"Brother. Do you hear that?"

Only minutes into our hunt in the early mountain sunrise, Brother speaks of hums. Their octaves deep and droning. Too deep for horns ... Too deep for war cries, as well. His face expressed great fear, yet I saw him to be mad, surely. But like Odin's trembling thunder upon my ears, it strikes the sky; and I find myself now clinging to his warnings like the Gods' own scripture.

"We head into the hills, brother," he said to me. "Guard my back; keep close."

He parted with an axe, worn and dirty, only but the blade cared for any amount. A family heirloom bestowed to him by our father. Though I did not trust the blade in my young age, I could not trust a soul more than thee. Brother was versed in the clan's ways. Hex to those who would stray from the call, the fight. Alas, a far cry from comfort that horrible noise—what could it be? It rattled my very being, down to my heart that had lost its rhythm. I felt woozy, trekking blindly to Brother's back as I surveyed the shrinking trees behind.

It never ceases.

Audible now is a restless grumble amongst it. Be it roars? Be it that of slumber? My pondering led me to stumble over a crack in the ridgeline, only able to catch myself against Brother. He tensed with great panic when his eyes veered behind his shoulder and reached to pry me away. He glared to the crack that had gotten the best of me, as if to decipher his own hunch.

"The ground, so strange ... Not a stone pure for acres."

He was right: something of this earth appeared wounded, as though one had begun to separate this bluff from the village below. We sought its travels as to be nights away from any sort of end.

Brother pulled me to my feet with a mighty heave. Now, there was no hiding his uncertainty. The noises would soon have to find a harmonic place in our heads if we were to survive this hunt. Suddenly, my ears—as desperate as they were to seek another tone less troubling—soon resonated with eerie comfort: vicious snarls. Yet, my eyes doth deceive.

A slender type, dressed in strange, silky garb of red and white traveled near these faint shadows we cast. Her deep blue eyes pierce the soul with their grace, neither bothered nor threatened. This woman hiked unopposed, enamored in converse with herself. My steps were halted by Brother's, of whom stopped with only a disheartened grunt; his sword was now firmly slid from its hide scabbard. I couldn't make it out well, but she murmured something further while she watched me. She slowed her pace.

My body trembled, tumulted further when I peeked from behind Brother. An icy Sabretooth Tiger blocked the forward path. Strange, too, a thick fog bank before it.

"Hold your ground. Do not make a sound ... When he pounces, I'll come 'round the side. He'll follow, and that's when you carve into the skull. Spare its pelt."

You could almost feel sorry for the trembling beast. It was clear that it, too, feared. However, Brother would relish the prey no different. He does as he said, without hesitation when the Sabretooth attacked. This would be the story we could have shared: how the Ghalihide boys provided the most deadly of meat for fortnights. But it was not fated as such.

Damned, panicked things—those hands!

My swing dug deep into its side; so deep, in fact, that it was now embedded into the wounded animal as a permanent fixture. It roared, wincing. Alas, it only briefly hobbled over then stabilized itself for another go. Brother was steadfast in luring the beast away with his blade flat-edged, batting at a nearby tree.

"Fight me, you crippled hide!" he taunted. "Face Ghalihide iron!"

In the moment, my tender ears perked. That was when the woman called. "This way, and make haste!"

We lacked many options. Even Brother was wise enough to realize that. Then he spotted her beckoning as I did, and soon turned back to me.

"Go, now!" he shouted with a galloped step.

For such a warrior, he was quick to choose to run. Maybe he cared too much to see me hurt in the crossfire. Regardless of reason, we ran towards this strange woman, a desperate predator frothing at our backs. Even while bleeding profusely from its wound, there was no stopping the mighty Sabretooth's chase. Our steps slugged through pothole soil patches, nearly tripped over root systems. I looked back many times in hopes that it would somehow stop. Did it not have any will to live? Was its pack better off without it? Moot questions.

The hungry are either dead or ruthless. Thus is the law of the forest, even in the darkest of winters. Grandfather's words to his sons, and every generation so far. Brother took this passage like a deity's embrace.

Suddenly, he took me by the arm as he barreled forward desperately. Before I knew what was happening, I felt the ground curve and send us falling through a lofty stone shaft erected through dirt. And soon, we landed feet-first on a rough patch of rock-littered sand. The landing strained my legs badly, but they were far from broken. I didn't want to jest Brother's patience. When chaos subsided and my vision adjusted, we found ourselves within a small, man-carved tunnel leading down furthermore. The woman shut the metal hatch above us with only a hasted wave from her hand ...

... A magick user, no doubt.

I had apprehension, bound to our blood. For the moment, though, we were as close to safe as we could be, despite the droning hums worsening from the acoustics.

I could only be thankful.

No light shone except for a glimmer above, from the canopy. Within it, the woman appeared in shadow. "Boys from the village below ... what brings you here?" she requested, hands held together in a sort of prayer. "The air is chilling—and a storm drifts overhead. Surely, you must be lost."

"We are not." Brother was no fool to her magick – nor, an admirer. "We're on the hunt for whatever cries out that—urgh—forsaken noise!"

"I see." She beckoned us to follow further down.

Suddenly, an agitated snarl sprang from nowhere. The Sabretooth had returned. We stopped our trek, now further encroaching on a sparse glow. Then another snarl told all: we were ousted. Its weighty pounce jolted through me. I couldn't help but brace ...

Strangely, there was a yelp.

The woman went ahead of us, drifting fabric and gentle nudges aside being the only proof of this. As we followed, the tunnel began to yawn the deeper we ventured. An exit before us. As well, a bed of spears encircling the center. The ground above had been hollowed out as to condemn whatever fell in its mouth. This place was a smuggler's den, with many treasures stacked against its walls.

On spear teeth lay the Sabretooth – skewered beyond salvation in vermillion gouts. Then, from the corner of my eye—was our guide glowing? I swore it before, but when she stepped into the light and removed her hood. It was undeniable.

Tribal in nature, her head and body were embroidered, in smoke-gray resin, with a dialect I could never hope to comprehend. Many lit with a fiery blue. Her forehead character though, was left bare.

"A shame." She recovered my axe from the dead: "To shed blood upon her for naught." She handed the axe to me, soon beckoned us to continue through, only herself being the light. Her hum filled these walls, glow increasing when a rune slate lit 'neath a copper coin mound. I couldn't help but feel sorrow in my heart. That was when Brother became inquisitive.

"What do you mean 'her'?"

 She averted her lapise eyes. "I am here to awaken her."

"What is 'her'?!" Brother shouted.

"Jotun: the walking mountains. Many will awaken on this day."

"You mean-"

"Below our feet," as she pointed, "she slumbers."

"You're attempting to awaken a monster as tall as mountains ... What are you?!" Brother pulled his sword out to a brandish.

"She is no monster.

"She is a creature of free will. She requested of me, of us thousands of years ago, to wake her to rendezvous with a lover."

"You're lying!" he accused, steadily leading the woman astray to corner her. "Hex on you, witch! Power is what you want! As far as to maim your own body in devil's speak!"

"Boy, you know nothing! Her and I are of the same body. We are kin."

"Lies! Lies of a crazed spellslinger!"

It was at this moment where my senses were assaulted by droning bellows once again. What immunity had built up crumbled under the stress of this feud. I collapsed to the dirt. Their argument ended abruptly. Both rushed to my aide. My eyes remain fixated on the ground till I shut them. Desperate, I silently begged the pain to reason. And as a prayer would do, its octave turned to but a simple snore. Loud. But peaceful. I looked up and saw the woman and her gentle touch caressing my head. Hands which were engulfed in a magnificent teal aura.

"Do you hear as I hear, dear boy?"

I've yet to feel as comfortable as I did in that moment. My vision under my control again, I turned to her gentle smile and nodded in agreement. "Do you see as I do?" To my horror, her smile turned to ugly, pockmarked anguish ... for Brother had run her through. Her trembled person turned to face him.

"Get out of his head ...!" He pulled the blade harshly.

She quickly pushed him aside with a sort of force spell and ran. Brother gave chase. I could only follow. By the Gods, she pleaded me by gaze!

Help him see!

She threw her arms against a rune which matched her forehead character. When Brother swung, he's bested by a glimmering, translucent blue barrier which now housed her and the stone. "Poor boy ... Y-you are blinded."

"Out with you," he screamed. "Face your death with dignity! Brother, don't just stand there; help me break this stone." By chill of air, I felt my bones freeze. His teeth gritted, now more hungry for the hunt. "Brother!"

She only began to hum one last tune with her dying breaths. As she did, the rune set ablaze, and she faded along, ember by lapis ember. Brother shot a look at me – frustrated outright for, even in death, he was denied. Suddenly, there was a catastrophic quake around us. I heard tireless troughs like mother when she became ill and was bedded back to health. But not for him. I could only imagine what Brother was victim to.

He groaned in agony.

I did not do the same. Not even a pantomime.

"So ... you are far gone o'er her. And even then." His eyes fostered a chilled gleam when he arose. By the Gods, there was no mistaken!-

"You were always a coward, brother!" His blade hissed against gravel. Calm at first, but soon flung to act. Not a breath to waste: he was after me like fresh prey! I ran as fast as I could muster to, panic seizing every facet of my body. As if by sheer fate telling me to survive this fratricide, an unearthed tree crashed down into the hole just above the bed of spears. Too much to take in and so much to comprehend! But none of this would matter if I died today.

I shimmied up the dead-barked tree as quickly as I could. My heart pounded rapidly, I could hear his breath; cold and hitching as he gave chase. "Don't run, brother! We will p-purge your demon!"

I could not answer ... My lungs couldn't form the right words so I kept going. The quakes grew evermore ferocious as I peeked from the hole.

Then, she arose. Jotun's mighty arm crashed through the earth, braced firm against the ground. Trees splintered not unlike porcupine's quills beneath her gargantuan hand as big as the tallest peaks ...

... as wide as the most vast of plains.

Gods deceive me—this can't be real! But doubt evermore unfounded, another arm reached out. I hastily stumbled out of the hole and arose desperately—he's gained on me! All hope seemed vain, and the shakes only grew. Breaths grew faulty, sheer adrenaline heeding my fatigued trots. Suddenly, I found myself tumbling down the bluff to the stray rock scalp of the bald solstice thicket. Although I was bruised and battered, my bloodthirsty brother, and the distance between us, rang true.

I'd live to see tomorrow.

The colossus fully revealed, tore away this burdening soil to stand. Her massive figure embraced the oceans shy of the precipice, creating a ruthless tide ebb. The fog obscured her; I naught have the details.

And yet. Fate only separated us by inches.

The land ...

... and what was now the mountain.

It was then that she roared. My awe nearly blinded me when I gazed upon my brother still perched atop the head. His eyes slowly filled with tears. This was the first and last time I would see him cry. "It's okay, poor, blinded brother! "I-I will fell this beast ... for the both of us, and our family!" His thunderous shout broke through her commotion, as though he knew this to be a lasting goodbye. He walked away.

That was the last I ever saw of my brother.

For a brief lapse in time, she, Jotun, craned her figure, took a parting glance of thine with a familiar set of blue eyes.

And it is to this day, where we grow restless when the crows scatter. Where our men, of the empire's army, vanish without a trace and battlements stack to eclipse reason. I fear one day they will seek vengeance for a fallen. My brother was always the stubborn type. Advisors from the North demand answers. Ominous coos in the distance berates entire civilizations. And I know deep within my being: that's no warhorn. 

But Gods forbid it be a declaration.