Chapter 12

We left the next morning, heading out at dawn when the sun was just reaching up over the tip of the land that grazed the sky so perfectly. The road led out of the town and on into the plain. We crossed it for a long time and eventually trees began to dot the area. Soon enough we had found our way into a forest. Rose and I talked a lot. I was surprised by how she conducted herself. She was confident, outgoing, and sensitive, but also very understanding.

"So," I began, "what's your thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone has at least one thing that they love to do and are good at. What's yours?"

She thought for a moment then answered, "Basketball. I love playing basketball."

I smiled, "I'm no good at that. I never could make any shots unless I was right beside the hoop. I hate to admit that, but I'm not very coordinated with a ball."

"You're probably better than you think."

We laughed and I replied, "No, I'm really bad."

"What about you? What's your thing?" She looked at me expectantly.

"I'm a poet, and I actually train with a sword daily in real life."
She seemed surprised, "Really? That's interesting. And a poet? How long have you been writing?"

I thought for a second, "About six years, I think."

She grinned, "Can you tell me a poem?"

Her request, though not surprising, still felt like I was being exploited in front of a thousand people. It was so sudden and my brain began flipping through mental pages in search of something that might impress her. Finally I remembered one that I felt I wanted to share.


With my tears falling fast
I leap down from the bridge
and my fears fade away
as I descend from the ledge.
Crashing down through the air
my white feathers fall free.
Even angels can die
and now the whole world gets to see.


"It's about an angel," I explained, "and he loves someone he feels he can be with and so he falls to his death."

"That's sad, but beautiful." She seemed to be impressed, and I could feel the sense of accomplishment rising within me. "I could never write anything like that though."

"I bet you could. Do you have any siblings? "

She nodded, "My sister."

"What is your relationship with her like?"

She seemed surprised by my question, but answered, "We've always been so close. I love her a lot. We do all kinds of things together. When she's with me I feel whole, and when she's gone I feel like a part of me is missing."

I smiled at my achievement, "That was a good poem."

She smiled back, realizing what I had gotten her to do. Her cheeks blushed a little and she laughed.

"You just became a poet," I said.

We laughed together and I began to notice a sensation of peace taking root inside my chest. It felt good, and it scared me.

From up ahead we began to hear loud banging and shouts. Alert, we ran up the road, going around a long bend until we saw the source of the commotion: a line of five trade caravans being attacked. Players rushed forward to attack a group of three creatures I had never seen before.

They were like men, tall, with massive muscles covered in leathery olive skin. Each had large dark eyes and huge clawed hands. Their bodies were hunched over and their arms and legs had thick brown hair. Small horns curled from the temples of their bull shaped skulls.

"What are they?" I asked.

Rose opened her menu and equipped her sword and bow. She used a rapier, the long thin blade had silver lines swirling down it from point to hilt, the same design of her bow. "They're called Brutes." She drew her blade and took off into the fight.

The beasts were much larger than any of the players. They towered over them, swatting away their weapons and knocking them back with ease. They howled and grunted.

I joined the fight, helping the players escape from the Brutes. They were low levels, no match for creatures like this. One of the Brutes lunged at me and I dodged the blow. They were powerful. One hit would deal me significant damage, but they were too slow. I easily evaded their claws and fists, ducking and leaping out of the way while cutting them as I went. Soon one of them was dead, then two, killed by me and a few of the players.

I looked over at the last one and saw that Rose fought alone. She was dancing with it, leaping over a low kick, twirling beneath a slash from it's claws, weaving around it and stabbing. She was lethal, precise, graceful. Each movement another step to the melody of battle. I had never seen anyone fight like that. The beast pounded its fist into the ground and she spun out of the way, raising her sword and cutting downward as she came to a stop, her blade slicing through the Brute's chest, killing it. She sheathed her sword and turned to face me. I nodded in silent admiration.

One of the players came toward us, a stocky man with a bald head and short brown beard. His eyes were sensitive and kind. "We appreciate your help," he said to us, "We couldn't have done it without you."

I bowed, "We were glad to help."

"Where are you taking the caravans?" Rose asked.

"To Griffon Wing, just a days journey East of here."

"That's where we're going. We can go with you, it'll be safer with more of us."

"My name is Horthal," the man said, "And we'd be happy to have you along."