Delarn, despite coming this far, could only lay there for a while, watching the water. Despite how it appeared to be glass, it also seemed to move in a sort of stilted stop motion. She blinked slowly for a moment before slowly working on pushing herself to her feet. She knew it would be a long journey and she would have far to walk, so she figured she ought to start now rather than put it off.
The moment she was on her feet, tender and new, she screamed angrily. The agony was terrible enough, but the pain made her unreasonably angry above all other sensations. She leaned back against the tree, and it felt as if it was merely a husk in its death.
"Another friend dead thanks to me," Delarn rasped out, her eyes closing. The moment they were closed she felt as if there were two people on either side of her holding her up. She didn't open her eyes yet, knowing that when she looked, they would be gone. Finally, she leaned forward, standing without the support of the tree, though it still felt like people were holding her up. It felt like there were more than two now and they were whispering encouragement.
"The sea loves you, Faewulf daughter. Don't you know? It won't let you die."
"That's funny. That's how I wanted to die. Are you saying it was all pointless, coming this far?" Delarn responded.
"There's nothing pointless about your life, Delarn," another voice piped up, scolding her. "You're going to be the mother of a great generation. Do you doubt it?"
"I can't imagine I deserve to be anything of the sort," Delarn answered, "let alone that I will be."
"But it's true," another voice said before the others took up the chorus of, "It's true! It's very true."
"You'll be safe," The first voice said as they helped her slowly towards the water. "The sea loves you, and you'll see the other side of it."
"I was cursed once," Delarn answered. "I was told that I would be hated by the sea as long as I should live."
"And yet you were the one that survived," Another voice laughed at her. She was certain that these beings around her were going to drown her for fun.
A harsher, human voice called out, "I'm surprised you managed to get out, let alone that you're still standing. I should have known that something like you wouldn't be so easy to kill. Not that I won't enjoy taking you out again."
Delarn opened her eyes as she turned to face the hunter, her lips pursed, and as she thought, she could no longer see the figures that were holding her up.
"Oh, I'm sure it will be a good hunt," Delarn commented as she walked back toward him. It didn't feel as if her feet here touching the ground at all at this point. She felt like she was floating over to him, and the way he looked at her made her feel as if that were true. His face was scrunched up in a mask of uncertainty. He was not used to being the one hunted.
His crossbow went up, but he didn't fire it, watching and waiting. Delarn didn't flinch and didn't alter her path, continuing to slide towards him.
He showed no indication of what he was thinking or feeling until he dropped the crossbow as she was finally close enough. He had his hunting knife in his hand and slashed upward at her throat, expecting to catch her off guard, but she was already prepared for something like this. This time she already had her scimitar in her hand, held to intercept his stroke before twisting her blade to shove his knife away. She hoped to wrench it from his grasp, but he moved with the motion, keeping his grip on it.
He attacked her with a series of lightning fast strikes that she barely managed to block close to the hilt of her sword, moving back slowly with each blow. It was clear he had the advantage as she couldn't keep up with his sturdy, compact hunting knife with her scimitar without leaving herself wide open. He laughed wildly as he tried to score scratches on her face and striking hard against her blade just to let her know that he intended to.
Each step was agony, and she felt angrier and angrier the longer this went on, but she managed to keep her calm as she found herself backed up against the dead tree with an audible smack that brought him to cackling as he knew he had her. He raised his dagger and plunged it forward. She waited patiently, making no move to intercept him this time.
The dagger sunk into the wood of the tree and Delarn was now on the other side of it. The way that everything seemed to dance in her vision made this obvious. The tree was dead and weak and would feel none of it. She placed her hand on the back of the tree as the hunter worked to free his hunting knife and she sent a wave of kinetic energy through it. It was enough to topple it.
The tree fell forward, and to Delarn's eyes it happened slowly, but that was only the venom in her system. In reality, it happened extremely fast with how she slipped around, how he tried to free his dagger and how the tree was forced to fall a second later. It fell forward and crushed him to death.
"A deadfall trap," Delarn said casually as she stared at what was left of him. "I never imagined using one of those before."
She shrugged solemnly and walked towards the water. Already the waves were starting to show beneath the glass, and she thought she should hurry in case she lost her opportunity. She walked slowly, tenderly, until she wasn't walking slowly, but moderately. Then she was going from walking to sprinting into the water.
It was freezing cold, but compared to how much it hurt to stand, it was nothing. She was a bit surprised as she was aware that despite the water being solid glass, she was walking through instead of on top of it. It grew harder and harder, but she kept going. The glass eventually went over her head, and she stared up at the sky for a moment before everything became dark.
She woke up on the shore of Rimmington, shivering with cold. A man was standing over her, and he leaned down and offered her a hand. "Are you okay?"
"I think so," she answered, trying to remember where she had come from or how she got there. All she could really remember was the city of Yanille on fire, and a sharp pain struck her head for a moment. She grimaced and took his hand and let him help her up.
"Are you sure? That doesn't look like the face of someone who's okay," he answered.
"I'm perfectly fine. It's nothing I can remember," she answered plainly.
"Oh, good," the man said. "Then I hope you know that after being missing for all these years you're still going to be under arrest."
His grip had tightened on her wrist, and she stared at him balefully now. "I don't believe I want to go with you, sir, but I understand you're just doing your job. Please release me, and I'll head away, and I won't commit another crime again for as long as I might be allowed."
"That can't be allowed. You've proven to be unstable and dangerous multiple times. I don't think you understand that we have eyes over there as well," he said in a monotone. "You disappeared into Yanille for a time, and you didn't seem to have been causing much trouble, but even then, we've recently gotten a major reading of destructive magic from there. At the very least, allow us to take you in for questioning."
"I can't do that. I can't remember anything that happened in Yanille. Believe me, I want to know what happened there as well, but I can't say I know anything about it," Delarn answered, "I refuse to be held again by people that won't let me go."
The man tried to pull her closer to restrain her as he was now aware that she wasn't going to go in without a fight. Instead of pulling away, she moved towards him the moment he started pulling her. She slammed her forehead into his nose with great force.
He hadn't expected this and immediately let her go to nurse his nose, a bloodied mess. She moved forward and gripped his sword, tugging it out. She could have killed him with it, but instead immediately started running north towards Falador. She knew she would be in danger of being spotted by more people, but she thought she could escape him and anyone else backing him up if she went through the city rather than heading back towards Lumbridge and Varrock.
She immediately went through the southern gate, but she paused there for a moment, cradling the sword she had stolen with a blank expression on her face. It was strange to be here again, but she didn't wait too long. She felt he would be right behind her, and she knew that she couldn't risk being recognized.
She walked briskly through the streets and past people that gave her uneasy looks, noticing the blood smearing her forehead, though not stopping her. A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned quickly to face them.
"Do you remember me, Delarn?" Her heart stopped when she saw that it was Colsen and her eyes filled with tears. She was sure that even now he was dead.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, shaking her head slowly and backing away. She then turned and ran. Now that she was running people were starting to take note of her, the blade she was carrying freely in her hand and the blood that streaked her forehead. There were shouts for her to stop and many of them were people asking her what was wrong, or if she was hurt, but they all sounded hostile and murderous to her. She was sure not even one was there to help her, and so she kept running.
No one stopped her from escaping through the northern gate. No arrows found her shoulder as she ran. Nothing was there to prevent her from getting away. That didn't stop her from fleeing into Taverley. She considered going back to her home, but she feared that they would look for her there first.
A voice seemed to be compelling her, leaving a sharp pain in her head, and she kept going until she was racing away from an invisible enemy over the steep stones of the White Wolf Mountain. She had done this feat before. She would be able to escape over the mountain and start again. She considered that she could go north, live as they did, and this filled her with a sense of hope.
She pulled herself over a rock, and it began to pull away under her weight. She tried to get a firm grip on it, tried to pull herself over it, but the next moment she was falling backward along with the stones. The breath was knocked out of her as she hit the ground below and then the stones followed, covering her.
The old wolf god sighed as he held Delarn in his hands, weaving a nest for her between the stones. There was little he could do for her at this point but keep her alive. He plucked the pain from her mind and sealed things that she wouldn't need. He covered her in a thick blanket to keep her warm and keep her from aging. She would serve him better this way, in a future where she wasn't alone, and where she hadn't aged. The four children she had would not suffice.
"You're going to be fine, Delarn," he sighed as his gentle influence settled over her. The last thing she could remember before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep was Yanille ablaze and a face that was quickly fading from her memory.