Chapter 0.1

Introduction of sorts.

Rain viciously pelted onto the soft grass, icing the blades with its touch. With a resounding boom, lightning split the dark sky, illuminating the entire valley in a blinding light only to be immediately replaced by a deep darkness. In the brief second of light, a figure on top of a small hill could be seen, battling the dark world around him. The figure was wearing a rusted beaten knight’s armor. It did not seem logical to use these wears because it appeared to be very frail and desecrated. Heavy rain poured onto the form that moved gradually down a grassy knoll. He ran desperately, as if deeply pressured to reach his destination as fast as he could. Breath escaped the slits of his busted helmet. Icy clouds sustained in the air, dancing around the falling rain drops. The sound of clanking metal and pounding footsteps fought with the fury of the storm around him. A bellowing roar struck through the air as a beast emerged from the top of the hill. A great monster stood valiant, watching the man run from its predecessor. Fur outlined the body of the creature, displaying its rippling muscular structure, displaying huge hands with clawed talons at the end of each finger. Its heavy frame supported on spindly front arms, thin but taught and a pair of massive rear legs. The beast haunched itself and breathed deeply, sucking in the freezing air. A sound unbelievably loud cut through the roar of the storm, spilling over the hills for any to hear. Haunting green eyes followed him through the dark, the beast raised a furred paw and it fell heavily towards the ground, shaking the earth beneath them. 

The knight turned at this action, and prepared himself for the beast to charge once more upon him. However, the animal turned from on top of the knoll and proceeded down the opposite side. The creature disappeared from sight and the knight figured it had tired with the game. The knight sank heavily to his knees as exhaustion overtook his body. A heavy gash above his eyebrow flowed blood, his body ached from wounds beneath the armor, hopefully nothing too serious. 

The fight left him sore and weak, it was for a foolish reason anyways. the knight had been walking down the road and it began to rain heavily, searching for proper shelter, he ventured into a cave. Unbeknownst to him it was occupied by that creature. It did not take kindly to him wandering around its domain, so it viciously attacked him and chased him through the valley until it was satisfied with the whole game of cat and mouse. The knight refused to fight back however. Strapped to his side was a broad sword. The handle struck from a flawless scabbard designed intricately with swirlish designs. Even through the fight, he refused to take it in his hand and retaliate. His entire life, he has kept the sword close by him waiting to be used for a fight, but it has never seen the light of day in his hands. No one knows why but this is because no one has been close enough to the knight to venture to ask. This is how his life has been, taking the fight and bearing it, never trying to help himself but fighting back his tormentors. Rain continued to fall heavily to the ground, pelting the knight in his weak moment, trying to regain his strength to carry on. With a grunt of effort, he hefted himself back onto his feet and stood, taking in what had just happened to him. His eyes stared through the gap in his helmet, he breathed heavily. The drops crawled through the gaps and cracks in his armor, chilling him to the bone. A dim light began to burrow into the view of the knight. It was faint, but definate. Growing hope that there may be a barn or house to lodge in, he began to walk towards the light. As he neared the glow, a silhouette began to envelope the light, portraying the shape of a shack like establishment. It was just as it appeared, a worn shack made of wood that appeared to be falling apart in a decrepit form. It seemed to barely able to stand against the storm’s force but with an ancient will remained seated in the waving grass. The light emitted into the darkness was a candle placed by the edge of a window. It flickered with life and danced on the other side of the glass, taunting the rain to extinguish its existence. The battered knight reached the door and knocked on the old wood. He half expected it to collapse or crumble under the weight of his fist. It remained and he knocked twice with his heavy leathered hand. There was no movement inside the cabin, he heard no noise beside the howling wind and pattering rain around him. Again he braved a knock and waited for any kind of reply. Receiving no answer he moved to the window to try and see if someone was just sleeping or could not hear him. Anxiously, he peered into the glass and took in the scene of the hut. The entirety of the ground was covered in a thin layer of dust. Everything present in the house was lying abandoned by time, nothing stirred or moved, no noise was made. The only disturbance of the dust was a trail of small barefoot prints leading from the edge of the door to the candle inside the window. Someone came and lit the candle, but did not disturb any other part of the house. There seemed to be no reason why anyone would do this, but it seemed quite rude to disturb the serenity of the cabin.

A loud clap of thunder quickly convinced the knight of leaving behind this small abode. He turned the old copper knob and the door silently opened. He expected to have a fight with opening the door or have to hear an outrageous noise of squeaking and age as it opened. He firmly stepped inside the hut and shut the door behind him. The rain outside sounded mute from the thick wood of the walls. It was oddly peaceful. The flame threw his shadow onto the far wall and it danced intently, glad to be out of that rain and could now rest. 

A small bed resided in the far corner of the small square room, the only other things present was a rock fireplace with a hefty amount of wood chopped next to it, a small table beside the door with the candle on its surface, an ancient chest at the foot of the bed and several small wood boxes scattered along the walls and floor. The knight didn't want to disturb anything from its place, but a severe fatigue began to take over his body, he felt heavy and numb from his wounds and the cold weather. His footsteps took him towards the fireplace, small clouds of dust buffed from beneath his heavy boot, the metal of his armor clanked and filled the air with an unpleasant noise. 

‘Why did someone just come in here to light a candle? Where are they now? What is the place?’ These thoughts flew around his head as he walked about the small room. First things first, he had to get situated with his wounds, a warm fire would help too. Bending onto the dusted ground, he brought several sticks of kindling and large blocks of previously chopped wood that had resided beside the fireplace. There was ash coating the entire mouth of the fireplace, it was obviously well used, but held onto a substantial amount of dust that stated otherwise. He tenderly placed the kindling on the ashed pile and reached into a leather pouch tied around his waist. From it, he produced two ember stones. They glowed as he began to rub their surfaces together. Sparks erupted from the contact, their rough surfaces became warm with the action. He sparked the rocks closer to the starter wood pile and it caught a light flame. Putting the rocks back into the pouch he had produced them from, he tentatively blew onto the sparks, a small flame spread through the bundle of sticks. Eating up the fibrous wood greedily. The knight expertly built up a roaring fire in minutes, adding the large blocks carefully at to not extinguish the flame. It lapped hungrily at his gloved hands, but he received no damage from its touch. 

Standing, he was satisfied with his work. The flame began to spread a warmth through the cabin and into his body. His shadow enriched itself onto the walls, contacting every crevice and seam of the cabin. Falling backwards onto the bed, a giant cloud of dust puffed into the air around him, throwing him into a long coughing fit. Now that he had a fire going to warm the air, now he must asses the damage done to him by the creature that chased him. Tentatively, he released the leather straps on the rusted helmet on his head, flipping the visor up, it revealed a young man’s face. He removed the helmet and placed it next to him on the bed. It lopped to one side sadly. His skin was a dark olive color, and had deep black hair that shook gently as he moved to remove the rest of his armor. His features were sharp, warm brown eyes glowed lightly in the light of the fire. A long scar fell crudely over his right eye, giving him a grievous look, menacing even. Removing his breast place, he winced from a new found pain. The black cloth covering him was coated thick in sweat, dirt, and blood. He peeled it from the skin to reveal a sharp gash in his side. It oozed dark red blood, greedily running through his fingertips. With a harsh motion, the man sucked in his breath and removed his shirt. Stretching up to do so caused the wound to enflame in pain. He threw the sopping shirt onto the ground and it hit with a goopy splat. The skin showing was a dark olive, his arms rippled with taunt muscles, his midsection was pleasantly sculpted and firm to the touch. His back was covered in old scars, running from slight wounds too deep gashes that reached deep into his flesh. Sculpted arms also bore the marks of beatings, and he held many scars on his skin. To what caused these wounds, it is unknown. He proceeded to remove the armor covering him, laying it close to the bed, incase it was to be summoned in a hurry. The fire lit the edges of his body, accentuating the taut muscular physique he possessed. He was very handsome in physical stature and facial features. removing a cloth from the pouch he carries on his back, he held it tentatively against his wound. It quickly stained red as the blood continued to flow, he knew he would have to stop the bleeding immediately of it could mean his life. Blood specks dropped onto the ground, dust dispersing on the contact. His body shuddered and he saw darkness creeping into his field of vision. He widened his eyes and tried to take deep breaths, attempting to bide away the dark closing into his mind. Failing to stop the progression, it enveloped his sight and the shack vanished. He blacked out from blood loss. 

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A sharp pain jarred the knight’ eyes wide open, his side was engulfed in a wretched fiery pain. His hand moved down to hold the wound, but was met with the soft cotton of a medical bandage. 

‘That wasn’t there before he blacked out was it?’ he inquired to his own thoughts. ‘Someone came into the cabin and bandaged my wound. Where are they now?’ 

He proceeded to look around the cabin, a smooth aroma made his mouth water. 

‘When was the last time he had eaten anything?’ His arms hefted behind him and propped up his upper body so he could examine what had changed about the room. Dust still coated the walls, the tables, every box against the wall. There was a big cast iron pot snuggled on a cooking split by the fire, that still raged courageously. The pot contained something, food most likely, that was what filled the cabin with these scents. He looked down to where he had last lain his armor when he took it off. It was missing. The scuffed floor held no sign of his rusted contrapionaries of protection. In a panic to find his most missing stuff, he shoved himself from the bed, the movevent send a shock of pain through his side, his head throbbed from the pain, but he refused to sit, he must find his armor. His vision blurred slightly as each stroke of pain hit through his head, sweat began to collect on his brow from the effort. His feet fell heavily as he made his way about the cabin, looking around desperately, he must not be without his armor. Just then, in his frenzy of searching, he noticed something etched in the dust of the floor.  Small footprints. They ran around on the ground, showing the owner was barefoot and quite dainty. They sat delicately beside his mighty boot prints. 

‘They must belong to who ever patched me up, and stole my armor,’ he thought slightly angry at himself for passing out and letting all this happen. He followed the footprints with his fading vision, they had spread about the cabin, but he could tell that the last place they carried the bearer to was out the door. His feet fell heavily against the ground, destroying the evidence of the smaller footprints. The door opened and rays of sun light dotted the ground between the layers of dark clouds in the sky. The green grass rose tall and fresh from the watering last night. He began to walk about the sides of the cabin, following the edges all the way around to see if the unknown person had just been on the side. He leaned heavily on his arm that was outstretched onto the side of the cabin to support him. The chill air lapped at his exposed skin, the scars on him began to tense, he disliked being so exposed, what if someone came by? The pants he wore were the only thing covering his mighty build, but they didn't do much in the way of protection, and that was what he was most worried about. He had to find whatever little pissant that was deciding to screw with him and teach them it's not nice to take people’s things, even if they did bandage you up in the first place. The grass rippled in the wind, rolling like waves on the far east plains, The knight saw in the distance, the knoll the beast had turned back on the night before. Becoming ever more irritable at all that was happening, he held onto the wound on his side with his mighty paw of a hand, and walked from the cabin. Large oak trees stood valiantly roughly 100 feet from the cabin. They stretched high into the sky and stood wide. It was an odd way to see trees, they just seemed to start in a straight line, and spread to the North and South, as far as the eye could see. There was a bubbling noise coming from the forest, it sounded like running water. The knight licked his parched lips and decided that he would continue to search for the person as soon as he got a bit of water. The footfalls thudded heavily as he passed the tall trees, The cold wind seemed to immediately stop blowing, he heard no noise. The leaves did not rustle, no birds flew into the treetops or called to one another. All he could hear was churning water from the stream. Anxiously, he proceeded forward into these new strange surroundings. His footfalls echoed strangely through the air, filling the silence with obviousness that he was not familiar with the forest. 

The wound in his side burned ever more with a rage of pain, he feared that he wound would reopen and he could pass out once more, but he needed to find his armor, it was a mistake to take it off. The bubbling of the stream encouraged him to further his quest. A soreness was spreading over his lips and he felt them pull tight and begin to crack from dehydration. That wouldn’t have happened from just one day. 

‘How long?’ He thought to himself. ‘How long had he been unconscious, left under the care of some unknown thieving source. Completely bare and exposed to their presence.’ That last though shook him hard. Knowing someone was that close to him without him knowing, and without the protection of his armor was a terrible reality to him. To late to do anything about the past though, he had to deal with what he had to do right now, get water, get armor, get out. That was the only thing on his mind as he swept a branch out of the way of  his face. The branch moved to reveal an oasis. 

The bubbling stream he had imagined was a fast moving graceful river, caressing the rocks gently as it tumbled over mini waterfalls. I deep pool collecting the runoff, the water was dark yet pure. Rich greenery sprung from every side of the water’s edge. Rocks lay strewn about the water, collecting algae, colliding with the smooth water. It was so peaceful and perfect, yet something wrong with everything. There wasn’t a soul in sight, no deer drinking from the water, or birds in the air. Not even a pesky insect to try and bite his sticky skin. All his wandering around was straining his body, maybe he was hurt worse than he originally thought. Better make all this quick, and get back so he can rest a little bit longer, then he would try and be on his way. Hobbling over to the stream's edge, he kneeled painfully and dipped his hand into the water. It wasn’t as inviting as it appeared, the water was ice cold, alarming to the touch was the least to say how it felt. It pricked hungrily as his skin, sending tiny pinches of pain through his whole arm. It didn’t seem possible for the stream to be so cold. The air around it was oddly warm and inviting, a summer haze even hung around him. With a thrust, he splashed the icy water onto his face, trying to wake himself from the pain coma he was approaching. It struck him hard, biting every inch of his already pained face. The shock of the cold recoiled his senses, and he sat stunned for a few seconds. His brain became sharper and he felt much more alert. He reached down once more into the icy depth of the water and scooped a handful to his parched mouth. He greedily drank the clear inviting liquid, as if it was his last drink of water.  

His head turned to watch a leaf float down the water’s current, it lazily bobbed in the stream and then was thrown under a violent under toe only to resurface to float once more down the water’s two faced surface. It continued down a couple yards, movement downstream broke his focus from the leaf. There was a person in the water just downstream of him, it was evident they haven't seen him, and he intended to keep it that way. His bare skin tensed with new found energy, his muscles tightened with anticipation. He lifted from the dewy grass and snuck into the woods behind him, taking care to make no sound. The leaves crunched delicately but quiet enough to pass by unnoticed, or so he at least hoped. Determined to get a closer look at this figure, he slunk along tree trunks and dove into the shadows given gratefully from the leaves above him. His efforts were tasking his body, but he tried not to pay any mind to the increasing fatigue and pain in his side. Between the trees, he caught a clear glimpse of the figure. It was a girl. 

She was knee deep in the icy depth of the calm pool flowing from the river. Her stature was small and slender, any movement from her was graceful and fluid like the water she stood in. Long purple hair fell in bouncy curls down her back. Pale skin broke against a gold colored dress that generously hugged her curvaceous form. Having the skirt hiked up and tied at the waist, to avoid getting it too wet, showed slender legs with taunt muscles just beneath the skin. Just by examining her, the knight knew she was nimble and was stronger than she appeared. Unfortunately, she was facing away from him, so he could not glimpse her face. A shimmer in the water beside her caught his eye. It appeared to be a sort of metal shape. Her slender arms reached into the water and pulled out a rusted old helmet, his helmet. 

‘She was the one who took his armor, who was in the cabin, who nursed him.’ He thought to himself hectically. All he cared about was getting the armor, not who she was or why she was helping him, not even why she appeared to be washing said armor. Without thinking, he stepped from the woods and stood quietly in plain sight. He cleared his throat loudly and took on a menacing look, maybe if he looked intimidating she would be easier to talk to about handing over his belongings. She however, took a less tactile route. 

The throat clearing noise startled her, she whipped around violently to face him, she stood in silence for a shocked moment. Unsure how to react to the intruder. Dropping the helmet, her mouth gaped open to try and speak but the only noise she could muster was slight squeaks. The knight’s mouth was also wide open, but for a different reason. When she had turned to face him, he had front row seats to her face. 

Pale skin glowed light in the sunbeams beside her, illuminating every feature. Dark lashes hugged around stormy blue-grey eyes, there were even pools of brown swimming in and out of the grey. It was breathtaking, her face was slender like the rest of her physique, lush lips sat gaped in a fear of his appearance. He felt something inside of him, a feeling he had never felt before. There was a desperation, a want to go to her, touch her velvety skin, caress her smooth face. 

The water splashed from the drop of the helmet and caught her in the face, getting her dress wet on the edges. She began to back away from him, water sloshing as she strode away, trying to hold her in place. He raised his hand, an attempt to calm her maybe, he did not understand why he did that himself. Her legs kicked mightily and lifted her from the water and onto the dry land of the opposite bay. There were little leather packs strewn about the edge of the water, hers he assumed. Hectically, she began to grab them and shove them in her arms. Suddenly she began to run away into the woods, her bare feet moved noiselessly against the ground, not even the leaves crunched under her foot. In a desperate attempt to stop her, the knight plunged himself into the freezing water. The icy water burrowed into him, chilling every inch of his body. The breath caught in his throat as he tried in vain to call out, Wait. She was far gone, purple hair flashed between the trees in the distance, but vanished from his sight. He stood in the freezing water, defeated in his attempt to catch her, although he had no idea why he wanted to. What would he have said if she didn’t run? Just 5 minutes ago, he was boiling over with rage at whatever little pissant had messed with him, but now he didn’t know how to feel. The water snapped him back to his senses, and he quickly grabbed all the pieces of armor and threw them to shore, they looked clean, still rusted and dented but free of dirt and blood. This was very pleasing, it had been quite a while since he had properly cleaned his armor, mainly because he refused to be without it. This was no special circumstance, without a shirt to separate him from the cold armor, he slipped into the metal. His wound was on fire and the pain was spreading, sweat dripped heavily from his forehead onto the ground. 

The whole process was very noisey, but eventually he had finished. The freezing metal stuck against his bare skin and jabbed him uncomfortably. Pondering if he should chase after the girl or not, he walked loudly out of the deep woods. 

‘Let’s just get back to the hut first,’ he told himself, ‘ check if my wound reopened and maybe eat that food.’ Glad to be back in the crunching armor, he approached the cabin. Strangely, there was a small basket in front of the door. It held ripe apples and a handwritten note with badly scrawled handwriting. He could barely make out just what it said, but it appeared to say, ‘Sorry.’ This was peculiar, but he made nothing of it at the time. Fever raced through his mind as he nearly collapsed onto the ground. Weakly, he hobbled towards the bed, absentmindedly leaving the door open, and the apples lay sadly abandoned and untouched. He fell heavily onto the mattress, the scent of food was mildly in the air, but it wasn’t hot anymore, even the fire was a small flame, struggling to stay awake. As was the wounded knight. Still in his armor, he lay down onto the bed. Only his helmet left his body as he dropped it onto the floor. He shifted uncomfortably but was soon asleep. 

The helmet gazed out the open door, its hollow eyes ringing as wind blew into them. It was positioned just right to see a girl skip quickly across the doorway, she noiselessly reached down and put small white flowers onto the table by the door. Barely disturbing the dust, then she escaped into the woods. Completely unseen by anything but the helmet that watched her silently enter the knights life with these small acts. But would it be for better or for worse? The wind whistled loudly as it blew through the cabin, empty yet hoping for life.