Tails of Blood and Bond

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. For centuries, the jagged hills were merely a place for the elements to touch and nothing more. Only they were brave enough. No one would dare go near the Valley for fear of its talon shaped rocks, cliffs steeper than a column of bodies, and conditions ready to swallow those bodies whole. No one it seemed, except large, winged beasts who spoke in the language of fire.

Legend claimed the Valley was more alive than a beating heart. And now, as Amell looked upon it for the first time, he realised why. Because it wasn’t only dragons that made themselves comfortable along the rises and dips of the Valley.

But snow.

Thick white snow that swallowed every green surface. Every surface except the one beneath Amell’s own two feet and the one he left behind. Where only fresh grass that came to the top of his knee-high leather boots lay, under the warm rising sun.

Of all the stories he’d heard about the Valley – some told through late-night tales and others discovered after reading old, worn-out books – the existence of snow in a land where warmth dominated every season, was the hardest for Amell to comprehend. Even more so because no one had ever witnessed said snow fall onto the Valley. Only seen it rest upon its surface. Perhaps it wasn’t the atmosphere then but the land itself that was cold.

The sky was cloudless as the sun rose behind the distant hills, setting the tips of each one alight. Amell could just see the arms of the trees as they reached upwards, poking through the frost. Each one swayed. Perhaps it was from the morning breeze flowing along the Valley. Perhaps it was the ripple of movement caused by each golden body that roved through the trees, dragging river length tales behind them. Or perhaps it was the trees themselves. Laughing at the world. Mocking it. Amell thought the last one was easily possible.

His fingers clung to the sword strapped to his belt, and they shook against it. It might as well have been a stick. He wondered, if it wasn’t for the three-foot, midnight animal beside him, if he would’ve even bothered clutching his sword. If he would’ve just run back to where he came from instead.

He supposed if that animal wasn’t beside him, there would be no point in coming here. He would simply be asking for a worthless death. That was what scared Amell the most. If his death meant no more than an extra body for the ground to consume.

The animal rested her large blue eyes upon him, and he felt a touch warmer. Even with the deep, long winter that swallowed the world ahead of him.

He knelt down and stroked her black fur coat, starting from the tip of her pointed snout, moving along her back, all the way down to the bottom of her thick tail. “The Torrance campsite is looking a little more inviting now.”

Her large, muscled body arched into the sun as it hit her coat. I prefer moving. I was ready to leave that training camp before I had even arrived. Her voice was light and smooth as it entered his mind.

He knew her words to be true. Knew it from the way she spent her days at the Torrance campsite, the place where his final leg of training was held, and one of the six training camps located on the border of Mandara. Each camp was filled with a different clan of warriors, and each one held a different piece of wisdom for Amell to pocket for this journey. Those warriors certainly made it difficult to accept that wisdom given the long, intense hours he was made to train. Hours that the wolf used instead to walk around the camp. Hours she spent watching Amell. She didn’t require the same kind of training as him. She was wisdom. Her purpose here now couldn’t be taught.

I walked only to keep myself entertained while I waited for you to learn.

He ruffled her coat. It was softer than his own hair. “Arrogant wolf.”

He had neglected to filter his thoughts more than once during their two-month journey here, often forgetting she could pick up certain ones travelling across his mind with an insight he couldn’t understand. But others strangely remained hidden from her. Like some thoughts weren’t meant to be heard or understood by any mind except the one they were created in.

She tilted her nose up to the sky, widened her jaws, and before she could release what Amell knew she had been holding in this entire journey, he pushed her head back down. “Woah, woah, woah. You might want to.” He grabbed her snout so she was looking into his eyes. “But don’t.” She brushed her paw along his boot. “This will all be for nothing if you do that now. We must be silent and invisible.”

Her eyes softened as if she was about to break his heart. The Valley already knows.

He made himself take in the creatures currently digging their claws into the snow. There were five. At least that he knew of. Their orange-yellow forms stood out against the thick, white snow like a flame in the night. Amell could practically see every inch of them, even from the great distance. Their size made his bones chill.

The Valley created those creatures in the last century to protect itself from any unwanted visitors. Anything that might disrupt its peace. So history told. And as Amell watched the dragons tear their way across the land, burning the air around them, he didn’t doubt it. What else could create beings that physically breathed destruction? What else other than a Valley that seemed cursed by hell itself?

Amell crossed his arms. “It is the dragons that must remain unknowing. The Valley is out of our control. Even if we were two ants, it would still sense us.”

The wolf tilted her head. If we were two ants, we wouldn’t be here. We would be safe in some little hole gathering food for our family.

He grinned at her. “Or we’d be guts on someone’s boot.”

The wolf opened her mouth and slipped her tongue out in response.

Amell never thought he’d be satisfied with just a wolf’s company before being tasked to work with one on this journey. He might’ve even liked her more than humans. Maybe that was because she wasn’t just any wolf.

None of that even mattered. Because after this week, Amell and the wolf would be dead. The kingdom of Mandara was counting on it.

A sharp breeze swept over the land, and Amell’s thick hair fell over his eyes. He ran a hand through his dark waves and watched as the wolf tipped her snout up once more. This time, he didn’t make a move to stop her. He knew what she was doing as she closed her eyes to the wind, letting it caress her fur in case it never got the chance to do so again.

Amell and the wolf waited for the sun to fall behind the white hills before beginning their journey down into the Valley. Their breaths mingled together like invisible vines, weighted with thoughts of the future. Each inhale began to take more effort. The cold didn’t help. And while it was nothing compared to what they would soon face, the temperature had dropped more and more as the moon stepped up into the sky. Its pale light made the wolf beside him shimmer like the surface of a black sea.

She looked up at him. More lines pulled at her eyes than before. Are you ready?

Amell gave a quick nod. He didn’t expect his life to end any other way. Didn’t want it to. He was born under the law of sacrifice. Trained under the rule of warriors. And raised by a family dedicated to the kingdom of Mandara. He was chosen for all those reasons and more.

He reached for his sword, and his hand trembled against it once more.

There was a weight against his leg. Are you sure you’re ready?

He realised he hadn’t moved. But then again, neither had the wolf. He nudged her. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

She blinked slowly. Her eyes seemed to smile. This is the only thing I’ve ever had to be ready for. I am ready.

He took in a sharp breath. “We should start moving.”

We should.

“Okay.”

Okay.

“Any time now, wolf.”

We’ve travelled together for two months now. I should tell you my name.

“I don’t need to know your name. You are wolf to me.”

Silence was his answer.

Slowly, Amell took the first step down the grassy hill, after choosing a side where it was flat enough to trek across safely. The wolf shadowed him, and they weaved their way silently down the hill, heading for the first dip in the Valley.

Soon, ice fuelled wind began to pierce Amell’s skin. He pulled gloves out of his pockets; gloves he’d been saving for this very day after being warned of the Valley and its deviations. They were cold and stiff as he slid them over his fingers, and he rubbed his hands together. He could see his breath as it left him, now. He could see the wolf’s too. He didn’t like seeing that. Or the way her steps grew slower, the cold and the steep hill biting into her strength. Or the way her mind became quiet.

They were similar for beings of two different species. They were both here after all. A wolf ready to save a land and a warrior there to protect her so she could.

It was an odd quiet that settled around them the further they went down the hill. There was no sound in the air other than the crunches of his boots and her paws against the grassy dirt, accompanied by their ragged breaths. No birds chirped. No trees rustled. No creatures stirred. He would almost prefer hearing the sound of large, heavy talons colliding against the earth than this nothingness.

It wasn’t just the quiet that descended upon them as they descended into the Valley, but a feeling. A strange feeling that Amell couldn’t define. It was like –

Wanting to climb out of your skin.

Amell’s heart stuttered as the wolf’s voice walked into his mind.

It’s like wanting to rip apart air itself even when it keeps you breathing. Even when it keeps you alive.

Amell narrowed his eyes on the snowy peaks ahead. They were all he could see now, hills filled with creamy trees and sharp rocks that dove outwards and cut into the air. “Indeed.”

Amell.

He paused in his tracks and glanced at the wolf. “Yes?”

We are only prepared for how to succeed.

He waited for more of her words to sound through him.

What if we make it to the Valley’s centre and I fail to do the rest?

“I suppose we will die either way. Let’s just hope it’s the right death.”

Amell didn’t think the wolf had such doubts. Or any doubts, being an animal born with a naturally heightened understanding of the world.

There is no living thing that can be certain of everything. I am no exception.

“I wish you kept that to yourself.”

She lifted her dark head up to him. Her eyelids lowered, making her face and pointy ears soften. He couldn’t look at the sight for too long.

Almost every part of his body was numb by the time they neared the bottom of the hill. And soon, when a crisp sound pierced the air, he realised he had taken his first step into the Valley.

The snow was soft as he trod upon it. He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe that it would be more solid and spiky than normal snow. Icier. Instead, it felt as if he was walking on padded air. That wasn’t a comfort to him.

No one had been able to tell Amell and the wolf how long travellers usually lasted before they either attempted to flee, before realising the impossibility of doing so, or were taken by the Valley. Them knowing wouldn’t change anything though. They needed to reach the Valley’s centre either way.

The wolf mirrored his slow steps, her eyes whizzing over their surroundings. He let her go in front of him considering her advantage in sight. As well as in every other sense.

His body jolted when a low hanging branch whipped right into his face. He couldn’t blame an animal half his size for leading him into it, he supposed.

He swiped it away, but that wasn’t the reason why his heart began to clamber. Its thumps only grew louder when he realised he no longer felt that same tension as before. The tension they continued to feel as they trudged along the snow. The feeling of needing to leave their body. No, it shifted into something… different.

Amell watched as a faint shadow appeared along the nearest tree. His arm moved, and so did the arm of the shadow. A wolf sized one appeared next to it.

The wolf froze, and then so did Amell. He didn’t need to turn around to see what kind of light was causing their shadows. Not when he felt something warm tingle his back, just as soft crackles rose around them.

“Fire.”