Open Road

bodyDisclaimer: *WARNING* If you can read this message it signifies that you have the intellectual capacity to determine that I, do not own The Vision of Escaflowne, its characters, settings, etc, etc, without being told. To view disclaimer, locate a wall, tabletop, or other hard surface and proceed to bonk your forehead vigorously against it several times. Repeat as necessary until disclaimer appears. We thank you for your cooperation.

A/N: Okay, first chapter, kinda short, but they will probably get steadily longer. This is my first fanfic ever, so please be gentle, *^_~* Anyway, reviews are encouraged, though not begged for, flames will be ignored or taunted mercilessly, depends on my mood. Constructive criticism welcome, though all out praise is preferred, *^_^* All right, that's about it for now, so enjoy! (Please?)

Your Friend,

~Gabe~

Chapter One - Nothing Is Ever Easy

She had just finished packing up her camp when the rain began. The drizzle from the trees above plastering her snow white bangs to her forehead, the young woman, who looked to be about fifteen years of age, let loose a string of colourful insults under her breath, none of which a lady should know, let alone utter. Still, it had been quite awhile since she had been called a lady.

As she thought of this, she tried to picture herself in the huge, lacy ball gowns that the high class ladies of most countries were supposed to wear, and could barley suppress a chuckle. Gazing downwards at her own dark green wool breeches, simple white cotton shirt and brown leather jerkin, the young woman quickly dismissed that fantasy, slung her small pack over her shoulder and began her hike, surveying her surroundings with a grace that can only come with years of life in the deep forests. Thankfully, the rain could not penetrate her long oiled cloak and she was able to stay, with the exception of her head, warm and dry.

"Blast!" She muttered, as an unusually large raindrop landed on the top of her hair, running down her neck, past the base of her long white braid, and under her cloak. Raising her deep hood to shield her from anymore rouge droplets, and cursing rain from here to the forth pit, the woman adjusted her pack and entered a small clearing in the dense woods. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the remnants of a campfire and large patches of flattened grass, probably where these people had set up tents, in the center of the small glade. Glancing warily at the surrounding woods, the woman slowly approached the soaking pile of ashes, and knelt, removing a glove and touching the ash with two fingers of her right hand, then rubbing the dark grey substance with her thumb and giving it a quick sniff.

"They are close." She said quietly as she slowly stood. She had to avoid whoever it was at all costs. Gods know what they would do to her if they found her. She shuddered at the thought of her youngest sister, lying naked, broken, in a pool of her own blood, the liquid staining her pale flesh the most horrid shade. . . No. She could not think of that day. She had to think of getting away from here, she was done her mourning. Eyes scanning every shadow, the woman leapt nimbly into the tree branches overhead, crouching beside the cool trunk until the leaves ceased their rustling. She had an idea of how close they could be, and it was much too close for comfort. The trail of the party lead out of the clearing and headed south-east, luckily she needed to go north. As she sat quietly in her leafy sanctuary, debating whether it was safe to move on, or if she should wait until dark, a rustling in the nearby trees caught her attention. She held her breath, and watched as a figure emerged from the shadows, deep blue cloak concealing its features, although its height and the width of its shoulders seemed to establish that it was, most likely, male.

The figure knelt in the exact spot where the woman herself had knelt only a few moments earlier, examining the ashes in the same manner. He raised his head as more rustling was heard in the surrounding forest, and six more figures emerged, one cloaked in the same manner as the kneeling figure, though in deep green, not blue, and the five others, uncloaked wolf men. The kneeling figure stood, wiping his ash soiled fingers on his black breeches, as he addressed the other cloaked person,

"Balgus, someone was here, very recently. Poachers, I would wager, after the dragons. We must find them and stop them." His voice was deep, definitely male, and by the sound of it, used to command.

"Yes, of course sir. They seem to have gone south-east. Should we follow now, or go back for reinforcements?" The other figure, Balgus? His voice was male as well, and his figure seemed bulkier than the other man. A warrior perhaps?

"We should go after them now, they are very close, and if we wait they may get away." The man began to examine the trail the previous occupants of the camp had left. It was clear enough for a blind man to follow, if these people were dragon poachers, they were not very good, the woman thought. Suddenly one of the wolf men spoke up.

"Sirs, someone is here. Now." He said, sniffing the air. Damn, the woman thought. She should have been more careful. She wasn't expecting wolf men, or anyone else, to notice her, not in this rain. She tried to decide whether to stay where she was, or to try to get away, but in the end, it wasn't her decision.

"Where Ruhm?" The blue cloaked figure asked, his voice low.

"I can't tell, my lord, wait. . ." More sniffing followed. The woman stiffened on her perch, a nervous feeling filling the pit of her stomach, as the rain on her brow mingled with the sweat now appearing there. Suddenly, No! she screamed in her mind, as a small twig snapped under her boot heel. She felt her chest contract as seven sets of eyes tuned to stare directly at her hiding place, and she tensed her muscles in preparation to flee.

Unsure who or what was in the tree above them, the men below followed the hand signals of the blue cloaked figure and slowly spread out to the surrounding trees, trying to contain whatever was above. Of course, the woman could see all that they were doing, so their attempts at stealth made no difference. She saw as some of the wolf men began to climb the surrounding trees, while some, including the green man, stayed on the ground to prevent escape that way. She also saw, or rather, she felt, as the man called Balgus began to quickly scale her tree. Fear began to leak into her mind, but she pushed it back. She could not be afraid. As quickly as she could without making too much more noise, she prepared to leap over to a nearby tree whose wolfman was having difficultly climbing. She had caught the other branch with her hands and was about to swing her feet up behind her when she felt a sharp tug on her right ankle. Spread horizontally between the two branches, she turned her head to see what had caught her foot, and came face to face with the figure of a heavily scarred man, shadowed by a deep green cowl. Balgus.

The woman turned her head back to the front before he could see her face, and with one swift motion, kicked him squarely in the jaw with her free foot. He let out a slight grunt as her boot made contact with his chin, but his grip on her foot did not loosen.

Fine then. She thought, as she quickly looked down to the approaching wolfman, who had finally gotten a good grip on the tree and was coming up towards her warily. Damn. It looked bad. Balgus was trying to pull her back towards him, but her grip on the other branch was like iron. He could not seem to catch her other foot, and its constant kicking at his face and hands was becoming quite irritating, not to mention painful.

"Would you stop that!?" He muttered angrily to the woman.

"Only when you let me go!" She cried hotly, landing one final kick to the side of his head, before slipping her captured foot out of its boot and springing quickly into the trees.

"Blast!" He bellowed as the woman's long white braid disappeared into the foliage. He lost his balance and fell from his perch, just managing to catch the branch with his free hand before hitting the ground. He looked down at his other hand, and the mud-caked boot therein. It was dark brown, doeskin, and would have probably went up to just below the woman's knee. "Blast." He said again, this time under his breath, as he dropped swiftly onto the leaf litter below.

"Balgus?" The blue cloaked man said, concern slightly altering his voice. Balgus removed his hood and held up the boot for the other man to see.

"A woman, long white hair, brown cloak, young, she got away. She did this." He said motioning to his face, the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and out of his nose, several large bruises forming around his good eye and his jaw, and the large egg shaped lump slowly growing on the side of his head.

"Are you alright?" the figure asked.

"I'll be fine, my lord," Balgus said, a small, wiry grin on his face, "Whoever it was up there was very good though, fast," He continued, lightly rubbing the lump on his head. The man in blue let out a small chuckle as he patted his injured friend on the back, and then looked at the other men, all of who had come down from their trees and were surrounding the cloaked pair.

"What should we do now, my lords?" One of the wolf men asked. The blue shrouded man seemed deep in thought as he scanned the surrounding forest. He stopped and looked back at his men.

"Balgus, if you feel up to it, we will follow the poacher's trail for a few more hours, then head back to the palace if we haven't found them. A single woman alone in the forest, no matter how well trained, is nothing we have to worry about yet. We don't even know her intentions." he paused, looking up at he sun peaking through the canopy, "If we leave now, and time it right, we should be back home by sundown. Balgus?"

"Of course, King Goau." The other man said with a small bow, "Lets go!" He yelled at the wolf men as the small party made its way back into the woods, following the trail left by the poachers into the shadows.

She spirited through the trees, as fast as she could go without falling, and did not look back for pursuit for a good half glass. When she finally stopped to rest, her back leaning against the cool wet trunk of a large oak tree, her mind was still racing, faster than she herself had moved through the trees. While she sat there, waiting for her breathing to steady out, the woman mentally chided herself for being so careless. She shouldn't have been taken off-guard like that, she had trained for this, lived like this for years. She looked down at her now naked right foot, cold and scratched from the rough bark of the trees. What would she do now? She couldn't go to the Fanelian Royal palace with one boot, but she didn't have the money to buy another pair. She would not lower herself to thievery. The woman let out an exasperated sigh.

Nothing is ever easy. . . She said to herself.

A/N version II: Before you ask, one glass equals one hour. Zaibach may have clocks, but Fanelia and the woman's place of origin do not, well, not many. Therefore, a half glass is 30 minutes, a quarter glass is 15, and so on. I may use miets later as well, and some others I'll make up, hehehe. . . Anyway, this is Ta 4 Now. I don't know when I'll have the next chapter out, we get a lot of tests in October, and I have a major project due soon for Social Studies, blah blah blah. . . But I'll try, *^_^* Ta all

~Gabe~/body