she whispered, "Thank you. I'm glad I could meet you." As they began to slowly return to the forest, Willow raised her voice, reminding them, "Come back tomorrow for your meal!"
Varhog looked at her in amazement. "You're a wonder, Willow," he reverently said.
"That was unbelievable," she agreed, placing a hand on his cheek and randomly asking, "Do Urgals not grow facial hair, Varhog, or do you just remove it?"
Varhog blinked, nonplussed by the arbitrary thought. "No, we don't. Just the bristles on our hide and our hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes."
"What of the females? Myrin didn't have bristles."
"No. They grow softer hair around the groin, some under their arms, and on their legs and arms. It's much finer and softer than the rams' bristles, though not as soft as yours. But none on their torsos. I always imagined it was for the babies' sakes."
Willow nodded, apparently satisfied. "Sorry. I know that was random. I've just always wondered, and as odd as that situation with the wolves was, I asked now. And though they helped me recover, I'm so tired. So tired. And hungry, but that's going to need to wait. Can we sleep?"
Varhog nodded, standing to retrieve her blanket and dress from where they had fallen to the ground. He returned to Willow, carefully lifting her and carrying her into the hut, which was freezing inside since the door had been open for two days. Varhog closed the door and used magic to start a fire in the hearth before retrieving an extra blanket from the hall closet and walking with Willow to the bedroom. He left this door open so heat from the fire could make its way back once the front room was warm.
He set Willow down on the bed, and she immediately pulled off her boots. The bedclothes were still thrown aside from when Willow had left them, and there was a dark brown stain on the sheets where her blood had dried. Varhog didn't have the strength to worry about it right then, but he absently wondered if the smell had attracted the wolf. Willow scooted back as Varhog shook out the blankets, brushing dirt off one and unfolding the other.
After removing his boots, Varhog joined Willow on the bed, grateful he could sleep with her under the covers for the first time. They needed each other to stay warm. She snuggled next to his side and closed her eyes while he situated himself, lying back on the pillows and pulling all of the blankets up to her neck. Then he put his arms around her under the covers, already feeling warmer. Willow sighed deeply and was asleep, which was all Varhog noticed before he too succumbed to exhaustion.