"I didn't know you were so romantic," Tasha smirks in a teasing-but-friendly way.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Her gaze wanders back outside the cave to the snow.
"Jaeger!" she yelled, braced against the wind and waist-deep snow. "Jaeger!"
Silence met her cries and she plowed onwards - no man left behind.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
As silence fell among the three once again, all that could be heard over the roaring of the outside storm was the faint crackling of the weak fire keeping them from freezing. If you ignored the whistling of the swirling winds, it almost looked like a peaceful scene as they huddled around the fire - well - shivering.
James was convinced that he'd finally gotten to the point where he lacked all warmth in his body, and was simply hoping that the storm would end. That was, until he saw, looking into the entrance of the cave, the abnormally large polar bear.
At least with the adrenaline comes some warmth.
The bear at least in size, did not closely rival the enormous mass that was the (now slain) Grangor. But for a bear, it was still exceptionally large. And for a polar bear, it would've looked normal, if there wasn't one little thing slightly off about it.
It almost looked like... it was made of ice and snow. The bear stared at them in silence, and despite it's clear association with the deadly storm outside, appeared to be non-threatening. It did not growl, nor did it bare it's teeth, or charge at them. If anything, it almost looked... curious. And under other circumstances James might've been curious as well, but the cold served as a bitter reminder that though the creature might be tame, it could very easily kill them by means that were certainly beyond his control.
He did not have magic. He did not have millions of layers by which to withstand the cold. All he had was a sword, and that, he had a strong suspicion, would not do much against this being.
Her eyes widen as she sees the bear - she's only seen the occasional grizzly or black bear in the mountains, nothing like this. Nothing this large. Nothing this...elemental. She might normally reach for her sword but the ice has made her so stiff and frozen it's hard to move even that much, and it doesn't seem aggressive, so she just watches it with that pale blue gaze of hers.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
The bear spoke. James stared. Did that voice really come from the bear? He had not seen it's mouth move. In fact, it hadn't moved at all, yet somehow a deep, cold voice was heard, and it's words sent a literal chill down his spine. James felt the warmth all but leave his body completely, and he sat, frozen in place.
"My storm is not meant for you."
The bear looked at Tavis and Tasha one at a time, staring into their eyes as if demanding some sort of response.
She shudders, the chill penetrating as the voice - the bear - speaks. She has no words for it, unsure of how to respond, so instead simply glances away; no reason to challenge its authority through prolonged eye contact, at any rate.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
There was a long pause of silence, but the bears presence only seemed to bring with it more cold than James thought he could bear - so despite the very real fear that his words could potentially provoke the bear to violence, he engaged it in conversation, but first, meeting it on its own terms.
"Who i-is it m-meant f-for?" James asked, breaking the silence with his quivering voice as he began to shiver uncontrollably.
"It serves its purpose in the earth."
The bears' words floated in the air, and didn't seem to answer his question.
"Just as you serve yours."
James looked over to the bear, making eye contact with its icy stare for a few brief seconds before breaking away.
"We-" James started, but his voice seemed to freeze up in his throat.
"You will survive this storm."The bear interrupted."I came only to see the strangers in our world."
James refrained from responding.
The bear, once standing in the opening of the cave, seemed to dissipate into wisps of snow, carried off by the wind. With the bears' departure so came the receding of the cold air from the cave. As if a kindness, and some kind of magic, the fire (formerly dimmed in the bears' presence) crackled into a large flame, radiating a warmth they hadn't felt since the beginning of the storm. The persistence and warmth of the flame, though it would make sense in a warmer climate, was clearly sourced by something more than chance.
Their lives had been spared.
James, despite himself and the shock of the circumstances, immediately scooted closer to the fire, desperate to be warm again.
"By Avren..." she murmurs, drawing close to the flames.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it. — Roald Dahl
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