Based on:World of Everond
So far, it's only one chapter of a big book that isn't yet written. I'll continue once I see what kind of feedback I get.
Chapter 1: Ulfil
The day of the short had finally been passed and Terminath, the last moonpass of the reelay, was well underway. The people of Niem'Garra snuggled under warm blankets and kept their fires lit, for the bitter coldness was at its worst. Old Krissel had prayed the spirit of the wind to ease up a little, while his sister had turned to her God for assistance. Neither had helped and for ten whole days, the little group of cots had been torn around by the fierce winds. Father had not gone fishing for a long while, and hunger was shaking the bones of every Garran.
Timara watched quietly as the traveling healer closed the door to the bedroom. He let his hand rest on the doorknob for a while before letting it fall beside him. A deep sigh escaped from his lips as he slowly turned to Timara. Their eyes locked with eachother for a while, and just a while, before the healer turned away. His gray eyes were misted with tears.
Aunt Halla appeared from the kitchen to see the healer tug his left furboot on. She wiped her greasy hands on her apron. It had once been bright red, but was now so thickly covered with dirt that it could only be classified as dark grayish brown.
"You are leaving now?" she asked the healer, her voice shaking with emotion. The apron was curled into a tight knot by her nervous hands.
The healer glanced her way and nodded. "They need me at Neim'Kirsten," he gave as an explanation. "My frace is currently there and tells me they have an epidemic."
"And is he..." Halla's voice died down as she glanced toward the bedroom.
The healer only nodded, fresh tears springing into his eyes.
"So young, so young," Halla muttered to herself. "Looked so much like his father. He would have made a great fisher..."
The healer had finished tying the coat around him. He turned and gave a short bow to Halla. "I must go now. Please give my condolences to his parents. It's always sad to see young lives ripped away from the living." With that, he backed out of the door and into the howling snowstorm.
Aunt Halla gazed into her hands with glassy eyes. She stood silent for an undetermined amount of time, with only her chest moving slightly along the breaths. Then, like waking from a dream, she lifted her eyes to look at Timara, noticing her for the first time.
"My dear child! You are still awake? I thought I ordered you to sleep a long while ago!" she exclaimed while taking the steps to stand beside the girl.
"I wasn't sleepy," Timara murmured from under her quilt. "Is Ulfil going to be fine?"
Halla sat down on the wooden floor beside Timara and sighed not much differently than the healer had a while earlier. "Timara..." she started, but stopped in a lack of words. "Your brother is... You aren't going to see him for a while. You see, he's gone away to a far away land and..."
"Say it, Halla," Timara almost shouted. She jumped up from within the quilts. "He's dead. I know he is! My brother is dead! Little wolf is dead!"
Halla was left to sit stunned while the angry footsteps backed off towards the stairs.