"You have to come with me to meet our warmother."
Donna emphasized it again, as if repeating it could keep the thought from slipping away. Just knowing about tens of thousands of pounds of food was enough to make her head spin. Right now she only knew one thing: she had to bring these two people in front of her warmother and let the warmother decide how this would be handled.
No… even a warmother as steady and decisive as Sejuani would probably gape in shock when she heard it.
Those prisoners who were worth less than dirt could be exchanged for enough food to get both the Avarosans and Winter's Claw through the winter. Who would believe that if you said it out loud?
"T-then what about us?" Old John said gloomily before Logan could answer.
The Frostguard were active. He'd just traded away food for Winter's Claw's protection—so Winter's Claw was going to run off now?
"We split up," a Winter's Claw warrior behind Donna said.
He looked far older than Donna. He had a goat-shaped beard and wore a simple fur coat. Two pitch-black short-handled hammers were strapped across his back. He stared at Logan and said in a deep voice, "Donna will take you to meet our warmother. The warmother will decide whether to release the Noxian slaves."
"Our group will escort the caravan to the town."
Logan thought for a moment, then looked at Jinx.
He needed to know what she wanted. Up to now, all Jinx had seen was snow and trees. The Freljord looked magnificent at first glance, but if you stared at endless white long enough, it started to feel empty.
Besides, she still hadn't seen any Freljord life—how people lived here, how they built towns, how a settlement could even exist and keep functioning in a land carved up by tribes.
"What's fun in your tribe?" Jinx asked Donna.
Donna froze, then hurried to answer, "Fun… Ice-lake fishing, raising young beasts, warrior duels, hunting mountain game… does that count as fun?"
"Can I ride one of those big, gorgeous white wolves?" Jinx asked next.
"Of course," Donna nodded seriously. "You're honored guests of Winter's Claw."
Her attitude toward Jinx had clearly changed. Before, she'd barely acknowledged her. Now she was practically jumping to please her.
"Then let's go, Logan," Jinx said brightly. "The person you're looking for is in their tribe anyway, right?"
Jinx had ridden plenty of things—she'd even ridden dangerous rockets behind Logan's back—but she'd never really ridden animals.
Just thinking about those snow-white, handsome wolves from earlier made her itch with envy.
And if she could bring one back to Zaun… even better.
After hearing that, Logan said a few words to John—mostly thanking him for the help along the road. Then Logan looked at Donna's tense face and couldn't help finding it a little funny.
The more nervous Donna was, the more it suggested Winter's Claw's situation was bad. And honestly, you could see it in her body too.
She was younger than Jinx, yet her hair was dry and yellowed, her cheeks hollow, her ribs flared under her chest, and her limbs were long and thin.
Logan smiled gently. "Alright. We'll go with you to meet Sejuani. Lead the way."
Donna was overjoyed. And when Logan spoke Sejuani's name, Donna wasn't surprised at all.
In the Freljord, you might not know hidden things like the Frostguard's deeper secrets, because this was a backward, poor land. The brutal environment kept people separated, and news spread slowly—carried by traveling merchants and wandering storytellers, passed along by word of mouth in the most primitive way.
Old songs and oral history were how each generation taught the next. Not everyone even knew the Frostguard properly.
But in the Freljord today, everyone knew Sejuani.
Because Winter's Claw—second only to the Avarosans—was the greatest tribe of the far north. And Sejuani's reputation as a conqueror had carried Winter's Claw's name across the Freljord.
"Pack up!" Donna snapped into command mode. "Bones—hand over your moose. Let our two guests ride. We're leaving now!"
A warrior gave up his mount without the slightest complaint. He led the massive moose over to Logan and Jinx.
Logan lifted Jinx up first and set her onto the moose, then swung himself up behind her, keeping an arm around her from the back—steadying her while she was bundled up like a bear.
Jinx immediately started tugging at the reins, her eyes darting everywhere with excited mischief.
Donna climbed onto Vanna and patted the boar's head. She shouted, "After you escort the caravan, get back as fast as you can!"
"Yes!" the warriors answered.
—
In the western Freljord, once you passed the towering mountain range, you could see the endless Northern Sea.
In winter, a thin sheet of ice spread across the water. When sunlight occasionally fell onto it, the surface reflected a cold, beautiful shimmer.
A tall woman stood near the shoreline. She lowered her head, removed her gloves, and laid a long-knuckled hand—scarred with tiny cuts—against the ice.
She had striking white hair and wore a black, tight-fitting outfit that showed off her body with unapologetic clarity. Beneath that hard curve and lift, dense muscle pressed against the fabric—tight, powerful. Her six-pack was clean and obvious. She crouched beside the ice, paused for a long time, then let out a deep, slow breath.
"How bad is it?" a voice asked behind her.
Sejuani turned her head.
Behind her stood a broad, heavyset man with his upper body bare, wild hair growing like a feral hermit.
"Udyr," Sejuani said, lips pressed thin, "it's worse than we thought."
She stood and put her gloves back on. Her white hair snapped and streamed in the biting sea wind. A few strands fell across her face, and she brushed them away with a troubled look.
"The weather is getting uglier. We're not even in deep winter yet, and the sea is already icing over. Once deep winter arrives, no ship will move at all. If we want fish then… we'll be stuck with the most primitive methods."
Udyr nodded. After a moment of silence, he said, "Then… should I go hunt?"
"No," Sejuani shook her head.
She looked north. Out across the sea stood a massive island, looming like a jagged tooth. Thunder and storm clouds curled around it.
That was Ursine territory.
"We have an agreement with the Ursine," Sejuani said, taking a long breath and narrowing her eyes. "We can't hunt the prey near the coast."
"Now isn't the time to make enemies of the Ursine."
Udyr fell silent again.
In recent years, with the Frostguard stirring, the Ursine moving, and the Avarosans gathering smaller tribes into their fold, Winter's Claw's predicament had only grown worse.
Winter's Claw was a nomadic tribe. Sejuani strictly forbade her people from settling into farming. In her eyes, doing that meant forgetting the Freljord's traditions. Only ferocity and honor brought rebirth. Living penned in one place like livestock, digging in the dirt the way the Avarosans did—that disgusted her.
But before, she could survive her way.
When winter became too hard, Sejuani would lead her people into war—raiding, taking food, forcing the world to feed them.
Then Ashe's Avarosans began absorbing the weaker tribes, and the number of nearby tribes Sejuani could raid kept shrinking.
The Ursine also ate like monsters. If Winter's Claw wanted their power and help, it would cost a price Sejuani didn't want to pay.
And the Frostguard… that went without saying. They were mysterious, powerful, and every time they appeared, they dragged the Freljord toward disaster.
Sejuani's voice dropped. "Udyr… do you think my decisions were really right?"
The burdens and dead ends Winter's Claw faced had finally exhausted her enough that the fatigue seeped into her voice—something she only allowed herself to show in front of Udyr.
Udyr wasn't an ordinary member of the tribe. He was her oathfather. Not her blood father, but to Sejuani, he was the only father she had ever truly known.
This time, Udyr didn't stay quiet.
"Of course," he said with certainty. "Sejuani—there's no better warmother than you."
He raised his voice, fierce with conviction. "You're a better warmother than Kalkia ever was. I'm truly glad you grew into who you are now."
"I still remember when you were nothing but bones and skin—a little girl so thin the wind could take you. And look at you now. You command a mighty tribe. Your people number in the tens of thousands."
"You carry countless hopes. You lead them to survive."
He stepped closer, hesitated, then finally lifted his hand and gently patted Sejuani's back.
"Don't crush yourself under the weight, kid," Udyr said. "Things will get better. I promise."
Sejuani smiled. That cold, hard face softened for a heartbeat. Looking toward the Ursine lands, she nodded.
"Yes," she said quietly. "You're right, Udyr. Things will get better."
"We won't be driven into a corner."
She bent at the waist, raised her left arm, then slammed her fist down into the ice.
The surface shattered open in front of her. Spiderweb cracks burst outward, spreading and branching across the frozen sea for hundreds of feet.
Sejuani straightened, turned, and walked past Udyr toward where the tribe was camped.
Udyr's eyes followed her.
That once-fragile little girl was now tall enough to match him. Broad shoulders. A powerful frame. Sejuani had truly become a strong, formidable warmother.
Udyr's gaze went distant. In his mind, noise swelled—messy, overlapping voices.
The voices of spirits.
He reached down to his belt, where a wooden spike as thick as two fingers hung. He pulled it free and jabbed it into the pad of his finger. The pain dragged him back—back out of the chorus, back into himself.
Then he heard Sejuani's voice.
Helmet on, one arm tucked in, she swung the other in a sharp signal. Her cold, proud command rang through the far-north air—
"South!"
—
"How much longer until we reach your territory? We've been traveling for two days!"
Across the endless tundra, a massive moose and an enormous boar charged over the frozen ground.
Donna narrowed her eyes, staying focused as she searched their route. She didn't really have to—Vanna could sense direction—but Donna still kept her guard up.
In the Freljord, one careless mistake could become a catastrophe. Donna didn't dare relax.
Hearing Jinx, she shouted back, "Soon. We've passed three smaller detachments already. Looks like the warmother set camp at Snowfoot Icechasm."
Then she added, "If we pass Howling Gorge before dark, we'll reach the tribe tonight."
Donna was excited too. Bringing a piece of news this big back to Winter's Claw made her blood run hot.
Nestled into the moose's heavy fur, Jinx was lying forward and poking at the long hair behind its ear with fingertips turned red from the cold. She'd even braided that long ear-hair into a little plait.
At Donna's words, Jinx jerked her head up so fast she nearly smashed into Logan's jaw.
Logan clicked his tongue helplessly, and then Jinx shouted, "Howling Gorge? What's that? A gigantic frozen canyon?"
"Hey, Logan—doesn't that sound way more exciting than Zaun's sewer tunnels? I want to see it!"
Jinx wriggled restlessly in Logan's arms. Her little nose was pink with cold, and her wide eyes were shining with excitement.
She kept going, voice rising. "I've set off fireworks in tons of places—Zaun's sewer tunnels, Piltover's rooftops, Bilgewater's docks, the forests of Ionia…"
"But I've never set off fireworks in a snowy canyon. Fwoosh—BOOM!"
Over these two days, Jinx had genuinely tried every possible way to keep herself entertained.
Because what else was she supposed to do?
On an endless tundra where white was the only color, someone like Jinx would get impatient fast.
"You can't go there," Donna said quickly, anxiety slipping into her voice.
She narrowed her eyes and added, "Howling Gorge is Frostguard territory. Those bastards don't show themselves often, but they've been active lately. There might be Frostguard in the gorge right now."
Logan asked, "Howling Gorge… what does it have to do with the Howling Abyss?"
Donna blinked. She didn't expect Logan to ask that.
After thinking, she answered, "If you go through Howling Gorge and head downward, you'll reach a long river. Follow that river all the way and you'll arrive at the Frostguard Citadel. The Howling Abyss is built there."
"But you absolutely can't go," Donna said firmly. "Nobody who goes there ever comes back alive."
Logan nodded, tightened his hold on the squirming Jinx, and looked toward the direction Donna meant.
From the moment he set foot on this land, Logan knew one thing:
Lissandra had noticed him already.
That woman—hidden in the shadows for nine thousand years—was one of the strongest beings in all of Runeterra. In Logan's judgment, she ranked among the top ten, easily.
After all, even before she took power from the Void, Lissandra had fought Volibear. Yes, Volibear crushed her—but she had faced him at full strength. Volibear was the kind of god who fought until the end, and Lissandra still survived, losing only her eyes.
And over thousands of years since then, her strength had only grown—and she had gained new power besides.
How strong was Volibear?
Put it this way: Nilah could slaughter weaker demigods. She was terrifyingly strong—strong enough that even Nagakabouros regarded her with caution.
But Nilah went after the bear… and she nearly died to a Volibear who was already badly wounded, corrupted by the Void, and vastly weakened compared to his peak. If Morgana hadn't saved her, Nilah would've been finished.
So how could Lissandra not know Logan had arrived in the Freljord?
"Hang in there a little longer," Donna said, smiling as she looked back at them. "I know this trek has been rough for you two, but we're almost there."
"When we reach the tribe, I'll have someone bring you hot meat broth."
She didn't know what Logan was thinking with his head lowered, or why Jinx was puffing her cheeks, but even for a Winter's Claw warrior like Donna, this kind of travel was exhausting. For outsiders, it had to be worse.
So she tried to comfort them the best way she could.
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