Frozen Stars Over Wonderland - Chapter 10 (Patreon)

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The Briarwood Thorns, as it happened, was something of a very small canyon or very large ditch (depending on how you looked at it) covered in thorny branches of some kind of plant. It seemed to appear out of no where, the only warning you got was the slight uptick in thorny plants that littered the ground where sunlight peeked through the leaves. A small, dirt path slope led down into the dark depths. The thorns interlocked so well over the dungeons ceiling that hardly any light got through. 

One of Canus’ direwolf companions eyed them as they approached, an almost bored expression on its face. Alfre reached out to it, palm up, like how one would approach any unfamiliar dog. The wolf cocked its head curiously, and leaned forward to sniff at her hand. Apparently pleased with what it found, it gave her palm a gentle lick. It turned its head away and closed its eyes, allowing them to pass. They shuffled down the incline into the mouth of the thorn-made cave. Elias led the way in, tapping his cane twice on the packed dirt floor and summoning two small orbs of light that illuminated the area around them just enough that they could see but it would certainly not enough light to read a book without getting a headache. 

“Mostly the same kind of enemies down here that you saw up at the farm,” Elias said. “Might find some nasty bats in here too, and a few wolves. But nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Sure enough, the first enemies they encountered were a pack of florrets, only a few levels higher than the ones they fought at the farm. They seemed to drop more gold than usually when defeated, along with a handful of status healing potions. Low-level monsters never dropped items out in the Wilds, so this was new for Izo and Alfre. They divvied the loot up evenly amongst the four of them and continued deeper into the dungeon. Unlike many high level dungeons that were full of puzzles and mazes, the Briarwood Thorns was a pretty straightforward path from the start to the final boss. The path didn’t so much twist and turn as gently curve in one was or another. Alfre would have marched straight through if Elias hadn’t stopped her to point out a chest hidden in a small alcove just out of sight. 

“The best loot in a dungeon is often hidden just out of sight, to reward players who take the time to explore,” he explained, though to Alfre it sounded like he was chiding a small child. She would have resented him for it, if the chest they found did have exactly what she needed.

The rapier was longer than her current one, its point and bladed edges far wickeder. The basket was an elegant swirl of silver-white metal. She flicked it experimentally, throwing specks of frost to the ground below her. 

“I like it,” she decided, taking her old rapier from her belt and replacing it with her new one. “Hopefully I can actually pull my own weight now.”

“To be fair, darling, there’s not much to pull,” Spica teased. Alfre scowled, but otherwise didn’t react. This was just par for the course it seemed. 

She stuffed her old rapier in her magic inventory satchel, and decided to leave figuring out what to do with it until after she returned home. The rest of the loot inside the chest was fairly standard, mostly potions of some kind or another. There was, however, a small pendant that, upon inspection, revealed itself as an equipable item that buffed one’s healing magic. This was immediately passed to Izo, who slipped it around his neck without a second thought. 

They wandered further into the dungeon, where they eventually met their first wolf encounter. Unlike the weaker enemies, that seemed to come in packs, the wolf faced them alone. It wasn’t nearly as big as the wolves from Canus’ party, but it growled just as fiercely at them. 

Izo cast a spell to tangle the wolf in vines, effectively cutting its movement down to none. Spica disappeared into the shadows, her needles whistling through the air to stick into the wolf’s side. Alfre could see the purple glow about the beast, alerting to her that Spica’s poison had taken hold. She waited for the familiar warmth of Elias’ buff before she charged. She held her rapier close to her side, elbow and shoulder drawn back and ready to thrust. 

The wolf broke from Izo’s trap just as she reached it, dodging out of the way of her strike. As a result, she only barely nicked it in the shoulder. She concentrated, forcing her magic to travel through the sword and into the mob’s flesh. 

She laughed breathlessly, almost manic, as ice erupted from the small wound she’d left. She righted herself, turning on the tips of her toes like a goddamn ballerina, and thrust her sword again, this time at the wolf’s flank. The larger target meant she was practically guaranteed a hit. 

And hit she did. Her rapier pierced the wolf’s side, and with a pained howl, it poofed into the same cloud of black smoke all enemies faded into. There was the ever-familiar jingle of coins filling her purse as she sheathed her sword. The wolf, like many of the other monsters they’d encountered in the dungeon, had left something behind. She bent down to pick it up. 

“It left its fur behind…” she whispered, half in awe, half in sadness. 

“Give it to me,” Spica told her. “I can make something of that when we get home. Wolf fur is a pretty rare drop, even in dungeons. We’re pretty lucky to have it.”

“I feel bad taking it,” Alfre admitted, feeling somewhat childish as she handed the fur over to the assassin. 

“You didn’t take it,” Spica corrected. “It was given to you. Think of it as a gift. The wolf thought you were worthy of having its fur for defeating it.”

Alfre didn’t look entirely convinced, but didn’t feel like arguing. She simply nodded, turning back to stare into the dark depths of the dungeon. If they were fighting wolves now that had to mean that the dungeon boss wasn’t too far away. 

The farther they went into the dungeon, the more wolves they faced. Very few of them dropped their fur like the first one did, but Spica insisted that they were lucky to have as many as they did, considering the normal drop rate of wolf fur. 

The dungeon suddenly opened up before them, sunlight peeking in through gaps in the thorns above them. Before them, lying on a small, rocky platform in the warm sun was a wolf much larger than any of the ones they’d seen previously. Its fur was a deep golden color, stiff and coarse and sticking up in all directions. From a distance, it almost looked like the wolf itself was made of thorns.

Alfre shifted her weight just a tad, her foot slipping on a pebble. She caught herself, but not before slipping ever so slightly closer to the wolf. The beast’s eyes shot open, locking with hers. It jumped to its feet and howled loudly, causing shivers to run up and down Alfre’s spine. Now she knew where the name Briarwood Howler came from.

“Battle formations everyone!” Elias shouted. “Izo, trap it with your vines just like you’ve been doing. Spica, hit it with debuffs before you try and hit it with the big damage dealers. I’ll buff our defense. Alfre, try that area of effect spell you got.” 

Glowing green vines burst from the ground, snaring the Briarwood Howler it their clutches. Spica faded into the shadows, but Alfre caught glimpses of her every time she passed through a patch of sunlight to hurl needles at the beast. Alfre felt the warmth of Elias’ buffs surge through her and she shot forward, stopping just on the edge of Izo’s vine trap. She thrust her rapier down into the ground, calling the name of her spell. She could see, if she concentrated enough, a thin, glowing blue line that designated the edge of her spell’s range. Within that circle, frost and ice spread over the ground, crawling up the Briarwood Howler’s legs. It howled in pain, tugging uselessly at the icy shackles. 

“Good job!” Elias called. “Now do some damage!” 

He shot fireballs over their heads, smashing into the beast’s shoulders. It growled, tensed, and its spiny fur hardened even more, transforming into actual thorns before shooting out in a cascade around them. Alfre ducked and dodged out of the way, a thorn or two catching her shoulders and back as she went. It stung, a more direct and intimate pain than the dull throbbing of the bruises she got from the goblins they’d faced. Her speed had saved her, though. If she was any slower, she’d been impaled five or ten times over. 

“I’ve got you, Alfre!” Izo assured. True to form, Alfre felt the tingling sensation of Izo’s healing magic slide over her skin, stitching flesh back together and numbing the pain. 

Spica, who’d been out of the range of the attack along with Izo and Elias, kept pelting the Briarwood Howler with her poisoned needles. Elias sent fireball after lighting bolt at the dungeon boss, but magicians like him were built for support, not damage dealing. He could hit the beast as much as he wanted, but he’d run out of magic points long before the wolf ran out of hit points. 

“Alfre, if you wouldn’t mind,” he called to her, “do you think you could send this bastard on his way? This is getting tedious.”

Alfre nodded, getting to her feet. Her Frozen Ground spell had worn off, and it was still on cool down. She couldn’t use it again. Izo had cast his vine spell again as soon as he had it back, so the beast was still trapped. 

She extended her arm upwards, rapier pointed at the sky. She gathered her magic, feeling the cold run from her core up her arm and into the tip of her sword. 

“Fuar Uisge.”

She brought her sword down in a grand motion, ice crystals falling from the sky above her opponent, stabbing into his back and, as he fell, his side. Hundreds and hundreds of tiny, frozen daggers of ice fell like rain, almost like a mockery of the Briarwood Howler’s signature attack. 

The smoke this time was white, more of a mist than a smoke as the beast vanished from view. Left behind was a small chest, and an extended jingling of coins. Spica opened the chest, pulling out several items for their perusal. A staff of dark mahogany, decorated with the colorful feathers of some unknown bird. Two poison daggers, weak compared to what Spica already had, but useful nonetheless. A rabbit’s foot charm, which boosted luck when it came to mob drops. Elias took that and tucked it into an inside jacket pocket. And finally, a small hair pin in the form of a silvery flower. They weren’t sure what it did, but Spica tucked Alfre’s long hair back with it anyhow.

“It suits you,” she insisted. “Though it’d be better if it was a snowflake.”

Alfre huffed, blushing pale pink. She turned to Elias to change the subject. “How do we get out of here?”

Elias pointed back through the dungeon with his cane. “Back the way we came. Since we defeated the boss, however, nothing will spawn until we leave.” 

They walked quickly, eager to leave. True to his word, no monsters spawned in the dungeon, making it almost too quiet.

Alfre flinched at the sound of a pained, sorrowful howl. It sounded too human to be the direwolf at the dungeon entrance, but too animal to be a Fell adventurer. Dread settled heavy in her stomach as she and her party ran the rest of the way through the dungeon, bursting into the sunlight as they passed through the exit. They flinched against the bright light.

Sobs reached Alfre’s ears and she turned, her vision clearing, to see Canus kneeling over a body. A wolf’s body. Alfre’s eyes flickered over to the spot where the direwolf had been sitting when they arrived, only to find it gone. She turned back to Canus. The wolf he sobbed over was too large to be just any wolf. 

“W-what happened?” Izo asked, his voice trembling.

“Murderers!” Canus snarled, his voice feral and pained. “Poachers! Monsters! They slaughtered her! They slaughtered her and violated her! Her fur! Her precious, beautiful fur!”

Alfre flinched at the sight of the bare muscle exposed to the evening air. They’d taken all of it, even her head and tail. The rest had been left to rot. 

“I don’t understand,” Elias whispered, disbelief in his voice. “The direwolves…you aren’t supposed to be able to kill them. Not if they’re his.”

“Who did this?” Alfre demanded, anger burning in her chest. 

“If I knew, they’d be dead by now,” Canus hissed. 

Alfre’s hands clenched into fists at her side. She felt sick to her stomach. The wolf hadn’t done her any harm. It was a sweet as any mutt she’d met back before the Incident. There were plenty of wolves in the Wilds, why go after this one? Because they could? Because it wouldn’t bite you first? 

“I’ll find them.”

Canus was on his feet and in her face before she finished her sentence. “Say that again.”

Alfre meet his eyes, determination blazing within their frosty depths. “I’ll find them. Who ever did this won’t go unpunished. I’ll find them, and I’ll bring them back to you. I promise.”

The fierceness in Canus’ eyes never faded, but the anger did. He reached out and took a few strands of her hair in between his fingers. Alfre stood impossibly still as he lifted the strands to his nose, inhaling the smell of Wonderland and winter in her hair. “Thank you, snowbird.”