The Lost Man

(3 months later)

Snow appearing the size of stars fell from the heavens. His feet were planted in the deep snow with his eyes turned upward towards the light grey sky, crying frozen tears. His brown eyes like glass reflected each flake. His expression dulled with the state of the sky as he turned away, black hair that had grown down to this collar covering his eyes and framing his thin, pale face.

He had trudged days through the snow, the frosty air making him feel frozen and cold. He raised his hands to his mouth, breathing on them to warm them up. By now they had accumulated frostbite that nipped on the ends of his fingertips under thin, leather gloves. With no horse or supplies, his aching stomach and dry mouth propelled him forward in search of the next town.

He had sold what he needed in the previous town for lodging. The man tugged on his black trench coat still stained in blood, not visible at first glance. Peering back the way he had come; he was alone with a long trail of footsteps in his wake.

Shaking from the cold, he reached into his coat pocket retrieving a stack of envelopes tied together with string. Each envelope had a cracked red, wax seal that used to adorn the image of a griffon on top of a shield. He fished inside withdrawing a letter, reading it over again carefully. The letters contained in the stack were the only thing pushing him onward, and perhaps giving him the only reason to be living at that moment.

Scribed in inked cursive, the letters gave him insight into a life left behind, that of his own grandfather. They were a treasure left behind by his dying will. The content had strung the man along a trail he did not know the end to; a trail speaking of great power and sacrifice made on a journey to a far away place. In hopes of finding it, the man had wandered many days, most without nourishment.

Wandering through the pine forest, he found himself leaning against a tree to catch his breath while coughing harshly into his sleeve. His lungs burned in his chest from the frigid air, and he feared he might be falling ill.

Glancing around at the white surroundings, however, something odd caught his eye. It appeared like a lump of black not thirty feet from his spot. He cautiously moved towards it but gained haste when he saw a head of golden hair accompanying it. As he approached, he could see her more clearly.

The air around her fumed with blood as the dead corpse of a girl with wavy blonde hair gowned in a black dress lay in a pool of blood in the white snow. Her eyes lacked color, now grayed from death. She appeared to have been mauled by an animal, for deep teeth wounds littered her bare arms and legs. She was missing a fur lined boot and not far off lay a fur lined coat she may have once worn. That's not what drew the male's attention, however. Clasped to her neck was a cross pendant embedded with red and white stones strung on a black metal chain.

The longer he stared at it, the more it seemed to draw him in with greedy force, hands beckoning him to take it off from around her neck. His frail hand reached for the chain and he unclasped it with the hook that held it together and he retrieved the necklace. His hands brushed against her neck and he could feel her body frozen. How long she had been lying other there like this, he couldn't tell.

He slipped the necklace into his pocket and remained collected, shuffling over to the fur lined coat and picking it up. Holding it up to his body, he found it was just big enough for him to wear. Though stained in the girl's blood, any extra warmth at this point would do. Slipping his slender arms into the sleeves, he buttoned the coat up and continued his way. The main road came into view not thirty minutes later. Tracks from the few carriages that had passed that way kept him walking even though he was in a miserable state.

By nightfall a warm glow from a small village gave him the hope he had needed for days. His snow-soaked boots felt like lead bricks on his feet as he trekked the mile into town. The first thing he did upon entering found a sign for an inn. In ten minutes of searching, he was in luck. Pine's Way Inn in red painted letters hung near a doorway. He nearly scrambled inside after swinging the doorway open, finding a calm, quiet interior. Not many were about, a few travelers here and there, but he was more than grateful for the fireplace near the far wall. He didn't make eye contact with anyone but could feel eyes on him as he took a chair from a table and placed it near the fire. The orange glow from the flame melted away the ice and snow covering his clothes and he soon looked like he sat in a puddle surrounding his chair.

The sound of someone setting a stein on the table next to him drew his dark brown eyes from the fireplace and to a stout, burly woman in an apron at the table. Her cheeks were kissed in red and she had a grin, minus a few teeth. "Well hello traveler," she pipped. "Looks like you could use a drink or two, hm?"

The man stared at the stein and then at the woman. "I-I don't have any money for that, so I can't accept," he said, his voice hoarse and barely there. Just talking made him start to cough in a violent fit.

"Well, I didn't ask if you had money dear. You look sick as a dog if you ask me," the woman spat and approached him, placing her warm palm on his forehead. "Despite the cold, you're burning up, dear. A woman's intuition is never wrong. What is your name?"

"Rin…" he whispered, leaning into her hand. "My name is Rin." His eyes slid shut as the room spun and slumber took his body.

Reality came back to him when he opened his eyes again, the ceiling of a room in view in front of him. With no concept of time, he was unsure how long he had been asleep. His clothes had been stripped from his body and lay over the chair of a desk nearby. He had been gowned in a long sleeved, wool gown instead.

A door to his left opened and the woman he had last seen walked in with honey and tea and a bit of an herbal mix off to the side as well as a warm damp cloth. Her eyes gleamed at the sight of Rin finally awake. "Oh, there you are deary. We thought you were a goner for sure. It's been a harsh winter thus far, but I'm sure you know that." She placed the teacup down on a nightstand and placed the rag over his head.

Rin grunted in response and reached up to feel the fibers of the cloth. With a little help, he sat up a little in bed, resting his back on the headrest. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked.

"Three days," the woman remarked. "You were out cold, hun."

"So I was," Rin remarked sipping the tea lightly. It soothed his sore throat as he drank, making him feel better than he was.

The stout lady placed a hand on her curvy hip. "Where were you headed in a winter like this? It's too cold to be traveling without a horse, ya know."

"Dalharst," Rin said simply.

"Ah, Dalharst, eh? I fear you might be a ways away from there," she smiled. "You might wanna rest a bit before venturing far west of here. You're in the small town of Hillford. We don't get many travelers around her. Just a small hunting town, we are."

"Very hospitable, though," Rin mused and stared down at his tea. His reflection stared at him back; worn tired eyes and messy black hair. He needed a shave as well.

"My mother would be ashamed if I didn't care for a wanderer like yourself, I'm afraid," she laughed and patted Rin on the shoulder.

The man, in response, leaned slightly away from her touch staring down at her hand like a pest. "I see. I don't suppose there would be an opportunity to earn a little around here for a few weeks. I would like to purchase another steed if I can."

"It's our slow season," the woman answered. "But, I could use a little help around the place. I know a man on the outskirts who would sell you a horse if needed."

"That sounds wonderful," Rin said, a slight smile on his face and an almost devious glint in his eyes as he sipped the tea again finishing it off.