Matteus had always hated digging. Nothing had ever felt more purposeless to him than standing in a hole banging metal against hard, frozen earth.
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He had been born during spring's warmth in Torr to a modest and god-fearing family, a city boy and the youngest of two. Torr was a large City, made of wood and stone, bustling with life and light and trade. The City sat at the Dagger's Tip, just below Ragnar's Mountains.
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This farm was different from his City; it was cold, gray and quiet. Built near the heart of the valley, it was afflicted with a dreary sky that never brightened and a foggy wood that always seemed to be glowering. He missed his younger life; the sights, and scents of the City; all a foggy memory.
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Faithful as his family was, life in the City proved that the Gods couldn't protect even the most pious from the zeal of a hungry tax collector. With a drunk for a father and a crippled mother, a young family took their chances outside the safety of the City gates.
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Now the only sights he saw were the mornings' mists and the occasional traveler, the only scents that graced him were of livestock and rot.
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The farm, encompassed by woodland and mountain, in the Widow's Valley to the East of the Great City of Torr posed as their best and only option. Only a day's ride to the border of their home Skanhelm, and the Sazeen Sultanate to the South, the land seemed to be a good investment.
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After four winters of hungry nights, bandit raids and wolves decimating the livestock, Matteus' father deserted them. He took half their food and their only horse in his wake, a sickly woman and two small boys left alone for the wolves, the bandits and the bitter sting of winter's bite.
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A cold wind cut through Matteus' shirt pressing itself into his skin, with a chill so intense he could swear his heart pumped cold blood. Every breath he took burned his nostrils; his fingers were red and so stiff they felt as though they would break if he tried to bend them. I wish Burrin would stop pretending to be a fuckin' hunter and help me, he thought. This wind is too much. Even the thoughts in his head had a chill about them.
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Every day for the past ten years that Matteus had spent away from Torr was a stone of nostalgia and tension that rested on his chest, one day it would crush him. In Torr, he never had to worry about paying marauders "protection fees," as the bastards called it, or Sazeen soldiers bullying them into surrendering food and livestock. His life was a rut that regret had pinned him in.
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Matteus spotted Burrin emerging from the woods, his golden hair a slight contrast to the snow-glazed woods. With a small doe slung over his shoulder, he made his way over.
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"Ah, You're almost done, little brother, I'd say you've only got what? Two more feet to go," Burrin said with a hint of pride in his voice.
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A perplexed look grew on Matteus' face. "You really killed that deer?"
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"Well... no, I found it, but I'll tell mother I shot it," Burrin said with a hearty laugh.
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"Whoever shot it may come looking for their meal Burrin."
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"I'm not so certain it is a 'who' little brother." Burrin slung the doe on the ground to reveal a large gash that ran deep down the right side of its neck.
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"At first I thought a hunters knife," Burrin said. "But look, Matty, how jagged it is, I think we've a bear in these woods."
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"I've never known a bear to leave its food almost entirely untouched," Matteus said, glancing up to his brother. "Maybe we shouldn't eat it, only an animal with the blood madness would kill and leave its prey."
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Burrin's brow furrowed. "I didn't realize you had a stache of deer for us to choose from."
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Matteus turned away back to his work. "We've no room for pickiness I guess, sorry."
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"Well, I'd like to see you do some hunting," Burrin snapped.
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"No, I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry," Matteus said recoiling, he hated when Burrin yelled.
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Burrin stood up, staring down at Matteus. "You're constantly scared of these woods, of witches, and werewolves! Yet when I venture out, hunt us a deer and bring it back you complain!"
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"You've never brought home anything larger than a turkey, you-"
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He was cut short by a swift kick to the head and a brother yelling for him to be quiet.
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Matteus stared down at his feet in the ditch, watching the rare and gentle snowflakes land and settle in a light sheet, as Burrin grew quiet. Many seconds passed with Matty hoping Burrin would break their awkward silence and when he didn't Matteus made a heavy decision and spoke up.
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"I'm so sick of this cold. I'm going to get some mud, paint my skin and move to Aloria." He raised his hands in the air gesturing to the far off land. "Imagine it, nothing but sunlight and heat, instead of cold and dead gray skies."
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Burrin laughed. "Yes, rolling hills and beautiful plains. Too bad you'll never see it," he said."With your blue eyes and yellow head, you'd be made in an instant. They'd send your pale, lanky, arse all the way back here where you belong."
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"Well then I'll only use a little mud and put some in my hair, then I could pass as a Sazeen or Qabar, they're practically the same people," Matteus said.
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Burrin laughed again only louder. "Don't let either of them catch you saying that brother, they're quick to their swords. But it's true they do look the same."
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Burrin picked up the doe and began to walk inside. "Don't take much longer with this, I won't hold supper for you."
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By the time dusk came about Matty found himself hungry, disappointed and six inches further into the frozen hole. I'm so fucking weak, how many days have I spent at this now? Four? Five? And Burrin...This is his mess, he should be digging this not me! No, no. He was keeping us safe, like always. He did what he had to.
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Crack.
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The sound startled him so much he nearly leaped from the hole. His eyes searched the treeline. All he could make out was the army of snow-covered trees guarding his farm.
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He slowly crept out of the hole, shovel tight in hand, ready to run. The wind began to whistle, softly at first but before long it was loud. Underneath the wails of the wind, Matty could hear a voice coming from the thick forest, too far to tell what it was saying but close enough to know it sounded like his brother.
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I need to eat, my mind is trying to trick me. As he began towards the door, the voice cried out again only this time it was his mother's. Am I going mad? Maybe the gods have seen fit to punish my cowardice. He took one last glance out to the trees before heading in.
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Night fell and winter winds blew.
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Matteus gorged himself on char, skin and stringy meat with a foul odor. The venison was burnt and gamy and left a bitter taste in his mouth. Metteus looked to Burrin as he swallowed large pieces of well-cooked meat and suppressed his jealousy. It's okay, Burrin needs more and better quality than I do, he keeps us safe.
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He forced himself to eat, he needed it. His diet of buttered bread, water, and frigid air had left him skinny and weak. Their mother sat quietly eating a soup she made bones and bits of meat. Matty could see she wanted to speak up on his behalf but they both knew it was better for him if she didn't.
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The family sat huddled around their dying fire, wrapped in blankets. A frozen gale raged outside their four walls, ever so often finding its way inside to cut into their warmth.
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Their mother Linnea, clutched her prayer beads tightly, holding them close to her chest, firelight reflected off its topaz surfaces. A gust rushed past her plump body whipping her flaxen up into wisps, it pushed into the fire and their flame dimmed further, threatening to extinguish.
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"Boys, we need more tinder for this fire or it will be the last we ever see," Linnea said turning to face her children.
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Burrin gave a sigh of irritation. "Mother we've nothing left to burn unless you want to burn our blankets."
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Matteus never realized how little they truly possessed. The house was bare, only farming tools decorated their walls. "We could break the shovel and burn the handle." The moment the words left his mouth he realized how foolish they were.
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"So you would have us down another tool?" Burrin scoffed. "And when work comes our way what are we to say?" he mocked Matteus. "'Oh I'm sorry m'lord, you see we don't have any tools to do your work. Would you mind buying us some new ones, eh?'"
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Burrin had a knack for imitating Matteus and it discomposed him to the soul.
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When he was young, their father had returned home late one night in a stupor composed of ale. Matteus awoke to his father at the threshold, shouting about the ungratefulness of the Khidori and their need to be conquered again. Matteus, in his youthful kindness, attempted to hush him and bring him inside before he woke the neighbors. His father drew his dirk, pointing it at him. "You'd have me be silent would ya, you little traitor," he staggered towards Matteus, grabbing him by the collar before he could escape. The drunk bashed his son, hard with the pommel just over his ear, knocking him to the ground. His vision flashed white and he woke laying silent on the cool dirt floor as streams of warm red ran down the side of his face.
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"You've spent too much time listening to that insolent mother of yours," he said, stepping over him. After, it was hard to hear from that ear, speech became difficult for him to master and he spoke deep and with a strange pitch.
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Matteus cringed from the memory and stood to walk away from them. "You don't have to do that, you know?" he said as he walked towards the door.
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"Enough of that, come back by the fire before you catch your death," Linnea said.
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At that moment he heard it; sobbing, the sobbing of a woman. He froze, a gust of fear and adrenaline welling inside him. Nobody lived in these woods other than his family.
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"Did you hear that?" he said and listened again. "I heard something out there, a person I think."
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Burrin hushed him, "Matty it's your bad ear," he said, "You know brother I may be reconsidering your shovel idea," a small laugh escaped him.
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"Hush." Matteus strained to speak in a harsh whisper. He trained his ears to the outside listening for unfamiliar noises and unfamiliar voices.
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"Matty-"
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"Burrin please be quiet."
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Burrin's loud sigh overwhelmed any noise Matteus hoped to hear. "Matty take my dagger and hand me my bow, we can have a look around,"
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"No, we don't know who's out there."
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"Get your furs, we are going," Burrin said, his voice peppered with annoyance.
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It was dark and the air was a new kind of cold one not native to even these regions of Skanhelm.
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The cold-white lashes of a blinding blizzard had all but destroyed Matteus' morale. Wisps of frozen wind bit into Matty, his skin, so cold the flakes that landed on him took their time to melt.
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The brothers had walked the entirety of the property twice over to make doubly sure they didn't miss anything. Matteus had begged nearly the entire time to head back and return to the warmth of the fire. Before Matty had realized the two had found themselves at a road, the farm to their left and the city road to the right through the wood.
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Almost as if the gods had heard his plight; the heavy snow and wind lightened enough to allow sight much further than a few feet. He could finally clearly see the valley and how hauntingly empty it looked, covered in snow.
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"Burrin I understand, please... I must have imagined something...some noise, you were right; can't we go back now," Matteus pleaded.
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Burrin ignored him and continued on, his focus was elsewhere, lost in the treeline. The grip Burrin held the bow with made his knuckles white.
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"Do you see that Matty?" Burrin asked.
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"See what?" Matty asked, turning his gaze to find what he was meant to have seen.
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"That's larger than any I've ever seen out here," Burrin said.
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Within the treeline, behind a large tree, the head of an elk peered out at the brothers. Nearly five feet off the ground and with large antlers its black eyes met Mattys and looked through him with a hungry emptiness. Matty could feel a chill colder than that of the air around him run down his spine.
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"Burrin can we leave, I don't want to be out here anymore."
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"Matty, think how much meat...we would be fed for a long time."
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"I don't want to stay out here."
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"You approach it from the front, slowly, I'll move to its side and shoot it."
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"Please, I can't stay out here."
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Burrin gritted his teeth and spoke in a harsh whisper. "For once Matty, mother and I would like to see you overcome this cowardice."
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"I'm sorry Burrin. You're right, I'm a coward but please I-"
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"I don't care, start moving, we need the food."
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Matty obeyed and took a step toward the elk that had not broken its gaze. Burrin slowly began moving to the right of the tree, his eyes fixed on the elk. As Matty took his second step the elk's head rose up higher than any elk he had seen before and tucked itself behind the tree. Matteus felt his legs lock and his lungs froze inside him, the woods were quiet; the sound of his heart beating heavily was all he could hear. As if the gods wanted to conceal this elk, the storm started up once more and Matty's vision returned to snow.
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How could it? An elk can't be that tall. An elk can't be that tall.
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Burrins voice rose up from the right. "What kind of..."
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Matteus looked to Burrin. His brother stood in complete confusion, eyes still locked on the tree the elk had moved behind.
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"Why wouldn't it just run?" Burrin asked the air.
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"Burrin, please, can we leave. I don't feel well."
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"Yes, I think we should go."
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Burrin was first back in the house, he had made Matteus check the livestock. The winter had taken the cow from them already but the remaining two goats seemed to be in a good way. He brought the goats as he checked the mule then locked them all in the cow pen. He made his way back but stopped just shy of his door. The donkey brayed in a way he had never heard before and both goats bleated like they were being slaughtered.
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The bear! It's trying to get in. Metteus poked his head around the corner of the house to lay eyes on the cattle pen, fully expecting to see a bear sniffing about. Nothing? Why are they bleating?... I need to go inside. It's far too cold out.
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Matteus lay in his bed, his eyes fixated on the low orange-red glow of a dying fire.
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Burrins voice cut across Matteus like a cold knife. "I hope for your sake, you herded them together and left feed out for them, we can't afford to lose another because of you."
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"I did Burrin the animals are safe."
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"Good, get some rest little brother, you'll finish that grave tomorrow."
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