vous, who knew exactly what they were doing here, was crossing the Northern Wastes: a nearly lifeless space left to forever-snow. They heard a distant call, perhaps a scream. Definitely a voice... They followed it, and it became clearer. "Gaera! Gaera!" was the word.
Finally, vous reached the spot: between stones, on ice, lay a giant walrus, dead. Its frame was wounded in many spots, and a spear lied nearby on the snow. It seems in its final moment, the walrus's giant tusk had pierced the leg of the source of the voice — a strange white-haired elf — who was trying to cut away the tusk to free her leg and calling for help, it seemed. Was "Gaera" a word?
vous descended and came into view of the elf. Helka's eyes met vous's, and she froze. Her stare was shocked-empty — the first person she had seen since her mother died hundreds of years ago.
Helka's voice was shy and trembling, "Helka... needs help... leg trapped. You... help?" She looked desperate, her gaze flickering between vous and her leg. "Gaera... not here... Helka... alone."
