Chapter 1: Empty

He stood, standing in the blank void. Wisps of smoke curled and danced around, never quite coming too close. He had been running from something. But what? The figure froze as something cold touched his shoulder. No. Cold wasn't the correct word for the indescribable chilling feeling that jolted him upon contact.

Slowly he turned. The person found himself staring at a body. It was composed of smoke, constantly breaking down and reforming. He stood rooted to his place. It wasn't the smoke that scared him. Or the shadowy canine that lurked next to the smoke person's legs. It was-

Robin jolted awake to the sound of the birds chirping, as always. He lay there, panting. He had just had a dream... No, a nightmare. About what though? Robin shook his head. He couldn't remember.

The dusty light filtered through the window, hitting his eyes. He groaned, pushing the covers off and shielding his eyes with his left arm. Groaning, he forced himself out of bed. Robin got up and folded the sheets into tidy squares. He would wash them later, down by the stream.

The candle on the table next to his bed was still flickering, weakly, as if the tiniest gust of wind would blow it out. He pinched it out, not minding the slight burning sensation. This was his room. Pristine and picture perfect. He had tidied up after... after that had happened. Still, it felt empty. Fake almost.

Opening the dresser, he slipped on his grey camouflage jacket. He tugged on his field boots, which went on top of his slightly baggy grey camouflage pants. Robin slung his pack over his shoulder and equipped himself with the necessary weapons. Inside he wanted to roll back into his bed, but he kept going, almost involuntary.

He walked over to his vanity table. It was where he kept some of his possessions and accessories. Slipping on his gloves, he smoothed down his hair until it was neat and reserved, just like everything about him. He pushed his black band up his left arm until it rested on his bicep. A tribute.

Robin glanced at the mirror. He hadn't been a bad-looking guy as a teenager. Robin had toned olive skin and dark hair that had complimented his warm green eyes. He shook his head. When had he become vain? Robin donned the plain grey mask from the dresser. It covered almost all of his face except his eyes, which were still green as ever, yet they were now cold, all of the carefree youth gone.

He opened the door to his room, shutting it behind him with a soft click. The grey-clad hunter headed down the hallway, full of doors almost identical to his. He turned left, jogging down a broad flight of stairs. Robin saw another person, who was outfitted in similar dull-coloured camouflage. From their attire, he inferred they were from a separate branch of The Hunter's guild.

Robin continued onward. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned another corner, arriving at the bar part of the guild. He didn't bother looking at the board, which was full of pinned pieces of paper. Sitting in the corner of the bar, at a table.

"Someone's looking grumpy~" Harley sauntered over to the table, setting down a plate of scrambled eggs.

"..." Robin leaned his face into his gloved hand, covering an eye. "Harley. What do you want?"

"Now that's no way to treat a buddy who just brought ya breakfast!" Harley's tone was playful. She sat down across from her friend.

Harley had blond hair, so blond it was almost white. Her uniform was one of a Commander, a royal blue uniform with shoulder pads and tassells. Her skin was lightly tanned from the many days spent under the sun, leading squads out on missions.

"Hey... Are ya okay?" She lowered her voice. "Look... I know what happened has been hard for you... It's been hard for all of us, frankly. Are you alright-"

"I don't need your pity." Robin cut her off, tone frigid

"I-" Harley recoiled slightly, looking hurt. "I'm not giving you my pity. I just was making sure you're okay..."

She turned, looking into the crowd. "I should get going. Ya know... The squad needs me n all" She laughed awkwardly, getting up and practically running away.

Robin sighed. He hadn't meant to lash out at her. Harley had only ever been amicable. He glanced up at the plate of scrambled eggs, getting colder by the second. They would go to waste if it wasn't eaten... He unhurriedly started eating his eggs, slowly chewing each bite.

He huffed a sigh. Time to check on the wolf traps. He got up from his table and shuffled out the guild door. It still hurt. Everything about this stung, like a wound rubbed with salt. It had been exciting, full of fun and laughter, no mask, no black band. Things would never be the same.

...

Robin inclined his head slightly to the gate guard. He frequently passed these gates and was a familiar face here. The guard nodded, acknowledging Robin. They let him pass without any interruptions.

The hunter blended in faultlessly with the towering pines. He followed a familiar route, leaving virtually no prints in the soft dirt. Stopping, he knelt down and checked the first trap.

The trap was a metal jaw with jagged teeth that would snap shut when the pressure plate in the centre was triggered. The tiny scrap of meat in the centre was untouched, the trap untriggered.

Robin sighed, getting up. Empty. Like the others. Recently, the wolves had gotten cannier, evading the traps. The hunter stood and padded onwards, following the well-acquainted course. The breeze ruffled the branches above, and there were several soft thuds as pinecones hit the ground. His footsteps were muted by the soft pine needles that littered the forest floor.