This is not my story! However it is on another fan fiction website (shur'tugal fan fiction). The reason that I have put it on is for both the enjoyment of you the readers.

This series is written by the incredible Blackdawn Mybook

And this world was created by the incredible imagination of Christopher Paloni

Well, hell. I thought, wincing as another arrow shot after me, missing my head by a few good feet.

And this is a perfect example of why I prefer not to steal food from people. But I had been tired (yes, that's possible to be even though I don't sleep), and I hadn't wanted to hunt and cook and go through that process. I mean, why go to those lengths when others had plenty to eat? Hello? Common sense always wins in this war.

But obviously sneaking in to that grumpy old lady's campsite, taking a few bits of food, and sneaking away hadn't worked as well as I had thought it would. (Hence the arrow…arrows, actually.)

Now she was yelling at the top of her frail little lungs and charging at the air as I dashed away, just a blur for the human eye. I looked back to see her blink once…twice…three times before scratching at her hair-filled old head. I laughed coldly and poured on the speed, my legs disappearing at how fast they were working.

Yeah, it was awesome. And yeah, I knew that I was a freak. But I was my freak.

My stomach gurgled and I grabbed it, my teeth clenching and almost breaking my own skin on the inside of my cheek by the force of my strain. I took a deep breath and calmed myself, my muscles relaxing and my mind once again concentrating on the task at hand: The joy of running.

But the other part of my brain was reeling. I had been traveling for two weeks and sightings of human activity were getting more and more frequent as large herds (what else do I call my prey?) of them flocked together, heading toward my old city of Belatona. I had gotten more Flashes telling me that they were preparing to either help the city against being captured or warn them. And, from my most recent piece of information, most of the people in that city wouldn't fight back.

The underbrush of the woods was soft and light against my skin as I ran on, me not being 'normal' making it possible for running to actual be a breeze. It was fun, energizing, and it awoke the fire in me…I just loved to run. I was advanced…I was a Shade…and as far as I knew, my unknown brother and myself were the only born Shades alive. We were the new super-race of our created generation. (And I'd crack anyone's head open if they started celebrating over that depressing news. I swear it.)

I gasped as images suddenly blocked my view, forcing me to halt my run. I skidded a good amount of yards before tumbling to the ground and writhing there like an animal in torture. My teeth were bared and my fingernails – more appropriately called 'claws' – dug into the ground while my hair was an even more wild, glowing, blood colored mess around my face. It was painful...it was too much almost...but I'd done it before...

The sun was just rising in the background…the tents of every color surrounded me, with occasional trees parting the sea…women looked forlorn; children were outfitted with too-big mail armor clinking on their tunics; men looked nervous, sparring with one another in full armor…I crouched low behind a tent and pounced, landing on what looked like an elven-human mix…

Then the familiar, cold, crystal clear voice of a male slithered into my Flash and spoke: "The time of Wyrda is upon you."

The Flashes slowly faded into oblivion, blessing me with the power of full control over my body once again. I panted where I was, although I knew that I shouldn't be panting. My body was sprawled across the floor of the earth, looking misshaped and mangled, but I didn't have it in me to move my limbs. Slowly, ever so slowly, I removed my claws from the dirt and looked by my side to see my matted, patched pack. The hues of every color were bright and clear, as they always were, and not clouded and blocked, as having Flashes made them be.

But they usually weren't that painful. Most were just momentary, and some I didn't even feel a thing. Which meant that this Flash had been important. Which also meant...well, hell.

I reached a finger out to the side and hooked it around the strap of my pack, bringing it to rest beside me. I untied the small but elaborate knot at the top of the pack and whispered a single word in the Ancient Language, so as to allow me access to it.

My hand wrapped around the piece of paper and pen as I got to my knees, grunting as I sat up and crawled over to a medium sized rock. It was smooth and flat and had but minor flaws, and I set the piece of paper on it.

I dabbed the tip of the pen on my tongue, removing it and watching with sparkling red eyes as fumes sizzled and crackled from the pen's writing point. It glowed a bloody red and burned ice cold while I smiled and wrote:

"The time of Wyrda is upon you."

I then folded up the piece of paper and rubbed the glowing pen on the ground, extinguishing its magic. Walking over on strong legs to the spot where I had fell, I examined the damage I had done. I winced.

A round, trench-like tunnel – without the top – was 'dug' through the earth a good fifty feet long and two feet deep. Roots, plants, rocks, and other materials had been thrown up and around the site, giving it a crash-landing kind of feel. And where I had stopped my mad halt, leaves were tossed and dirt looked thoroughly harassed from my digging. I sighed.

This is what happens when a Shade stops running randomly and then falls to have weird Flashes.

But I didn't have the time to fix it. I had to be on the move if I was going to get to the Varden's camp by morning, and it was already twilight. Time was wasting...and I am not one to waste time. Heck, it got on my last dang nerve to be late.

I stowed away my items and shouldered my pack, continuing my run as I hurried to catch up with my lost time. The trees and night once again flew by me as my legs disappeared with their speed, and my eyes witnessed the happenings of night in a clear vision. The moon was hidden by a few lone clouds and, as a stray, lone thought, I wondered how Diane was doing…if she'd be okay without me there.

Then again, why the heck should I care?

Good gods I won't lie to you…these people had a thing for tents and animals.

First impression of the Varden: Circus.

Latest impression of the Varden: A circus with weapons.

I mean, hello, there couldn't be any more tents. It was crowded with them, with, if you were lucky, about seven feet of walking room through each isle. Well, scratch that. There was actually just one area where all the tents were, which was the eastern side of their 'camp.' This area was obviously where they slept and such…but hell, where did they keep all the animals?

And that's what I could hear the most, what with my better-than-immortal hearing. Confused and irritated, I centered my hearing focus on each individual tent until I found a rather large one, and that's when I noticed the gates and pens.

The western side of their camp held the sparring field: where people were, well, sparing. Trees were scattered throughout the tent area and in the distance, where the river was to the east, but that was it for foliage.

The northern side of camp had this pole-looking thing that I assumed was their lashing post, and more grey colored tents (not nearly as colorful as the others, let me tell you) were gathered behind it and in that general area. While where I was hiding, I was somewhere between the 'men sparring' and the 'women working on the chores' areas.

I was hiding behind a single, lone blue tent, the resident obviously not present. A tree was to my left, giving me the option of looking at everything from a comfortable view…which is when I saw that elven-human man thing.

Whoever he was, and however he had done what he had done to himself, I needed some assistance and fast. And although this might not have been the way to get the job done, it was all I could think of doing right now. I mean, I am a monster…and, really, there's no arguing with one of us on this kind of subject.

He walked closer, his stride long and elegant. He had fresh tan leggings, a white silk (probably elf) shirt, and tall black boots on. His hair was tousled and a light, brown but golden blonde color.

And all I could think was, Ugh, he was a pretty boy. Great.

As he unsheathed his sword - the blade a beautiful blue that made me hesitant to take in all its details in two seconds - I took a moment to crouch and bare my teeth, my hair practically pulsing off of my shoulder with a creepy, glowing color of excitement.

I jumped from my hiding spot with grace, tackling the man roughly. We rolled a few feet from my attacking area, a few gasps sounding in the distance while others yelled for backup, me being able to hear their thundering and too-loud footsteps as they came to aid him. (Obviously, they hadn't seen my hair or my eyes.)

I, go figure, saw everything in slow motion…like a dream. It was kind of weird, watching as first his blade was between us and I was on top; and then the blade was at his side again, crushed under his arm as he was on top; before it was again between us, the sword's blade cool.

And yet somehow, somewhere along the line, I had ended up on the bottom, much to my disgust (it would only make asking questions harder) and he had ended up pinning me to the ground.

Can we say, luck of the draw? Or just plain luck, perhaps?

His cat-like, brown eyes focused on me quickly, widening with shock as I smiled my point-teeth, Shade smile.

"Well hell, isn't this just awkward?"

Then I laughed.