Eryndor walked ahead, he never turned back to Thalos, Never said a word.
He was used to getting into trouble, every now and then his father had to come and pull him out of the hall. Lately, he had been feeling guilty about it.
More was happening in Frosthelm, and that meant his fathers time was spent talking about ways to protect it.
That didn't mean the family trade was shut down, Eryndor would come home and have to spend long nights finishing tasks he should have completed.
And today that feeling reached its peak.
The streets were still crowded, but they felt quieter. He wasn't sure if it was how he felt. Or if he was simply just paying attention, his awareness rose and his eyes darted from place to place.
A group of frostfoxes, laid on top of a woodpile, licking their paws, unbothered by anything around them.
He watched as Eryndor walked past. The foxes' ears flattened, their fur bristled and stood on end, and before Thalos could blink, they were gone
As they came to an intersection, a group of Snowstriders approached from the eastern path, still pulling large sleds, merchants getting ready to pack up for the day.
As they approached they saw Eryndor, the Snowstriders studied him for a moment and stopped moving.
He saw the handlers tugging on their reins, tapping their sides, and trying to give them commands. But they did not move again, until Eryndor passed.
He felt small walking beside him.
This was the first time he noticed the animals acting strange, and it gave him an unusual sense of dread, the kind that forces bumps on your arms, and a tingling in the back of your neck.
It wasn't Eryndor he was afraid of. The entire scene gave him unease.
He kept his eyes forward, resisting the discomfort he was feeling in his chest.
As they passed people on the street, he could hear them talk in low voices, that ended the moment they saw Eryndor.
Some greeted them with a smile and a nod, others stepped aside hastily to not block their path.
It wasn't until they reached the front door of their home that Eryndor stopped.
He pushed open the door and without a word, walked inside, The door shut behind him, leaving Thalos outside, alone.
He stood outside for a moment, before taking a deep breath and stepping inside, the air changed. The darkness closing around his vision expanded. And the feeling of dread had disappeared.
Thalos looked up at his father, It was like watching an entirely different person.
Eryndor reached up and unfastened his Frostwolf pelt, Shrugging it from his shoulders and hanging it near the door. The glow it had while he was wearing it seemed to die, and now it looked like a normal cloak.
The light caught on the sword that hung from his hip, he removed it from his belt and placed it by the door.
And Eryndor himself now looked different.
Outside he felt like a Legend, the man heroic tales were written about. But here in the warmth of his home, he was just a man.
He walked to the other end of the room, and took a seat at the table, leaning forward, elbows resting in front of him. He let out a frustrated sigh.
Across the room, Liriel was cooking over the fire, turning thick cuts of Frosthound meat over an iron pan. She didn't turn when they arrived.
"Trouble again today dear?"
Eryndor ran a hand through his hair, thinking of the words he wanted to say. And turned to Thalos.
"You were at it again today."
Thalos was still standing by the doorway, his fingers fidgeting with his cloak.
His mother finally turned around looking him up and down. "I told you not to cause trouble, did you end up getting caught again?"
Thalos went to answer, but before he could, his father let out a small
"hah" , shaking his head. "Oh, he got caught."
His mother gave a small smile and turned back to the pan, putting slices of meat onto a wooden plate.
"Sit, Thalos." It was not a request.
He hesitated for a moment before sitting down across from his father. His mother set a plate in front of him, and then another in front of Eryndor, before sitting down herself.
They ate in silence at first, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire, and a family eating.
His mother was the first to speak.
"You know," She said, while slicing her meat into strips, "I saw the elders in the market earlier. They seemed very amused about something."
She gave a small glance towards Thalos.
He almost choked on his food, Eryndor looked up from his plate. "Amused you say?"
His mother started to take on a large grin, acting way too happy for the situation.
"Oh, yes! Very amused! They seemed quite entertained, running all through the village. Definitely looking for something… or someone"
She took a bite of her food, softly humming.
Thalos knew what she was doing, and she was good at it.
Anytime he would get in trouble, one way or another his mother already knew, and when he got home, she would bring it up in just the right way, so that he couldn't stay quiet.
Thalos sighed, pushing his food around his plate. "We may have been caught trying to break into a storage shed."
His mother didn't even blink. "Ah. That explains all the running"
Eryndor placed a hand over his face. "Brynn?" Thalos nodded. "Brynn"
His father leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Of course it was Brynn."
His mother hid a smile behind another strip of meat, and for the first time today, Thalos relaxed a little.
"And then there's Marta." Eryndor sighed while saying her name.
His mother laughed softly. "Oh yes, she was Furious. I could hear her from across Frosthelm"
Eryndor chuckled to himself. "Marta is always furious."
He picked up his fork and stuck it in a piece of meat. "Most of the time I agree with her, But by the grace of the Vyrath, that women could give a rock a headache"
Thalos let out a laugh in surprise, his mother smirked.
"She goes on and on about punishments, and discipline, how we are one step away from ruin."
She rolled her eyes. "She may not be wrong, but she yells so much, I think she enjoys the sound of her own voice."
Eryndor looked over at Thalos. "If she had it her way, every child would be thrown into the forest before they could walk."
Thalos laughed, his mother shook her head slowly. "She does mean well… if you can get past the tapping of her cane."
Everyone at the table chuckled. Thalos took another bite of his food, as the conversation changed back into the usual.
His mother asked about the merchants, pointing out how the furs are looking thinner, and the food is getting smaller, while his father was complaining that the hunters were struggling to find game near Frosthelm. The topic of his trouble making faded away.
Eryndor wasn't soft spoken, or gentle like others, he didn't praise Thalos, didn't ruffle his hair, or take him to play games. But he was there.
When Thalos spoke, even if it was something about the weather, or a complaint about Brynn, his father listened, and always offered his opinion.
To the village, Eryndor was the legend of Frosthelm.
A leader who none could match, but here in his home, he was just Thalos's father.
And no matter how cold he may seem, no matter how much he demanded, Thalos knew one thing above all else.
His father loved him, even if he never said it.