Rampant Sparks
Panic rushed through Ray's system. How long had he been running? "That doesn't matter," he thought. "I'll be sure to lose them in a forest as dense as this." As usual, his ego prevented Ray from admitting the terrifying truth. He wasn't going to get away. Not this time. This time, he couldn't charm, bribe or bluff his way out. This time, they were out for his blood. Spotting a large oak, Ray quickly scrambled behind it's thick trunk and tried to catch his breath. Pressing his head back on the solid bark, Ray slid down and silently cursed himself. He could have avoided all of this if he had just had the wit to know not to play with fire. Especially if that fire was bursting from his fist. Ray slumped even lower against the tree, his efforts to control his fast-beating heart in vain. He had been scared of it at first. Come to think of it, he was still scared. But now it wasn't the fact that he could summon fire that panicked him. It was the unpredictability. The flames weren't timid ponies that nuzzled his hands or fled at the first sign of danger. They were wild stallions-uncontrollable and fierce. That's what had landed him in this hot water.
The sound of angered yelling snapped Ray back into the present. Realising how much valuable time he had wasted, he launched himself back to his feet and continued sprinting through the unfamiliar woodland. He occasionally looked back, sometimes to check that the angry mob wasn't too close, and sometimes because he had heard a painstakingly familiar voice.
"He has to have gone this way-that river was too fast for him to have swam it!"
Ray identified the voice as Mrs Jones, the baker's wife. She was in her late 50's, and she had never liked Ray-or any teenager in the village for that matter. She believed they were all thieves, out to steal from her precious shop. It was really no wonder she had joined the hunt.
"What if he climbed a tree?"
Ah, the young voice of Peter Blake. That brat was only 12, but had the greed of a rich king. He was probably helping to either get paid, or to kiss up to a more wealthy adult.
"That 'Nabal' kid told us that he hates heights, he wouldn't have the skill to climb trees!"
Ray didn't recognise that voice, but whoever it was, they'd gotten information from his no-good cousin Nabal. It wasn't a mystery as to why Nabal's name meant 'foolish'.
"Look! These footprints are smoking! They have to be his!"
Ray froze in horror. Then whipped his head around to see that his footprints were, in fact, smoking. Muttering some unintelligible curses, Ray hurriedly attempted to kick some fallen leaves over the closest footprints before giving up. The voices were close now. He could hear the fire on their torches roaring. Ray really hated fire. He frantically assessed his surroundings. He couldn't run any longer, he was exhausted, and they'd catch him eventually. Suddenly, Ray had an idea. It was an awful, risky, stupid idea, but those seemed to be the only kind Ray could manifest. What was the only thing surrounding him for miles? Trees. If Ray could just swallow his fear of heights for long enough, he might just get away with it. And, they knew he wouldn't have the skill to climb trees, so they wouldn't look, right? Really, how hard could it be?
Hard. It was very hard. About two steps off the ground, Ray was already feeling queasy. "Ray, you are such a baby," he thought to himself. The thundering of feet and loudening of voices spurred him on, and he managed to get a reasonable distance off the ground. Hugging the tree trunk, Ray held his breath as his pursuers skidded to a halt only a few feet beneath him.
"Did we loose 'em?" grunted a short, middle-aged man with a humpback. "Did 'e get away?"
Ray hoped against all hope that someone would respond "oh dear, we must have! It's getting dark, shall we head back to the village and leave the poor, defenceless 16-year-old kid alone?" But ah, no such luck.
"No. His footprints end here, he mustn't be far. Spread out and look around. We'll find him." That was the voice of the man he hadn't recognised earlier. It was coming from directly below him. Ray, overcome with curiosity, ever-so-slowly shifted his gaze downwards. Instant regret. For a few reasons. Firstly, he was a LOT higher than he had originally thought. Looking down made the world spin, making a dizzy Ray hug the tree even tighter. Secondly, the man he was looking at was the priest from the church at the top of the hill. Ray had never been to church, he was far too busy. But he had always assumed that priests were nice people, who gave food to poor children living on the streets or something. But the man's attire made his profession undebatable. Thirdly, the priest was holding a crucifix. And Ray had a feeling that it wasn't for the man to protect himself from the awful odour emanating from some of the villagers. It was for Ray. The thought made his eyes fill with tears. They thought him a demon? He hadn't even done anything wrong, not really. All he had done was get a little angry at a customer in his blacksmith shop. It wasn't his fault that the forge's flames had reacted to his rage. The fire hadn't even hurt the annoying customer, they'd just grazed him until his hair and clothing smoked a little. But it seems that it was enough to spook the man, who ran off in search of backup. Stupid man. Ray blinked back the tears that were welling up in his hazel eyes. He went back to observing the people below him. They looked fierce, some were even holding weapons-weapons that Ray himself had made. The villagers must have raided his shop. Ray tried to control his rapidly increasing temper as he watched the villagers use his hard work and brilliant craftsmanship to prod bushes and turn over rocks. That, among other things, may have sparked the next twist in Ray's already pretty bad day.
Ray smelt ash one second too late. He hadn't even taken a second to think that his feet might still be smoking. SNAP. The burnt and weakened branch Ray stood on gave way, making sure to make the loudest cracking sound possible, and then for good measure, land on the priest's bald head. Ray managed to grab another branch on the way down, so he was still slightly out of reach of the villagers, but now he had most definitely been spotted. "GRAB 'EM!" yelled the man with the hunchback. "GET THE MONSTER!" Ray's stomach wrenched. His heart flew into his throat. There was absolute chaos as the villagers swung their hands wildly in an attempt to grab the teen. One of them got a hold on the heel of his boot. He kicked with all his might, managing to free himself, but he didn't have enough strength to haul himself up onto the branch he was grabbing onto. He was left to hanging there and kicking to keep the swarm of people at bay.
"USE YOUR WEAPONS YOU IDIOTS!" Screeched mrs Jones. The dozen adults holding spears and torches pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Ray tried to keep his legs up, swatting the first few spears out of the owner's hands with his right foot. He then yelped with pain as he felt his other foot start to burn. Someone had thrust a torch underneath his boot from behind while he had been concentrating on the spears to his front. Glancing down at his sore foot, Ray noticed the entire sole and toe of his boot had turned molten. The smell of burning rubber suffocated him and his arms ached. He wouldn't be able to hang on much longer. He chanced a glimpse at his hands-they were scratched, his knuckles white, his palms bleeding. He had only been looking at his hand for a couple of seconds, but that was all his attackers needed. A sharp pain tore it's way through his right calf. Ray yelled, his face contorted in pain. He couldn't hold on for much longer… WHAP. Ray forced his eyes open, though his vision was blurry. A short, blonde figure had hit one of Ray's attackers with… what was that? A stick? Ray couldn't tell, it was getting harder to see, and even harder to hold on to the branch. He hoped his saviour had not just brought a stick to rival Ray's own work. (His weapons were top-of-the-range, if he did say so himself.) Ray now counted three, maybe four men (or women, he couldn't tell) had been knocked down. The villagers focused their attention on the new blonde fuzzy blob, leaving Ray time to escape. At least, that's what Ray would have been doing if he weren't blacking out. His exhaustion caught up with him. His fingers slipped, and the world faded to black.
Ray gasped as he sat bolt upright, banging his head hard on…something. He held his throbbing forehead, his entire body aching and screaming in agony, especially his right leg. He shifted underneath the white covers. He didn't remember his bedroom being so bright. The light was blinding. Ugh, what had he done the day before? Then Ray began to add 2 and 2 together. His bedroom was in the attic of his shop, it had no windows, and certainly no blinding daylight. He didn't have white covers, and he had never smacked his head on anything when waking up before. He was definitely not at home. Panicking, Ray scanned his new surroundings. He was in the bottom bed of a bunkbed, one of about 5 or 6 others. The beds were all pressed against the walls, bordering the entire room. There was a small window placed in between every bunkbed, which totalled about 5 windows-all letting daylight beam in, directly into Ray's eyes. No wonder it was bright. He flung the covers off him and swung his legs over the side of the bed, assessing the damage to his aching leg. It was tightly bandaged, the wrap reaching from his ankle to below his knee. The other foot was an angry red with what he assumed was a 3rd degree burn. He sighed. It didn't look like he was walking anytime soon. Suddenly, a door to his right creaked open, making Ray jump. A short, blond boy appeared from behind the door. He wore a black kimono, with golden letters inscribed down the side. In his hand he held...a stick? No, a staff. Ray had never considered a staff to be a real weapon, it was just a glorified twig. The other teen spoke. "I'm sorry about all that." His smile was soft, like his voice. His green eyes seemed to laugh along. He almost looked relieved. Noticing Ray's silence, the boy talked again. "I'm Wu. You are at my monastery. I'm assuming you are Ray?" Ray nodded. He was still on edge from the day before, and he didn't feel up for making friends. Or trusting new people. And he definitely didn't trust anyone who could take down an entire village with just a staff. Wu seemed to read Ray's mind. His small smile faded, and looked more and more apologetic. Ray hated it. He wasn't some beggar kid on the streets who people looked sorry for, then proceeded to do nothing to help. He could take care of himself. But the quiet was getting uncomfortable. He intended to get answers.
"Why'd you help me?" This made Wu's shoulders sag even more. Was this guy always such a mope?
"I helped you because you needed help." A+ for cryptic answers. Maybe if he tried to guess...?
"Uhh... do you need me to make you a real weapon or something?" Wu chuckled.
"No, not yet. I want you to join my team." Team?
"Why do you want me? I can't fight."
"Not yet. But I have reason to believe you will one day be a great warrior." Well that answers just about nothing. But, if he turned this down, where would he go? What what would he do? He had nothing. Plus, Wu did seem nice, even if he was a tad confusing. But, just in case Wu had missed it, he needed to pre-warn him.
"Do you know why those people were chasing me?"
"Of course. You have extraordinary power. Here you will learn to tame it. It will be an asset to you." Hmmm... Controlling this fire sounded good. He wouldn't have to live in fear, he could sleep at night. He was reluctant, but Ray had decided.
"Yeah. Yeah okay."
….
Hey guys… I'm not dead. *woo* I haven't uploaded anything on my elemental switch au story in a while, but I was on holiday, and I now plan to write more for it. As for this piece, I wrote it about a month ago and posted it on amino, so I figured it would be a quick way to upload something here and also squeeze in an author's note. Thanks for reading!
