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My partner has begun writing a story about the events leading up to the Space Wolf Lycka's (pronounced 'Luca' and meaning 'luck) internment into a Dreadnought based on the Dread she actually fields of the same name, this is essentially the prologue to it and she'd greatly appreciate feedback. This is also her first attempt at writing in the 40k universe.
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Prologue
The wind swayed delicately through the thick, black trees, moaning softy as it flowed, carrying its icy chill along with it. The frozen fog hung stubbornly in the air, daring any man to try and see what dangers lie beyond it. The wind danced through it gracefully as it sang out to any who would listen; settling on the ears of one, solitary man. He moved his head slightly, almost as if to acknowledge the wind's presence. The man had been out in the wilds for weeks and had learned to trust the whispers that the wind carried. Its icy touch caressed his face and swayed his long, matted hair as he walked. She had nothing of note for him today, he concluded, heaving his legs through the snow. The bitter temperatures he was traversing would have killed a normal man after only a few days, but since he had arrived there, he had felt less and less like a normal man.
His mind couldn't recall distinctly what had let him to his present situation. A bitter fight had broken out between a rival tribe and his own; he had fought fiercely for his honour and for his brothers. Two strangely clad men had descended on him after the fight had been won. He knitted his brow, trying to remember the following events. Through the gloom of his memories, he remembered the strange men taking him to a mighty fortress, then a great feast was held in his honour. The last memory he could retrieve after that was waking up in a desolate forest; unclothed and with only a spear and dagger to defend himself with. His vision was blurred, every part of his his body had ached relentlessly. The burning pain he felt rippling through his body had kept him warm for hours in the frozen wastelands. The man staggered for hours, trying desperately to make sense of what had happened to him, but one thing continually forced its way into his mind: 'Get back to them'.
The pain in him had deadened after several days of wandering, leaving him feeling stronger and more mentally focused than before. His mind traced back to his first few days out in the wilderness.
The wind swayed around him, telling him all of her secrets. He stood sternly in the snow, trying to ignore the icy needles she had brought with her. He clutched his spear as she whispered, his nose and ears interpreting her warning; telling him he was in danger. He took in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, his eyes absent-mindedly tracing around the curves of his breath hanging in the cold air. The wolf struck quickly from behind, leaping out of its hiding place; its teeth bared. The man fell into the snow, raising his spear to stab at its heart. The wolf's mighty jaws snapped through the wooden staff, splintering it under its strength. Their impact shook the trees surrounding them, they fell to the snow-covered earth with a damp and heavy thud. The teeth of man and wolf bared alike, they fought bitterly; each one desperately trying to land the killing blow. The wolf's mighty paws clawed relentlessly in front of the man's face as he struggled under its weight; reaching for the remains of his spear. A deafening howl echoed out through the trees as he plunged it deep into the wolf's chest. Its struggling diminished as the seconds passed; the light slowly draining from its black eyes. The man climbed out from underneath his unexpected quarry and examined it cautiously, assuring himself it was dead.
The man pulled his pelt closer to his chest as he continued to wander, recalling his fight with the wolf. From that moment, he was sure he had changed. Something had made him stronger, something had enhanced his senses to the point of his mind nearly not being able to cope. And, no matter how far he had travelled, his goal had remained the same: 'Get back to them'.
Several more days passed in the blistering cold, in the distance, his eyes could just make out the citadel, dimmed by the horizon. He had fought through hell to get as far as he had, and now his destination was in sight, he would not be stopped. His legs burned as he walked, forcing them onwards as the towering spire grew closer.
The man stood at the grand gates, his brow furrowed in uncertainty as his weary eyes traced over the men before him; clad in strange armour. He could barley believe his ears as the men erupted in cheer; welcoming him into his new family: The Space Wolves.
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