AbhorsenSabriel87: Wassup readers? Look, I know I haven't updated in for-freaking-ever, but there are quite a few good reasons for that, as I explained in my other new fanfic Strength of Heart. Anywho, this, as you could probably tell, is a Yu Yu Hakusho fanfic. Woot! --V-sign and winks--

Anna: And this is actually one fanfic Hiei won't try to kill you over.

Sabriel: Ah... heh heh heh... --sweatdrop-- Yeah, yeah I hope so. Everyone, this is Anna Moore, just in case you don't know already.

Anna: Yo.

Sabriel: Anna is one of the first OC's I ever discovered in my subconscious. Ironically, she hasn't appeared yet in the story I'm making for her here on ...Don't you have a story to get on with?

Sabriel: Oh yeah! ...Wait, you're trying to trick me into doing the disclaimer! I invented that trick!

Anna: No you didn't.

Sabriel: ... --looks at records-- So I didn't. Huh. Well anyway, you still have to do the disclaimer, Anna.

Anna: --overly dramatic anguish-- Arg! Foiled again! Alas, 'tis my fate as an Original Character to say the disclaimer that my doting mistress so desperately needs so she doesn't get sued or booted from --sobs--

Sabriel: ... --doesn't look at all impressed--

Anna: --clears up immediately-- Well, it was worth a shot. Can't blame a girl for trying.

Sabriel: Get on with it. The readers are losing interest.

Anna: --grumbles-- AbhorsenSabriel87 does not own any Yu Yu Hakusho characters or related incendia, any cities in Japan, or any known characters from any show she decides to relate to in this fanfic.

Sabriel: Thank you Anna, that was very much to the point. Now... onward readers! --strikes dramatic pose--

Anna: --sweatdrop-- And she said I was weird...

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---A large ski lodge lay quiet in the chill mountain night, a light snow piled around the old-fashioned cabin as dark and silent as the early night. Crisp winds from the north swept away the exhausted storm clouds, leaving a waxing crescent moon to shine silver light upon the fairy tale lodge, the snow sparkling like diamond around its wooden walls. The lodge stood a grand two stories, with large windows on the lower floors peeping into the grand hall within, and smaller windows the revealed the picturesque world outside to the occupants of the single rooms without revealing the occupants within. Behind one of the windows, the center of the three on the western side, a young child lies asleep, unaware of the chill outside her fantastic home.

---The child, sleeping soundly in her warm bed, is still rather small with innocent and kind features on her relaxed face. Soft onyx hair curls about her slender face, having escaped from its tight braid that trails to her waist behind her, and her small but long hands grasp the comforter as a dying man would grasp a final letter to his wife from the battle field. A red T-shirt pokes above the down blanket, and at the base of the bed where the heavy blanket seemed to have retreated, deep blue socks poke out and seem to reach for the door and the outside world, no matter the cold that awaits this chilly December day. The scene is so peaceful, disturbed by nothing out of the ordinary, and the child sleeps innocently with not a care in the world... yet.

---Resounding knocks echo through the lodge, abruptly waking the child from her slumber. Sighing sleepily, she opens her eyes, as pure violet as large amethyst orbs and still dazed from lack of sleep, and pushes herself up, stifling a yawn with her delicate hand. Golden glows appear behind her door, as do shadows of two sets of feet that pad by her door quietly, and curiously the girl slips out of bed, white pajama bottoms covering her slight six-year-old frame with ease, and creeps over to the heavy solid redwood door, gently prying it open with care. Light dimly washes the room as she slips out to the balcony above the ground floor. The entire house is built with strong redwood and polished to a silver shine and a fireplace crackles quietly in the large marble fireplace, sending the sweet smell of burning pine lightly throughout the house. A young couple dressed in night robes make their way to the large doors of their near-empty lodge, deserted except for them and the child. The young man stands six feet high with night-black hair and fair skin, like his wife beside him, with a narrow face that seems to hide wisdom in its young appearance and light lavender eyes that seem to see everything, whether obvious or discreet. The woman seems to be his lighter half with silver-blonde curls that cascade almost to the wooden floor and summer-lake eyes that shimmer with kindness, innocence, and forgiveness. Willowy in form and barely half past five feet tall, this young woman is enchanting to the eyes... even if, unlike her husband, she is only human.

---The doors open without a sound and a chill wind takes the opportunity to gust into the home and settle some snowflakes on the floor. "Good evening strangers," the young man starts, his baritone voice soft and hinting of mystical pasts. "To whom do we owe the pleasure of visiting us on this chilly night?"

---"Only two who wish to hide from the cold for the night," replies a voice colder than any snow, but strangely enchanting in its harsh tone. "Perhaps you could spare us a room for only one night? I assure you that we shall be leaving tomorrow if that is an issue."

---"'Tis no issue at all," the young woman answers, her accent a musical and unique mix of Old Irish and Japanese. "Come inside and out of this cold, for you are not intruders." But upon their entrance, the child begins to think that perhaps her mother is incorrect in her assumption and that the "travelers" were not to be welcomed or trusted. Although the two seem authentic enough, both carrying snowboards on their backs with scarves and jackets over their slight forms, their ice-white faces hold no trace of the weather that raged earlier that day, nor do their eyes hold any warmth and kindness falsely portrayed in their voices. "Thank you, my lady," the taller of the two answers as they step through the doorway and into the warm hall. "You have no idea how much you have helped us." As the woman scoffs politely at the faint praise, the taller smiles, but no trace of it touches his eyes at all, and the other eyes the elvish owner of the lodge with a look that the child has never seen before but doesn't like. Silently, she slips back into her room and closes the door without a sound. Leaning her back against the door, the girl thinks to herself about the strange visitors that were readily invited into her parent's home like all travelers.

---The front doors close with a resounding echo throughout the cabin, as do the voices of the couple and the traveler who had spoken before. Instinctively, the little girl reaches her hand to the pendant around her neck hanging from a fine platinum chain. The pendant, given to her for her fifth birthday, is a flawless amethyst orb held by delicate platinum bonds shaped like the silvery clouds that wisp by a full moon on a cool autumn night. She doesn't know why she reached for the gift she always kept with her, but just touching it seemed to help her relax and think more clearly about this odd situation. I must tell Father of my suspicions she thinks, her violet eyes searching her room. But I don't want them to see me. They scare me, and I don't think they mean well. I'll just wait 'till they go to sleep and talk to Father and Mother then.

---As if brought by the angel Asrael herself, a fearful scream rings out in the hall, as well as sounds of a struggle. Frightened for her family, the child rushes out of the room and to the balcony, ready to shout to her parents. But her warnings and concerns stop abruptly as she gazes, horrified, at the floor. There lay her parents, eyes wide in terror as they slowly drip blood onto the floor and the travelers pull them close. The dark haired man's chest is stained with still-flowing blood, although his heart has already stopped beating and his light eyes are glazed over in death. The smaller man has his face pressed to the neck of the dead man as his companion stands over the woman, whose white robe is stained deep red from a wound in her stomach. Gasping for air and trying to stay alive, the woman looks over to her daughter and whispers hoarsely, although her daughter can hear it perfectly "Nora, hinya!" just before the taller monster bites deeply into her throat, cutting away her warning. Petrified, the poor child simply stands there, watching the creatures feed on her parent's blood until they raise their now cunning and red eyes to her, grinning wickedly with blood running down their chins.

---"Elvish blood is a treat, as is the flesh of a woman," the taller says, his grin spreading over his face quickly, "but a half-blood child is the tastiest treat of the whole race." Uttering a sharp shriek, the girl runs into her room and slams the door, locking it tightly and throwing the key across the room. Engulfed with fear, disgust, and agonizing sadness, the little girl flicks her eyes about her room until they land on a small rose- and heartwood box on her dresser. Feeding off of instinct alone, she snatches the box from the dresser and shoves open the window, allowing the cold wind to gust in again. She hesitates for a moment, seeing the ground so far below her, but is started back to reality with the sound of a jiggling doorknob behind her. Bracing herself, she jumps out the window, landing lightly in the deep snow.

---The soft icy flakes cover up to her knees as she runs to the edge of the mountain forest but soon thins as she runs through the trees. All her life she lived on this mountain in the cabin with her mother and father. Now the only family she had ever known lie dead on the floor of their home, and she running for her life in hopes of reaching the village at the base of the mountain before those two... things could catch up to her. Faster and faster she runs, blood pounding like hot magma through her veins, her breath heavy, legs swift, and feet frozen from the icy ground. Soaked from the waist down and her trail marked by swiftly disappearing puffs of white mist, she flees through the forest, running across the snow without marking it at all. Icy air stings her lungs and soothes the burning in her muscles as she dashes between trees and across unmarked paths. Just ahead of her, she sees a sharp in one of the paths and her heart lifts as she darts forward even faster. This bend, coming from behind a high rock face at a 135 degree angle, marks that she is only another three miles uphill from the small town at the base of the mountain. Unknown to the child as she steps into the path, she will never see this town again.

---As her small and soaked feet barely touch the path, she spun to her right, caught off-guard by the sharp cry of surprise in the same direction and even more so by the object that hit her with such force it sends them both over the edge of the path and sprawling in the snow. As the child tumbles down the hill, she hears a snap as her right leg burns instantly with sharp pain and a thud as her head hits a hard object and she loses consciousness as something warm wraps itself around her, almost as if protecting her vulnerable body from the nightmare she had found herself in.

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---A stinging slap to her right cheek wakes the child from her trauma-induced unconsciousness, as well as a voice she did not recognize saying something in a language she cannot understand. She opens her eyes slowly only to have them meet a second pair of eyes, a deep garnet that shine with frustration and an unearthly glow from within that startles her into a fully-awake mode. Seemingly content that the child had indeed awoken, the owner of the eyes moves away from her swiftly to a spot not five feet from the girl. She sits up, propping herself on her slightly scratched up and frozen hands and attempts to get a good look at the other person. All she can tell at the moment is that this young man (yes, she's sure of it, he is a he) has hair dark as her father, but sticking straight up as if it were as constantly alert as its owner, and he is bigger than her, if only a little. He'd clad himself in an entirely black outfit from head to toe, bandana to boots, including the remains of ebony skis he's prying off his feet and a black cloak that lies on the snow behind him lazily. She doesn't have a clue who this young man is, but she does know that even though they had long since lost the trail, whatever had killed her parents would not be lost for long.

---The young man catches her gaze with his own unamused one and speaks again. His voice is harsh and cold in its alto tones, and still she cannot understand his words. When she only replies with a look of uneasiness and confusion, he looks at her questioningly and speaks again, this time as if asking a question. When she still doesn't respond, he sighs and lowers his head, muttering off quietly. When he brings his head up and looks at her again, he seems to be trying to find the right words to say to her. "...What is your name?" he asks, starting slowly and working up speed as he gets used to the language. "Can you understand me now?"

---The girl nods, shivering as the cold sets into her small body. "Y-yes sir," she stammers, speaking the English words fluently. "M-my name is R-Randirain." The young man nods and stands again silently, his feet sinking to his ankles in the soft snow as he looks about the area. "Okay Randirain," he continues, still looking around them cautiously, "what are you doing here?"

---"I live on this mountain," she answers despairingly. She shivers and rubs her cold hands together, then realizes that the jewelry box she had been carrying was no longer in her hands. Eyes wide in panic, she looks around her, searching for the small object. The young man catches her fleeting glances and sends her a puzzled look of his own. "What are you looking for?" he inquires, walking over to her quietly. He seems to notice her blue and frostbitten skin and swiftly removes his cloak, fastening it around her shoulders. Randirain looks up at him and bites her lip, hesitating before she answers his inquisition. "A small wooden box," she finally mutters softly, pulling the warm cloak around her gratefully. She looks past him and her eyes catch something latched to his belt behind him. She narrows her eyes to see better and starts when she realizes that it's a sword, almost three feet in length. But the man seems not to notice as he stands and moves over to a small black knapsack on the ground where he had been sitting previously.

---"This?" he asks, holding up the box carefully in his gloved hand like an ancient treasure. "I picked it up right before you lost consciousness. It's remarkable craftsmanship and I didn't want it to get shattered."

---"Thank you," she replies softly and takes the box gently from him. "I appreciate it, sir." She clutches the box close to her slender body and curls up under the warm and thick cloak around her tiny body. "Sir, we have to leave," she persuades. "There is something on this mountain that shouldn't be here." His garnet eyes glance at her again, holding the gaze longer this time before he stands and holds out a hand to help her up. "Then let's go," he proposes quietly. "We should not linger in this cold anyway." She accepts his hand and attempts to stand, but her broken leg screams in agony and causes her to fall again, clutching the injury as well as the stranger's gloved hand. With a look either of worry or confusion, the swordsman kneels next to Randirain again, removing his gloves to and placing them on her freezing hands, his own almost feverishly warm but as pale as his face and touched with tiny scars as more proof of his sword training. With the care of a long-time physician, he pushes up the soaked cloth around her leg and traces his hands over the bone carefully. Muttering something to himself in that same dark language that she couldn't place, he rises and takes two things out of his black knapsack; a roll of bandages and three fragments of what remained of his black skis, two long and one only the length of his palm. Shaking his head as if he couldn't believe that a child could do this much damage to herself, he crouches beside her again and hands her the shorter piece of wood. When she only stares blankly at him, he orders impatiently, "Bite down on it hard. This will hurt." Unsure, but for some reason trusting him, Randirain places the bit of wood between her teeth gently, waiting to see what the strange man is going to do. Focusing his attention on her broken appendage, he places his hands on the injury, closes his eyes, and snaps it quickly into place.

---Fire and pain shoot through her leg, and Randirain bites hard on the wood, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. She barely feels his hands move along her leg to check for separate fractures and has to blink back tears when she opens her eyes again. Once her vision clears, the man has risen once more to after splinting her leg and is holding his hand out to her to help her to her feet. Warily, but oddly trusting of the dark figure before her, she takes his hand lightly and allows him to help her stand. She thanks him quietly and gives him an unsure smile. He makes no attempt to respond to her thanks, but instead asks, in quite an annoyed and cold voice, "Now that you can walk again, tell me why exactly we need to leave this mountain in such an urgent manner."

---Wincing not only at his tone but the memory of what happened earlier that same night (whether hours or moments before she cannot tell due to the clouds and thick trees), she finds herself unable to respond and lowers her eyes to the ground, pulling the warm and thick cloak about herself. "We're in danger here," she finally chokes out, trying to refrain from sobbing in the presence of a stranger. "We have to leave immediately and find a safer location." The young man cocks an eyebrow, almost seeming amused at the thought of being in any danger he couldn't handle, but before he can speak, a familiar chilling voice rings out in the silence, "You should listen to the half-blood, Lord Hiei of Makai. She speaks truthfully and wisely for one of her age and race."

---Randirain snaps her head in the direction of the voice and gazes, terrified, at the still bloodstained murderers naught twenty feet away from the pair. The dark man turns to face them, seemingly bored or uninterested, and glances them up and down lazily. A small smile touching the corner of his mouth (but not his eyes), he responds quite clearly, "I run from no one. Especially not you third-rate murderous vampyres who dare to call yourselves Hunters of the Night."

---"You shouldn't be tempting your luck," the smaller vampyre hisses, his voice dark with malice and hunger. At one point, it must have been sugar sweet to the ears, but in its current tone it only scared Randirain into hiding further behind her protector, this mysterious man named Hiei. "We have our orders and we plan to carry them out. Whether we feast on you as well is your choice." The swordsman transfers his eyes slowly to the speaker and holds his gaze easily and steadily for a moment, then returns his ruby eyes to the leader. "You vampyres have as much honor in half-death as you did life," he murmurs softly. "None. And I sincerely doubt that you have orders to kill a child from Ningenkai, as she is not listed in the Royal Archives of Elvenkind. Her family is not even listed among the lesser nobles. What reason do you have to kill her, other than your own sick and twisted pleasures and desire to continue this pathetic half-life of yours?" Randirain stares at the little fighter, who remains a head and shoulders taller than her. How does he know what her family has to do with the Elvenkind? And what does he mean about them having a half-life? Are these creatures... already dead?

---"Please Lord Hiei," the tallest croons, his voice enchanting and light, "we have no urge to fight you tonight. We only have our mission to attend to. We do not even need to kill the child; we can return her to our employer dead or alive. Please just hand her over to us, my lord." Although she knows what the creature means, Randirain can not help but be drawn to him via his entrancing voice. The only thing that keeps her from moving forward is the body of her protector, standing alert and wary. Much to her surprise, Hiei bows his head and begins to shake with slight tremors. When he raises his head again, a dark smirk has crept onto his pale features and a fire of challenge and amusement dances in his blazing eyes. "You must have lost some of your brain matter in your half-death, Richard de Con'nere," he exclaims softly, discreetly placing his left hand upon the hilt of his sword, "if you actually believe that I would be fool enough to submit to your mind tricks and hand over someone I have already vowed to protect. Return to your graves for about ten thousand years and I'll think about considering your offer."

---"Then we'll have to kill you as well, Forbidden Child," the apprentice growls, his dark eyes flashing in bloodlust. "We'll be the first to taste your legendary mixed blood as you watch the child you so wish to protect dying beside you." Hiei eyes narrow darkly. "No one calls me by that name and lives," he mutters coldly. "Are you prepared to die for your stupidity?" In answer to his question, the vampyre disappears in a blur of black. Instantly, the swordsman pushes the little half-elf back hard and draws his sword in a flash. The sound of it slicing through the air is quickly followed by the vampyre appearing ten feet to his left, minus a right hand. But no blood leaks from the wound and the beast seems almost unaffected as he continues to fight Hiei with astounding strength and agility matching the swordsman's own, but his attacks are poorly executed with almost no form to speak of. "Hide girl," Hiei tells her, flipping to Elvish so not to have the others hear his plan. "Get behind the trees and don't come out until I've finished." Nodding, the little girl glances at the head vampyre, whose eyes are trained on the fight, and moves quietly to a spot behind a large pine nearby, watching the battle as best as she can with her untrained but sharp eyes. Both fighters are exceptionally fast, but it appears that the sword fighter is only playing with the vampyre underling, moving just enough out of his way to have a narrow miss and slashing deep gashes into the other's skin with no effect other than to perhaps enrage him.

---Then, out of nowhere, cold arms lift Randirain into the air and a cold, icy hand clamps over her mouth as she is carried away from the fight, deeper into the forest.

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Sabriel: Eh, I was thinking of doing more, but I didn't really want to exceed seven pages.

Anna: Well, you're going to unless you keep this AN Section short.

Sabriel: Says you! Feh, inconsiderate OC... --grumbles--

Anna: --sighs-- Whatever. What's next?

Sabriel: --whispers it in her ear--

Anna: ...--nods-- ...Oh that's cool... Aw, that's so- --Sabriel slaps hand over her mouth--

Sabriel: Shh! I don't want the readers to know! --turns back to readers-- And speaking of you guys, please review. I desperately need them.

Anna: --nods--

Sabriel: Oh yeah, what the mom says before she dies translates very roughly to "Run, my child!"

Anna: --nods again--

Sabriel: Peace out y'all. --V-sign as she turns off her computer--