“So, what happened?” Yoruuk sat down and resting her head in her hands she leaned forward, a picture of intrigue.

Toke rolled his eyes and smiled,“You really want to know? It’s not that interesting.”

Yoruuk sat up and huffed with petulant annoyance, “Would I have asked if I didn’t?”

“Fine. But in return for me telling a strenuous and tasking story such as mine, you must get me a drink of freyjasalt and a plate of niflspice to munch on.” He crossed his aging arms stubbornly and gave her a smug grin. She made a protesting puff at him and stood up. As Yoruuk padded to the small kitchen, Toke took a moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t really understand why so many people wanted to hear his story. It wasn’t like he had saved the world. In fact, he had actually been too late. When he had arrived at Drakenfjord so long ago he found the whole town abandoned except for the Contingent. They had taken him in, and when the Transitioners from the Secret Testing lab had attacked they protected him. Though they fought and defended him with their lives, he still became fatally injured. They did not have the means to cure him of the poisonous bites of the mutilated Transitioners. They ended up taking him to the Temporary Home of The People in hopes they could heal him. He obviously survived, though that was decades ago.

Yoruuk came back in with a loaded tray. “Since I figured this would be a long time, I brought snacks for the both of us.”

Toke chuckled. “A wise decision, my dear. Now get cozy.”

Yoruuk nestled into the cushions next to him and nibbled on a small loaf of niflspice. Toke took that as a sign to start and dove into his long ago memories.

I guess I should start with some history. Remember, you weren’t alive back then so all the events that had happened recently and were impacting everyone’s lives, you never dealt with. Right before I was born, the War of Wars ended. Now we had been at war with the Jackals for a long time and the war had significantly destroyed and deprived our land. We finally drove them off with the help of the Skymen and rid the land of them. But our fields, and sources of income were devastated. Now you live in a blissful time where Frost Shepards are equal with humans and Skymen. In my time Frost Shepards lived only in the village of Draalheim, and they ate humans. So naturally, they were The Peoples predators. Every year on the winter Solstice the deadly and feared Frost Shepards came down from their cold mountain to prey on us innocent and destitute humans. Or so we thought. But more on that later. What is now Gravenmeer, was a flourishing port city before the War of Wars. When I was born, my mother or father, I’m really not sure, left me in one of the ruins in Gravenmeer. My caretaker found me and took me up Winter’s Toll all the way to the village of Draalheim. In a small hut hidden from the view of the village, my caretaker raised me. For seven years I was happy and comfortable. But then he died, and I was left all alone.

I was taught well, so surviving wasn't impossible. I also was very knowledgeable in the history of our world and the culture of the Frost Shepards. When I was about 15, everything changed. I’d been living peaceably by myself and exploring the mountains in my abundant free time or spying on the village and watching the Magi practice Isidreki. Now you know the cold of a Winter’s Toll winter, but back then things were much colder, and it was all year long. I would describe it as frozen and icy and windy, but light and airy. But one day the cold changed. It felt dark and hollow and smothering. The winds shifted their direction and cyclones of snow and ice blew over the mountain. You can feel Isidreki when it is used in large and powerful amounts, and this was the most formidable I had ever felt it before. Ignoring caution, I had climbed the bluff of ice blocking me from their view and crept along the crags till I could see the village. I remember my body quaking at what I saw. The Varmagi had formed a circle and were waving their hands very slowly from side to side. At the time this was the most affective way to summon the might of Isidreki. The motion of their hands roused the magic and the winds around them picked up speed rapidly. Snow and clumps of ice plucked up by the winds swirled in a circle surrounding the Varmagi. A cluster of sharp of icicles had flown in my direction and I remember panicking. I flung myself out of the nook and into the Frost Shepards view. A low growl came from behind me, and I turned slowly to see one of the perimeter guards slowly approaching me. I sprinted towards the rock barriers and clambered over them. You never got to experience this, but not only was Winter’s Toll freakishly cold then, but the ice grew so tall it formed cliffs and hills of ice all over the mountains. As I sprinted towards the ice bluff I grabbed my pick off my belt and leaped off. A talent I practiced daily and was very handy back then was what I call Cliff Sliding. I would jump off a cliff and run my pick down the ice or rock. It would catch and slow my fall so I could easily and quickly descend cliffs. pick caught the ice and slowed his fall. When I reached the bottom of the bluff I looked up and saw the guard glaring down at me. I had shuddered and sprinted into my hut. I had felt such determination then. I had known what I needed to do, and I did it. Right then. I didn’t have much holding me to the mountain, with my caretaker dead and no possessions to my name, leaving was no problem. So I gathered my worn satchel and my meager food supply. I poked my head out of the hut and scanned for the guard. Satisfied that he was gone, I left the hut and sped across the plateau. Arriving at the edge of another tall cliff I took my well-loved pick off the clip on my belt I vaulted off and dragged my pick down the icy cliff with my weight. When I reached the bottom I climbed up a small rise and stared down at the path I must take; Snjórstein Reach. A steep and narrow path that clings to the side of the mountain, and along the edge it drops so far down you can’t see the bottom. Stowing my pick, I began my long and weary trek.

I awoke from where I sat burrowed in a nook in the rocks and pulled myself to my feet. My body was hardly rested, and my muscles protested any movement. Ignoring my aching and groaning body I pressed on. I spent the rest of the day clambering over rocks jutting out of the path and barely catching myself from sliding off the edge after slipping on a patch of ice. When I came to the end of the path, I recall collapsing and sleeping right out there in the cold for almost 5 hours.

There is a pass called Iskalle Fjell. You haven’t been through it, but I will tell you, it is a tedious trail to travel. The frigid fog of the mountains would gather there, and it would rest so low, you couldn’t see a thing. And several small iced over streams flowed into the pass, creating a slippery and treacherous ice flow. It was practically a glacier. But that’s beside the point. I made it through, though it took me two whole days.

Toke glanced over to see a large yawn escape Yoruuk’s mouth. He softly chuckled and ruffled her hair. “We can stop for now Yoruuk, you should take a rest. I know I could use one.”

She stared at him through heavy lids, “I want to hear the rest of your story, and I’m too old for a nap!”

“I fully intend to finish my story, but if you were to look at yourself dear, you would see that I don’t think you would make it through my tale.” He rose from the old couch and moved to small alcove where blankets were kept on a shelf. Taking one off the shelf, he walked back over to the old cushions where Yoruuk rested and wrapped the blanket around her. She smiled sleepily up at him. “Thank you, Afi Toke.”

Toke smiled softly at her and kissed her forehead. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours, then we can continue my story, Barnabarn.”