Lady Hawk
By: LadyHawk225
He walked calmly away from the mansion. A cold, autumn wind rushed against his face as his steady, purposeful steps led him away from the place he called home. Cold, dead leaves crunched against his feet as he walked down the path and across the large yard towards the woods nearby.
He wore no jacket in the cool air and goose bumps adorned his arms as he entered the woods. The dim morning light reflected off his blue hair as he walked through the maze of brush and trees. The forest was silent. There was no noise as he walked through the woods. The song of birds and the gently hum of insects was absent, still sleeping in the early morning dew.
The wind picked up slightly, sending blue tendrils of hair about his face. Leaves swirled in the cold wind and settled across the path in the puddles of muddy water left from the rainstorm the night before.
His shoes were getting wet, but he didn't care. Mud and leaves stuck to the bottom of his sneakers, and Rowen resisted the urge to scrape it off with a stick. Small flowers were crushed beneath his feet as he strayed off the beaten back, mixing with the dirt and grime beneath his treads.
Rowen sighed. The beauty of the untainted forest around him brought him no joy. He wished he could join them. These spirits trapped forever in were the ancient trees.
He stopped, staring up at the branches of the highest tree in the forest. The canopy of leaves were silhouetted in the pale light of morning dotted with pinpricks of light where the leaves have way to gray sky behind. Placing a hand on the rough trunk of the massive tree, he gently stroked the bark with the palm of his hand.
Blood dribbled down his arm as he stroked the rough bark, a scowl written on his face at the pain and blood. Removing his hand from the trunk of the tree he gazed at his palm in fury. These signs of weakness; signs of his life flowing within. He gazed at the tree in awe. These massive creations didn't bleed. They didn't cry out in pain or weary with the toil of the day. They simply lived. They grew. They thrived.
Rowen looked up once more at the massive tree and shivered. How badly he wished to join these great ancients. Once, he had been told that trees were the spirits of those who had never truly lived as humans. They were trapped in this form, constantly reaching towards heaven. They grew and thrived, hoping desperately to gain access to heaven through their stretching braches and blossoming fruits. Their flowers and roots, digging deep into the earth, their trunk spreading out thickly, all in an attempt to find the meaning of true life.
Grasping a branch near his head, Rowen lifted his way up to the thick branch.
His life was like a story. The unlikely hero rises from the ashes of his horrible, nightmarish childhood to save humanity.
Swinging his feet up, Rowen climbed higher.
Throughout the war with the Dynasty, he had kept his eyes on the prize. He had wanted to save the world, save it's people; all those innocents.
Rowen paused, looking down at the ground, now far away. Blinking away the tears in his eyes, he climbed higher.
He had done his job. He had fought the good fight. His life was a hero's saga. Filled with danger and intrigue. But now that the danger was over, what more was there to the hero's life?
Rowen reached the highest branch of the tree. Clinging lightly to the trunk, swaying slightly under his weight, he scanned the surrounding forest for signs of his friends.
He wished that he had died in battle. Then maybe his hero's life would be complete and honorable. Perhaps he would be remembered if he died.
With an impatient sigh, Rowen allowed the tears to leak out the corners of his eyes. They weren't coming. They weren't coming to save him from himself.
His life was a sad story. He wished it had ended long ago.
He tilted his head back and released the trunk of the tree, twisting his body backwards as he fell. He stared at the sky as the wind rushed past his body as it plummeted to the earth. He had left his armor orb behind. Strata wasn't here to save him now.
The sky was so beautiful, blue indigo base with white fluffy clouds, scattered across it. Yet he knew the deceit of the blue, and strained his eyes to look beyond the blue blanket to see the stars. His beautiful, beautiful stars. They were hidden, but he would be with them soon. As his body struck the forest floor, his body smashed into ruins, his stars flashed before his eyes, waving to him in a sea of blackness.