Chapter Text
"Let’s dig the new drain channels down through this section here." William pointed at the rough map laid out before him, its edges curling in the damp air. "Make sure the runoff gets directed downstream; we don't want to overburden the river so close to the village."
The man in front of him—one of the village builders—nodded in agreement, the beaver by his side smacking its flat tail against the ground.
"We should be careful here and here. Those huts are close together and too much water could damage their foundations."
William marked the areas in charcoal. "Yes, that is cause for—"
A shadow passed overhead—large and unfamiliar—stalling his thoughts. The chatter of voices seemed to dull around him as he looked up. An owl cut across the sky, out of place in daylight. There was no doubt in his mind it was a companion. But William was certain it didn't belong to any of his people.
The stag at William’s back lifted his head, ears flicking up in alert. One antler still held fast, the other already shed, as he turned toward the east—upwind—catching the scent of something new.
William turned back to the builder. “We'll reconvene later.”
“Understood.”
For a heartbeat, William tracked the owl’s distant silhouette through the thinning clouds. Then he brought his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply, the sound ringing through the village.
Heads turned in his direction—human and animal alike—ears pricking and hands slowing in their tasks. William kept his eyes on the bird in the sky as low whispers passed between villagers.
Footsteps, unhurried but deliberate, made their way toward him, the sound of mud and half-melted snow sloshing underfoot. A larger set lumbered a beat behind, in fours rather than twos.
Sebastian was at his side in moments, his massive bow slung over his shoulder. A large brown bear shook out its fur as it came to a stop beside them.
“William,” he said, tense.
“I want your eyes on the eastern outlook. We have company.”
Sebastian’s gaze flicked once to the sky, then back to William. He gave a short nod.
“I’ll see them before they see us.”
Turning back around, Sebastian gave a deceptively lazy salute over his shoulder and started walking in the direction of his post. The bear trudged slowly after its human, knocking over a stack of split wood in its wake.
William allowed himself a huff of amusement before looking up into the sky once more. The owl was still there, circling above.
His stag nosed him, puffing hot breath against his hair. William brought his hands up to cradle the animal’s snout, stroking the bridge of his nose.
“You're right, of course. Everything will be fine,” he told the creature, voice soft.
His companion tossed his head, ears flapping gently, lone antler still clinging stubbornly in place.
“Soon, my friend. Don't force it.”
He patted the deer's flank and started walking towards the hut he and his brothers shared, leaving the fire ring where most infrastructure planning happened.
William nodded to an older woman repairing a sled as he passed. She didn't look up, but the dog resting at her side dipped its head.
His stag knocked softly into his side just moments later and William paused at a blind corner between huts. A fox darted past, paws racing through the mud and slush, the animal letting out a chirp of glee as it ran. Not far behind, human footsteps followed, enthusiastic but clumsy.
Little Emma rushed by in hot pursuit, giggles and squeals turning heads as she passed.
William remembered the day Emma's fox found her, just this past fall. The girl hadn't even turned three yet. The whole village had celebrated the early bond, thanking the spirits for the good fortune.
Smiling softly, he continued on the path, stepping carefully over the start of one of the new channels being dug. The mountains were still holding onto snow, so for now they only had to deal with the village melt, but soon that would change. William wanted to have everything in place by the time the mountain thawed.
Ahead, smoke trailed in thin plumes above the hut.
Sat atop the roof in the melting snow—watching over the village and nearby river like an elegant sentinel—was Albert’s swan, wings folded primly, eyes sharp and quietly judging.
As he neared the hut, the large bird let out a sharp honk, announcing his arrival before spreading her wings and taking flight. She swooped low, webbed feet teasing the top of his stag's back—causing him to shake gruffly—before settling in the river.
William shook his head in quiet exasperation as the pen immediately turned to preening, all innocence and immaculate composure.
William pushed through the heavy hide flap into his home, his stag retreating around the corner of the hut where he knew there was a berry bush growing stubbornly through the snow.
Heat hit him first, pleasant after spending all morning in the cold, planning for the peak of spring's thaw. The hearth fire glowed and wood crackled, the kettle suspended securely by a crane above it.
Louis sat tending to the logs, a puddle of pale fur wriggling in his lap. A small head snapped up when William stomped the mud off his boots, ears twisting before it darted over to dance between his feet.
“Brother, you're back,” Louis greeted him with a soft smile.
William returned it with one of his own, though it didn't reach his eyes. “Yes, have you seen Albert?”
“In here,” a voice rang out from their dry storage room. Albert poked his head out just moments later. “What do you need, Will?”
“There's a foreign companion circling the village. I want you with me when our guest arrives.”
Louis was quick to his feet. “What? Not one of ours? Should I call Fred back from his hunt?”
“Peace, Louis,” William interrupted, raising a hand to prevent any more panicked questions. “I do not want to meet them with claws extended.”
The stoat at William's feet ran back to Louis, climbing up his leg and chest to curl around his neck like a breathing scarf. He reached up to stroke its soft fur, but even that didn't seem to calm him.
“But brother, it could be a threat. Bandits!”
“Or it could be someone in need. Really, Louis. I have not left us undefended. Sebastian will have his eyes trained and his bow ready.”
Albert stepped behind Louis and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Have some faith, little brother.”
Louis’s lips drew thin, and William knew there was more his brother wanted to say, but he sighed and turned back to the fire.
“Just… Please be careful, brother, Albert.”
“Of course.” William nodded, fingers tightening as he adjusting the clasp of his cloak.
Albert swept his own cloak around his shoulders and stepped up beside him. They shared a long look before stepping out of the hut.
The stag was waiting for them, nudging William's elbow as they started walking toward the eastern outskirts of the village. Albert’s pen lifted her head from her feathers where she floated along the river. Water rippled outward as she beat her wings and rose, circling back to settle atop the hut roof.
Albert dipped his head at her. “Please take care of our home, my dear.”
A howl cut through the chatter, not far from the village. One of their own wolves answered—a warning. A territorial call.
“Another companion,” Albert said quietly as they picked up their pace.
“Yes. This may be more than just the owl.”
They quickened their steps, keeping their faces calm. Panic now would only make things worse.
The eastern edge of the village opened into the valley. High on the neighboring cliff, William could see Sebastian, already watching beyond the reach of their sight.
He released a piercing whistle, the sound ricocheting off of the cliff face.
In answer, Sebastian signaled back, using his obsidian dagger to reflect sunlight. Six flashes. Six people.
Albert hummed beside him. “Not bandits, then.”
“Not unless they're very confident.”
The sun had only shifted about a finger's width in position when William’s stag lifted his head and stared toward the approaching strangers. William felt the tension ripple through the animal beneath his hand where he was stroking coarse fur.
Above, the owl finally changed course, dipping low and vanishing beyond the ridge.
A few breaths later, six figures emerged from the treeline. The owl perched calmly on the leader’s arm. Behind them padded a large grey wolf, a hound close at its flank.
William lifted his eyes to Sebastian once more, noting his stiff stance—bow in hand, though no arrow nocked. Yet.
He brushed his hand along the stag, more to steady himself than his companion, and walked forward with his brother at his side. Toward the waiting strangers.
They met at five paces. The two men nearest them could only be brothers, sharing the same dark, unruly hair. The wolf settled beside the younger. The owl remained perched on the elder’s arm.
Albert stepped forward, posture calm and open.
“Welcome to our lands.”