2 Chapter 2

Tucked into the eastern edge of Autumn Fall, where falling leaves kiss against the bitter winter chill of their mountainous neighbor, an orchard laid sleeping on rolling hills, blissfully indifferent to the disappearing starlight. Limbs hung low as bunches of over-ripened fruit bent them into sagging arches, bowing with the weight of their burden. The warm harvest sun streaked through the perfectly planted rows, casting long shadows over the painted landscape as it gently peeked over the horizon. Low drum beats in the far-off distance gave the land a heartbeat as it emerged from the darkness.

Leaves danced with gleaming shades of pumpkin orange and honeysuckle, each twirling through the air as they found themselves in freefall. While some landed in piles not far from the start, others found themselves drifting under the youngest branches of an unassuming Apula tree, one of many in the countless rows that stretched across the valley and settled on the shadow of a knight.

Cedric's black and dented helm sat beside him in the low, golden grass, revealing a dusty, battle-scarred face that hung down almost to his knees as he sat against the tree. His youth hid behind the marks that criss crossed his features.

A black-steel gauntlet covered his hand as it slowly pushed back his dirty-brown hair, streaks of sunny blonde catching the early light and shining like golden string.

He was worn and weary, the gift of sleep hadn't come for days as he tried to stay ahead of the king's army. Only when exhaustion caused him to trip over his own feet did he finally decide to stop, but only long enough to catch his breath.

But as the sun drifted over the gilded landscape, his armor felt like it weighed more than a horse, and he couldn't find the motivation to move again. He knew his quest was too much for the time he had to do it in. One week had already passed since he overheard the king's plans to marry his beloved.

He had been standing outside of a bathhouse high in the Autumn hills when he heard the right hand of the king proclaim the news. Although the conversation didn't involve him, it had been so loud, it echoed through the stone house and out to Cedric's ears.

"Word has arrived from King Korva! We are to return and serve as his wedding protection. Spring will unite with Summer!" Cheers erupted through the room, but the cold zing of dread rising from his gut urged him into action. The Fair Lady of Spring Meadows, the very woman he had dedicated his life and purpose to, was betrothed to another. Betrothed to the only person he had any respect for, King Korva.

Cedric had never felt a feeling like the one he got when he had first seen Petal Dancer. His troop had been assigned as the protection detail of the Spring Festival parade last year, and as usual young Cedric stood next to King Korva as the Rulers walked through the streets, the people throwing petals into the air over their heads. Through a curtain of pink and white, the most beautiful woman Cedric had ever seen emerged. Her golden hair shone like the sun, swaying with her every step down to the small of her back. Her lips were as red as the roses of the inner gardens. Her beauty had struck him so completely, Cedric had forgotten what he was doing entirely, catching the toe of one foot onto the heel of the other and smashed his face into the dirt. Her laugh rang like wedding bells in a church, and in that moment Petal became the last woman Cedric ever wanted, and he would do everything he could to become the best and strongest man he could, then he would ask her for her hand.

He had spent most of his life as a fighter, taking on the biggest and strongest opponents in order to prove himself to his king. All he had ever known was the bloodshed of the Arena where he had grown up, or the pride of conquering a town in the name of Korva. The most beautiful thing he had ever known was the way blood dripped from his blade in the early morning light after a successful raid, or the cheer of a crowd as he stood in front of the corpse of a captured beast. Yet, since that fateful day when his eye fell upon the stunning ruler of Spring Meadows, he could think of nothing else. Dream of nothing else except for the future they would have together once he had the prestige behind him to properly gain her hand.

Now he ran, daring to run faster than the whole armada and cavalry, as he deserted his post so that he may claim the Fair Lady before the king himself even had a chance to realize what he had done. He could not lose her, he wouldn't be able to survive.

Now that he had taken a moment to rest, the twist of hunger in his gut was overwhelming. He had been unable to stop after he fled the army he once commanded, only grabbing a bit of fruit off the trees as he ran. He dared not cry, nor show in any way the despair that crept into his heart. The dogs of the king's army smell tears and track fear, and they surely must know by now of his crimes.

He believed not in fate, although on this day, it may be the one thing that saved him.

"Woe is ye..." he whispered to the wind, "for it shall be an eternity before I have a chance to gaze upon that undying sunrise of beauty, my Fair Lady of Spring Meadows." There was a dull scraping as the plates of his battered and charred armor ground together between his back and the bark of the apula tree.

The Spirit of the Wind carried his words with an ever so playful echo down the endless rows of the orchard, twisting and twirling through the air.