The snow should have killed him by now. Ivor knew this.
He'd seen stronger, younger and more faster men die to cold embrace of the cold winter and it's white poison.
The cold had almost made it through the layers of fur and leather he had wrapped himself in. Maybe being tucked under a mound of snow for days was a bad a idea, but he had waited too long to stop.
Ivor reached his hand out and grabbed a handful of snow, chucking into his mouth before continuing his watch. His eyes fixated at the edge of the dying forest.
The cold started to seep in and Ivor could fill it biting at him like a rabie infested dog. That was when he heard it, the sound of large objects slamming against the ground.
He stared into the direction of the sound. A caravan. A smile crept onto the edge of his mouth.
The tiny dot of the caravan grew larger as it neared the edge of the forest just close enough for Ivor to see the black wolf symbol on the side of the third wagon.
"Bingo, Fenrir," he snarled as he leapt out of mound of snow.
Within a few strides Ivor had managed to catch up to the caravan while using the trees as cover. When he got far enough he leapt into it's path and pulled out two dirks(Scottish long daggers).
The horses at the front of the caravan began to slow bring the caravan to a stop. The horses screamed as they jumped up and down.
A group of people walked out, one of them, the oldest looking of them was dressed in an all black robe with white diagonal strips around his chest underneath his white scarf. He carried a green covered book with streeks of red rampaging across it. He seemed to be a priest.
The priest glanced at him and pointed, "You dare obstructs a holy man on his pilgrimage? Guards kill that man, in the name of Fenrir!" he order.
Seven armored men rushed at Ivor, swords raised. Ivor smirked as he effortlessly dodged the first soldier's attack and slashed him across the neck.
The other six did not stop their charge, they ran at Ivor with their swords on and pride on full display. But, just as quickly as the first died the rest followed suit. With no effort at all Ivor had dodged and slit the throats of all six men.
"I forgot to ask questions. No matter, you are the most important thing here, priest. It's a shame you didn't bring enough guards," Ivor mocked as he got closer to the priest.
The priest's eye were wide open as he staggered back and fell on behind. Ivor slowly walked to him as the trail of crimson sniw followed his every step.
" Åh store och barmhärtige Fenrir, rädda din fromma dyrkare på denna skrämmande dag och straffa mannen som står emot ditt ord," the priest blurted out while holding the book to Ivor.
"Don't bother yourself. Your God will not save you,"Ivor said in a sinister tone.
Before the priest could utter word, Ivor swung his dagger. Ice materialized from the slash and surged forward, engulfing the entire caravan in a caccon of ice.
Ivor let out a fog less breath as he squatted down match the priest's eye level.
"Whether you live or die will depend on your next series of answers to my question. Where is Fenrir?" Ivor asked.
The priest's lips trembled. Ivor sighed as he stared down. He head a feint sound and immediately swung. The priest wailed in pain.
Ivor looked up and saw the priest clutching his bleeding out arm.
" Not the answer, so let's try some motivation," he said.
Ivor grabbed the priest's good arm and slammed his hand onto the freezing snow before plunging one of his deggers into it. Before he could release another wail Ivor grabbed him by the throat.
The priest could utter a single word as Ivor tightened his grip. Viens began to bulge across the priest's blue face.
"Great, this way you won't make that horrendous noise," Ivor said as he reached for one of the priest's eyes.
The priest tried desperately to fight but Ivor's superhuman strength held him in place as the hand made it's way to his eye.
_____________________
An hour later. Ivor is waking through the frozen wastleland whith a group of roughly eight girls. He had the girls follow behind the dead body wrapped in us coat, that he was dragging.
Another fruitless harvest
Ivor scoffed as he lifted his head. There it was, a massive fotress wall as tall as the wall of China.
"Atleast I won't be in too much trouble," he mumbled under his breath, begrudgingly continuing forward.