This is my very first attempt to write from two decades ago. There is nothing like it around, though the original was first posted to my blog years ago. It's not isekai, or transmigration. The first five chapters will be posted when properly edited. The rest will be posted on a monthly basis, while it will be updated weekly on patreon.

The dream was familiar as he had it every night since he's come on this trip. The heat of the campfire was gone, but the hunter was still quite warm under his blanket.

Furlon smiled, and felt a tug down low. His wife was sprawled out on their bed, half her nightclothes were already discarded, the other half were too thin to hide anything. The fur was casually draped over her belly, with a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. Her smooth muscular curves always made his mouth water.

His wife, Akeena, rolled over onto her belly, the fur blanket barely covered her bottom, while she smiled up at him. That mischievous grin on her lips made his heart thump harder in his chest.

“Come to bed, my husband. Make me warm.” Her voice was thick with the hunger she used against him like a dagger. He could never resist her.

A chill wind blew through the room and made him shiver, while his wife had beads of sweat appear on her brow. He couldn't shake the cold that swirled around his body, and a familiar anger filled his dream.

“Don't leave me, my husband. Please, don't go.” She begged him with her eyes, her lips, and her words. His dream faded, and reality came crashing in again.

When Akeena's image began to blur, he cried out in anger.

“NO!” Furlon held the fur blanket to his neck and stubbornly refused to give up the dream. Her dark brown eyes still shimmered with the tears she shed when he left. He wanted to comfort his wife, and feel the warmth of her desire spread over him.

The cold wind blew through his tent cruelly, and denied him this night of rest. It was his one luxury, his only comfort.

“Its been barely a seven night and I miss her so much!” Furlon sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, before growling lightly in his throat.

“Forgive me, Akeena, but I can't give up yet! I need to get something that will make this trip worthwhile!” His best friend called him a stubborn fool before he left, and warned him to stay away from the border.

He had no choice though. A good sized deer would have meant enough meat to supply his family for a month or so. He was a skilled armorer and could make just about anything with the hide he could tan as well.

His wounded pride refused to allow him to give up. The more he thought about his circumstances, the angrier he became.

“Son of a Kirosi!”* Furlon cursed aloud. His thoughts were anything but quiet, and his anger towards a man he considered a brother was still seething.

(Kirosi - cursed beast)

“Charity!” he spat. “I don't beg and I'm not crippled!” He growled in frustration, and anger.

“A few pieces, I can understand that. Even a year or two worth of extra gear! But piles of gear? Never!" The room he found at his best friend's place was the only story he listened to. Ta'rak had purchased gear he didn't need. It was an insult to his pride.

Furlon almost screamed in frustration.

“I will not run home, like a dog with my tail between my legs! I will not accept his charity!” Charity was for those too sick or lame to work. The thought that he had needed the help over the years was as bitter on his tongue as the tea the healer tried to feed them when they were young.

“I'll get a monster of a deer! I'll make him a muzzle with the leather from it too!” In spite of the anger he felt, Furlon had to laugh at the image of him trying to put a muzzle on his friend. It would be easier to try to put a leash on a bear.

He put a hand through his thick and wavy brown hair. He was still a young man, barely into his thirtieth winter, but his hair was already dotted with gray, as was his beard. He sighed as his hand dropped to his side.

He really missed his wife, Akeena. He felt like the Ancient had blessed him when he met her seven winters ago. Though her life had not been one of leisure, she hadn't complained once since the formal bonding ceremony not long after they met.

The chill in the air caused him to shiver, and to lift his eyes from the blanket. He was startled at the sight of the snow within the confines of his tent. The snow focused his attention like a splash of cold water in the face.

“Snow?! But its still Heiketa! The Kalsean snows are still a couple of moons away!” Heiketa is the season of decline leading up to Kalsea, the season of snow.

(Heiketa - Fall.  Kalsea - winter.  Moon - month measured by full moons)

“Snow at this time of year is unheard of!” He poked his head out from his tent, unable to hide the excitement in his eyes.

The forest was white! A fresh blanket of snow covered everything from the trees and bushes, down to the ferns and flowers still in bloom. The animals of the forest would have to dig through this carpet to get to the tender shoots of the vegetation underneath.

He smiled. These were good conditions for a hunter.

“Finally! The Ancient's blessing!” He emptied the snow that had found his shoes, and pulled the cold leather over his feet. His campfire had died down overnight and the coals had been buried.

“Hitto!” The curse fell from his lips easily, and he slapped a hand over his mouth out of habit. His wife always had something to say about his swearing.

(Hitto - damn)

“Ah, I have to rebuild it and get warmed up. Get my shoes dried off, and get a nice big buck.” He grimaced a bit, took his dagger and scraped the top of the snow away until he found the buried remnants of his fire. He had to blow on his fingers and warm them up a few times while he worked.

He took his tinder from his pack, a very dry fungus from a tree, and with his iron and hand stone, he put several sparks into the tinder. With a gentle breath, he was able to get the tinder to smoke, and finally to burn. Using some smaller dry sticks, it wasn't long before the coals were glowing again, and he could feed the fire into a nice warm blaze.

After the fire had warmed him, he ate a simple meal of dried rabbit with some dried fruit, and took another opportunity to examine his surroundings. The forest was a common mix of hardwoods and evergreens, birch, maple, and pine. The leaves were already starting to change color, which made the bright reds and oranges stand out vividly.

The rockier terrain this far north made it harder for saplings to grow through the soil. Some of the trees grew along the surface of the stone, their roots winding down into crevasses and cracks, but were easily blown over by strong storms. Where the soil had some depth, the trees grew much taller. Their massive sizes were legendary, and sought after throughout the kingdom. No one was willing to risk their lives on forestry this close to the border though.

After he finished his meal, Furlon put the quiver of arrows on his back, his dagger in his boot, and picked up his bow. He worked his way north, kept the wind on his face and stayed downwind from any potential target. It wasn’t long before he picked up the trail.

“Fresh tracks.” Furlon knelt down in the snow, and spotted the hole beneath the bushes. “Looks like it wanted the new growth.” The deer had torn and munched on the ends of the low growing bushes, but avoided the yew, which was poisonous to them.

(Some dispute this, but yew grew in my backyard, and the deer avoided it. They loved the hosta though)

For the better part of an hour, he stalked his prey, found other signs, such as a pile of dung that still steamed as it melted the snow. He was close.

A couple of hundred yards away, Furlon came upon a clearing. In the center of it stood the most beautiful sight he's seen in a long while. It was an enormous white tailed deer, almost too large to be real. Its fur had already started to thicken for Kalsea, and it sported a large rack of antlers.

“Thank you, Ancient.” He whispered his gratitude quietly. He lowered his head for only a brief moment, a quick show of respect for the being he was sure guided him to the prize he wanted to claim.

(Ancient - a traditional deity from their history, details lost over the centuries)

Furlon took deep slow breaths to calm himself before he grew too excited and alerted the deer. He edged closer. The bow was almost soundless but the twang from a bowstring could produce enough sound to startle his prey. That would turn a sweet spot kill into a flesh wound or make him miss altogether.

The excitement was almost too much to bear. This was the largest deer he's ever seen, and it was the first one he's seen on the trip. If it was his Path to hunt this deer, then he would bless and thank the Ancient for guiding it to him. Right now, he still had to rely on his skills to bring it down.

He edged closer while his feet crunched the new fallen snow. He slid an arrow from the quiver and notched it. The deer's head came up and cocked its ears to listen.

“Kirosi Skeida!” Furlon nearly smacked his hand over his mouth. He only whispered, but at the same time, he feared that his words would carry across the clearing.

(Kirosi Skeida - swearing, beast shit)

“Was I making that much noise?”

There was no time to wonder what happened though. The deer dug in its hooves, its spine bent like a bow ready to be fired, and like an arrow, it shot from its spot. Within only a few seconds, it had nearly reached its top speed.

It galloped full out like a spooked horse, and straight for Furlon. That deer looked to be nearly the size of a horse.

Those hooves would kill him instantly.