Tara Runeweaver's Arc

Chapter 2 of 19

The chieftain still stood close, but the doors slammed open again before he could speak. Two warriors dragged in a second beast and threw it down on the planks. Tara rose slowly. This one was not the gray wolf. This one shone. It was a white wolf, its fur crusted with frost, its blue eyes dim with pain. A spear had broken off in its shoulder. Tara's breath caught. She knew this animal. Years ago, in a winter cave, this spirit had pressed its nose to her hand and given her the runes she still wore. The warriors had dragged her teacher to her door as a test. "Save it," one warrior said, "or we end you both." Hands tightened on axe hafts. The carved altar where they bled their kills sat just outside the doors, still wet. Tara did not look at the chieftain. She dropped to her knees on the cold floor and pulled the wolf's heavy head into her lap. She gripped the rune pendant at her throat. The carved eyes flared red. She spoke the old words, steadier than before, and pulled the broken spear free in one clean motion. Light poured from her palm into the frosted fur. The wound closed. Frost spread out from the wolf's body across the planks in a slow, bright ring. The spirit stood, shook itself, and pressed its cold nose once to her cheek before it was gone, leaving only melting frost and silent warriors. The chieftain stepped past his own men and stopped in front of her. "Tara," he said. It was the first time he had spoken her name. "Stay close to me tonight." She heard it land and did not answer yet. Something had opened that she could not close again.