Sigrid's Story - Tundra Predator's Slaughter

The storm returns to the shattered camp, and with it the two unmoving knights in the snow. Lead and Third lie where they fell, half-buried, pale shapes against the ruin, a beacon the ridge cannot hide.

Sigrid stands over them with the Scout Captain’s blood and flesh still fresh on her. The wind claws at her braids and the human skull tied there, but the giantess does not bend.

One of the horses, half gone into the dark, screams somewhere downslope. The sound is distant now, but fear keeps it bright in the air.

Lead Knight and Third Knight remain helpless, unconscious beneath the snow, while Sigrid’s shadow spreads over them like an incoming blizzard.

The camp is quiet except for the storm, the settling grit, and the two bodies that still mark the place like a warning carved into white stone.

Sigrid drops to the snow and drags both unconscious knights close, one after the other, their armor scraping through slush. The storm works quickly, but not as quickly as she does.

When she is done, only torn mail, blood, and a pair of widening red stains remain where their bodies were.

Sigrid lifts her head and scans the wrecked camp, snow stinging her eyes. No breath clouds the dark around the Lead Knight. No twitch stirs the Third Knight. The fleeing horses are only vanishing shapes beyond the ridge.

She turns once more through the ruin, and the search costs her a shallow slice of frostburn across one cheek where the storm catches bare skin. Blood and snow mix under her boots.

A cracked helm rolls in the wind, then stops against a broken stake. Nearby, the Third Knight lies motionless, and the Lead Knight does not stir.

Nothing else moves in the camp. The blizzard owns the silence now.

Beyond the ridge, one last rider still flees into the dark, but here, within reach of Sigrid's club, no life answers back.