Oaken Ashwoods (1)

Things would never be too easy.

He shouldn't have let his guard down at all, even if it was here. Even if he got distracted with the warmth of a meal, he scarfed down during lunchtime and the little games he played with Nire as her mother did the chores around the inn. He shouldn't have smiled and felt at peace when the Village Head dropped by to check on him and rushed back to avoid his wife's anger.

The youthful embarrassment he experienced when he tried to bathe in the river but found a group of women giggling while they did their laundry. When he went back to his room and took a couple of gulps from his packed bottles of alcohol to drink down his shame. It was far too easy for him to get lulled into this semblance of normalcy.

But that was always his mistake.

The cool night wind caressed through the thick and twisted forest. Each blow in a certain direction brought their own whispers and messages through the trembling leaves and moving branches. Perhaps it was messages of Sylphs with one another, each one unaware and certainly above the trifle words that played in a young man's mind unconsciously.

His hand held the dagger in his hand tightly.

'With that weak of a grip and bad of a posture, you'll never be able to protect others and much less defend yourself.'

His gaze temporarily focused on the thorns gathered around trees. Some were adorned with purple berries glistening in the pale moonlight, a light that managed to filter through the clustered leaves of the dense foliage.

'It's vital you keep all of this information in your mind—what is a sword and a blade if you don't even know what's poisonous or not? Again. Recite it from the top.'

What were their properties? How tall were these trees, and what fed them to grow so tall that only faded lights managed to pierce through them?

But these were only backdrops to the pack of wolves surrounding him.

Fifteen of them. Adults. Silver-like fur coat? Magical? Special effects? He had no clue. Could one use the surrounding undergrowth around him to one's advantage? Any gnarly roots he had to avoid?

The largest silver-streak wolf pounced on him, teeth and fangs bared out to bite.

'Faster, do it quicker and don't give them a chance to fight back.'

He stepped to the side and avoided the blow. A quick kick sent the wolf flying to the tree and into a tangle of thorns. Could it recover from…? It was still okay. Shaken, upset but alive.

'Study hard. Knowledge is power and the struggle in a king's court can change the tide more than a single battle.'

The other wolves of the pack surrounding him prevented the young man from taking another step away from the battle between him and their representative. It didn't matter. He wasn't going anywhere without shedding blood. He was no Beast Tamer or Druid, he was only himself.

But it was more than enough.

'Never hesitate—mercy is only offered if you believe you can overpower your opponent.'

The beast rose up and attacked him once again, futilely.

Owen Liddell's strikes were lightning fast, the dagger in his hand tore through the neck of the creature and extinguished the main wolf in a single cut. The creature slashed him in the chest with its claws and twisted away at the last moment. A large gash stuck around its neck while giving him a twin attack.

The pain seared through his body, blood soaked through his clothes.

He gritted his teeth and then moved. The wolf was soon joined by its brethren, realizing its advantage of him being the only combatant. However, it failed to assess his skill or was too proud to acknowledge it.

His weapon slid through its thick fur and muscles like water.

One after another. Three at the left, one in front and four in the right and back—he faced the front one head on, grabbing for its paw and threw it across its brothers. His blade only sank into its stomach by a certain depth before he pulled it out and dodged the next attacks from the left. Fangs suddenly pierced through his leg, darkness clouded his vision for a second before he stabbed his blade into the stupid wolf's head that attacked from behind him.

Blood spurted on the ground.

And it wasn't only his.

Owen Liddell stuck his back to a tree and managed a grin. "Well, come at me! I'll take you all at once!" Being cornered wasn't the problem, leaving his back undefended was. It was easy to become relaxed since they were mere animals, but it was wrong to let one's guard down.

If there was a silver lining, the wolves couldn't fully take advantage of their numbers to trash him in their pack.

Their coordination was lacking.

He didn't even need to finish them all off—just enough to make them realize that it was too much of a loss. And so he did. If he hadn't rushed out here when Toby's mother panicked about his lost presence, he could have prepared more. Regardless, in a matter of minutes the rest of the creatures made their retreat, tails lowered behind their legs with whines—

And he sighed.

Torn chunks of flesh were natural, his skin wasn't as tough as hide or anything like that. Owen Liddell fumbled through the bottle in his pants and opened the lid. The bitter liquid of alcohol and healing went down his throat. The sensation of flesh repairing and regrowing itself was always odd, but never unpleasant.

This was his third bottle of the day.

Owen was burning through his storage fast, but it didn't matter.

He held a hand on his chest, taking note of the gash disappearing and only frowning slightly at his ripped clothes. "Hahh… maybe I would have been better off being the Hero's grandson instead of an Assassin's." He wasn't cut out for battles involving putting himself in front of the battleground and with multiple assailants.

The young man stored away his empty bottle.

"Now where exactly is the guy? He can't expect me to look for him all night, does he?" he hadn't been able to get a good night's rest while he travelled here, but it was going to be another long night of lost and found, wasn't it?

He stuck his back to the tree and then scaled up.

—-—-

Author's Note: Welcome to Oaken Ashwood and thank you for reading! Not sure if the 'flashback' of words and lectures in Owen's mind enhanced the experience or withdrew it. Experimenting with writing styles lol. If you have any Power Stones there in your side, mind tossing one to this Author, oh, reader!