Crossroads
A/N: Don't think I'm too happy with how this came out, but hey I actually updated!
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo.
Chapter One: The Decision
Soren was grateful for a day like this. It was late afternoon, the sun about to hit that point were it would begin to vanish across the horizon. During the evening peace, he reflected on his venturing through a new greener environment. Sure, it wasn't perfectly green, cool, and shady like forest regions of Telligus were he spent his earlier years, but it was heaven compared to where he was before. It was still hot, but not excruciating. The long tall tan colored dried grass blew with the wisps of wind that so gently blew. He enjoyed watching it dance around out of the corner of his eye, as he ventured straight down the narrow dirt path. He heard a few birds noisily chirping to another, and occasionally the dried brush that grew close to the beaten path would stir.
He glanced ahead, noting the shadow stretched across his way, from a looming tree. The tree's branches were long and thin; with slender, awkward pale leaflets. Its bark rough and sharp, pieces looked ready to fall off. It twisted around, and hung across the path, an ideal place to stop for a traveler.
He shook his head to himself, rest would be wonderful, but he felt he was close to a town.
A town, he mused for a moment. Images from the day before rushed through his mind. Images of a vast desert that stretched on for what seemed like eternity. There might have been towns present in various locations, but not the friendliest or coziest. Or educated, in his distinct opinion.
He looked at his bare arm. Now it glowed a darker, richer color from the sun. His once fair skin had been bloody red, or peeling. Soren winced remembering that, thankfully his new tan prevented such issues from rising again. His hair, in a high ponytail, cooled the back of his neck during those times. Even if the style remembered him of Shinon, which disgusted him remembering the archer's treatment of his dear friend, but he had rather stay cool. He thought of cutting it, but the thought quickly passed away.
He closed his eyes; the first thing he saw was the endless sands, the sun ahead of him, taunting him. Just imaging such things left his mouth parched, and his flesh hot. He imaged the hot, stinging wind sheer against his naked arms. It whipped across his face many times, he was lucky that his attire had a large, and tall collar. He paused to stop and look at his feet, his arms stretched out in front of him. His clothes hadn't changed too much. He had no sleeves, nothing to weigh him down. He still wore light pants, but heavier and stronger boots. Two belts intersected another across his slender waist. One clutching the sheath of a lean and lightweight sword. In his right hand, his tired hands, underneath leather fingerless gloves tightly clenched his trusted tome.
He felt different, and he knew he looked different. His past journeying, leading up to almost the three-year mark, had done so much for him. He was thankful for that, and looking forward to the climax of it.
He looked forward to seeing his dear friend's face again. Soren awaited his expression. That stunned, but proud gaze he wanted to see in Ike's eyes. He couldn't wait any longer to rejoin with his dear companion, his brother of sorts.
Soren looked up from his feet, first noticing a change in the silhouette of the tree. Its blackened outline on the ground had an odd shape sticking out from the top. He gazed to the tree's trunk, catching part of a small figure leaning against it limply. The figure stirred, and weakly moved to the road, staggering, and weaving. Their back turned to him was covered with long dark blue hair, that spiked outwards at its end. He took a few cautious steps, his red eyes leering ahead.
They suddenly whipped around, Soren's hand raced to the hilt of his blade, the other forcing the tome in front of him. Their knees bended and they weaved weakly. Soren stared down the exhausted, sickly looking girl. She glared at him, taking a few steps back.
Soren glared at her as well, ignoring her helpless state, ready to fight if necessary However, his eyes focused on the odd design on her tunic. His hands dropped to his side, the mark was too recognizable.
"Crimea?" he whispered to himself. He gazed back at her. She gazed back at him, now frightened, distraught and pleading as if she heard his words. Soren stared into her blue eyes, which seemed too familiar to him, too warm and comforting for a stranger. She mouthed something, and limply fell to the ground.
He blinked, groaning to himself. "Such a burden…" he moaned. He stared to walk ahead, ready to ignore her, this girl was just a block in his path to see Ike. Something that would just get in the way, nothing that meant any merits to him. He winced, Ike suddenly appearing in his head. He looked at the fainted girl anxiously, the sudden feeling to help her overwhelmed him.
But it would delay him to his goal.
But it wasn't the right choice to just leave her. He rubbed his head, hearing Ike's voice, imaging it commanding him to help her, pleading to help her. Something he had no desire to do, but it wasn't something he could just avoid.
"The crest though…" Soren mumbled. He was miles, months, away from Crimea in the new lands undiscovered to those back home. Why would she be all the way out here?
