Snow fell softly, and his breath rose in small wisps, brief patches of fog to disperse back into the world. The frost on the edges of his hood crunched as a breeze cut across it and he pulled it down lower, covering his eyes as much as possible to prevent the bright glare off the icy ground blinding him.
He was appreciative that the General had given him the freedom to follow his own path, and he had wished the others the best of luck whilst he was away. It was roughly 4 days since he had last reported in with Valeria on the odd soldiers. He had had half a mind to investigate further, but his own mission ultimately took priority over his curiosity. The other Dragons had left for warmer areas, looking for a relic that could be of use to the cause. He had traveled by caravan with some merchants most of the way to the mountains foothills but had needed to abandon it when the first snowfalls had hit, moving faster on his own.
The snow was knee deep and made movement hard, and he would be leaving a trail that even the inexperienced would easily track. He didn't mind this. In actuality he was being more careless than usual, making sure to leave a clear trail.
He was already being followed.
The trackers were experienced, and he glanced backwards casually upon passing a small bush with pink flowers, pretending to enjoy the sight, in reality seeing if he could use the opportunity to catch a glimpse of those following, half curious as to who they were, half a test of their skill. The most he saw was the end of a blue cloak slipping around a tree, adorned with heavy furs. Northerners.
He smiled softly as he ran a hand along one of the flowers, delicately picking it to place in his pouch. He had expected as much, few were skilled enough to follow through such dangerous terrain and leave so little trace.
But they weren't accustomed to stealth, and despite being skilled trackers, they were as simple for Noodok to notice as a child would be. Their movements and positioning was suited for deer or the snow aurochs, but not for hunting humans. Why they were so far south was a difficult question and why they were obviously planning to kill him was another, but he was not overly surprised to find them in the highlands. Perhaps they were deserters taking a chance at revenge for some slight forgotten, or perhaps the dragons had not realised they had made an enemy of them. People were fickle creatures, and alliances always shifted rapidly in the wars.
He turned and stumbled onwards, attempting to look as much like the bumbling fool as they undoubtedly assumed he was. In truth, he was leading them to a better place to make a stand. The snow here was too deep, his boots not designed for it. He didn't care for fighting on ground where they would have the advantage, and they would be able to effectively use their numbers. He knew enough of the northern folk to know that they would wait until the cold had exhausted him, and they would be able to cut him down with the least effort to conserve their own energy. As such, he had time to prepare. As he reached the peak of the next snow drift he saw the pine forest that was his objective. The woods would give him what he needed, places to gain a height advantage, and with less snow on the ground as it would be covered by the canopy. It was more suited to the guerrilla tactics he favoured over outright combat. He dropped his bow and quiver as he walked, pretending that he had finally neared the end, exhaustion and hypothermia overtaking him. Again a ruse, they would come upon it, and they would be momentarily distracted. He didn't like the idea of leaving his weapons, but the purpose was twofold: He knew in this harsh area they would salvage whatever they could, and he would not be able to move as quickly with them. As they wasted time collecting it, he would bolt for the tree line. Then they would be in his domain, not him in theirs.
The wind picked up and the visibility dropped rapidly, small particles of ice flicking up around him. Perfect, it would delay them from finding him if he got far enough ahead.
He was nearing the tree line now. He estimated that there was perhaps another 20 meters before he would need to run to take the advantage.
The distance shortened, and he breathed heavily, attempting to hyperventilate himself, knowing that breathing in the thin mountain air whilst running would be very difficult.
He finally reached his mark, and broke into a sprint, moving as quickly through the deep snow as he could.
A few seconds later he heard a battle cry behind him, the Northern men finally realising his deception, but it was too late, he was already slipping between the trees now, passing a confused fox that bolted between the trunks away from him. He smiled internally at his good timing, before jumping and catching a branch with both hands, swinging himself up onto it. Glancing backwards he spotted four of them, heavy furs and snow hampering their charge. Heedless fools entering a trap.
The noose was was growing tighter.
Quickly and quietly he moved on, slipping slightly on the frosted tree limbs, his arms outstretched to maintain balance, concentrating hard as he moved from tree to tree.
Finally, convinced he was out of sight, he paused, breathing as quietly as he could, before doubling back to the position he had first entered the canopy.
He remembered one of the many lessons that he had learnt training with the Dragons softly in his head. It had originally been spoken by Magnus, discussing field tactics. He remembered it in the man's voice, and repeated it to himself softly, psyching himself into what was about to happen, clenching his fists repeatedly to bring back the dexterity the cold had taken.
The words left his lips hushed, but with determination.
"When confronted with superior numbers, change the environment to suit you. Strike quickly, brutally, and without hesitation. Use their numbers against them and enough force that retaliation is impossible. Do not back down, because to do so is death."
A moment later the North came crashing violently into the forest below him. They looked at the end of the tracks, which had apparently vanished. A moment of confusion overtook the leader, and he looked upwards. Noodok gave him a split second of dawning comprehension before he fell from the treetops onto him, driving a knife deep into his eye socket, cushioning his fall with the already dead man's body, and rolling free of the corpse. An axe swung forward at head height, but instead of backing away, Noodok moved into the strike, catching the shaft of the axe in his hand, and spun with the man. A second blow directed at him caught the man between him and the next assailant, the back of his skull exploding into gore. He shoved the corpse forward onto the attacker, the dead weight knocking him down, and throwing the original axe out to his right, catching the man who hadn't had a chance to strike yet in the neck.
The final north man alive attempted to shift the body of his larger friend off his chest, but was too slow, and Noodok had already stepped forward, his sword now unsheathed and slicing at the man's stomach, the easiest gap in the plate armour to strike. It entered with no resistance, the black blade cutting cleanly through the furs and flesh. The man had a second to look down in shock, grunting in pain as he attempted to grab at a portion of his now protruding stomach, before the second blow severed his head from shoulders.
The forest returned abruptly to silence.
He picked up his weapons, and pulled his discarded bow from under one of his previous pursuers, his quiver from another. Fortunately it was unharmed, and the gamble had payed off. He had been immensely lucky, it could have gone either way.
He thanked the ancients and Magnus's wisdom.
Then he began to shift the snow across the bodies. With luck, any further Northern raiding parties wouldn't find them for a few hours and he intended to be long gone by then, covering his tracks more carefully. They wouldn't be able to follow, the new snowfall masking his trail.
He placed the lone flower he had collected on the pile of snow hiding the bodies.
Cleaning his blade by running a handful of snow down it and sheathing it on his hip, he continued into the forest.