Pairing: Ghost/Star Fire
Type: Fictional Person Het
Rating: G
Summary: Involves the character of Ghost from the upcoming action movie "PATHFINDER" staring Karl UrbanA thousand years ago a young Viking boy is accidentally left behind during a battle between the Vikings and Native Americans. The boy is raised by the Native Americans as their own, but when their village is wiped out from a Viking raid, the adopted Viking becomes his people's saviour in battling the Norsemen.
This piece takes place before the Vikings return to claim what is theirs.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters (hmmmmmm the things I could do to him if I did) and only claim responsibility for the original characters my insane mind creates.
"Winds of Change"
Was he so different from them?
When cut he did bleed red as do they and when he cried his tears are salty as is theirs.
Still they were the only family he has ever known. He had no recollection of his life before being found. Images, flashes of faces and places he didn't comprehend plagued him every now and then but the tribe and this endless forest was all he understood now.
The night had an unusual stillness to. It only emphasised the brilliance of the stars scattered across the pitch-black sky. Nothing moved; no leaves, no animals stirred, no insects scurried. He sat alone atop a large boulder on an outcrop of rocks partially obscured by the mountain behind. The main camp was below and a few hundred metres away. From his perch he had a clear view to almost across the entire valley; if he ventured high enough that is but tonight he was only interested in watching his fellow people go about their duties. The fires burned bright in the night, their flames reaching high sending pillars of smoke billowing straight up. There was no breeze to deter their path. The cluster of tepees stood tall and strong, the animal hide they were made from vivid against the dark trees and undergrowth surrounding the camp. A few paces away the horses were huddled together corralled in for the night. He was unable to make out the conversations as the lack of breeze never carried the words to him.
For almost twenty summers this sight has greeted him; he was a warrior now yet for just as long a small part of him felt like the outsider. Even though he spoke their language, new their customs fought along side them in battle.
The slowly rising moon illuminated his skin with a white glow as he stretched out his lean muscular frame; hands behind his head. Dressed in only his buckskin pants the coolness of the rock pressed into his back as he stared up at the sky. As much as he didn't want it he knew he was different.
He was taller than most in the tribe; strong shoulders, broad chest. An advantage in a fight some would say. It was true that his hair even though long wasn't the same black colour as theirs; like that of the Wolf King's. His hair was indeed a rich chestnut brown resembling at times the deep red hues of the darkest autumn leaves. Their eyes were as mysterious as the lake at night hiding all the secrets of the day just gone. Instead his were lighter and in the summer burned green with a flame whose ancestry stemmed from a far away land, across the vast sea to the north.
His skin wasn't as tanned as theirs; the same shade of light brown as the variety of deer that freely roamed the forest. No he was much paler than that. That was probably why they name him Ghost. It was a name given to him by the children soon after he arrived; no more a child himself all those years ago. If he had another name he had long ago forgotten it. Still that wasn't to say every once in a while he heard a soft voice speaking to him in a tongue he didn't recognise when he was alone.
Suddenly waking from a dream he sat up not realising how long he had been there. His skin tingled from neck to hip as if a hand had brushed itself along that same path. He searched around him for movement; no one was there. A chill travelled the length of his spine compelling him to stand and make his way back down through the trees to the camp. The lack of light never bothered him it was a path he knew well.
Voices from the tribe greeted him as he reached the clearing. Laughter and soft singing were heard. His pace slowed and he lingered on the edge. He watched the men talk and plan the following day's hunting trip. The women prepared the children for sleep as well and tidying up ready for tomorrow's chores. The children who were still awake managed to sneak in a few more minutes of play.
He moved in closer, more into the open drawn in by the warmth of his people. The large fire in the centre bathing him in a yellow and orange glow as it did everyone else. A young boy, only a few years shy of tribal initiation ran straight for him grabbing his arm. Runs like Squirrel; who got his name because from a small age he was the fastest climber and would often be found hiding in the trees, begged Ghost to swing him around like he used to do. He wanted to soar like the eagles do. Unable to stop himself smiling Ghost did as asked entering the camp. Soon all the other children were surrounding him asking for the same treatment that Runs like Squirrel got, deafening him in their pleas. He tried to walk with all of them hanging off of him. Others looked up at the commotion.
His eyes caught that of Star Fire's, a woman not much younger than himself; he haplessly grinned and she laughed at him pretending to stumbled along like the old grizzly bear with his load of unwanted travellers holding on. As she approached he straightened to his full height unable to hold back the smile. She ushered the children away and to their beds, joking that they were going to tire him out before the hunting trip tomorrow with all this playing. Ghost watched her lead them away, some sneaking in a wave before they disappeared. For her he wanted to belong. For her he needed to be apart of this place. No matter what he'd do that for her.
Standing alone lost in thought another cold chill washed over him and this time he thought he heard a whisper on a wind that wasn't there, in a language long dead in him. He turned and everything was still; nothing moved. Facing the darkness of the trees the coolness brushed across his face, through his hair as if a hand combed through the lose strands. Ghost took a few steps back retreating more into the openness and familiarity.
A breeze existing where there is none. A touch finding him where there is no one. It was a coldness he felt not understanding why but he didn't ignore it either. Something immense was going to happen.
It was the wind of change.
-fin-