Moonlight tiled the floor from the arching windows of the young Lady Parhelion’s room, and she sat at the edge of her bed, clutching her bag. She’d been sitting still since the early afternoon, waiting. Her mother had stopped by once or twice to bring food and offer company, but for the mainpart the girl had been left alone. It had been a very quiet past few hours, but with the shuffling of feet from the corridor, Lady Parhelion bounded up to her feet and stood straight.
A large winter wolf nudged his way into the room, gently pushing the door out of his way. Gleaming blue eyes scanned the room for a moment, before landing on the small figure in front of him.
“Well hello there, little one. Happy Birthday.”
A large smile broke across Lady Parhelion’s face, and she threw her arms around the fuzzy scruff of Lord Snowdog. Snowdog let out a hearty laugh as he transformed back into a human, tumbling backwards as Lady Parhelion tackled him down to the ground.
“Five years old! You know what that means! Mom says I can take you out of the Northern Keep. Have you been up all night?”
Lady Parhelion nodded, clutching at her bag.
“All ready to go, then? Got your sword?”
Lady Parhelion nodded again, placing her hand on the hilt of her blade. Lady Starlight blamed Snowdog for giving their daughter her sword, but in truth Snowdog hadn’t a clue where it had come from. When a toddler shows up with a magical bone blade, you take it as a sign of things to come. Snowdog had still hunted for clues surrounding the sword’s origin, but he figured some things were better off a mystery.
“Alright then. Come with me,” Snowdog laughed, dropping back down into his wolf form. “Let’s leave this hellhole and teach you some true courage.”
The first few months had been easier than expected. Snowdog took his daughter to a small cave he’d used on occasion. It wasn’t his favorite when he was out living as a beast, but it was certainly the best for a human to use. The cave was dry and deep, easy to keep out the elements and still ventilate fires. Snowdog taught Parhelion how to start fires using the dried lichen along the walls, where to find water when the snows were gone, and how to sleep in the bitter cold. He didn’t teach her anything about hunting though, he only allowed her to tag along. She watched as Snowdog dispatched his prey with a bite or a stab, and ate his fill. Once he was done, she scavenged off the bones.
That’s how it went for a while. Snowdog led, and his daughter followed. But, that was not the intent. When they hunted, Snowdog didn’t leave behind scraps for his daughter, he ate his fill every time. With less and less to scavenge, Lady Parhelion grew hungrier and skinnier. The young girl tried to keep up the fire at the cave, but all the dry kindling near the cave was harvested and consumed quickly. Every day she had to journey further and further to find more fuel for the fire, and there was no longer a stockpile to rely on in case of bad weather. Darting away from a feral hog, Lady Parhelion’s coat ripped, rending it in two and exposing her skin to the extreme cold. Even worse, a pack of dire wolverines tried to attack the cave in the dead of the night. Lady Parhelion drove them off with her blade, but not before two had sunk their teeth and claws into her feet.
A quarter of a year in, and Snowdog was worried for his daughter’s life. He kept close to the mouth of the cave, keeping watch on the little girl as she lie on the floor, trying to sleep away the day. A few stray beasts had caught the scent of the injured child, but Snowdog had driven them away quietly. He dragged a few extra carcasses to the edge of the forest, so that Parhelion would hopefully spot them and scavenge them. All day though, Lady Parhelion had laid on her side, sleeping in restless spurts and weakly throwing twigs into the smolders of a fire. In the dead of night, Snowdog curled up around his child, keeping her warm with his winter wolf pelt, but even that seemed a paltry defense against the cruel winds that stole into the cave’s maw. Before dawn could break above the horizon, Snowdog carried his daughter home, wrapping her in his beast-skin cape to keep warm as he gingerly brought her back to her own bed.
Snowdog didn’t stick around to see how his people reacted, he didn’t want to think of what others would say. He spent some time as a free man in the forest, running and hunting without a care like before. At first, things were quiet, but in a week or so he found new mysteries to hunt down. Strange killings and creatures running in fear, but of what? Snowdog tailed around his mystery quarry around and around until he finally caught scent, and ran to catch up to her.
The young Lady Parhelion, poised over her kill with blade in hand, stared down her father as he approached. She’d come prepared again, with a new coat and a new stash of tools, but her injuries were still clear. Snowdog shook his head.
“Go back.”
“No,” Lady Parhelion responded, cutting into the slain creature. “Again.”
And that was that. Snowdog tailed her around as she hunted. She was not good, but she was barely old enough to read. The fact she could take down any sort of creature was a feat of itself, even if done sloppily. She couldn’t haul the carcasses back to the cave, so she cut off what she could and left the rest in the cold. In the morning she learned her mistake, when the carcass left behind was picked clean. She didn’t repeat the mistake again.
Months passed and Lady Parhelion didn’t return home. It was an endless cycle of life out in the wilderness. Hunting provided more than meat, she took pelts and bones as well to fashion to her liking. Lady Parhelion abandoned her father’s cave for one she found more suitable, though Snowdog bickered about it to no end and said she’d regret it later. In the end, she did indeed regret it, and wasted three more days lugging supplies back to the old place. Neither of them was happy about this, but they learned from it.
Months turned into years, and by the time Lady Parhelion was 7, sword fighting had become ingrained into their schedule as well. At first, it was an hour here and there, and then it was most of the day. It was enjoyable for both father and daughter, so it became the day’s entertainment. There was nothing better to do than fight out here in the wilderness, so fight they did. Lady Parhelion learned her father’s weaknesses, and later her own.
The only thing Lady Parhelion truly struggled with was her injuries. While her strength had increased tenfold, she was constantly hindered by the slow recovery of her muscles. Snowdog could live on meat alone with his beast forms, but Lady Parhelion was just a human. She had plenty of raw meat and berries to munch on, but nothing that gave her enough strength to recover from wounds. Snowdog had to teach her medicine himself, what sorts of herbal remedies and bandages could be used for which types of injuries. He didn’t withhold information when it came to teaching the importance of medical procedures, and he didn’t allow his daughter to experiment on herself the way she’d learned most everything else in the wild. He did, however, allow her to treat his wounds after running off to war with By-Tor each month.
Her ability to treat wounds improved a little, but the girl began to cheat. Snowdog didn’t know how his daughter started to pick up magic, but he certainly knew when she began to use it. It started as a few sigils here and there to patch herself up, and then it was a few spells thrown into a sparring match to catch him off guard. Nothing special, except for the fact she was learning it young. Once Lady Parhelion got good enough to hold her own against Snowdog in a fight, she began truly delving deep into arcane practices. With food, shelter, and survival skills under her belt, she began to flourish in the magical arts.
It was on Lady Parhelion’s ninth birthday, nearly four years after they’d first left, when Snowdog had finally made up his mind. He caught her on the edge of the Earthern Forest, testing her blade against a undoubtedly highly threatening tree. There hadn’t been a clearing when she’d first started using the area as a training grounds earlier in the year. Now, the horizon was nearly bare of foliage. That was power, relentless and persistent.
Nine years old, the young girl swept her blade across the trunk of the tree, trailing colorful flames in its wake. Pressed leather and furs reinforced her fragile skin, now lousy with old wounds. Her hair had grown long and unkempt, and her body was swallowed up under the bulk of clothing she wore. Snowdog watched her move effortlessly between motions though, proud of who he had raised, and a bit saddened.
“Daughter,” he spoke, the wolf’s voice gravelly in his throat. “Are you happy out here?”
Lady Parhelion stopped in place, letting her sword hang to the floor, and looked back. With a noncommital glance over, she gave a brief nod, and brought her sword back up to strike.
“Do you wish you were back home?”
Again, Lady Parhelion continued her training, pausing just to give a short shake of the head ‘no’.
Snowdog let out a sigh, and rested his head on his paws. “You know, you cannot win every fight with steel. Think of all the adversaries you may face when you are older. The Gold Master is a very conniving fellow, you must learn how not to be fooled by his tricks, and how to read between the lines. The Red Monk is a living trap, someone difficult to trifle with without losing part of yourself, you must learn how to fight him and live. And as for By-Tor… well By-Tor shouldn’t prove much of a problem so long as you don’t fall for his flowery words.”
Lady Parhelion waited as her father continued his lecture, paused and attentive to listen. Still though, she said little, and instead waited for him to continue. Snowdog’s face fell.
“Daughter of mine, you’ve learned well. You are a master swordsman, and the wilds of the North will pose no threat. But I cannot allow you to follow my path. You cannot live apart from our people. You must return and learn to speak, and then learn to read.”
“I… can speak.” Lady Parhelion coughed out. The words were rusty from disuse. Conversations were short these past four years, and just between the father and daughter. Lady Parhelion had been a fair speaker when she was young, but she’d now gone nearly half her waking life without speaking to any others.
“You are no animal, little sun. It is your job to return and bring light to our people. Your mother is kind enough to fill that role for me right now, but one day it will be your duty. I will not see you crippled by your tongue, of all things.”
“Can speak.” Lady Parhelion said indignantly, picking up her sword once more.
“You cannot.” Snowdog huffed. “And understanding my speech is not enough. You will need to spend time with others and learn to listen to what they say. You will also need to learn to read so that you can make full use of our library.”
Lady Parhelion turned her sword to the side, making a defiant stance against Snowdog. He understood her gesture. If he was to demand she learn something, she expected him to teach it. But Snowdog shook his head.
“It’s time you went home. You’ve done well. You’ve exceeded my hopes, and made me a very happy man in the time we’ve spent together. But now, there’s a world which needs you. And you need it as well.”
Lady Parhelion’s brows knit together, her small figure shaking a bit as her breaths became more shallow and worried. But, closing her eyes in defeat, Lady Parhelion gave a definitive nod.
As the morning settled into the afternoon, Lady Parhelion tried heading back to her den to retrieve her things, but Snowdog corralled her along the way and drove her back to the path home. There was nothing out in the woods that needed to be brought back to the world of man. Lady Parhelion removed her makeshift armor and wrapped her sword in cloths to carry, wearing the best-kept garment she could find. Lady Parhelion and her father walked side-by-side, sad and wary at the thought of returning. When the white walls of the Northern Keep finally breached over the horizon, neither stopped to share thoughts or words of wisdom. The two walked straight up to gates of the Northern Keep and waited for the bewildered guards to open them up.
Feasts, celebration, and drinking rang through the streets at the return of the Snowdog and his daughter, running well into the night. Lady Starlight kept protective watch over her daughter, nearly biting off the heads of any who came close during their reunion. Kind scholars fitted the daughter in white dresses and dolled up her hair, while talented healers scrubbed away all the scarring visible on the exposed skin. She kept calm and steadfast through it all, giving confused but kind smiles to all who helped. The fright within her seemed to nearly overwhelm her at times, but she knew these were her people. They would do no harm, they were excited to see her.
The quiet Lady Parhelion sat amongst the revelry of the night, politely watching the mages and hunters dance the night away beneath the starlight foyer. Excitement at the grandeur and noise of the keep sparkled in her eyes, but Snowdog knew what was in the girl’s heart. For as much as today would be remembered and celebrated, it would also be the death of the child he’d held so dear. The Snowdog was a man wearing the skin of a beast, but his daughter was a beast who would need to learn to wear the skin of a lady. Silks and healers and teachers may be enough to build that visage, but the spirit within would always yearn for the freedom it once had. He’d doomed her to know a freedom that neither of them would ever have again. But, she was equipped with sweet memories, keen skills and a longing soul. She would grow strong.