As Nathan rode through the sprawling tundra of the northern wilderness, the wind carried a quiet chill, its tendrils weaving through his coat and pricking at his skin. The vast expanse stretched endlessly, a patchwork of frost-kissed earth and sparse vegetation, broken only by the occasional trail of migrating herds. Deer bounded in synchronized elegance across the horizon, their movements fluid and purposeful, while flocks of birds circled high above, their cries echoing faintly in the stillness.
But not all creatures moved in harmony. It was as he rounded a subtle rise in the terrain that he saw it—a wild boar, solitary and bristling with defiance. Its tusks glinted faintly in the slanting sunlight, and its small, dark eyes fixed on him with a mixture of wariness and challenge. Nathan pulled his horse to a halt, the animal's breath puffing in soft clouds in the cold air.
He stared at the boar for a moment, his mind weighing the possibilities. He had provisions aplenty and no real need to hunt—not yet, at least. And yet the thought lingered. Should he? Could he? It would be a test of his mettle, a small but meaningful act to mark the beginning of his journey. The idea tempted him, tugged at some primal corner of his mind, but the logic of the situation eventually won out. He was barely an hour into his ride; to delay now for sport or sustenance seemed frivolous. Shaking his head, he guided his horse forward, leaving the boar behind as it rooted idly in the frost-hardened soil.
The journey southward was proving both uneventful and surprisingly taxing. His strategy of resting every two hours worked well at first, his body and mind appreciating the rhythm of movement and reprieve. Yet as the hours wore on and the sun began its gradual descent toward the horizon, Nathan noticed an unwelcome side effect: time, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The day felt shorter than it should have, the moments between stops stretching and compressing in strange alternation.
By the time the sky had turned a dusky gold, the realization struck him—he wouldn't make it to the town before nightfall. Not without pushing both himself and his horse past their limits. The thought of riding in the dark, surrounded by the unknown wilderness, was less than appealing.
A sigh escaped him, curling into the cold air as he began scanning the area for a suitable campsite.
A small grove of trees presented itself as an ideal shelter, their bare branches offering some measure of protection from the wind. Nathan dismounted, patting his horse's neck as he led it into the grove. The animal nickered softly, its breath steaming as it lowered its head to graze on the thin, brittle grass.
He worked quickly, setting up a modest camp with the efficiency of someone who had practiced such tasks under the watchful eye of a tutor. A simple fire crackled to life, its warmth seeping into his stiff fingers as he settled down to eat. The bread and cheese tasted bland but filling, the kind of sustenance that kept one moving without offering much in the way of joy.
As the darkness deepened, Nathan leaned back against the rough bark of a tree, his gaze fixed on the stars beginning to dot the heavens. They were cold and distant, unyielding in their indifference. He envied them, in a way, their permanence and detachment from the mess of mortal life.
His thoughts wandered as he stared, slipping between plans for the mission and the quiet doubts that gnawed at the edges of his resolve. The wilderness around him felt alive, a presence both comforting and disquieting. It was vast, unrestrained, and utterly indifferent to his existence.
The fire crackled, the horse snorted softly, and Nathan's eyelids grew heavy as sleep took him gradually.
*****
The first rays of the sun spilled across the tundra, casting long, golden streaks over the frost-laden ground. Nathan stirred from his uneasy rest, the sounds of stirring life pulling him back into the waking world. Birds chattered in the distance, and the faint rustling of unseen creatures betrayed their cautious movements. He sat up, the stiffness of a night spent against the unyielding bark of a tree easing as he stretched his limbs.
A short walk brought him to a nearby pond, its surface shimmering faintly with the delicate sheen of early light. Kneeling at the water's edge, he cupped the icy liquid in his hands and splashed it onto his face, the shock of the cold chasing away the last vestiges of sleep. The ripples spread outward, distorting his reflection—a face he barely recognized some days.
Returning to the camp, Nathan made quick work of breakfast, the routine grounding him in a way his restless thoughts could not. The bread was harder now, the cheese dry, but it sufficed. His drink—a thin, herbal brew—offered little in the way of comfort, but he savored its warmth against the crisp morning air. He took stock of his remaining provisions; they were adequate, but not abundant. His habit of frequent stops ensured he wouldn't run out, but it also reminded him of his dependence on the road's generosity.
As he began packing his belongings, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against hard earth drew his attention. A small procession of carriages approached from the distance, their polished exteriors gleaming faintly in the morning light. Flanking them were riders, a rugged-looking lot with mismatched armor and weapons. Mercenaries, Nathan deduced—no noble guard carried themselves with such loose discipline or casual demeanor.
The sight piqued his curiosity. What danger lurked on these roads to necessitate such an escort? The tundra seemed almost tranquil in its emptiness. The most he had encountered were scavengers and the occasional predator—coyotes in search of scraps or, at worst, a lone wolf testing its luck. Certainly nothing a single traveler couldn't evade with a sharp eye and a steady hand.
He watched the procession pass, the riders sparing him only the briefest of glances. Their indifference allowed his thoughts to wander. Stories he had dismissed as idle gossip floated back to him—tales of a man-eating beast haunting the taiga woods to the south where he heading. Supposedly, it was a creature of unnatural size and ferocity, capable of rending even the stoutest of men limb from limb.
Nathan's gaze shifted toward the horizon, where the tundra gave way to the dark silhouettes of gigantic trees. The taiga woods. He'd heard the stories since childhood, whispered in kitchens and around fires, always with the tone of exaggeration that hinted at more fiction than fact. Yet now, on the cusp of entering that shadowed expanse, the tales seemed less easily dismissed.
He shook his head, forcing the thoughts aside. Rumors were nothing more than that until proven otherwise. And even if such a creature existed, it was but another obstacle—one he would face, should the need arise. Nathan finished packing, secured his belongings to the saddle, and mounted his horse.
The road ahead stretched endlessly, winding toward the woods with an almost foreboding certainty. As the mercenaries' carriages disappeared from view, swallowed by the horizon, Nathan spurred his horse forward.
The wilderness waited, vast and unyielding, as it always had.