Post by redhale on Sept 1, 2010 3:36:37 GMT -5
It isn't easy to live for two, but the weight of another's soul is a burden often carried by the denizens of the world, and it was a weight Redhale felt for many years of his life. Since losing his brother among the rocks in the West the young man sought to make up for the other's lost time, and it didn't take long for him to decide that the best way to do that would be to stay alive himself, no matter what. As he fumbled his way through the final foothills of the mountains, fleeing from the final resting place of his sibling, his mind was filled with an agonizing fit of misery, the world immediately a lonely place for such a small boy. He hadn't quite yet come to realize that being alone meant having no responsibilities, no need for allies. He didn't yet know that it was loneliness which would keep him alive.
After a day and a half of moving as fast as his feet could carry him, which meant about a day of just about crawling, Redhale hit the tree line, and despite the multitude of shadows which could have been harboring more nasty surprises the boy felt at safe, nestled in an environment similar to home, if where he had been born could sill be considered home after spending more time away than he had in Sage. He scaled a tree without even bothering to scavenge for food and slept nestled in an elbow of a branch for a good long while, waking to find the sun in almost exactly the same position as it had been the day before. The first thing he did with his new life of lonely freedom, after descending from the tree, was estimate how far the sun had moved since he fell asleep (three degrees was the figure he settled on, which meant at least a day had passed.) Shortly after he began to rummage for food.
The half elf made his way slowly through the next section of his journey, catching his food every day by making use of what he learned from his time with the mages, creating illusions of animals, mimicking mating calls, and following his mother's rules of bringing his food to his mouth, not the other way around. The forest nurtured him as it had in his early years, and each day he thought of returning to that home, and his parents, though each day the guilt of leaving his brother caused him to remain on the run. In fact, not a soul was met on his journey for near a year, and the first person who did meet his eye could never have been prepared to meet him.
The problem with making contact with another was that he simply couldn't trust a stranger. He had spent so long by himself, playing the events which had left him alone over and over in his head, sure that with time the beasts would track him down and finish what they had started, and that was the thought which came to mind when he saw the distinctive outline of another person wandering through the trees. Instantly he dropped to his belly, and while it had been almost a year since the terrible massacre it seemed to his panicking mind as though the beasts had only taken a few days to catch up with him. Soon they would spy him, and then he would be done, sucked dry and left to rot in the depths of the forest. As he slunk forwards, intent on ensuring his survival, it never occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't so deep in the forest, perhaps there was a road not a minutes walk away, perhaps the person he had spotted was of no threat to him.
Even as he crept up on the figure, even as he let down upon them like some jungle tiger taking out prey, he didn't really see the poor soul who had stumbled upon him. Even as he shoved a fistful of fire down their throat he didn't hear the screams which were trying to force their way out against the scalding magic flames. Even as he removed the head to ensure the thing wouldn't come back to life he didn't see the tear streaked face of the innocent. It wasn't until he began to dig the grave in an effort to cover his tracks that he saw that this body didn't have the twisted face and corrupted skin of the undead beings who had attacked him so long ago, but instead wore long blond hair, now choked with the first few handfuls of dirt he had thrown into the pit. The woman, while perhaps a few years beyond himself, had been no being of ancient evil, just a traveller, undoubtedly moving with a caravan as well. The thought of her friends looking for her shattered any sympathy he might have suffered and brought him right back into survival mode. The thought of what they might do to a savage wanderer, a murderer, made clear what he had to do. He had promised to himself, and his brother, that he would live.
All that was left behind after this first meeting with civilization was the burnt husk of a stagecoach and several shallow graves marked only with the grim sentiment, "I didn't know them."
After a day and a half of moving as fast as his feet could carry him, which meant about a day of just about crawling, Redhale hit the tree line, and despite the multitude of shadows which could have been harboring more nasty surprises the boy felt at safe, nestled in an environment similar to home, if where he had been born could sill be considered home after spending more time away than he had in Sage. He scaled a tree without even bothering to scavenge for food and slept nestled in an elbow of a branch for a good long while, waking to find the sun in almost exactly the same position as it had been the day before. The first thing he did with his new life of lonely freedom, after descending from the tree, was estimate how far the sun had moved since he fell asleep (three degrees was the figure he settled on, which meant at least a day had passed.) Shortly after he began to rummage for food.
The half elf made his way slowly through the next section of his journey, catching his food every day by making use of what he learned from his time with the mages, creating illusions of animals, mimicking mating calls, and following his mother's rules of bringing his food to his mouth, not the other way around. The forest nurtured him as it had in his early years, and each day he thought of returning to that home, and his parents, though each day the guilt of leaving his brother caused him to remain on the run. In fact, not a soul was met on his journey for near a year, and the first person who did meet his eye could never have been prepared to meet him.
The problem with making contact with another was that he simply couldn't trust a stranger. He had spent so long by himself, playing the events which had left him alone over and over in his head, sure that with time the beasts would track him down and finish what they had started, and that was the thought which came to mind when he saw the distinctive outline of another person wandering through the trees. Instantly he dropped to his belly, and while it had been almost a year since the terrible massacre it seemed to his panicking mind as though the beasts had only taken a few days to catch up with him. Soon they would spy him, and then he would be done, sucked dry and left to rot in the depths of the forest. As he slunk forwards, intent on ensuring his survival, it never occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't so deep in the forest, perhaps there was a road not a minutes walk away, perhaps the person he had spotted was of no threat to him.
Even as he crept up on the figure, even as he let down upon them like some jungle tiger taking out prey, he didn't really see the poor soul who had stumbled upon him. Even as he shoved a fistful of fire down their throat he didn't hear the screams which were trying to force their way out against the scalding magic flames. Even as he removed the head to ensure the thing wouldn't come back to life he didn't see the tear streaked face of the innocent. It wasn't until he began to dig the grave in an effort to cover his tracks that he saw that this body didn't have the twisted face and corrupted skin of the undead beings who had attacked him so long ago, but instead wore long blond hair, now choked with the first few handfuls of dirt he had thrown into the pit. The woman, while perhaps a few years beyond himself, had been no being of ancient evil, just a traveller, undoubtedly moving with a caravan as well. The thought of her friends looking for her shattered any sympathy he might have suffered and brought him right back into survival mode. The thought of what they might do to a savage wanderer, a murderer, made clear what he had to do. He had promised to himself, and his brother, that he would live.
All that was left behind after this first meeting with civilization was the burnt husk of a stagecoach and several shallow graves marked only with the grim sentiment, "I didn't know them."