Awakening (2)

A soft fire burned in the middle of a clearing. The trees overhead blocked what little light hung in the sky, and so it was hard to tell whether it was day or not..

Beside the fire a man hummed cheerily. His emblazoned red tunic fit snugly, and the warmth of his cloak made the chill in the air unnoticeable. He sat on a hewed stump, and held a large lute in one hand and a cleaning cloth in the other.

His green eyes were cheerful as he pushed his long brown hair out of the way. He wasn't alone, there was a young girl sitting across the fire.. She hadn't said anything in hours though, since she stumbled into the camp..

He hadn't said much other, apart from trying to strike friendly conversation. She didn't seem to want to talk about anything at all, so he stopped trying after awhile..

The smell of stew wafted in the air.. dinner was nearly ready. The girl's eyes were fixated on the simple pot over the fire. He could see the hunger in them. He turned his attention back to the lute as he hummed. It was a beautiful piece.. Old.. made of the wood of a tree long since extinct.. It was his treasure, his heart, his soul...

"Aah... I think our other guest has finally arrived!" He announced suddenly. He looked at the girl who gave him a questioning look behind her long black hair. He half smiled then turned his head towards the dark forest beyond the light of the fire..

Moments passed, with no sound but the crackling of the fire, before a faint rustling could be heard.. The rustling increased and then movement could be seen at the edge of the wood. All at once a young boy came stumbling out of the forest, dripping wet and covered in dried blood. The crimson was a sharp contrast to his pale skin, and he limped badly.

The Bard set his lute down carefully before standing. He stood waiting patiently, and watched the boy struggle to cross the dozen feet or so to the fire.

The young lad's blue eyes were distant, tired, and carried a hint of insanity. His short brown hair matted with dirt, water, and blood.. He had been through a lot.. That was clear..

As the boy neared the fire the Bard said cheerfully, "Come! Join us! dinner is almost ready."

The boy didn't seem to hear, or if he did he didn't respond at all. He merely stopped just shy of the fire and collapsed, falling flat on his face. The girl seemed shaken up at the whole thing, her eyes darting from the boy, to the bard, back to the fragrant stew cooking in the pot.

"Aah well, he can eat when he wakes." The bard said. Without saying another word he unclasped his cloak and laid it carefully over the collapsed boy. He then turned back to his seat, sat down, and began to clean his lute as if nothing had happened...

...

The night was long. Truth be told, he couldn't tell if it was night or day. Since he slept then, he called it night.. The first day wasn't bad.. The hunger wasn't at its peak. He drank the river water, and it tasted clean and refreshing.. But the cold...

The cold threatened to stop his heart on occasion. It was omnipresent. The boy shivered around the tiny campfire on the small bank. He wasn't sure what else he could do.. There was nowhere to go. He could try and swim in the icy cold water, and probably die.. Or he could try and climb the slick cliff face, and probably die..

Either way he didn't budge an inch for three whole days, not until the hunger really set in..

"Rumbleeee" his empty stomach lurched. He frowned and rubbed it idly, as if it would quiet it down.. As if it would make the pain go away. It didn't of course.. He had had enough. If he didn't do something he would die on the small beach.

It wasn't the first time the though had occurred. He is scouted out what he could. The boy had taken note of all the surroundings.. Only one spot seemed viable, but even that was a long shot.

Across the river, where the water met the stone, was a cracked area of the cliff face. It left small intentions and holds by which he could climb.. Although to call them holds was an overstatement. It was much more apt to say they were cracks..

He would have attempted it already if they were on his side of the river. The fear of having to swim in the icy black water sent shivers down his spine. Plus, how would he manage to climb soaking wet???

The hunger sunk in deeper and before long he was chest deep in the frigid river. All reason was gone. It was do or die.. and he really, really didn't want to die. He still didn't have any answers as to who he was.. no memories.. no goal... Several times on the island he wondered if it wouldn't be such a bad thing to just let the currents take him to his fate..

But he didn't.. he chose to live another day, to fight, because deep down he wanted to live.. Deep down he did have a goal: survive. Eat. Sleep. Make it out of this hellhole alive...

He shivered as he grabbed the first hold on the wall. The boy struggled to keep his footing on the river bed. It felt like smooth stone on his bare feet. He had taken off his simple shoes so he could grip the rock face more easily. Pulling, he hoisted his soaking wet body out of the water and began his ascent...

"Huff.. huff.." not even three feet above the surface of the water he was already spent. His arms and legs shook violently from a mixture of cold and muscle fatigue. His mind was blank, filled only with equal parts determination and fear.

The handholds helped a little. They were deeper set in the stone than he had anticipated, and it made the climb a little easier.. His utter exhaustion didn't help at all. He cursed himself for not doing this days ago, when he had more energy..

Wearily he climbed, one shaky hand after the next. He nearly slipped a couple times on the smooth rock, but kept his grip both times miraculously.. He noted the smell.. The smell far below had been that of stale water, of moss and dampness.. But there.. he noticed the cliff smelled vaguely of sulfur. The assaulting scent of it was not so brazen, but it hung in the backdrop like a rotten piece of food just out of sight.. it was putrid to say the least.

An hour passed.. then two.. and finally.. finally he reached the top. His mind was gone. He had tucked his consciousness away and let his instincts take over. He screamed out "yes!" As he reached a hand over the top of the cliff. He pulled himself up and over the top, and looked out over the new horizon, wondering where he was..

He stopped dead in his tracks...

There was a massive grey thing blocking his view, and he slowly lifted his eyes upward. All hope fades in one instant.. all of it... His eyes met the dark void of a one eyed beast. He knew what it was instantly. The outline, the face, the snapping jaws and massive grey body.. It had been seared into his memory..

It looked down on him like a snack that had walked right into it's arms..

He screamed, and scrambled to get up before it could snatch him. It stuck out a massive tree-trunk like arm with a hand as big as his torso. He frantically tried to dodge, to get away, and in doing so he slipped...

A familiar sensation came over him. He felt it only a few days ago.. He braced himself for the impact, screaming all the while...

...

A twice forged blade is sharper than a single forged one. Any Artisan knows this. They are prized weapons, and valued above the rest.. But they carry with it a remarkable weakness: they are brittle.. put in the hands of an amateur swordsman, a subpar swing will snap the blade in two... But put in the hands of a master.. The blade can rend a mountain...

...

Slowly the boy opened his eyes. His head was pounding, and his stomach empty. Looking around wearily he noticed he was on land. Specifically, a narrow beach at the edge of a dark forest.

"I'm alive..." he thought to himself. It was half celebration, and half 'Is that a good thing?'.. He attempted to stand, and found his chest, legs, and arms all had shallow cuts, the blood long since matted. It stung, but none of the wounds were severe. He was woozy as he stood, and nearly fell over as he tried to walk..

His mind focused solely on one step at a time.. Food.. food was what he needed then.. And escape.. To escape whatever that turtle beast was. He only hoped that the river had carried him far enough away that he was safe from the monster.

He stopped at the edge of the forest and leaned on a tree. Taking a moment, he caught his breath and looked around. There was no path, no light in the dark canopied wood.. The sky was still grey and heavily overcast, the ground a sad decay.. And the black river lay to his rear...

It passed by lazily, off into the foggy distance. There was no sign of the cliff, or the turtle-man.. Only the endless forest, and the overbearing silence..

He turned his attention back to the wood and began to walk.. The way was long.. Unbearably long.. The only adversity he faced was sharp thornbushes and sneaky roots that threatened to trip him.. That and the pain in his whole body, the starvation, and the pure exhaustion..

Overall.. It was better than being trapped on the island.. It was better than being eaten by some monster..

After a while his mind shut down. He became a zombie that simply walked here and there, with no aim or goal, until it stumbles across its prey, then it attacks.. And so it was.. a scent.. It hit his nose like an arrow between the eyes, and he snapped his attention towards it. By pure instinct he walked towards it, the saliva coming in folds as he longed for it.. the food.. whatever it was...

The last thing he remembered was a light, a mans voice, and the scent of the food before his consciousness faded...

...