Chapter 1 - Found

"We need to keep moving, to continue the mission that winter's mother has entrusted to us" Spoke an old woman, her grey hair long, and teeth gritted against the harsh Freljordion wind.

"And so we can refill the mead, we're running low" grumbled a giant man, with a build not dissimilar to the terrifying Ursine - minus the inhumane features.

"Come Njal, all the tribe knows who drunk more than his fair share of mead. Nonetheless you are right. We must travel to Brekka within a week, or both we and the Elnuk will go hungry" responded the Elder with a wry chuckle. "We Notai are both traders, nomads who travel through the countless tribes and villages, and faithful followers of Anivia, forever completing the adventure she has given us to leave as the snow settles, to spread the wind of hope and freedom Anivia has made. But most importantly, we are the spirit that fills you as you follow your passion. As we dance, sing, and play our instruments, linking the many villages with both our trade and our spirit. As our song spreads our song strand grows, showing our faith and creating our new verse".

"Yes yes Grandmother, you've told us this story so many times its boring! When are we going to get to Brekka, I'm tired" spoke an impatient voice from a young girl no older than 12, leaning against the caravan side wrapped up in so many furs an elnuk would be jealous.

"Not long child" smiled her grandmother, with a warmth akin to the torch burning on top of the caravan. "If you learned how to sleep on the caravan it would be a lot easier". With a response of a huff from the ball of fur known as her granddaughter, the elder leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to the howl of the eternal Freljord winter.

Having fallen into a light sleep the elder was woken by a feeling that something was amiss. Trying to pinpoint the problem she closed her eyes to listen. Her hearing only strengthened by the years of experience; a faint cry could be heard above the wail of the storm. Focusing further, the cry sounded like a young animal, perhaps abandoned by its parent. Shouting for the caravan to stop, she glanced at the bearlike Njal who was focusing on the surroundings, always aware and prepared for a frost-troll raid.

"Njal" spoke the elder. "Do you hear that cry above the wind?" After a moment of focusing, all Njal could respond with was a shake of his head, his long salt-and-pepper coloured hair whipping his cheeks in frozen chunks. Knowing that using baits and traps were not the traits of the simple-minded trolls, who liked little more than to run down and slaughter their prey, the Elder knew there was little risk of a ambush. calling for Njal to follow her, she slid off the caravan with more grace than would be expected for someone of her age and experience. She was about to set off when she heard a sleepy but curious voice come out of that ball of furs known as her granddaughter.

"Where are you going grandmother" questioned the young girl

"I heard a voice in the wind" the elder responded. "It is our duty as Notai to help all in need in Anivia's land so I shall go find its source. Do you wish to come with me?"

"of course, something to do!" responded the girl with more energy than you would think from her previous actions. Struggling out her roll of furs, she dropped onto the ground with a soft crunch, fresh snow compressing under her feet.

As the trio neared the sound the braying call became clearer over the howl of the storm to the point where all 3 can hear it. With a deep voice Njal "time for a quick lesson for you Ljos. That call, what animal is it?".

"Hmm. An elnuk?"

"Close, but that's not it. Its not grumbly enough, and too sharp"

"Oh a ram then!"

"Correct. Once we get close you will know how old it is approximately as well. We're nearing it now."

"So why is it here Uncle? Is it lost?"

The voice of the Elder cut in "why do you talk so much child, let your song speak for you. Or perhaps do the two of us a favour and don't talk at all"

All Ljos responded with was a pout as she focused on fresh snow.

All of a sudden, the ram's call stopped, and a sharp cry replaced it. Loud and attention demanding, it was immediately noticed. It was clearly a person, and a extremely young one at that. With little more than a glance exchanged between them, Njal and the Elder ran to the sound.

Somehow in the midst of this storm there was a dip in the snow. Running to the edge of the dip the Elder looked down. Rested in the dip, wrapped in red cloth was a baby no older than one year old. Yet somehow not only did the Freljordion weather not seem to affect the baby, but the air around it also seemed to be warmer.

In shocked reverence, the elder knelt down, uncaring of the snow. "This is a gift from the ice phoenix, this is a gift from Anivia! We shall look after this child as if he were one of our own until he is of age and receives his songstrand, on which day he will learn his fate purpose, just like how we Notai have ours."

"He will be a fighter, as sure as my axe is sharp." Said Njal. "But who will look after him?"

"I shall" replied the elder with zeal. "He shall be my grandson, Ljos's brother and the son of the Notai."

Bundling the crying child into her furs, she spoke to her granddaughter, who was currently trying to sneak a glimpse of her new brother. "Keep silent about this, its best for him that he has a normal childhood"

"Ok Grandmother! But what's his name?"

"Well, I think you should decide that as long as your happy with that responsibility"

"Oh I know I know! Fell! His name is Fell!"

At that the Elder looked at the baby with warmth not inferior to the Shuriman desert sun. "Welcome to the Notai, Fell."