Soul Searching

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Hagen hated snow. A lot. He hated snow for multiple reasons. The most obvious reason being it was slick and it was high and therefore forced you to lift your legs, Hagen however did not approve of having to lift his legs and neither did he approve of slipping. Normally he spent most of the winter in his nice, comfy cave with nice magic mushrooms that made him dream of warmer seasons or weird stuff and colours, but that was also better than this damned snow. He however had good reason to be out in the weather he hated the most, one being Isá, who expected a fawn and whom he had said he’d get some herbs for the baby, he hoped everything would go alright this time and did the best to help ensuring and second was, he wanted to get some mushrooms for himself. Only problem was, mushrooms grew only in the dapest of caves in winter and those caves were not around the corner of his own, so he had set out to do his noble duty of finding herbs and mushrooms in the snow, which in itself already was a pretty bad joke.
His leg hurt and he by now was limping badly, but he had brought his spirits, who scouted for him. The reliable snake, the swift hawk and the fox he hated so very much.
It also was the little predator, who came scampering back to him right now, floating over the snow in his ghostly fashion, barking at him without making a noise.
“What is it?” Hagen asked the animal, “Found any ‘shrooms? Better did.”
The fox just barked, before turning around and bouncing off again. Hagen hated how excited he was all the time, but he also knew he was a clever little bastard and so he followed him, grouchily as per usual, but he obviously had found something again.


It was a gray day. Brynmore looked up at the tree tops, his breath coming out in a fog before him. He’d been on his own for a few weeks, re-learning how to use his legs and getting around while the one healed. The snow felt good on the hot throbbing leg, and he took to standing for hours with his one leg buried in snow, moving some manually with his nose as it melted from the heat. It felt better, much better than when he’d first come to in the cave.

His leg was the least of his problems taking place in his mind, but it was the one that hindered him the most. He wanted Rosie back, he wanted her back NOW. He missed her, and spent many waking moments thinking about her, and their children. He went to sleep dreaming about her, and how she always seemed to be taken from him, swept away by strange stags or taken into darkness by wolves and other strange monsters.

A cold breeze blew against him, and giving a shudder, he shifted his weight and adjusted his legs to get more comfortable. It blew a stags scent to him. Groaning, he hoped the stag would just mosey along, instead of berating him for being beaten by a glenmore and being wounded and weak.


Hagen reluctantly followed the spirit, who was swiftly rushing over the snow without any weight, while he had to limp through the sticky, annoying, stupid, wet, cold snow, cursing to himself about how he wanted to kill that fox a second time.
“Hey!” he huffed, when the fox suddenly took a jump through a bush and went out of Hagens sight, making the stag fold back his ears in annoyance. He briefly thought about simply turning around and returning to his original task of collecting some mushrooms and herbs, yet the odd behaviour of the fox somehow got the better of him and when he suddenly could have sworn he had heard something behind the bush, he just had to go have a look.

Meanwhile the spirit had made it to Brynmore, standing in front of the stag and staring at him through his clever little eyes, ears twitching for a moment, before he pinned them back, puffed up his fur and began barking noiselessly at him.
It was just that moment Hagen also pushed through, the snow falling off the bushes with little thuds, when the large, dark stag came after the little spirit, at the sight in front of him, his ears went back and one of his brows lifted.
“Wat the fuck is this supposed to be?” he just muttered at Brynmore and the fox, even though it was not fully clear, whom of the two he was talking to in particular.


Bryn continued staring down at the snow in front of him, a slight chill creeping over him as an eerie breeze blew over his chest. It was strange, very light and willowy and had a constant ebb and flow to it.

His ears flicked back at the sound of snow thudding down from branches. Wheeling his head to the newcomer, his ears pinned and eyes narrowed, scanning the large stag. His dark hide contrasted with the snow, and his antlers looked dangerous. Brynmore noticed the limp of his hind leg, and his ears came forward slightly.

“This is a stag trying to heal up, and not be disturbed. So please be on your way.” Brynmore hated turning his back to another, but his neck was starting to ache from being torqued around, so he went back to looking at the snow, keeping one ear on the stag.


Hagen looked down at the stag in front of him. Well, he looked quite battered and weak, probably had had a rather unlucky run-in with some glenmore guard or something. He thought he had seen him before, but he couldn’t really recall his name or ever really having talked to him. When the other spoke however, one of his ears twitched, followed by a brow slightly cocking and eventually he burst out laughing together with the, to the other stag likely still invisible, fox spirit.
“Haha, really? To me it looks more like a suicidal stag trying to get himself eaten!” he said, shaking his head somewhat, “Seriously dude, it’s surprising you haven’t been eaten already. Did somebody tend your wounds?” he stretched his neck a bit, yes, it looked like he had been treated, “Well, that somebody better should’ve kept you some time longer, you really should know better than to lay around here like some Glenmore.”

“Yo, go find a better den for the freak.” he told the fox, who turned and scattered away noiselessly, to the other stag probably just an eerie, cold breath and odd feeling in the gut right now.
“Listen, you can’t just stay here, there’s a cougar roaming these parts. Get yourself together and come on and no complaining or I’ll make you come.” he said, it was a fact, not a question.


Brynmore scowled at the stags words. He hadn’t thought about it, perhaps he was suicidal without realizing it? He’d lost everything except his meager life. He didn’t know, but he scowled at his leg nonetheless, irritated by this bull.  

Growling, he snaked his neck back to glare at the stag. “Why? How are you gonna make me come along with you? Why would I want to.” he snorted out. The strange stag that had tended to him had kicked him out awhile ago, saying if he were a true son of Uir, he’d be able to survive on his own.

“A true son of Uir can make it alone, I don’t need your help. I just need rest, and snow on this leg.” he growled out. He did take note of there being a cougar, and once this stag left out of boredom, Brynmore would move to a different area.


Hagen gave an annoyed snort at the others words. Like a pouty child, for the Mother’s sake, why did young stags always have to have such an idiotic sense of pride? Then again, he probably was no different, when he was the roan male’s age and so he turned around and shot the other a stern glance, before lowering his head some.
“Because I’m going to possess you and make you come and if you keep annoying me, I might just make you believe you’re a pretty little filly. I don’t care if you want to or not, a true son of Ùir knows when to accept help from a brother of his blood and not sulk and die out of pride like a goddamned fire-fart of a Silverthorne!” he huffed.

“Stop it!” he then barked, shaking his head, “You wanna sulk, good, but don’t be a freaking, ungrateful idiot! You also can take snow with you into a cave, where you are not served tasty on a plate for every cougar or wolf pack passing by! Also, if you keep the snow on the leg too long, you will get yourself frost burned and it will never heal! You need to put something between the snow and your leg, to not get burned by the cold and have it never healing properly. Now get to your stupid damn feet and come on, you big baby!”


Brynmore’s scowl shrank into a look of sheepishness as the older stag lectured him. He’d never, really been talked down to, like this. It had always been insults, and while this stag was giving him insults aplenty, he was also giving a lesson.

The roan stag looked down at the snow, huffing out, “Fine. But there’s nothing worth living for now, they are gone! Why should I heal it properly?!” He gingerly pivoted so he was facing the bull properly, and didn’t have to crane his neck around and get even more kinked up. He did notice his leg had gone numb, and had a slight burning feel, but it was better than the pounding hot throb it was before he’d covered it.

He wanted so badly to return to his old den, but he was scared to go back, to face those memories. His savior had warned him not to return there to soon, and memories of Rosie and the children haunted him enough as it was.

“Why does it matter, if I’m not here. There’s more food for you then, and others.” he gestured his nose at the old stag.


The old stag quirked a brow slightly, yet he saw a change taking place in the pouty face of the younger stag in front of him. Not that the pout went anywhere, but he did see him apparently realizing Hagen did have a point and that he really meant to help and not just mock him or make his misery only worse, even though, Hagen doubted anybody could be more miserable than this very stag.

An ear of his suddenly twitched an Brynmore’s words, a swift smirk very briefly playing on his lips, now he knew why this weltschmerz face had had this hint of being familiar. Now if he didn’t happen to know another stag, who also had felt the world making no sense anymore and now he was king of Blackwood.
“So there’s a doe involved, I see.” he just said bluntly, before he looked to his hooves, where the fox spirit had returned, Hagen just motioning for the other stag to follow, before limping over the lead of the spirit.

“Because everyone matters. If the Mother would have wanted you dead, you would be dead by now, yet she chose to let you stay alive, don’t be ungrateful, obviously she is not done with you yet.” Hagen just stated as they walked. Lucky enough the den the spirit had found was not far away, the old stag’s bad leg hurt and he was looking forward to resting it some.
The den wasn’t anything great, some trees that had fallen over a former creek, which had dried out in winter. The trunks would not give shelter from rain, but they worked enough for snow, the leaves underneath the roof of tree trunks dry and the room large enough for to stags to lay down.


Brynmore lowered his head, not in defiance or aggression, but in obedience and compliance to the other stag. He hobbled after him, hopping on his good leg and keeping, or at least trying to keep the bad one free of pain. The jolting action still shot pain through it, but it was better than trying to put weight on it.

A contrite look passed over his face as he thought of Rosie and the children, his heart feeling hollow without them. “Yes” he murmured.

Concentrating on walking, he gave brief glances to the older stag, listening as best he could. He mulled them over, wondering if the mother really wanted him and had a purpose for him, or thought it cruel and took joy in tearing him from his loved ones. It was slow walking, and he had to turn away from such thoughts to not fall down through the snow. Move both hind legs, hop on front foot, move both hind legs, hop, move, hop. It was awkward and he knew how he looked, a cripple worthy of a wolf snack he thought bitterly.

Brynmore followed him to some fallen trees with snow on them and leaves under them. It looked, decent, not his own den but something that would do. He wouldn’t complain about it. Sniffing at the leaves, he eased himself down, trying to keep his injured leg up and away from pressure, looking gawky as a yearling as he shimmied down.

“But, but I am injured thus. How can I serve her, a half breed with no magic, not even foreign magic that could aid us, whose only talent is fighting and trekking, with being crippled.” He thought bitterly, only then realizing how the other stag might feel with such selfish concerns, for he had a limp, probably from an injury.

“I’m sorry. I just, miss them. I want them back.” He looked down at the leaves, thinking he saw some shape roses and flowers, only to have them crinkle and give way. Heaving a sigh out, he gathered some snow at the edge and placed it near his leg, not on, no, not yet. It felt nice to have warmth and feeling come back to it, but he kept the snow close for when he would need it.


Hagen just gave an ever so slight nod, at Brynmore’s answer to his question about there having been a doe involved in in his misery and the fact he obviously had earned himself a good beating. It wasn’t like the two progressed very fast through the snowy forest, probably being quite a laughable sight with one limping on his front- the other on his hind-leg. At the moment however it was not like any of them seemed to be in the mood to laugh, but at least also none of them seemed in the mood to mock the other.
Hagen saw the look on the younger stag’s face and he knew all too well how he probably felt right now, hobbling around worthlessly, even though he hadn’t just lost a fight, but also lost a doe he obviously had deeply cared for only making it even harder. He didn’t say anything about it though, actually glad the other had decided to follow him without him having to possess him and force him to come and get out of the snow.

Eventually they reached the shelter the fox spirit had found for them and Hagen had to admit, it was half as bad. He soon lay down stiffly in the dry leaves underneath the roof of fallen trees and snow, glad to finally be able to rest his sore leg some. He hated the winter and how everything was cold and wet.
The younger stag also awkwardly and carefully lay down, at his words Hagen just stared at him with a blank face, until he seemed to realize to whom he had just sulked about being a worthless cripple.
“You are no cripple.” the darker male eventually said, “Your leg will heal. It will take time and patience, most likely more patience than a young buck like you has, but it will heal. By next spring it’ll be fine again, if you stop to be a sulky idiot and end up eaten before that.” he said dryly, “The Mother doesn’t care if you’re a half-breed or have no magic, as long as you believe in her, you’re a child of her’s, but if you won’t even believe in yourself, how can do you want to properly believe in her? She’s got a plan for you, she’s got one for everyone.” he gave a short nod.

When he apologised, Hagen just heaved somewhat of a sigh,
“It’s okay, it’s hard to lose somebody you love.” he said, “You mind telling me what happened? It doesn’t look like you been attacked by predators, more looks like wounds from another stag to me.” he quirked a brow slightly.


Brynmore looked out at the snow, before looking at his outstretched leg. The silence stretched for awhile as he thought of what to say. Should he lie, say his mate had been a pure blackwood, or at least a crossbred who had proved herself, and died at the hooves of a Silverthorne? Or that he’d lost her to a vengeful stag he’d swooned her away from and had taken his vengeance on him. Or the truth?

Sighing, he decided on the truth. “I, had a glenmore doe for a mate. This would have been the start of our third year come spring time, so she was strong. But, in a different way. Kind, quiet, and she had earth magic.” He stared longingly out at the snow. “We had two fawns together, a little hind and buck.” He sighed again, thinking longingly of them. “This past rut, I wanted us to be away from the herd, and I took our family to small island that was special to me and her. It was, nice being just with her and our children, not having to worry about others. A glenmore guard came along and ruined it all.” he spat out, angry at himself for not paying more attention that day, for not being stronger for her. “He took her away, took our children away, beating me. I was almost with Uir, and my lowly earth mother.”

A few tears tried to prick at his eyes as he thought of his own mother, how she had just gone away one day, and now Rosie and his children had followed suit. “Everyone seems to be taken from me, everyone I ever care about just leaves me behind!” he shrieked.


The old stag waited patiently for the other to consider, obviously it was a complicated story, probably more complicated than Hagen assumed already it was, teaching by how the younger stag seemed to battle himself for a few moments, if he should answer Hagen’s question or not.
Eventually he seemed to decide on telling him, one of his ears wandering forward at the roan’s story, followed by his brow quirking and a silent little sigh escaping him.
Actually it didn’t surprise him. That was exactly why he never had approved of picking foreign does for mates, sure, he also had had his fair share of affairs with does from other kingdoms and he by all means could not swear it wouldn’t happen again in the heat of rut, but picking them for a mate was always a tricky decision, even if he could understand every doe, who chose to live in Blackwood, after having tasted equality, it was dangerous business.
“I do not doubt she was strong, the Mother also accepts those who truly believe in her from other kingdoms and prove themselves worthy and if you say it was your third winter, you mate definitely already was chosen by her.”, a soft chuckle escaped him, “Haha, all you young folk believe strength equals cruelty. Strength can come from many things, not everyone who is powerful is strong and not everyone who is strong is powerful. Kindness and compassion can be as strong as cruelty and ruthlessness. The Mother teaches opposites, live and death, good and evil, they need each other, both sides are powerful, if used right.” he nodded slightly.

When the other spoke about the island, Hagen already guessed no good would come from it and he found himself right, he couldn’t help a wince at the story and the tale about how one of Glenmore’s brainwashing guards took her away.
“I’m sorry.” he mumbled slowly, heaving a big sigh, “I know it probably won’t help your pain, but the Mother has plans for everyone, they might hurt, but in the end you will see her plan is to benefit you and the herd. Looking at you, no offence and I don’t know our mate, were your fawns light? You know, if they were their chances of falling victim to the predators would have been high as long as they are weak, maybe the Mother chose your children to live, to return to you when they have become strong and in the meantime preach the true message of the Mother to those fools in Glenmore. Your mate has tasted the Mother’s freedom, so have your children, they can tell about all these ridiculous stories they try to weaken us with being wrong. They can tell about the true strength of Blackwood and when our day comes, who knows, your children might already be waiting in the Guard of foolish Glenmore and open the gates for our warriors, so we can rule what is rightfully ours.”


Brynmore listened intently to the old stag. His words were, wise. Reflecting upon them, the silence grew between them, but it wasn’t oppressive, it was companionable silence. He regretted to agree, his children and mate were safer in Glenmore. Especially Danzig, his pelt being so light he’d have hidden it with a wolf coat and still was a bright star in the dark forest. His children and mate had been the epitome of kindness and compassion, could they really be strong as force and cruelty? He knew they were, he’d succumbed to Rosie’s kindness more than once, and countless times with his children.

Perhaps, it was the Mother’s decision to strengthen Blackwood by whisking them away, for Rosie and his children to weaken Glenmore. That could be the only reason, she wouldn’t have taken them away just to punish him for some unknown misdeed, would she? He didn’t like the questions he kept thinking of, of his irrational anger at Uir.

If it was Uir’s plan, where did he fit in? He felt alone, even when others were in his company, like the stag who had saved him, or this wise stag laying next to him. The pain in his heart hurt more than his leg did, more than his aching ribs and back did. He thought he had served the Mother well, didn’t he deserve to be happy?

“Hmm, but, I thought I had served the Mother. Her plan, where does it leave me? If what you say is true, my mate and children will know what to do, but I? And, do I not deserve some happiness? They will be happy, they are together, in my mates old home that she loves dearly. But what of I?” He felt his lower lip tremble, like a foolish little colts when his parents don’t let him do something or have something he wants. He didn’t know what to do, lost in this sea of darkness where sharks and sea wolves prey upon those who are lost. He looked away in shame, and put some snow under his leg, trying to keep the tears back.


The old stag fell silent after he had spoken, he watched Brynmore for a moment, then his gaze moved to watch the forest around them, wanting to leave the younger stag the chance to contemplate what he had just told him, think about his words and maybe also understand what he had tried to tell him with them.
He had no rush, the silence between them was calm, like the forest outside their little shelter, the snow falling silently, muffling every sound and for once turning the dark woods almost into something light with the thick, white blanket covering them.

When Brynmore spoke up again, Hagen returned his gaze to him, obviously his words had sunken in and no matter how much he hated it, the younger stag had to admit the older had been right, his children and wife were safer in Glenmore and maybe the Mother had even intended to make them go there, to weaken Glenmore from inside, proving all the lies they told and kept them down with wrong, bringing the truth about the Mother of the Forest to the earth of the deaf and blind fawnlings of Glenmore, who had stared into the light too long, it had made them grow stupid and weak.

A short laugh then suddenly escaped him, not to mock the other stag, it was more of a sympathetic amusement, like he could very much relate to what Brynmore felt right now.
“Oh, you do, but sometimes the Mother’s plans also require pain and unhappiness. You know that she is not cruel, but like time she is merciless on her way forward and if bringing you forward requires hurting you, she will not hesitate to do this in order to bring you on the way you need to go.
“Did you know, that Skoll also had a Glenmore mate once?” he then said, nonchalantly almost, looking out in the snow again, “You might want to talk to him about it. I also heard he is considering to seek out for a new general in the future.” he twitched an ear slightly, looking at Brynmore from the corner of his eye, “The strengths of your wife and children is their kindness, they will go to Glenmore and tell the truth about us, tell about how wrong the lies were, they tell in fear of us. Your wife and children found the path the Mother has set for them, maybe as much as their strengths is their kindness, your strengths is the one of the warrior. Blackwood needs to reunite, to have it’s warriors and witches under a fair and firm hoof, someone who won’t only rely on his brute strength, like Brismor, someone who understands the enemy and knows where to poke the stick to hurt.” he spoke, “Maybe . . .” he looked away again, “. . . maybe you could consider." he nodded.


The cold snow felt good for a short while, before it felt just too cold. Brynmore gently nudged it off while the older stag spoke. It, to his annoyance, made sense. He could not be angry at The Mother, she wanted what was best for her children. If it made them sick or ill or injured, perhaps they were learning one of her lessons.

His head jerked up as the stag spoke of their present king, Skoll, having had a Glenmore mate. Brynmore hadn’t spent much time delving into the politics of the herd recently, being too occupied with Rosie and the children, and his occasional raids, and didn’t know much of their new King and far less about the Queen. And, to speak with the king? He wasn’t to sure about that, given his last run in with a king and the bargain they had struck. And..Wait? Brynmore looked puzzled as the word General played over and over in his head, his ears straining forward as he listened intently to what this old and wise stag said.

It, made sense. He had noticed that the raids were becoming a bit more disorganized. He didn’t know much about inner herd workings and about patrolling borders besides getting into them, but perhaps that could help him. He’d never thought of going for, General, it was a lot of responsibility. His head whirled with a dozen thoughts buzzing in and out so fast. His jaw dropped open, and he looked around from the snow falling calmly outside, to the dead leaves and needles cushioning them, back to his companion.

“I’ve, never thought of that.” Well, he had a few times when he was such a young buck with his first antlers, but after Rosie, he couldn’t risk losing the fight and leaving her alone. Perhaps, it was the Mother’s doing; to save Rosie and the children from the wolves, to weaken Glenmore, to bring strength back to Blackwood, for him to follow this path of General, to ultimately bring the teachings of Uir to everyone, to free them all. It was an epiphany, his mind soaring up through the trees, to the clouds, overlooking everything The Mother offered for her children.

It was a few minutes before he came back, shaking his head, doubts seeding themselves back into him. “But, I’m not strong enough. Even if I weren’t injured, Brismor is a hulk who shouldn’t be taken lightly. I, don’t know if I could even do the job, I’m only a simple raider.” *But perhaps that is something I can use*

He pondered over this sudden enlightenment, watching the flakes slowly come down. “I think, I will have to meet King Skoll, if only to gain some insight on losing ones mate. I..” he didn’t know how he felt about this path that seemed so obvious now. “I shall think on it.” Something that the older stag had said clicked in Brynmore. “You said something of bringing the herd together. I may not ever be ready to take on Brismor, but what of something else to help us along the way to taking the other kingdoms?” He thought hard, wondering what he could do, what he could offer that would be valuable, though his thoughts always wandered back to Danzig and Gilraen.


The old stag calmly watched Brynmore, a bit of a smile playing on his lips, when he saw his words had set the younger’s head on overdrive. That was good, obviously he was considering his words and obviously they made sense to him.
“I don’t think you never did.” was all Hagen commented, still smiling. Well, most stags of Blackwood thought about becoming General or even King at some point of their lives, he had done so himself. It was just that only very few ever had the guts to come through with it and voice the challenge and even less succeeded. It was a position for one of a kind, only few were real material for these positions. Skoll was and Hagen also thought this sulking, lonesome stag could become a great General, maybe even one of the greatest they had ever seen, if he only would dare to take the step it required.

A laugh then suddenly escaped Hagen, his head shaking slightly in amusement.
“Brismor’s biggest weapon are his looks, believe me. True, he is a beast like no other, but he can easily be thrown off these big feet of his by a more agile and experienced stag.” Hagen told, “Why do you think he never challenged the king?” he lifted a brow slightly, “He is no fool, his weapon is intimidation, he bluffs, if his bluff fails however, he can land in the dust, maybe faster and harder than one might think.” he paused for a moment, “But I don’t want to push you. Just keep my words in mind. The wolf knows when it’s the right moment to sink his teeth into his prey.” Hagen merely mused with a little nod.
When Brynmore agreed on keeping Hagen’s words in mind, the older stag smiled again.
“Very good.” he said, followed by his ears twitching, “Yes, I think you really should. I am sure he would very much like meeting you, too.”

A bit of a sigh escaped him at Brynmore’s following words,
“Yes, the herd has scattered, everybody is following their own ideas more than those of the Mother. Things have been too lax, the young stags and does don’t know what to do, where to go with their growing powers. The stags go and raid randomly, leaving weak children in the other Kingdoms where they are shunned by the heretics, the does hex and bewitch their own herd brothers and sisters, instead of focusing their rare gifts on protecting the herd. Skoll is trying his best to reunite the herd, to remind everyone we are brothers and sisters and need to stand together to fulfill the task given to us by the Mother, but it’s still a long way ahead, I’m afraid.” he shrugged somewhat, “Skoll already tries teaching the young, so they have a perspective ahead of them, so do I, yet Skoll needs help, experienced help. Somebody to guide and teach the aspiring raiders, so they know how to serve the Mother and grow strong and cunning.” he nodded.


Brynmore nodded to the older stag, his heart leaping at the thought of being, something more. He hadn’t taken it into serious consideration, but now, with a few encouraging words, he felt he now had a purpose.

“I have noticed the herd drifts apart these past few years, many becoming loners. I, I even did so with my family, thinking to protect them we stayed away.” It now seemed foolish, to have separated from them so much, but he still felt it had been right to stay away from jealous stags and bitter does. Change was needed, if they were to be seen and feared as they once had been in the kingdoms.

Brynmore looked out to the snow again, a calm descending upon him. He felt, almost content, at peace with himself as the snow drifted down. He whispered out to the quiet forest, “Yes.” He may not know exactly what he would do, but he felt that Uir would watch over him as he ventured down this path. Looking back at the old stag, he added in a strong and calm voice, “I feel ready to prove myself to Our Mother, to the herd. Perhaps not physically, but, this feels like the right path. May I ask your name, wise stag? So I may have a reference when I speak to King Skoll?” Belatedly, he said, “I am Brynmore, sir.”


Hagen watched the younger stag, when he told about how he also had noticed the herd having scattered quite a bit lately, he himself having distanced himself together with his family.
“It is true, but I agree with Skoll, who thinks we need to reunite again to grow strong and feared again, like we are supposed to be.” he told.

He couldn’t quite help a bit of a smile appearing on his lips, when he saw the change in Brynmore’s attitude, he still seemed a bit uncertain, but the same time he also appeared to having regained some confidence in himself and his path again due to their talk and Hagen was indeed glad to see this. The roan stag seemed like an able and clever fellow, Hagen was sure he could go far, if he wanted to, he only had to be confident in himself again and trust in the Mother.

“That is good.” Hagen spoke, followed by a bit of a chuckle, “Ohmai, I still gotta get used to being called ‘wise’ or ‘sir’, pal, I guess I’m definitely getting into the right age, huh?” he joked, before smiling at the other stag again, “Hagen, I’m Hagen.” he nodded, “My pleasure, Brynmore, I have the feeling we will get to see each other a lot more in the future.” he winked at him somewhat, “But now let’s rest and wait until the snowing stops and then we make sure your leg is fine again by spring, so you can walk the path Ùir chose for you like a true warrior.”