Part 2
Early dawn filtered through the trees, beckoning the young girl to awaken and continue on her
way. She opened her sapphire eyes and saw the forest awakening all around her.
She strecthed as best as she could, feeling a stiffness in her neck from sleeping in an awkward
position.
The girl made her way down the tree and (from the remembrance of last night's ordeal) made her
way more cautiously down than in her entire seven and a half years of life.
When she reached the forest floor, she began to wonder where she was, her disorientation from
the mad dash made last night returned in full force. If only those men hadn't chased her . . .
Hot tears pricked her eyes and threatened to spill over as she remembered those men barging
into her small home and slaying her parents in cold blood. They had been after only her, and she
had fled into the night to escape their wrath.
She shook her head as if to dispel such thoughts, fighting back her tears. She was always taught
to be like a rock, to not let little things get to her. But isn't it the little ebb of water that changes
the rock from stone to sand?
The girl scanned the forest once more, then settled on walking in one direction. She had heard
her father talk about a village to the south of their home where he often traded goods, but she
didn't know which way was south.
She remembered her mother as saying something about how the moss of a tree only grows on
one side . . .but which direction? She bit down on her lower lip in thought as she walked, the
metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.
The girl reached up and touched her amulet, a small slab of granite with a mysterious and
intricate design carved into it. Her mother had given it to her on her sixth birthday, claiming that
it would protect her from harm.
She then let grief overcome her, sitting on the forest floor and rocking back and forth, tears
streaming down her face. Looking back, the girl had no recollection of how long she sat there
sobbing, it could have been anywhere from five minutes to three hours.
A strange smell quieted her sobs, and beckoned her to notice it. It tickled her her nostrils and
tugged at her memory, a familar smell that she just could not place.
Smoke! The girl stood up, trying desperately to figure out where the smell was coming from.
She decided to go one way, figuring that it did her no good to just sit in one spot of the forest
anyway.
The girl didn't have far to walk until she heard the jovial laughter of men, and the smell of fresh
venison cooking upon a fire.
She stayed out of the sight of these men, and struggled to make out what they were saying, as she
wasn't very fluent in the language they were speaking.
"I can't wait until we get back home; although this venison is good, my wife could cook it
better!"said a burly , red-headed man as he began to laugh, his two comrades joining him in his
merriment as their laughter joined together.
The young girl studied the man closer, noting his brown vest over top of a dirty white t-shirt. He
wore loose brown slacks and black steel-toed boots, typical garb of a lumberjack. His curly red
hair hung into his green eyes, causing him to constantly push it away. He also sported a
muscular build, another characteristic of a lumberjack.
"But either one of our wives could cook it even better than that!" A tall, thin, balding man
crowed, causing a peal of nervous laughter from the third man, and the red-haired to
unconciously clench and unclench his fists. The man who had made the comment seemed
immensely proud of himself, poking at the fire with a gnarled stick he had found while
chuckling under his breath.
The third man stirred restlessly in his spot on the fallen log, his eyes keep shifting toward the
brown folds of cloth-like material that substituted for a tent. The girl examined this man closely
as well, noting the close-cropped brown hair and bit of stubble on his chin. He had shifty gray
eyes, and the same garb as the other two men covering his slightly plump frame.
Suddenly a figure poked his head out of the tent, and the girl's breath was taken away. He
looked a little older than she was; maybe nine or ten, but that wasn't why she stayed crouched
with the absencse of air in her lungs. For what she could see, he was almost god-like; the sun
filtered through the trees and hit his dark brown hair, resting upon his golden highlights. His
eyes were a beautiful combination of blue and gold, filled with the promise of young life and
adventures waiting to happen. "Papa, there's someone watching us," the young boy said, his eyes
narrowing into slits as he scanned the foliage around him.
The seated men looked at each other nervously, until the man with the red hair stood up,
unsheathing a dagger. He grasped it's diamond hilt tightly, the blade flashing dangerously in the
sunlight and striking fear into the young girl.
She stood up and began to run, fearing the man, but two powerful strides from the red-haired
giant allowed him to catch up to her and grasp her forearm in a grip of steel.
"What is it Ivan?" the gray-eyed man asked nervously from his position on the log.
The young girl struggled against the man with all her might, but it was an effort in futility as the
hulking man wouldn't let go. "It's a girl, a young one too." Ivan dragged her out into the little
clearing by the logs, and held her there as if she were a rare animal fit only to show.
"She's too young to be wandering off by herself," the tall, thin man remarked. "What if she's the
one those SeeDs are looking for?"
"Those bastards won't get ahold of her, Beck." Ivan began, unconsciously tightening his grip on
the girl's forearm. She cried out, her upper arm feeling as though it were on fire. "Oh, sorry
about that," he mumbled as he released his grip on her arm.
The girl stepped back, rubbing her arm. All of their eyes were on her, piercing her to her very
core. She glanced over at the woods, figuring out her options. If she could make it out into
there again, then maybe . . .
A hand on her shoulder caused her to spin around in astonishment as she came face-to-face with
the young boy, his eyes gazing into hers. Unlike the others, his gaze seemed soft, as though he
felt sorry for her. She trembled when he reached out his hand to her, a slight smile on his face.
"It's ok, you can trust me. I'm Ryan Leonhart, and you are . . .?"
Early dawn filtered through the trees, beckoning the young girl to awaken and continue on her
way. She opened her sapphire eyes and saw the forest awakening all around her.
She strecthed as best as she could, feeling a stiffness in her neck from sleeping in an awkward
position.
The girl made her way down the tree and (from the remembrance of last night's ordeal) made her
way more cautiously down than in her entire seven and a half years of life.
When she reached the forest floor, she began to wonder where she was, her disorientation from
the mad dash made last night returned in full force. If only those men hadn't chased her . . .
Hot tears pricked her eyes and threatened to spill over as she remembered those men barging
into her small home and slaying her parents in cold blood. They had been after only her, and she
had fled into the night to escape their wrath.
She shook her head as if to dispel such thoughts, fighting back her tears. She was always taught
to be like a rock, to not let little things get to her. But isn't it the little ebb of water that changes
the rock from stone to sand?
The girl scanned the forest once more, then settled on walking in one direction. She had heard
her father talk about a village to the south of their home where he often traded goods, but she
didn't know which way was south.
She remembered her mother as saying something about how the moss of a tree only grows on
one side . . .but which direction? She bit down on her lower lip in thought as she walked, the
metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.
The girl reached up and touched her amulet, a small slab of granite with a mysterious and
intricate design carved into it. Her mother had given it to her on her sixth birthday, claiming that
it would protect her from harm.
She then let grief overcome her, sitting on the forest floor and rocking back and forth, tears
streaming down her face. Looking back, the girl had no recollection of how long she sat there
sobbing, it could have been anywhere from five minutes to three hours.
A strange smell quieted her sobs, and beckoned her to notice it. It tickled her her nostrils and
tugged at her memory, a familar smell that she just could not place.
Smoke! The girl stood up, trying desperately to figure out where the smell was coming from.
She decided to go one way, figuring that it did her no good to just sit in one spot of the forest
anyway.
The girl didn't have far to walk until she heard the jovial laughter of men, and the smell of fresh
venison cooking upon a fire.
She stayed out of the sight of these men, and struggled to make out what they were saying, as she
wasn't very fluent in the language they were speaking.
"I can't wait until we get back home; although this venison is good, my wife could cook it
better!"said a burly , red-headed man as he began to laugh, his two comrades joining him in his
merriment as their laughter joined together.
The young girl studied the man closer, noting his brown vest over top of a dirty white t-shirt. He
wore loose brown slacks and black steel-toed boots, typical garb of a lumberjack. His curly red
hair hung into his green eyes, causing him to constantly push it away. He also sported a
muscular build, another characteristic of a lumberjack.
"But either one of our wives could cook it even better than that!" A tall, thin, balding man
crowed, causing a peal of nervous laughter from the third man, and the red-haired to
unconciously clench and unclench his fists. The man who had made the comment seemed
immensely proud of himself, poking at the fire with a gnarled stick he had found while
chuckling under his breath.
The third man stirred restlessly in his spot on the fallen log, his eyes keep shifting toward the
brown folds of cloth-like material that substituted for a tent. The girl examined this man closely
as well, noting the close-cropped brown hair and bit of stubble on his chin. He had shifty gray
eyes, and the same garb as the other two men covering his slightly plump frame.
Suddenly a figure poked his head out of the tent, and the girl's breath was taken away. He
looked a little older than she was; maybe nine or ten, but that wasn't why she stayed crouched
with the absencse of air in her lungs. For what she could see, he was almost god-like; the sun
filtered through the trees and hit his dark brown hair, resting upon his golden highlights. His
eyes were a beautiful combination of blue and gold, filled with the promise of young life and
adventures waiting to happen. "Papa, there's someone watching us," the young boy said, his eyes
narrowing into slits as he scanned the foliage around him.
The seated men looked at each other nervously, until the man with the red hair stood up,
unsheathing a dagger. He grasped it's diamond hilt tightly, the blade flashing dangerously in the
sunlight and striking fear into the young girl.
She stood up and began to run, fearing the man, but two powerful strides from the red-haired
giant allowed him to catch up to her and grasp her forearm in a grip of steel.
"What is it Ivan?" the gray-eyed man asked nervously from his position on the log.
The young girl struggled against the man with all her might, but it was an effort in futility as the
hulking man wouldn't let go. "It's a girl, a young one too." Ivan dragged her out into the little
clearing by the logs, and held her there as if she were a rare animal fit only to show.
"She's too young to be wandering off by herself," the tall, thin man remarked. "What if she's the
one those SeeDs are looking for?"
"Those bastards won't get ahold of her, Beck." Ivan began, unconsciously tightening his grip on
the girl's forearm. She cried out, her upper arm feeling as though it were on fire. "Oh, sorry
about that," he mumbled as he released his grip on her arm.
The girl stepped back, rubbing her arm. All of their eyes were on her, piercing her to her very
core. She glanced over at the woods, figuring out her options. If she could make it out into
there again, then maybe . . .
A hand on her shoulder caused her to spin around in astonishment as she came face-to-face with
the young boy, his eyes gazing into hers. Unlike the others, his gaze seemed soft, as though he
felt sorry for her. She trembled when he reached out his hand to her, a slight smile on his face.
"It's ok, you can trust me. I'm Ryan Leonhart, and you are . . .?"