A Quiet Crossroads (Lake Baikal, Siberia)

[Sören]

Of course she argued.

Another rune assault unleashed, but he could only harry the creature’s advance for so long. “Jävla helvete, it’s not attacking me though is it!”

There was no fault in Kemala’s ignorance, but Sören snarled for how slowly she packaged away her pride in favour of action. It was not the time for enlightenment, and she could chew his ear off later if she wished; right now, it was a moment for survival. Fortunately he felt the instant she complied, though only because he was waiting for the tells. Expression fierce and expectant he guarded the moment with a focus on the creature, fist held tight, ready to act. He expected its attack to cease, as had the monster in Roopkund’s lake when the provocation was removed, but it wasn’t as though his assumption was without risk. Sören knew he wouldn’t die here, but he was reluctant to send Kemala to a watery grave just to test a hypothesis.

The creature dived almost immediately. As quickly as it had appeared, only the pink frothy remains of its blood and the tumultuous lake surface betrayed its surfacing before them.

Sören’s ragged breathing calmed. He waited a moment longer before he turned to Kemala. Clearly the shield of his body had been good for keeping her dry, he noted in irritation; Sören himself was soaked through, having taken the brunt. Fortunately he was also better dressed for the weather. “We have not sunk,” he observed. Clearly the lash of her tongue would follow; it felt prudent to point out before she had the chance.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded to know. He didn’t think so. Fear had frozen her solid before, yet for how quickly it thawed to the heat of her temper he suspected she was fine. But Declan’s fate made its haunt.

[[swedish is just a curse]]