Olufsen Hale

Osvald dreams the dreams of a man pursued by fate, and death--and yet... in the vision's harshness; that pragmatic winter cold, Something stirred. A sense of... duty had come over the ranger, like a knife in the night. And as such, he would learn or he would die." After a near score of sleepless nights, Osvald finally remained awake to ponder what troubled him--which, of all his despicable deeds, was it his should rank as worst? After the moon grew fat and shed itself into the night, he realized he knew: It was no internal failure that troubled him, but rather that his deeds may carry on in vain. As it was, none remained of his name or line, and their stored past seemed set to pass into memory and myth. Osvald remain awake--terrified of the silent import of his stature as last of his line...

...

“There is no doubt that this threat has roots in the Small Teeth. The Harpers have one who rides with the Road Wardens of Imnescar. He is a ranger named Olufsen.”

Osvald’s ears perk up.., his heart skips a beat and he struggles to remain absorbed by his mead... Olufsen… a ranger of the Small Teeth, a road warden of Imnescar? It couldn’t be… The man must be... no... by now? ...Olufsen The Shadow? An older cousin of his, a Full Blood of the Hale clan. Osvald had not seen him since he was a boy… How would he react? Osvald had Fled years ago. Yet, Olufsen was a Ranger, Proper. The mountain man's head swam like a creek trout.

“Olufsen operates from The Fangwold, the road warden’s keep between Esmeltaran and Imnescar. Tell him I have sent you. He will offer you his aid, I am sure of it.”

Aid? From a cousin of myth? surely he would gladly offer Osvald an arrow to the gut and few words to ease his passing. Osvald swallowed hard, heart heavy, and loaded his mount for the trail ahead...