Forty Six
Robyn, Snowdrift Village
After clawing her way out of the snow pile, the Crimson Hunter gathered herself. Burdened by her wounds it was a slow hike down the frigid slopes of Rumble Mountains to the solitary settlement bordered on all sides by towering glaciers.
Robyn had spent much of her youth in this modest mountain hamlet but her task today was strictly business.
The howling winds stirred up freshly fallen snow as she reached the town.
The insulated houses of mighty stone and alpine timber were the only materials that stood up to the harsh elements in the mountains.
The sun was setting over the horizon as the weary slayer trudged down the icy streets towards the local tavern.
Several children danced past, covered in thick layers of fur by their over-protective parents.
They stopped to watch the injured slayer stumble past, her fierce red hair flowed behind her and her cheeks flushed from the cold.
A local town boy held a snowball in his hand readying himself for a snowball fight with his sister, stopped and stared at the wandering slayer.
With a cheeky smile, he wound back his hand to toss the ball at Robyn, but his mother quickly grabbed him by the hand and dragged him inside.
Her destination- the tavern known as 'The Rusted Nail' was lined with long icicles and freshly shoveled snow.
Robyn staggered through the doors into the dimly-lit pub and eyed the surly patrons.
It was a rough crowd of loggers and trappers, very hostile to outsiders that would on occasion find themselves lost in the icy passes.
The air was thick with tobacco and the hall was warmed by a roaring fire of a brick chimney.
The patrons were hushed as Robyn limped past them; they knew her well enough to stay away from the fiery young slayer, even in her injured state.
Across from a large table of tipsy mountaineers sat a man with a wide brimmed hat and a long pipe in his mouth. His salt-and-pepper hair tied back and a lifetime of proud scars all over his body was playing cards with an old drunk.
Robyn sat down across the table from the man and lent forward with her hands crossed.
"Teacher," she implored. "I'm glad to see you."
The man lifted up his hat, put down his playing cards and took a deep drag on his pipe.
"Robyn? Now what brings you to this fine establishment," her teacher, the renowned slayer, Fenris, cooed.
He noticed her crudely dressed wounds and sighed. "What trouble have you gotten into now?"
Fenris was a famous slayer, taking down anything he hunted. He had only been surpassed by his prodigy- Robyn in recent years.
The aged slayer taught Robyn the tricks of the trade since she had arrived in Snowdrift Village almost a decade ago as a fresh-faced teen with fiery resolve.
Fenris had trained her in this very village, nurturing her talents and sharpening her skills until she was a powerful weapon.
"Care to buy your old teacher a drink?" Fenris signaled over the burly mono-browed waitress, who incidentally also served as a bouncer.
"I'm here for your help," Robyn whispered.
Fenris almost coughed up his ale. He hadn't spoken to Robyn years ago. She had stormed out one night and decided she was done with Fenris's slow-paced lessons.
"I thought you were done learning from a tired old man like me," Fenris scoffed.
He knew that only a serious crisis would bring his impatient student back to ask for help.
Fenris was fully aware Robyn had been chasing the bounty of the Heartless Swamp coven and suspected she would struggle with the assignment.
"I have been bested twice by the same maleficus. Now I need to track down the other two of his coven," she explained, ashamed.
"That Lady Crow is a formidable one, but her youngest student shouldn't be too hard to handle," Fenris assured her.
Fenris spoke of Micah, Lady Crow's junior student currently travelling with a vampire.
Slayers were well-connected with crow scouts and had a variety of information channels; it was rare that they were ignorant of any developments.
"I need you around to watch my back, these maleficae are abnormally strong, strongest I've ever encountered," Robyn confessed.
Fenris finished his pint, stood up and stretched his arms. "Well, it's about time I dusted off the old knives."