The North

I sunk my heavy boot deep into the crisp, cold snow, and rose my head up slowly to gaze around me. Snowflakes flew brilliantly around me, swirling in a frozen dance, around the terrain. My breath puffed on front of me, freezing and evaporating, mixing into the chaotic beauty of the harsh snowfall. I was surrounded by a white desert, around me, close enough to create such a blizzard, yet far enough to hold a small valley. No trees grew here, nothing but the stubborn old oak that blurred in and ahead, marking my destination.

I lowered my head once more, and plodded through drifts half-way up my calf, and rising. My hand was raised, to protect my face, as was the thick fur cape around shoulders, and face. As I grew close, I halted to observe. The oak was humongous, towering above at least eight times my height alone. The branches were bare, but snow and bark, whipping violently in the wind. Creaking noises of protest came from it, and I barely heard the sound of advance as my target grew close.

My hand flew to my sword, hanging loyally at my side, waiting for use. I turned my head swiftly to the location of the noise, only to see a horrid sight. I swiftly pulled my sword out of its scabbard, swinging it upwards to parry a slow high swing. I rotated out of its rebound, swirling around to run my blade at rotten flesh, smoothly peeling chunks away from the body, acidic goo that the monster called blood gushing out like toxic water over a dam. It roared, making a noise that resembled more of an animal howl rather than voice, and staggeringly turned to face me, set in a weakened defensive stance. I mimicked its move, and held my sword in front of me. It moved slowly and to the left, creating a circle in the snow.

 My target took his chance, feigning a move to the left but striking to my right instead. I barely moved out of the way, and had only turned around before it swung horizontally across not bucked out of the way. As the momentum carried him around, I took the chance and plunged my blade deep inside his lower right ribcage, in the side. He gurgled in rage, and swung around to strike. I pulled out my sword, and leaned back to avoid my beheading.

I reached out with my left hand, as if grasping for a lover, weighing the strength of my opponent. The creature was surely horrid, survived…remained I suppose for years buried under the deep snow of the north, only to come alive now? That quite didn’t hit the mark I suppose, the thoughts rushed out of my mind the same instance. I yanked my sword again upwards to parry the attack and moving quickly I ducked out of the way striking with my sword as I passed the creatures left side. My sword bit through his left shoulder and exited through his frozen flesh as it passed.

While doing so, I had left myself vulnerable, and as my blade finished its undead life, he had swung his final blow, his axe digging into my upper right back. As ooze drained out of his eyes, it snarled as his un-life was breathing out, it remaining in position and finally, it went limp. As his weight dragged his axe out of my body, I breathed again, and stood up to my full height, and closed my eyes. Rolling my shoulders, wincing slightly my wound, I lifted my head, and opened my eyes, turning my head to gaze around the northern wastelands I now have to call home, the blizzard is howling closing all around me, I will endure.