A/N: Hiya everyone! Well, this is the fifth story I'm writing so far and
it was just like one of those *lying-in-bed-thinking-about-nothing-much-
wow!-brainwave!* sort of things, which I'm sure we all have from time to
time!
Please read on, and tell me what you think!
**
Chapter One - Innocent eyes.
The full moon shone brightly in the midnight sky, creating a pale shadow around the thick trees. Their leaves glistened as the dew set on them, and the water trickled, like tears, down their sides. The sounds of bird's wings, and their calls echoed through the trees, and owls hooted softly to the night, creating the music of the midnight forest. But through the darkness and wilderness, the sound of running feet, and rapid breathing emerged, growing louder, and more desperate. As the moonlight hit the running figure, a flash of light auburn hair caught its glimpse. The figure looked short, too short to be a man, and the slight panic in his breathing revealed that it was probably a child; a frightened child.
The child ran very fast, jumping over fallen trees, and ripping through bushes; young as he was, he did not weep for the scratches and cuts lining his arms and face. As he dashed through the undergrowth of the immense forest, he did not look behind for his pursuer, he just ran, stumbling occasionally away from the heart of the forest. Another ray of moonlight hit his face, and did more often as the tall trees grew thinner, and the path became a little smoother. A pale, thin face was distinguishable along with a small, straight nose; he had freckles around his cheeks and nose, and a head of thick, auburn hair, shining in the dim light. As the tree's grew away from each other, more light shone through and then you could see the child's eyes; glittering, as the light danced upon them, two, light blue eyes, deep and soulful, but yet so innocent. From them poured the fear and exhaustion he obviously felt in his whole body, but he did not slow down, he kept going.
He turned his head for the first time, still sprinting, to see if his stalker was in close pursuit, and even though he showed no signs of seeing anyone or hearing anything but the forest's echoes, and his own feet pounding the ground, he ran on. The boy looked thin and undernourished, yet he seemed so fit to be running at such a sustained pace. His breathing grew heavier and more constricted, but he just swallowed and carried on, running as though there was no tomorrow. And then, suddenly, the boy's short foot caught on a rock on the ground and he tripped; his small body was flung through the air, and he landed awkwardly a little far ahead in the path. He let out a small, painful whimper, and put his hand beneath him, pushing up, but his body did not seem to want to get up, so he flumped back down.
The soft hooting of he owls increased a little, and rose slightly, as though they were asking questions, and replying to them. The tree tops swayed softly in a light breeze flowing from the east and the moon shone down on the little child lying crumpled on the floor. The boy raised his head a little and then lowered it again. He lay his hair down on the dry leaves and twigs scattering the forest floor and closed his innocent eyes in exhaustion and curled his body around him, trying to block out the chilly night air surrounding him. The rustling of small animals around him, and the owl's music from the tall, swaying trees lulled him softly to sleep. For a while.
The owls watched silently from their high perches as a tall figure trod clumsily through the undergrowth, his face hidden by his slouched, bent-backed posture. He breathed in short, low grunts and even the small animals seemed to sense a danger in staying to close to him. The figure was not like the small child, it was taller and more muscular as it slashed at the brambles and wild plants. Unlike the child again, he was not panting in fear, he was breathing heavily; even hungrily. His head was covered in dirty blonde hair, hanging limply around his shoulders, and he kept brushing it back angrily. He had passed the thick undergrowth and was now trampling along the uneven path through the silvery trees. He held a strange object in his hand, a long, thin piece of wood, smooth and well carved. He held it in front of him like some kind of weapon, brandishing it whenever he heard an unnatural sound around him.
Moments later, he saw the child curled up in the middle of the path, moonlight playing across his pale face and the soft breeze ruffling his hair slightly. He lay so still and so silently that he could have been dead, but for the gentle rising of his chest as he breathed; even though the midnight air was cold, he was not shivering. The man approached the child slowly and a small chuckle added to the sound of the tree's swaying branches. He pointed the thin piece of wood down at him, but didn't strike him with it; instead he shuffled forward and swung his booted foot back, and let it thump into the boy's back. The boy let out a cry of pain and turned to see his attacker, one small hand clutching his bruised spine. The innocent, blue eyes widened in fear as they set upon the tall, bulky outline and the lank, blonde hair. He scrambled away from the man's reach, kicking at the ground he was trapped upon, the dust rose from the ground but sunk as he gave up, defenceless and very scared. He had a very distinct quietness about him, and stillness, something that made him seem very bare, even though he was dressed in clothes.
The man edged closer and brandished the piece of wood at the boy. He muttered a few indistinguishable words to the night, and a jet of electric blue light shot from the tip of the wood. It illuminated the man's face for a second before it shot at the boy; the unshaven, ugly face of a man shone from beneath the blonde mass, its features grim. Two rows of yellow, chipped teeth formed a malicious smile upon the blotchy face; small, watery eyes glittered dark, brown in a slightly mad fashion, and a recently broken nose added to the oily features. His brow was smothered in sweat, and his face was set in a wild ecstasy.
The light hit the boy in the chest and he was lifted into the air and thrown, terrified, into the trunk of a thick tree. A rustling of feathers and of the cries of owls reached the atmosphere, and no more did they hoot softly, soothing him, they screeched angrily to the night, and then became silent. The child lay in a small heap at the tree trunk, pushing himself up, but falling down again. Silent tears strolled down his cheeks as he felt pain erupting all over his body. But he screwed up his shining blue eyes, and slowly and weakly got to his feet. He raised a trembling hand to his face and wiped the tears away, his eyes now fixed on the man, determined not to let him see how much he was hurting.
"Albus, child," the man said, in a low, dangerous voice. His piece of wood was still pointing at the boy, unmoving, very still.
"Why do you run away from me?" His voice didn't sound hurt, or annoyed, or anything distinctly normal. It sounded harsh, and accusing. The boy stood perfectly still, unflinching, unspeaking. Even though no emotion could be read from his face or voice, the boy was very sad, through his soulful eyes and in his very actions it was clear. The man stepped forward, still quite far from him, his face now trying to hide the insane loathing he felt inside. Not even the tree's rustled the silent air; all was frightened, all was afraid of what was to come.
"I am no enemy of yours." He pressed on, adjusting his voice to a mockingly friendly tone. He edged even closer.
A loud cry issued from a bird above and made the man look up in surprise; the bird fluttered its wings and then disappeared into the night. Seizing his chance, the boy, Albus, jumped behind the tree on which he had been thrown. He leant against the coarse, damp bark, and shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the nightmare surrounding him. He heard the soft footsteps approaching and knew the end was near. He crept around the tree, hoping to hold his slayer off for perhaps just a moment. The footsteps crushing the dry leaves made their way over to the spot where Albus had stood just a few seconds ago. Silently, Albus made his way around the tree and then dashed swiftly over to another tree, clutching at its rough texture.
The man let out a grunt of impatience and slammed a fist into the tree. The boy's ears were listening so hard that he heard the pieces of bark fall softly to the ground.
"I did not kill your father to play games with you, boy!" he snarled, scuffing his feet along the dried leaves. But he did not come towards the small boy pressing himself very hard against the silvery tree just feet away. Albus felt the bark dampen as the tears leaked from his clenched eyelids; he didn't dare move to dry them, he jus remained very still, letting them fall unchecked. The man let out a roar of anguish, and swore loudly.
"Come out, Albus," he beckoned, anger still hovering in his voice. Albus did not move, but he feared that his heart, beating so fast that the pounding was in his ears might give him away. He opened his eyes and blinked the tears away so he could see clearly; as he looked, he saw an opening in the tree's up ahead. If only I could reach them! He pleaded with his mind. If only I could get to that clearing, perhaps I would find someone . . .
"You cannot hide for long, little boy," he sneered, talking to the trees around him, sweeping back his dirty hair.
"One way or another, I will find you. And when I do, I will make you beg me for mercy, and I shall have the very pleasure of not granting you any!" the same madness had returned to the man, and he began to laugh in his insane guffawing. Albus could not hold on anymore, he pushed the tears away from his face and let go of the tree. And then he ran again; ran like the wind awakening a ferocious ocean, pushing himself harder and harder, not looking back. The clearing was so near, yet it wasn't a clearing! It was the edge of the forest! Albus ran faster than he had ever ran in his life. His whole life; his very being fixed on reaching that clearing. He ached all over; he was near to collapsing, to falling. Feet away, he sprinted through the last few trees bathed in silver moonlight, and -
Two large, strong arms reached out and caught him around the middle, but they weren't from behind. Exhausted and with no energy left, he raised his innocent eyes to the figure and noticed something strange about him, but too tired, too breathless to care, he collapsed into the stranger's arms.
**
OK, well, what did you think??? I would really like to know! Please review, I would really, really appreciate it! Thanks!
Please read on, and tell me what you think!
**
Chapter One - Innocent eyes.
The full moon shone brightly in the midnight sky, creating a pale shadow around the thick trees. Their leaves glistened as the dew set on them, and the water trickled, like tears, down their sides. The sounds of bird's wings, and their calls echoed through the trees, and owls hooted softly to the night, creating the music of the midnight forest. But through the darkness and wilderness, the sound of running feet, and rapid breathing emerged, growing louder, and more desperate. As the moonlight hit the running figure, a flash of light auburn hair caught its glimpse. The figure looked short, too short to be a man, and the slight panic in his breathing revealed that it was probably a child; a frightened child.
The child ran very fast, jumping over fallen trees, and ripping through bushes; young as he was, he did not weep for the scratches and cuts lining his arms and face. As he dashed through the undergrowth of the immense forest, he did not look behind for his pursuer, he just ran, stumbling occasionally away from the heart of the forest. Another ray of moonlight hit his face, and did more often as the tall trees grew thinner, and the path became a little smoother. A pale, thin face was distinguishable along with a small, straight nose; he had freckles around his cheeks and nose, and a head of thick, auburn hair, shining in the dim light. As the tree's grew away from each other, more light shone through and then you could see the child's eyes; glittering, as the light danced upon them, two, light blue eyes, deep and soulful, but yet so innocent. From them poured the fear and exhaustion he obviously felt in his whole body, but he did not slow down, he kept going.
He turned his head for the first time, still sprinting, to see if his stalker was in close pursuit, and even though he showed no signs of seeing anyone or hearing anything but the forest's echoes, and his own feet pounding the ground, he ran on. The boy looked thin and undernourished, yet he seemed so fit to be running at such a sustained pace. His breathing grew heavier and more constricted, but he just swallowed and carried on, running as though there was no tomorrow. And then, suddenly, the boy's short foot caught on a rock on the ground and he tripped; his small body was flung through the air, and he landed awkwardly a little far ahead in the path. He let out a small, painful whimper, and put his hand beneath him, pushing up, but his body did not seem to want to get up, so he flumped back down.
The soft hooting of he owls increased a little, and rose slightly, as though they were asking questions, and replying to them. The tree tops swayed softly in a light breeze flowing from the east and the moon shone down on the little child lying crumpled on the floor. The boy raised his head a little and then lowered it again. He lay his hair down on the dry leaves and twigs scattering the forest floor and closed his innocent eyes in exhaustion and curled his body around him, trying to block out the chilly night air surrounding him. The rustling of small animals around him, and the owl's music from the tall, swaying trees lulled him softly to sleep. For a while.
The owls watched silently from their high perches as a tall figure trod clumsily through the undergrowth, his face hidden by his slouched, bent-backed posture. He breathed in short, low grunts and even the small animals seemed to sense a danger in staying to close to him. The figure was not like the small child, it was taller and more muscular as it slashed at the brambles and wild plants. Unlike the child again, he was not panting in fear, he was breathing heavily; even hungrily. His head was covered in dirty blonde hair, hanging limply around his shoulders, and he kept brushing it back angrily. He had passed the thick undergrowth and was now trampling along the uneven path through the silvery trees. He held a strange object in his hand, a long, thin piece of wood, smooth and well carved. He held it in front of him like some kind of weapon, brandishing it whenever he heard an unnatural sound around him.
Moments later, he saw the child curled up in the middle of the path, moonlight playing across his pale face and the soft breeze ruffling his hair slightly. He lay so still and so silently that he could have been dead, but for the gentle rising of his chest as he breathed; even though the midnight air was cold, he was not shivering. The man approached the child slowly and a small chuckle added to the sound of the tree's swaying branches. He pointed the thin piece of wood down at him, but didn't strike him with it; instead he shuffled forward and swung his booted foot back, and let it thump into the boy's back. The boy let out a cry of pain and turned to see his attacker, one small hand clutching his bruised spine. The innocent, blue eyes widened in fear as they set upon the tall, bulky outline and the lank, blonde hair. He scrambled away from the man's reach, kicking at the ground he was trapped upon, the dust rose from the ground but sunk as he gave up, defenceless and very scared. He had a very distinct quietness about him, and stillness, something that made him seem very bare, even though he was dressed in clothes.
The man edged closer and brandished the piece of wood at the boy. He muttered a few indistinguishable words to the night, and a jet of electric blue light shot from the tip of the wood. It illuminated the man's face for a second before it shot at the boy; the unshaven, ugly face of a man shone from beneath the blonde mass, its features grim. Two rows of yellow, chipped teeth formed a malicious smile upon the blotchy face; small, watery eyes glittered dark, brown in a slightly mad fashion, and a recently broken nose added to the oily features. His brow was smothered in sweat, and his face was set in a wild ecstasy.
The light hit the boy in the chest and he was lifted into the air and thrown, terrified, into the trunk of a thick tree. A rustling of feathers and of the cries of owls reached the atmosphere, and no more did they hoot softly, soothing him, they screeched angrily to the night, and then became silent. The child lay in a small heap at the tree trunk, pushing himself up, but falling down again. Silent tears strolled down his cheeks as he felt pain erupting all over his body. But he screwed up his shining blue eyes, and slowly and weakly got to his feet. He raised a trembling hand to his face and wiped the tears away, his eyes now fixed on the man, determined not to let him see how much he was hurting.
"Albus, child," the man said, in a low, dangerous voice. His piece of wood was still pointing at the boy, unmoving, very still.
"Why do you run away from me?" His voice didn't sound hurt, or annoyed, or anything distinctly normal. It sounded harsh, and accusing. The boy stood perfectly still, unflinching, unspeaking. Even though no emotion could be read from his face or voice, the boy was very sad, through his soulful eyes and in his very actions it was clear. The man stepped forward, still quite far from him, his face now trying to hide the insane loathing he felt inside. Not even the tree's rustled the silent air; all was frightened, all was afraid of what was to come.
"I am no enemy of yours." He pressed on, adjusting his voice to a mockingly friendly tone. He edged even closer.
A loud cry issued from a bird above and made the man look up in surprise; the bird fluttered its wings and then disappeared into the night. Seizing his chance, the boy, Albus, jumped behind the tree on which he had been thrown. He leant against the coarse, damp bark, and shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the nightmare surrounding him. He heard the soft footsteps approaching and knew the end was near. He crept around the tree, hoping to hold his slayer off for perhaps just a moment. The footsteps crushing the dry leaves made their way over to the spot where Albus had stood just a few seconds ago. Silently, Albus made his way around the tree and then dashed swiftly over to another tree, clutching at its rough texture.
The man let out a grunt of impatience and slammed a fist into the tree. The boy's ears were listening so hard that he heard the pieces of bark fall softly to the ground.
"I did not kill your father to play games with you, boy!" he snarled, scuffing his feet along the dried leaves. But he did not come towards the small boy pressing himself very hard against the silvery tree just feet away. Albus felt the bark dampen as the tears leaked from his clenched eyelids; he didn't dare move to dry them, he jus remained very still, letting them fall unchecked. The man let out a roar of anguish, and swore loudly.
"Come out, Albus," he beckoned, anger still hovering in his voice. Albus did not move, but he feared that his heart, beating so fast that the pounding was in his ears might give him away. He opened his eyes and blinked the tears away so he could see clearly; as he looked, he saw an opening in the tree's up ahead. If only I could reach them! He pleaded with his mind. If only I could get to that clearing, perhaps I would find someone . . .
"You cannot hide for long, little boy," he sneered, talking to the trees around him, sweeping back his dirty hair.
"One way or another, I will find you. And when I do, I will make you beg me for mercy, and I shall have the very pleasure of not granting you any!" the same madness had returned to the man, and he began to laugh in his insane guffawing. Albus could not hold on anymore, he pushed the tears away from his face and let go of the tree. And then he ran again; ran like the wind awakening a ferocious ocean, pushing himself harder and harder, not looking back. The clearing was so near, yet it wasn't a clearing! It was the edge of the forest! Albus ran faster than he had ever ran in his life. His whole life; his very being fixed on reaching that clearing. He ached all over; he was near to collapsing, to falling. Feet away, he sprinted through the last few trees bathed in silver moonlight, and -
Two large, strong arms reached out and caught him around the middle, but they weren't from behind. Exhausted and with no energy left, he raised his innocent eyes to the figure and noticed something strange about him, but too tired, too breathless to care, he collapsed into the stranger's arms.
**
OK, well, what did you think??? I would really like to know! Please review, I would really, really appreciate it! Thanks!