Sigrid's Story - Tundra Predator's Slaughter

The camp groans under the wind. Snow drifts over splintered stakes, dark slush, and the low, dying ember of the fire.

Sigrid stands over the wreckage, one boot pinning the Lead Knight in place while the Second Knight drags himself through the ice, leaving a red smear behind him.

Beyond the camp, the horses thrash at their broken tethers, then bolt into the white dark, their panic fading into the storm.

The Second Knight looks up at Sigrid’s shadow, sees the size of her, the club in her hand, and the crushed remains of his comrades. His bravado breaks at last.

The offer hangs in the freezing air. Whether she accepts or not, the tale now has a shape, and it will travel far beyond this broken camp.

Sigrid lifts the club once more and brings it down. The Second Knight folds into the snow without a cry, his bargain cut off in a spray of red.

Her boot leaves the Lead Knight. The body at her feet stays still, while the wind worries at the torn camp and the fire goes dimmer.

Sigrid kneels by the fallen man and tears into her kill with bare hands and teeth, the steam of fresh blood rising into the frost.

The horses are only a fading panic beyond the camp now, their vanished thunder swallowed by the storm.

Snow settles over the broken tents and scattered gear as Sigrid feeds, slow and certain, while the ruined camp gives no answer.