Categories > Original > Fantasy
Chapter 1
Scarlet Tears
It was hardly morning, but the sun had risen and was shining bright. Already the life was everywhere. The sun was painfully quick to abandon this land, and in the winter it all but disappeared. If you were going to live at all, you had to live now.
No one knew this better than the sleeping guardian in the valley. He awoke with a yawn and emerged from the rocks that sheltered him. This “man” was a mere five years to this life, but he was worth centuries more. Nothing truly surprised him anymore.
So it was about time something interesting happened. The guardian stood rigid. The valley was well known for the strength of its wind, but this felt entirely different. The wind was…restless, maybe. There was no word to correctly describe it. It simply instilled in him the desire to run as fast as he could, but not in a good way. The strange breeze, oddly enough for the region, held no chill; nevertheless, shudders coursed through the soldiers body.
The source of the disturbance was suddenly realized. Now he felt foolish in not thinking of it before. It was the house. The house had been built on…ritual ground. Many strange symbols traced into the dust before their lines were washed away by the rain. Unfortunately, water from the saint’s own glass couldn’t wash away their shadow. This was not the Packs ground, so they had no liberty to it. They could only watch as the white men built a house over the centre. It was big enough for a family. This had not gone unnoticed by the elders.
Now was the time to disregard borders entirely. The little white-faced things were nothing special; they wouldn’t notice. Extremely insensitive to their world considering what they believed they were doing. The warrior glanced back at the rest of the pack. They were all sleeping peacefully in the nest of broken limestone. The elder lay beside his wife snoring. The elder would not be with them for long, but the pack wasn’t worried. He would return to them soon.
The soldier’s eyes hardened once more as he prepared for the task at hand. He’d assess the situation before alarming the others. Now looking straight forward he inhaled deeply, crouched slightly as if preparing to pounce, and let the energy build up within him. He was off like a shot, and the trees around him blurred to a single hue of green. Even for a Wolf-soul he was swift. The journey would be short.
His footsteps and country being all too familiar; he allowed his thoughts to drift. There were going to be people actually living in that condemned house. He would do anything in his power to get them to leave. It was for their own good.
He hoped that they wouldn’t find it too un-neighbourly.
Scarlet Tears
It was hardly morning, but the sun had risen and was shining bright. Already the life was everywhere. The sun was painfully quick to abandon this land, and in the winter it all but disappeared. If you were going to live at all, you had to live now.
No one knew this better than the sleeping guardian in the valley. He awoke with a yawn and emerged from the rocks that sheltered him. This “man” was a mere five years to this life, but he was worth centuries more. Nothing truly surprised him anymore.
So it was about time something interesting happened. The guardian stood rigid. The valley was well known for the strength of its wind, but this felt entirely different. The wind was…restless, maybe. There was no word to correctly describe it. It simply instilled in him the desire to run as fast as he could, but not in a good way. The strange breeze, oddly enough for the region, held no chill; nevertheless, shudders coursed through the soldiers body.
The source of the disturbance was suddenly realized. Now he felt foolish in not thinking of it before. It was the house. The house had been built on…ritual ground. Many strange symbols traced into the dust before their lines were washed away by the rain. Unfortunately, water from the saint’s own glass couldn’t wash away their shadow. This was not the Packs ground, so they had no liberty to it. They could only watch as the white men built a house over the centre. It was big enough for a family. This had not gone unnoticed by the elders.
Now was the time to disregard borders entirely. The little white-faced things were nothing special; they wouldn’t notice. Extremely insensitive to their world considering what they believed they were doing. The warrior glanced back at the rest of the pack. They were all sleeping peacefully in the nest of broken limestone. The elder lay beside his wife snoring. The elder would not be with them for long, but the pack wasn’t worried. He would return to them soon.
The soldier’s eyes hardened once more as he prepared for the task at hand. He’d assess the situation before alarming the others. Now looking straight forward he inhaled deeply, crouched slightly as if preparing to pounce, and let the energy build up within him. He was off like a shot, and the trees around him blurred to a single hue of green. Even for a Wolf-soul he was swift. The journey would be short.
His footsteps and country being all too familiar; he allowed his thoughts to drift. There were going to be people actually living in that condemned house. He would do anything in his power to get them to leave. It was for their own good.
He hoped that they wouldn’t find it too un-neighbourly.
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