A/N: Spoilers for H'aanit chapter 3 and onward.

Edit: I've decided to make this only a one-shot. Lost interest in the world of Octopath Traveler.

Black Skies

The tavern in Stillsnow was abuzz with the murmurs of patrons, mostly coming from the group of adventurers that had arrived not too long ago, seeking warmth and shelter from the wintry winds of the northern Frostlands. They crowded around the large round table nearest to the roaring fireplace; eight travellers and a snow leopard in total. No doubt a curious sight for the regulars to gossip over their mead.

The huntress, H'aanit, and her feline friend, Linde, were the last to join the table, bearing good news from her visit with the seer of the village. She spoke of what she had learned from the old woman named Susanna and what she needed to do next in order to save her petrified Master.

Her companions listened, some more intent than others as they ate and drank to ward off the hunger and cold that wracked their weary bodies.

Once finished, H'aanit turned to her left and said, "Therion, willst thou joinen me into the Whitewood?"

The thief lowered his mug before he could take another sip of his mead and shot her an annoyed look from the side. "What? Me?" he groaned.

H'aanit was unfazed by his abrupt response. She remained calm and composed, her arms crossed before her on the tabletop. She nodded, her green eyes neither demanding nor pleading, but gleaming with something else entirely; something Therion wasn't all too familiar with. "The snows up here aren deep and yet thou movest swift and silent as a hare. Finding the herb-of-grace mayest be quick if thou aren to help search. Of course, if thou willst not mind?"

Seated on the other side of Therion, Alfyn burst out laughing, nearly choking on his elk stew. "Yer right, H'aanit!" exclaimed the apothecary, "He does bound about like a snow hare!" Brow raised and wearing a smug grin, he lightly nudged Therion with an elbow, "Being a thief – Ow!"

A swift kick to the ankle and a sharp glare quickly shut Alfyn's big mouth.

Therion had given everyone a fair warning: never call him a 'thief' out in public. It was bad enough for people to recognize the significance of the fool's bangle, but to announce his title out loud would surely gain him unwanted attention from the town guards faster than the spread of wildfire. And speaking of which, there were two Knights Ardante seated at the bar, seemingly casting suspicious glances at the group's table.

Therion couldn't help but feel as if he was already being kept under watch. And he hadn't even lifted a purse yet.

"Shucks, that hurt..." Alfyn grumbled, rubbing his ankle under the table. He still wore his stupid grin. "With your talents, it should be 'snow' problem traversin' the woods for that herb."

Therion audibly sighed and rolled his eyes at the apothecary's lame pun while Tressa and Ophilia giggled.

Sitting across from Therion, Olberic grunted. "Aye, there is no denying you are better suited to these conditions than I," said the knight with a shameful shake of his head. "Snow is much akin to tar under my feet, as you are all well aware."

Indeed it was. It was amusing watching the older man struggle through snow drifts. Every step he took was an awkward, heavy stomp as if he was on a mission to shatter the frozen earth hidden beneath. However, it wasn't as amusing when a stumbling Olberic was nearly mauled to death by a giant, vicious snow bear on their way to the village. Had it not been for Therion to plunge his knife into the throat of the beast in the nick of time, Olberic would most likely be missing his head from his shoulders.

Therion snorted. 'Suited'? I'd rather stay in here than freeze my ass in the wilderness, was his disgruntled thought. And there were no lost treasures or riches to be found in a forest.

However, he couldn't deny what H'aanit had pointed out; aside from Linde, Therion was the only one who could saunter through any terrain without too much of a problem. A master thief should always be able to quickly adapt and overcome any obstacle in order to steal the most valuable treasures in the world. Therion took pride in that.

He finally recognized the look H'aanit was giving him. She knew what he was capable of and relied upon his skills; maybe even go so far as to trust him. He glanced back in her direction and found her patiently waiting for his answer, her expression still the same.

Why me?

This would be the first the huntress has asked him to accompany her with her personal affairs. He didn't find it strange, only inconvenient. His frozen toes were just starting to regain some feeling from the mead and fire. He dreaded to go back outside after finally getting comfortable.

However, since H'aanit felt the need to ask him so nicely, he may have to consider braving the cold again.

Therion leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Fine... I'll come. But," he held up a finger, "on one condition."

Ever so patient, the huntress nodded. "Certainly. If reasonable a request."

"Find me something warmer to wear."

Amusement flashed in her eyes as a smile twitched upon her lips. "Very well. The warmest furs I shall find."

The thief glanced around the table. "So who else is worthy to join us on our fun jaunt to the freezing woods?" he questioned sarcastically.

"Many a wild beast dwell in the forest," H'aanit warned, her expression now stern, "T'will not be 'fun' as thou sayeth."

Therion's smirk was hidden behind his scarf. The huntress had yet to understand and recognize sarcasm so everything that came out of his mouth was often taken seriously. He had explained it once before and it took too much effort to explain it again, so he said nothing.

To H'aanit's right, Primrose waved her hand away, her many jewelled bangles softly jingling. She gave the huntress an apologetic look. "Sorry, darling, but count me out," she said with a slight shake of her head. "My feet are numb and aching. Wandering around the Frostlands is definitely not for me."

"I'll have to pass too," said Tressa with a heavy sigh. The young merchant was partially slumped over the table at Alfyn's left, her head propped lazily in her hand. "Ever since we left Victors Hollow, I haven't been feeling too good."

Alfyn immediately whipped around to check on her, his hand a blur as he moved to touch her forehead. When it came to aiding others, the apothecary's reflexes were as amazingly fast as Therion's.

Tressa flinched away in surprise. "Hey! Alfyn!"

The apothecary frowned with worry and clicked his tongue. "Oh Tress, why didn't ya say anything earlier? You're burning as hot as coals." He picked up his satchel off the floor and started to dig through the mess inside, audibly rustling papers and shifting glass containers aside.

Tressa pouted and looked away with guilt. "Sorry... I didn't want to make you all worried."

Ophilia, squeezed between Olberic and Primrose, clasped her hands together upon the table, her brow furrowed with concern. "Tressa, there's no shame in admitting you're not feeling good," she told the younger girl, her tone kind and caring.

"Agreed," said Alfyn as he continued to noisily rummage around in his bag. "Any minor illness can potentially turn life-threatening if not treated early. Especially when travelling non-stop for days like we have."

"Had we known, we wouldn't have pushed through the last stretch to Stillsnow as hard as we did," Cyrus added, waving a finger as if scolding a student.

The weather had started to turn for the worse when they stepped foot into the wintry plains of the Stillsnow Wilds early that morning. The sky had darkened and the wind blew strong and cold, biting through the thin layers of clothing half of them wore. Ill prepared for the oncoming storm, they had no choice but to head for Stillsnow without rest, fighting both vicious beasts and the unforgiving elements.

Tressa's pout deepened. "I'm sorry..."

"Hey, it's okay now," Alfyn assured softly, taking on the role of a big brother. He suddenly grinned and pulled out a small jar stuffed to the brim with dried yellow flowers. "Here we go: Meadowsweet! It will reduce that fever of yers in no time, Tress. Once yer ready, let's go to the inn and I'll prepare the medicine for ya there."

The girl nodded. "Thanks, Alfyn."

"It's what I'm here for. H'aanit," Alfyn turned to the huntress, "Wish I could come with ya. I really wanted to see the herb-of-grace myself. Hey, d'ya think Susanna would mind if, perhaps, ya brought me one of those plants?"

The huntress lightly shrugged. "I will ask on thy behalf."

"Thanks!"

Cyrus hummed, highly intrigued by something. Since meeting the professor back in Atlasdam, Therion was quick to learn that anything out of the ordinary always piqued the older man's interest. An intellectual with a sharp mind, the professor was never shy in sharing his knowledge whenever the opportunity presented itself. And it happened often, much to Therion's annoyance.

"The herb-of-grace is believed to be extinct," the scholar informed with great interest. His dark eyes were fixated on the pages in his black, leather-bound tome, in which Therion was certain was permanently attached to the man's hand.

Cyrus continued; "The last record of a living specimen was over a hundred years ago. How has it remained hidden from the academical realm for so long, I wonder?" He tapped a finger against his chin, musing at his own question. With a snap, he closed his book shut and leaned forward, meeting H'aanit's gaze with wide-eyed curiosity. "Please, allow me to accompany you. If what you seek is truly the herb-of-grace, I would like to see it for myself."

H'aanit gave the scholar a firm look. "Thou willst still thy tongue on the herb-of-grace's whereabouts?"

"Of course! I only want to confirm the truth and nothing more. There is a reason the herb-of-grace no longer exists and thus, I will keep it that way." Cyrus placed a hand upon his chest out of oath. "As a professor of the Royal Academy, you have my word."

Pleased, the huntress nodded. "Thou hast mine gratitude. Thy spells shall aid us greatly."

"I shall come too," Ophilia offered. "The cold does not bother me and I, too, can provide support in both magic and healing."

"Much appreciated." H'aanit looked between each member joining her party; a scholar, a cleric, a thief, and last, but not least, a snow leopard. She rested her hand atop the head of her feline friend who had been sitting patiently on the floor since arriving. "It shall be the five of us."

Therion picked up his drink and before taking a swig, he asked with fake enthusiasm, "When do we leave?"

"Soon, whilst the day is still young. Alaic ist waiting. He willen guide us to the Whitewood."

Therion raised a skeptical brow. "What? We're going out in this blizzard?"

H'aanit frowned slightly. "Afraid so. Susanna foresees the storm to last two or three days. Worst of it hast yet to cometh."

"Either go today before it gets worse or wait a couple days for the blizzard to blow over," Olberic contemplated out loud, weighing the two options.

Alfyn chuckled. "By the time it stops, you guys will be walking in snow up to yer ears. No way Therion will be bouncing like a hare then."

The thief let out an exasperated sigh, tired of being likened to an animal. "No way I'd be outside period," he grumbled.

"More snow, more perilous the journey. We mustn't delay any further," said H'aanit. She pushed back her chair and stood up, only to hold up her hand when Ophilia moved to follow. "Stayeth. Eat, drink to thy heart's content. We shall go once I return with supplies."

Ophilia hesitated to sit back down. "I can help you with that."

H'aanit refused with a curt shake of her head. "In my clan, 'tis the hunter who must provide when seeketh the aid of others on a hunt. Thou needn't worry. I will return shortly."

Ophilia dropped back in her seat. H'aanit turned to leave.

"Wait," Olberic stopped the huntress, "Allow me to sharpen your blades in the meantime. It will be the least I can do before you all depart."

The huntress nodded and unsheathed her battle-axe by her hip. Wooden hilt first, she handed her heavy weapon to the knight. "Been too long since it hast last touched stone. Thou hast my thanks. Comen, Linde."

The snow leopard purred and faithfully followed the huntress out the door, making heads turn along the way.

Olberic went to work right away and brought out his tools from his travel bag and lay them out on the table; cleaning cloths, whetstone, oil, and polishing rag. He started to clean H'aanit's axe with expert hands and without losing focus, he said to Therion, "I can hone your dagger and sword as well, Therion, as a small favour in return for saving my life earlier."

The thief grunted, "You owe me nothing, old man. I was just doing my part." Which was to watch everyone's back in battle. He was no fighter; he was not brave or heroic or even keen on fighting. He'd rather avoid conflict as much as possible, either by staying in the back or hidden out of view. Only when he was desperately needed did he ever jump in.

Olberic gave Therion the briefest of glances and most subtlest of nods. "Very well then. Not as a favour, but as a gesture of thanks. Give them here so you needn't worry about a dull blade for another fortnight."

"Hmph. All right." There was no point in refusing a free service. Even though Therion knew how to sharpen his own blades, he could never get them quite as sharp and lustrous as Olberic's handiwork. The thief unbuckled his sword and dagger and slid both sheathed weapons across the table one at a time.

Therion sat back and chugged the last of his drink, pleased by the spiced flavour that hit his tongue. It burned going down his throat, spreading a pleasant heat throughout his body that chased away the remnants of cold. The thought of going back out in the winter storm made him sigh into his empty mug.

"Cheer up," said Alfyn, slapping a hand on the thief's shoulder. "Yer only finding an herb. Should be easy. You'll be back in no time."

Therion shrugged off the healer's hand and snorted. "You'd think that," he grumbled. Something unexpected was bound to happen no matter how simple the task. Finding a lost child, exploring old ruins, or even walking off the beaten path in search of hidden treasure in a cave; there was always some form of danger that seemed attracted to their group. Giant monsters, ancient guardians, crazed men possessed by spirits – they've encountered them all. "I betcha a hundred leaves it won't be as easy as you think."

The apothecary chuckled. "You want to make an actual wager on that?"

The other shrugged. "Sure. Why the Hells not? It'll make this venture worthwhile. A hundred leaves."

Alfyn raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And yer gonna be fair and honest 'bout it?"

Therion gestured to Cyrus and Ophilia. "You've got witnesses."

The apothecary pointed at the cleric and scholar. "I can trust neither of ya are gonna lie for him, right?"

Cyrus looked rather insulted. He crossed his arms and scoffed, "How dare you. You know very well I honour only truths."

Ophilia slightly frowned with disapproval at the two youngest men. "Why would you gamble on our fate? The Twelve Holy Gods surely do not wish us misfortune..."

"It's harmless fun, Sister," Primrose explained, her sultry lips curling into a playful smile. "A mere prediction on whether or not things will go wrong with money in play. Certainly, we do not wish disaster upon ourselves wherever we go."

"Exactly," said Therion, pointing at the dancer in agreement. "If you consider losing a couple leaves harmless."

"A hundred ain't too big of a deal to lose," noted Alfyn.

"Really?" Therion shot the apothecary a challenging stare. "Let's make it... a thousand then."

"Now it sounds like you are wishing for bad luck..." Ophilia groaned, shaking her head.

Olberic chuckled heartily beside her, his eyes never leaving H'aanit's axe. "High risk and reward are what draws men to these games," he commented.

Alfyn's face twisted into a grimace at Therion. "A thousand? Gosh, that is steep, my friend."

Steep for the apothecary, but not for the thief. If Therion were to lose, (in which he highly doubted would happen), he could easily gain the money back. He had spotted a few wealthy targets while walking through town that were very enticing to his restless fingers.

"You know you don't have to go along with this stupid bet, Alfyn," Tressa advised.

Alfyn rubbed the stubble on his chin. "I know. I know. But you know what? I'll do it! All right, pal, a thousand it is." He slapped the table and stuck out his hand at Therion.

The two men shook to seal the deal. "I pray the Twelve to watch over you all," the apothecary added, his grin returning.

The thief laughed derisively. "The Gods are deaf. We are cursed with misfortune, just you watch."

Alfyn furrowed his brow. "I'm not saying it just 'cause I want to win. I really don't want anything bad to happen while you guys are out there."

"The Twelve Gods are fair, merciful and just," Ophilia added, hands clasped in prayer. "Have faith, Therion, and you shall receive their divine protection."

Primrose raised her mug towards Therion. "Faith shall be your shield," she added, confident in those words. She drank to that.

The thief had nothing kind to say in reply and wisely kept his mouth shut.

By the time Therion finished his third drink, Alfyn and Tressa had left for the inn. The apothecary had given Ophilia a few jars of salves, antidotes, and rolls of bandages just in case they needed it.

Shortly after, H'aanit had returned, carrying in her arms what appeared to be a big dead animal at first sight. Once held up and unfolded, the dead animal turned into a large, hooded cloak made from snow-white fur.

"'Tis the pelt of the Hoary Bear," said H'aanit as she gave it to Therion to try. "The same beast thou hast slain outside of Stillsnow."

"It's the exact same bear I just killed?" he questioned, highly impressed. He examined it closely, feeling the thick, coarse fur that insulated well, making it perfect for staying warm outside in the northern temperatures. On the front was a silver brooch shaped into a snarling bear's head with a set of small blue gems for eyes. He snapped the cloak on and found it reached just below his knees. He didn't need to be a hunter or a merchant to know that he was wearing a high-quality and possibly very expensive skin of an animal.

H'aanit shook her head. "Nay. Taketh weeks to cureth a pelt that large. 'Tis from the same species. Doth it fit thee?"

Therion adjusted the cloak. It was too restricting for his taste; it was heavy and too long, easy to get in the way when wanting to quickly draw either dagger or sword. However, he was already starting to sweat under it so it was serving its intended purpose. "It'll do."

Primrose stood and reached out to pet the cloak without asking, slightly irking the thief. "I must admit, I'm rather envious," she said, admiring the fur as if it was an extravagant prize. "You have a fine eye, H'aanit. It suits him perfectly."

H'aanit lightly shrugged. "Been told 'tis the warmest of the north. I choose it not for its design."

Therion placed one hand on his hip and winked at Primrose to play along with her teasing manner. "Glad it compliments my good looks. But you can have it when this is done."

The dancer tilted her head and raised a curious eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Not quite your taste in fashion?"

"Let's just say it's really not my style."

Cyrus noisily stood from his chair, which prompted Ophilia to do the same.

"We are ready to head out then?" the scholar inquired, buttoning up his black robe. Given only to professors of the Royal Academy, the ornate garment he wore appeared light and useless against the freezing cold. However, it was quite the opposite and an envy to many; stitched into the special fabric were runes that not only protected the wearer from extreme temperatures, but also enhanced his magical capabilities.

Ophilia's clerical robe worked just about the same as Cyrus's, with the exception of an additional rune that granted her greater protection against light magic.

Because of their special robes, neither the scholar nor cleric ever complained when the weather was too hot or too cold.

"I'm ready," said Ophilia, picking her ornate staff off the floor.

"Let's hurry up and get this over with," Therion grumbled while buckling his weapons back on. Sword on his left hip, knife hidden at the back.

H'aanit looked between each member in her party, ensuring they were indeed ready to depart. With a determined expression, she said to them, "Let us go."

With wishes of good luck and a safe journey from Olberic and Primrose, the group of five left the tavern with H'aanit leading the way.

Passing through the boundary of Whitewood was like walking into a whole new world. It was howling wind and blowing snow one minute followed by dead, complete stillness the next. The blizzard raging through the valley did little to disturb the wooded sanctuary of the forest, much to the party's relief.

Evergreen trees grew thick and tall, blocking out most of the natural light. Not that there was much light to begin with due to the dark storm clouds overhead. Snow quietly drifted down through the gaps, making branches heavy and drooping and the ground piled high with white.

After a few minutes in the Whitewood, Alaic stopped in the middle of the path. "This is as far as I'll take you," he said. Those were the very first words he had spoken since H'aanit's group had met up with him.

Therion had thought the man a mute upon first impression; a silent brute who only communicated through cold stares and subtle body language.

So it came to a surprise when Alaic suddenly spoke up, his voice a deep tenor.

The man turned around, his stoic expression focused solely on H'aanit. He pointed to the tree beside him where an old, red ribbon was tied to the trunk. "Susanna has marked the path to where the herb-of-grace grows. Follow it and you will not get lost."

"So thou doth speak," H'aanit stated, sounding a little amused.

Alaic shifted uncomfortably and broke eye contact. "I will wait here," he continued, ignoring what she said. "Dangerous beasts roam the forest. Be... careful."

The huntress nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Aye, we will. I thank thee, Alaic."

He nodded and briefly met the huntress's gaze as she passed him. To the others, he didn't even give them a glance.

When the group had ventured far enough, Ophilia giggled. "He may be a man of few words, but his heart speaks volumes. He really cares about you, H'annit. I wonder why he decided not to accompany us?"

H'annit quietly laughed. "Aye, Alaic ist strong, but feareth beasts. He would fair poorly in these woods." Linde growled beside her, looking rather smug.

"I suspect there is more to him than it seems," said Cyrus, pulling down his hood. He discretely looked back at the lone figure in the distance. "It is the silent ones who tend to hide the deepest of secrets."

"He ist a good man. If Susanna trusts him, I shall too," said H'aanit.

They followed the trail of red ribbons tied to trunks and branches. Fresh, ankle-deep snow covered the path, making it easy to spot the tracks of monsters that may be nearby. However, it also concealed the many hazards lying beneath. Rocks, pits, raised roots, fallen branches – it was difficult to not stumble, trip, or slip every couple steps.

The deeper they went, the more eerily silent it became as a white fog shrouded the woods, muting sounds and limiting vision. Each red ribbon was harder to find, but onward they continued, eyes keen and senses alert. There were a few times when they had to make abrupt stops because one annoying professor needed to go off on a tangent on every new fascinating organism they came across.

"Look what we have here! Creeping ice thorn!"

Therion groaned for the fifth time – or was it the tenth? He had lost count. He paused and looked over his shoulder, seeing through the mist, the silhouettes of the other three as they stood around a tree. The thief had ended up ahead of them, keeping in pace with Linde who thoroughly enjoyed plowing through piles of snow with ease.

H'aanit and Ophilia had the patience and interest to listen to Cyrus's many, many lessons. Therion currently did not.

So much for doing this quick... We're going to be here until tomorrow at this rate, the thief thought miserably. They have been wandering the forest for what felt like hours. Daylight was noticeably disappearing. Shadows grew darker and the forest gloomier with the evening soon approaching.

He audibly sighed, his breath a visible puff in the chilly air. What he would give to be back at the tavern with another mug of spiced mead.

There was an irritated growl coming from behind him. Linde was staring back at him, her amber eyes narrowed, silently demanding why they had stopped yet again. She was eager to keep hunting, evident by the restless flicking of her long, fluffy tail.

The few beasts they've already encountered were either plant-like or bony flying serpents, both very unappetizing for a hungry snow leopard.

"What? Don't look at me," Therion grumbled at the cat. He had never interacted with the feline before so he wondered if she understood him like she understood H'aanit's manner of speech. Since travelling together with H'aanit and Linde, Therion had kept a respectable distance from the leopard and she seemed to do the same.

"I want to keep going as much as you, but that walking library over there," Therion nodded in Cyrus's direction, "just loves to talk everyone's ear off."

Linde grunted, in which he interpreted as agreement.

"Yeah. Someone needs to teach him a lesson for a change."

"... known to freeze your blood instantly if pricked," Cyrus babbled on in the distance. "Highly dangerous. A minor nick of the skin could lead to necrosis in surrounding tissue in mere seconds."

"Frightening! I wasn't aware such a lovely plant could be so dangerous, Professor," Ophilia commented, always enthused by the scholar's seemingly endless knowledge. "Therion! You should come look at this!"

The thief shook his head though he doubted they could see him through the fog. He was about to respond with a bored "No" when he noticed Linde suddenly perk up.

The leopard faced forward, her body tense and her ears pricked. She jerked her head to the side and it was then that Therion heard what she heard; the violent rustling of treetops far off to the right as if a powerful blast of wind was passing through.

Except it wasn't just the wind. Over the sound of the swaying trees, Therion was certain he could hear the flapping of wings belonging to a giant creature as it soared overhead beyond his line of sight.

His hand flew to the hilt of his dagger instinctively when he saw movement from above, finding only large clumps of snow tumbling from the branches. His eyes followed the path of the falling snow, taking note of the direction the mysterious creature was flying. A red ribbon dancing in one of the branches caught his attention. Dread immediately settled in his gut.

Knowing their luck, the monster was likely going the same way they were heading.

It took only a matter of seconds before the forest was back to its quiet gloomy state.

Therion slowly exhaled the breath he wasn't aware he was holding and muttered soon after, "Just great..."

Linde snarled, her fangs bared towards to sky and her nose sniffing fervently in the air. She could smell the danger looming ahead of them.

A pair of boots crunching in snow fast approached them.

H'aanit was first to Therion's side, her bow nocked and ready. Her sharp eyes quickly scanned the area before glancing sideways at the thief. "What was that noise?" she asked.

"Some sort of giant, flying monster," he replied and gestured towards the trees that no longer had branches dusted with white. "It just missed us, but I got a bad feeling that we'll be running into it later."

Linde, having calmed at the sight of H'aanit, bounded towards the huntress with a rumbling purr.

"Still assuming the worst?" Cyrus questioned when he and Ophilia finally caught up, both slightly out of breath.

Cyrus briefly studied the trail of fallen snow. "For all we know, it could just be a harmless beast passing over the woods to other parts unknown."

Therion snorted and crossed his arms under his cloak. "I'm not assuming. I just know. I'm telling you now, I'll be winning a thousand leaves when we get back."

H'aanit was confused. "Why willst thou be winning gold?"

Ophilia sighed disapprovingly at the thief before choosing to explain, "Because Therion made a bet with Alfyn that we are destined to encounter some sort of unfortunate event in our search for the herb-of-grace."

The huntress seemed amused. "A grim wager. And rightly so. Danger oft await us wherever we go."

Therion smirked. "Heh. Glad to have someone actually agree with me," he said as he started towards the marked tree he saw earlier. He pointed at the ribbon to indicate they were heading the right way.

H'aanit and the others started to follow the thief.

"My master," H'aanit began fondly, "When I was but a fledgling, he oft sayeth to me: 'A true hunter hunteth danger lest danger hunteth the hunter.'"

"In other words, always be prepared for anything," Cyrus mused. "Wise advice from a wise man."

The huntress laughed, a joyous sound that resonated through the silent woods. "Wisdom seldom maketh Master. Nevertheless, since then, wherever I venture, my bow and quiver aren nary far."

Linde grunted beside her.

"And, of course, nary am I alone," she added.

"So you're used to the unexpected," Ophilia noted, admiration clear in her voice. "No wonder you're rarely taken by surprise whenever monsters suddenly appear."

"Nay, nary always true," H'aanit's tone turned wary. "Deep we aren in these woods and yet beasts hast been scarce and animals scarcer. Dost not bode well."

"Something does feel out of place here," said Ophilia. "This fog and this darkness... There's a strange chill in the air and it's not because of the cold."

"Hmm, yes," Cyrus pondered out loud. "An ominous gloom. An unnatural order, you could say."

Therion involuntarily shuddered. Now that Ophilia had brought it up, he was starting to feel a bitter cold that seemed to creep through the layers he wore. Unnerving; foreboding; it was unlike the times they've wandered into caves or ruins haunted by the undead. It felt more... sinister, somehow.

The sensation wasn't present before, only after the mysterious beast disturbed the silence.

"Hmph. It's probably because of that flying monster," Therion surmised. He glanced back at the others and wasn't surprised at how far behind they were already lagging. Withholding a sigh, he slowed his pace and told them, "How about no more dawdling so we can hurry up and get out of here? It's getting dark." As much as he wanted to win his bet, he was not in the mood to battle any huge monster that may want them as a snack.

"Is the day already nearing its end?" questioned the scholar, genuinely shocked. "I haven't noticed!"

Ophilia giggled. "You tend to lose track of time when you share your findings, Professor."

"Knowledge works best to feed hungry minds after all. I do apologize if I get side-tracked instead of focusing on the task at hand. Yes, Therion, we should be on our way before nightfall. I dread to trek back in the pitch of night in the middle of a blizzard."

They pressed on, trudging through deep snow and weaving around the maze of trees, at the mercy of the red ribbons that were few and far between. Much to Therion's relief, there were no more distractions to lead Cyrus astray.

Therion was right to suspect that they were heading in the same general direction as the flying monster. Whenever it seemed like the markings would veer away from the monster's snow trail, the next two or three ribbons would turn them back.

They encountered only another handful of aggressive beasts that were easily felled by the fangs of a snow leopard, the arrows of a huntress, the searing flames of a scholar and, occasionally, the quick slash of a knife or blinding blast of holy light. None were deemed worthy of a thousand-leaf bet.

An hour or two later, they finally reached what Therion could only hope was their destination. They left the world of shadows and stepped into the realm of light.

A bright open clearing welcomed the group, a vast contrast to the cold, eerie gloom behind them. Situated atop a precarious cliff, the clearing seemed magically untouched by the snowstorm that silently raged through the valley beyond. The wind was harsh and whipping snow in the surrounding area, but in the clearing, flakes fluttered gently to earth, sparkling like diamond dust in the ray of sun that shone through the small opening in the stormy skies.

"Wow! Look at this place!" Ophilia exclaimed in awe, her blue eyes marvelling at the magnificent scene. Smiling, she pulled down her hood, allowing the snow to collect in her long, blonde hair. She took a deep breath and sighed in content. "It's so serene. Enchanting even. Like a page out of a children's fairy tale."

"Quite extraordinary," Cyrus agreed, appearing just as fascinated. "Ah, that must be the herb-of-grace!" He pointed the top of his jewelled staff at the very edge of the cliff. There, a small patch of plants thrived where the beam of sun touched upon, kissed by the heavens.

With leaves that glistened like gold, the herb-of-grace was captivating to all who laid their eyes upon it.

Without wasting another moment, Cyrus tried to rush towards the herb for a better look only to stumble in the knee-deep snow. With no wind to carry it away, the falling snow was free to pile high.

Determined, the scholar waded through with H'aanit and Ophilia following right behind. Linde was off to the side enjoying herself, rolling and leaping through the fresh cover of snow, a young cub at heart.

Therion hung back near the edge of the forest, not bothering to tire himself in the rigorous trek to the herbs. At that snow depth, even he would be moving at a crawl at best and he did not want to be left vulnerable if beasts or a giant flying monster decided to attack. He watched instead, keeping a lookout for any trouble.

To the left of the clearing were thin, young trees and to the right was a tall outcrop of crumbling rocks. No sign of any possible ambushes yet.

So far so good.

Seeing Linde frolic in the snow put him at ease for the time being. The chill that haunted the forest was gone, replaced by the warm embrace of the sun. Perhaps the monster truly was long gone. But that was only wishful thinking.

"I wonder..." Ophilia began to say, "Written in the scriptures of the church, Aelfric descended to the mortal world somewhere in the Frostlands, bringing the gift of the First Flame. I like to believe this may be where He graced our world with His holy presence."

Cyrus waved the top of his staff at the surroundings in astonishment. "This phenomenon certainly does appear as if a divine power is protecting this very spot. Like a natural shrine of sorts. Do the scriptures mention the herb-of-grace as well and of its importance?"

"There is mention of a sacred plant made of gold that can cure the poisons inflicted by evil, but I don't know if that could be the very same."

"'Poison' can refer to any malady. If that is the case, then petrification could very well be considered a form of poison. Curable, if what the seer says is true."

"Susanna speakith true," said H'aanit. "I believe her, for ours and Master's sake. Redeye can turneth man to stone... 'Tis a power no ordinary beast should hath."

"Do you think it is evil?" questioned Ophilia.

"Evil..." H'aanit did not like to use that word. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "I knowith not 'til I see Redeye with mine own eyes."

It was a short while longer until the three reached the herbs. They knelt before the golden patch, their voices too far and down to a murmur that Therion could no longer listen. No doubt they were gushing over the herb as if it were truly made of valuable gold.

The sunlight flickered for the briefest of moments.

Therion stiffened, his attention immediately to the sky where the heavens peeked through. The others had not noticed it, too enamoured by the herb-of-grace or, in Linde's case, face-deep in the snow.

Therion waited in silence. Just when he thought he had imagined it, the sun flickered again. He saw it; a large shadow passing over the clouds, there and gone in a blink of an eye.

Something was flying high above and Therion had a sinking feeling he already knew what it was.

"Hey!" he shouted to catch everyone's attention.

The instant his companions turned their heads towards him was the instant the world of light fell into darkness.

The sun vanished, completely blocked out by the enormous shadow that descended from the sky. Between the gap in the clouds, it emerged; a humongous, winged, reptilian beast covered in scales as dark as night.

"A dragon?!" H'aanit exclaimed in surprise with Linde already standing protectively by her side.

Cyrus, on the other hand, cried more out of fascination than shock; "Can it be? A real dragon?!"

Therion stared in both wonder and horror. An actual, living dragon – a legendary creature known to exist in ancient times – had shown itself before them in the flesh, fierce and mighty and more fearsome than any beast he had ever seen.

Twisted black horns adorned the dragon's head and rows of bony spines ran down its long neck to the tip of its long, spiked tail. Its huge wings were similar to a bat's with webbing the colour of vibrant red flames. Most terrifying of all were its eyes that burned wickedly like red hot coals as it gazed upon Cyrus, Ophilia, H'aanit, and Linde, wild and hungry.

The dragon hovered above the four, casting its massive shadow over them like a winged messenger of death. It opened its maw wide, revealing a mouthful of terribly sharp fangs, and let out an earth-shattering roar that forced everyone in the vicinity to cover their ears. Its Gods-awful cry sent a visible ripple through the air – a shockwave – that blasted away the falling snow around it and sundered the unseen barrier that protected the clearing.

Dark clouds swallowed the sun, bringing back the bitter cold and misery. The storm that ravaged the valley beyond now blew fiercely through the cliff-side. Billowing snow and icy winds assaulted the group with a vengeance. But that was the least of their worries with the greater threat looming high above them.

Therion braced against the return of the storm, forever grateful for H'aanit to provide him the fur cloak. He hastily pulled up his hood to protect against the biting winds and peered through the blinding blizzard. He watched in gut-wrenching terror as the dragon dove towards his companions.

Its massive jaws were capable of swallowing any one of them whole. Fortunately, the dragon ate nothing but air as the three humans and snow leopard managed to jump out of harm's way.

They escaped its teeth but not the gale left in its wake. They were knocked off their feet and left tumbling in the snow.

The dragon swerved around in mid-flight, its mighty wings noisily beating. Each flap blew away the loose snow beneath it, revealing the bare, rocky ground once hidden by white. With a thunderous quake, the beast landed on all fours, facing Cyrus, Ophilia, H'aanit, and Linde, who were all already back on their feet and prepared for battle.

The dragon was completely unaware of the lone thief standing behind it. Cloaked in white, Therion blended well in the wintry background.

Up close, the dragon was frighteningly larger and more intimidating. The size of a common two-storey house, the muscled behemoth was armoured in spiny black scales and numerous spikes. It was well-armed as well with each of its toes ending in hooked claws that could rip apart prey in a single swipe. And then there was its tail: long and spiked and whipping behind it to and fro like a deadly pendulum.

Sneaking up from behind was going to be a problem with that tail, but not impossible.

Therion stood as still as a statue and anxiously waited for the perfect opportunity. Although he was the quickest among the group, he was never the first to strike. Rushing in without knowing what a foe was capable of would be suicidal at best, especially against a full-grown dragon. That kind of strategy was strictly Olberic's, the stubborn old fool.

Linde was snarling viciously at the winged lizard; fangs bared, ears flat, and tail raised, she was ready to pounce at the slightest twitch. Not far from her was H'aanit, aiming a nocked arrow at the dragon's head.

The dragon moved in to slash its claws at the huntress first. That was when Linde charged. The leopard was a blur of white and black as she launched at the dragon like a fired arrow. She latched onto the reptile's attacking foreleg and attempted to sink her teeth and claws into hard scales.

Seemingly more annoyed than hurt, the dragon grunted and threw the cat off with a violent flick, sending Linde crashing through the thin trees off to the side.

"Linde!" H'aanit shrieked over the howling wind. She let out a battle cry and let loose a volley of arrows. The blizzard affected her aim, resulting in many arrows missing their mark while the rest harmlessly glanced off the dragon's natural armour.

A huge wave of fire suddenly engulfed the dragon, thanks to none other than Cyrus. Any snow left on the ground instantly melted into muddy pools and the dark sky was lit up with a brilliant flash of orange and red. However, as powerful the spell was, the flames did little against the scaly beast.

The dragon merely shook away the searing magic as if Cyrus had only doused it with rain.

"Oh ho! Not an ice dragon, are you?!" the scholar exclaimed, highly enthused despite the peril in their situation.

"Professor, look out!" cried Ophilia just as the great beast lunged forward. "Holy Light!"

Straight from the heavens, a ray of sacred light struck the dragon head-on. It was effective. The beast howled in pain and jerked away from its target.

With a furious growl and a mighty flap of its wings, the dragon jumped back a good distance from the others only to land right before Therion.

Cursing silently in his head, the thief scrambled backwards and dropped into a crouch to stay hidden, keeping his eyes on the spiked tail lashing inches from his position. Shrubs and tree branches unfortunate to be in the way were easily broken in half by the snap of its tail.

A purplish-black haze surrounded the dragon as it reared back its head, mouth agape and inhaling deeply.

A breath attack. If legends were true, a dragon could level an entire village with a single breath. An exaggeration, Therion could only hope.

"Brace thyselves!" H'aanit warned.

"Behind me! Quick!" Ophilia shouted.

Black fire gathered around the dragon's maw, dark and sinister. 'Evil' was the only word that came to mind that could only describe the aura emanating from the creature's form.

Therion shivered from the unnerving chill that suddenly returned in full force. Invisible fingers of ice seemed to grip every part of his body, throwing him into a state of terror.

He swore under his breath and tried to shake away the fear that suddenly overwhelmed him. Now was not the time to be afraid; they were in danger – his companions – friends even... He needed to do something.

He stood up on legs that felt like jelly, gritting his teeth hard and digging his nails into the palms of his hands to overcome the spell that had taken him.

The dragon's swinging tail had slowed to a stop, its flank now open.

The thief rushed in, his first few steps unsteady. Focus and determination gave him the strength and desire to move forward unhindered in the snow. He reached the dragon's hind leg within a few quick strides, dagger drawn. He slashed at the beast's ankle as he ran past, feeling his newly-honed blade scrape uselessly across thick scales.

Therion might as well have used a feather because the dragon didn't even notice it was attacked. He swore again for he was too late to stop the dragon from unleashing its wrath upon his team mates.

As impressive as Cyrus's magic was, the dragon's fiery breath was at least ten times more devastating. Black as shadow and hotter than any magical flame, the dragon spewed its dark fire to engulf everything before it in a massive, roaring wave of blazing death.

Therion grunted and shielded his face with his cloak against the scalding steam that suddenly shrouded the dragon. The blizzard was soon forgotten for it felt as if he was standing in the heart of a burning brazier. The heat was so unbearable, he could barely breathe!

Eyes watering and gasping for air, Therion suffocated for several long, agonizing seconds before the blissful wintry winds returned, blowing away the steam and rapidly bringing the temperature back down to freezing.

Mind numb, Therion feared his friends dead. Standing beside the dragon was bad enough, but to be on the receiving end of the fiery blast... the odds of surviving were looking very grim.

But then he saw the bright flash of silvery-blue between the flickering black flames. Ice suddenly burst from the ground before the oncoming inferno; towering, glistening spires that were sharp and jagged. Many of them, thick and tall and fusing together to create a fortified wall to shield its caster and those he wished to protect.

The fiery shadows swallowed the ice, turning the frozen wall to vapour in mere seconds. Short-lived, but it was effective enough to absorb the brunt of the attack, lessening the blow against Ophilia's holy barrier that shone through the darkness like a sacred beacon.

Through the smoke and shadowy embers, Therion could see Cyrus, Ophilia, and H'aanit down on their knees but still alive and moving. Any injuries sustained would surely be healed by the cleric.

In a single breath, the dragon had transformed the enchanted, snow-covered clearing into an ugly, barren cliff that was scorched black. Nearby trees were reduced to smouldering stumps while any stone surface touched by the flames had partially melted. The dragon was truly as powerful and frightening as the legends described.

Now how are they going to get out of this alive?

Therion turned to the winged lizard, needing to distract it from his recovering allies. It had yet to notice the thief crouching right beside it.

Since his dagger was too weak, Therion had to rely on his sword. Bigger, stronger, and just as sharp, he could only hope it was capable of cutting into tough scales.

He threw back his fur cloak and drew his steel sword, the song of it unsheathing silenced by the wind. Polished to a reflective shine, the long, thin blade looked as good as new.

A furious roar coming from a snow leopard gave him pause and gained the dragon's immediate attention.

Linde appeared from the burnt remains of the forest boundary and charged straight at the behemoth, quick as lightning. She was upon the dragon in a blink of an eye, leaping across the smouldering earth to plunge her fangs into the base of the lizard's long neck.

The dragon snarled and flinched from the leopard's bite only to retaliate with a quick swipe of its claws. It knocked Linde off as if she was only a fly and easily pinned her to the ground with its massive foot, one black claw sunk deep into the feline's side.

Linde writhed helplessly beneath the dragon's strength, her shrill cries of distress sounding so foreign. Never had Therion heard the proud, majestic leopard make such a pitiful sound. Nor had he seen her at the mercy of their foe.

"No!" H'aanit's scream pierced the air. There was a great fury in the huntress's eyes as she broke away from Ophilia's healing aura, axe in one hand. Her left arm hung stiff and useless by her side, suffering from an awful burn that left her skin red and covered in angry boils. Her left leg hardly looked any better. Ignoring the cleric's protest, H'aanit limped towards the dragon, desperate to save her feline friend.

However, she was too slow and too far away.

The dragon had caught its first meal and didn't hesitate to go in for the kill.

Unbeknownst to the dragon, (and lucky for the huntress), Therion was already on the move, sprinting to the feline's aid within a heartbeat. Just as the dragon was about to chomp into the leopard, the thief came in fast from the side, using both hands to swing his sword at the lizard's exposed throat with all his might. Cutting into dragon scales was jarring but feasible for his blade managed to draw both blood and pain.

The dragon yelped and jerked away in surprise, releasing Linde from its crushing hold.

The leopard was hobbling away by the time the dragon spotted the retreating thief.

Glowing red eyes glowered vehemently at Therion, sending nervous shivers up his spine. The thief was backing away one careful step at a time, never leaving his sight on the dragon now that he had its undivided attention. His sword wavered before him. There was no denying he was trembling under the monster's gaze and imposing form.

Out of all the monsters he had encountered in the world, it was a dragon that instilled him with the most fear.

Just think of it as a dumb monster, he grumbled internally as he tried to steel himself. It's dumb and evil and wants to eat me for dinner... Hells, why am I doing this?

He was a thief and thieves did not hunt dragons or monsters. If there was gold and treasure involved, then maybe, if it was well-worth the risk. But even then, he wouldn't be the one to draw the enemies' attention, that was usually someone else's role.

Either he had gone crazy or Olberic's Gods-damned chivalry was starting to rub off onto him.

Dark crimson blood poured from the wound on the dragon's neck; a deep but not fatal injury, unfortunately. It did little to slow the great beast down, only angered it. It stomped forward like a raging bull, closing the distance between it and the thief in three long strides. With a gurgled snarl, the dragon raised one foot and slashed down at Therion.

Therion dodged to the side, narrowly missing those deadly claws wanting to rip him open. He wanted to flee, but battle instincts told him otherwise. He found his body moving in for a counter. Beneath the dragon his legs carried him, fueled by adrenaline. Without thought, he performed a jumping overhead slash. The scales of the lizard's underbelly were tougher than the throat, forcing his blade to cut shallow and crooked.

Therion was out of the beast's shadow before it realized what he had done.

The dragon staggered and let out a pained hiss when it finally felt the sting of its new wound. It whipped its head in the thief's direction, its ruby eyes full of malice. An awful dark aura surrounded its body, flickering wildly as if it had ignited itself in black flames.

The icy hands of evil gripped Therion's soul yet again, tighter than before as he faced the fearsome shadow with eyes that shone a sinister red. He was frozen on the spot, his heart pounding frantically in his ears. He bit his tongue hard in an attempt to break the spell.

The dragon lunged like a vengeful demon straight from Hell, mouth agape and full of teeth.

Therion barely had time to react. At the very last second, he threw his body to the side to avoid getting eaten. He winced from the dragon's vile, scorching breath when its jaws snapped inches from his face. The teeth may have missed him, but unfortunately his cloak wasn't as lucky.

Therion was violently yanked off his feet and carried along by the dragon, his airway painfully cut off by his own cloak. His hands desperately scrambled to unclasp the brooch, finding success after a few agonizing seconds.

He landed hard on his hip and tumbled a couple times before finding himself lying on his back on cold, hard rock. Gasping, he rolled over just in time to see the dragon throw back its head to swallow his fur cloak, probably thinking it had finally caught some food.

Despite the pain and freezing temperature, the thief couldn't help but sneer, knowing the stupid dragon was going to be very disappointed.

A strong hand pulled him up by the arm. "Stand, Therion!" H'aanit urged.

The sound of her voice did not go unheard.

The dragon's head turned sharply in their direction. The instant it saw him still alive, its aura flared to match its frustration. Snarling like a savage beast, it twisted around and began to stomp towards the pair with great fervour.

Grim yet determined, H'aanit stepped forward. The worst of her burns were mostly healed, but her skin was still raw and tender and exposed to the elements. She raised her battle-axe over her shoulder while Therion had to resort on his useless dagger, having lost his sword somewhere. H'aanit was about to meet the dragon head-on when Cryus interrupted;

"Get back! Five seconds!"

A warning. The scholar had given them five whole seconds to get the Hells out of the way before casting his spell.

Both the thief and huntress knew better than to get caught up in Cyrus's magic.

H'aanit ran to the right while Therion went left in an attempt to throw the dragon off-course.

Therion could hear the oversized reptile tear up the ground as it tried to maneuver its huge body around to give chase. He dared to glance over his shoulder and was met with a pair of burning red eyes.

Of course... There was no surprise it wanted him dead the most.

The beast unfurled its wings and pounced straight for the thief, rapidly closing the distance with a single flap. There would have been no escape; Therion would have been crushed and torn to shreds – if it were not for Ophilia.

She smote the dragon out of mid-flight with a blinding ray of holy light.

The dragon crash-landed face-first and skidded across the scorched earth, its enormous body missing Therion by a hair.

There was no time for a breather. Knowing Cyrus was next to cast his spell, Therion quickly fled from the fallen beast.

A flash of silver-blue followed by a chilling gust and frost on the ground. Ice magic. Somehow the wind had gotten colder as the scholar's spell took form.

Therion dove just as the ground beneath him erupted with ice with a deafening crack. He rolled into a crouch upon landing and spun on his heel as he stood. With silent cheer, he watched the dragon take a direct hit from the spell before it disappeared completely behind the deadly wall of frozen spears.

Out of breath and shaking from adrenaline and cold, Therion had to lean forward to rest his hands on his knees to regain his bearings. He kept his eyes on the ice, waiting in anticipation for any signs the dragon was still alive. There was nothing for the longest moment. Sighing in relief, he cupped his hands together and summoned a small magical flame for some warmth.

"Therion!" Ophilia was huffing towards him, her brow knitted in concern. "Are you hurt?!"

Shivering, the thief was barely able to mumble an answer; "No... I'm fi–"

The ice suddenly shattered like glass.

A string of colourful words escaped Therion's lips when he saw the dragon break through. Many shards of ice had pierced its body and one wing was tattered and broken. And yet it still stood, relentless and powerful – truly a demon disguised as a dragon.

It was beyond furious; it was consumed by its own aura, its form hidden by towering black flames and steam created by its rising body temperature. Murderous red eyes gleamed through the veil of shadow and mist and found its nearest target. With a monstrous roar, it lunged unhindered.

Ophilia was frozen in terror and could only gape as the ghastly monster charged straight for her.

Therion wasn't sure what happened next. One moment he was just as stunned as Ophilia, then in the next, he was already sprinting towards her.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as vicious black claws enveloped in dark fire descended upon the cleric. Closer and closer they crept, wanting to tear into her soft flesh.

Therion shoved Ophilia out of the way before it was too late.

He heard it first before he felt it, the sickening crunch of breaking bone as the dragon struck his body with the strength of a thousand men. He was thrown through the air. The pain was intense; searing and sharp and prickling all at once. Thankfully, it lasted only seconds before everything had gone completely numb.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. He could only fall.

Down, down he fell, through the silent world that grew dimmer and colder the farther he went. Endless, it seemed.

And then, there was nothing.

A/N: It's been over two years since I've written fanfiction. I've gotten pretty dusty - err, rusty so hope you all enjoyed reading this. I had the most trouble with H'aanit's dialogue, ( I can't quite grasp her dialect), so do correct me if she sounds so wrong.

Have a Happy New Year and thanks for reading!