Spoiler alert: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything related to the brand, the only thing I DO own are the OC's and the general plot of this story …. Would be nice if I did own HP tho. What I could do with all that money … Sorry I'm rambling, enjoy!

And even tho I personally am not a fan of lots of actual rambling, I still wanted to say thanks for all the fav's, follows and readers in general. Now, without further ado:

Chapter 4 - For every journey starts with a single step…

As the sun rose to once again shine upon the treetops of the "Dalw", as the forest surrounding Ttads was called by the locals, the city itself began to slowly wake up. Soon the screech of a bird akin to a rooster was heard all across the town, leading to the rising of all those that had not risen with the sun itself.

Steadily the streets began to fill, merchants started opening their booths at the marketplace and the sound of work, be it smiting, construction, haggling or even that of guards conversing on duty steadily rose to its ordinary volume. Those were the sounds that woke 4-year-old Raal Monadre, usually just called Raal by everyone. His mismatched ruby red and emerald green eyes flew open as he basically jumped off his cot onto the solid dirt ground of his room, bolting into the bath to quickly rinse his face and hands by means of the water bucket situated in said room.

After completing his morning rituals of cleaning himself, coating his teeth in paste made of roots and herbs as to not let them rot and running his bone comb through his rather lengthy hair he once again bolted out of the bath, through his room, into the sitting room.

The room was a rather homey one, decorated with not only a fireplace, two highly comfortable, fur covered seats, numerous fur rugs and las but not least 4 doors leading out of it. Out of one of these doors our little hero had just emerged, namely the one to the east side of the room. To the south of the room the entrance to the house itself lay, marked by an oaken door. To the west the room of his father, one elderly man named Nhamas, lay and lastly to the north the family of twos kitchen could be found.

Reaching up to close the door he had just come through silently, the little bundle of energy that was Raal continued his path towards the house's kitchen. Upon entering the room his highly sensitive sense of smell was overcome with the scent of freshly baked bread and herbal tea, meaning his father was already up, preparing their breakfast.

oOwOo

Reminiscing the last few years, Nhamas couldn't be more content with how they had turned out. Not only had he his tribe been spared by any and all epidemics, the worst case of illness being a hand full of harsher colds last winter, but his day to day life had brightened up considerably by the addition of the walking sunshine that was his son Raal.

Mind you, Raal was not his biological son, but the two of them were as close as can be so what did it matter that he had adopted him. Lost in thought as he was, he never heard the door to the kitchen, where he was preparing breakfast at the moment, open and was thus blindsided when a bundle of energy crashed into his side with the speed of an arrow.

"Good morning little one" Nhamas said as his face changed from neutral into a soft smile. Tilting his head upwards to show his father his beaming face the little boy answered "Sure I did father!" and proceeded to squeeze the ever living daylight out of his father. "What are you making?" came the muffled question mere seconds later, as the child had squashed his face into Nhamas robes once again. "Tea" was the simple, yet not unkind answer given to the kid.

After finally untangling Raal from his abdomen the two proceeded to eat their breakfast in comfortable silence. Leaving Raal to clean up Nhamas proceeded to walk into the living room, off to prepare todays lesson to further his son's knowledge in not only the arcane but also in herbology and day to day knowledge, as it had been made clear that fate smiles upon Raal when he had developed a shaman's ability last winter.

Flashback

Winter had been particularly harsh this year and while no bad cases of illness had been reported, firewood and food supplies were running low as no one had been able to enter the forest in fear of freezing to death in little to no time. For exactly that reason Nhamas had had to leave the warm comfort of his hut, as to collect some firewood, since in his role as tribe shaman he had to use a higher amount of firewood to produce different kinds of concoctions to be prepared to treat wounded hunters coming home after a hunt or even those few people that would get sick.

Having been out in the cold for more than a whole day in the glacial temperature of negative 50 degrees Celsius (-58 Fahrenheit) people and more specifically his yet to be named son started to worry greatly.

oOwOo

He was distraught. Terrified even. He wanted his father back, but the nice lady next door wouldn't let him leave with the search party, so he was forced to wait and sit, hoping they'd find his father and bring him back healthy. His father couldn't die yet! He just couldn't, not so close to the time he'd be named by finally awakening his personal ability, as was tradition for nightwalker kids. He'd been feeling an unfamiliar warmth for a few days now, steadily building in his chest, and was sure that in just a few days more it'd manifest into whatever his ability would be!

Frantic knocking snapped the boy out of his inner monologue and somewhat stopped him from panicking even further. The kind woman who had been holding him in a comforting embrace softly set him down and ushered him into bed once more. Shortly after she proceeded to rise and closed the bedroom door, darkness once again enveloping the boy in its embrace.

Swiftly hopping out from beneath the covers again the boy quickly walked over to the door and with lots of stretching to reach the handle he managed to open said door just a slit. Peering through the newly made opening he watched as the nice lady covered her mouth in shock, presumably at something the man standing in front of her had just said. "Do you think he'll be alright?" was all the child managed to hear, coming from the woman's mouth. Now "Boy" as he was affectionately referred to by everyone, as was ever other male without their ability but that was of no importance, had always been extraordinarily smart for his age, some might even say he was a genius of seldomly seen proportions. Putting this intellect to good use it was easy for the kid to put one and one together and get two as an obvious result, thus he quipped up in a quivering voice "What happened to father?"

Floored as they were by not only the quick deduction but also the fact that they had yet to notice him until he spoke up, both adults took a few seconds to compose themselves. Finally the man, a burly, bearded giant with two huge, gleaming white tusks emerging from his lower jaw, and arms, that's greyish blue skin was covered in red markings, a tell tale sign that his ability was centred around them. "We found your dad with wounds all over his body not far from the town little one and managed to drag him back. He's alive for now but no one knows what attacked him, nor do we have a shaman apprentice to take care of him yet, meaning his chances of recovery are rather slim." Came the blunt reply.

"Can I see him?" was the only thing the small boy asked, as tears began to pool in his eyes. Instead of answering the man just quickly looked at the woman in front of him, receiving an uncertain look in turn. His eyes hardening, the man, Horct his name was if the kid remembered correctly, made his choice and slowly walked towards the child.

Squatting down in front of him, Horct looking into his eyes, the soft, orange light of the fireplace throwing deep shadows along his from. "Are you sure you are up for that boy?" He gruffly asked, steadily holding the boys gaze.

The only answer he received was a shy but determined nod and with a sigh the man proceeded to pick the child up, wrap him in a blanket he received from the woman and went to whatever house Nhamas was being treated.

For the boy the walk to his father was a mere blur, so concerned he was for his father's wellbeing, that neither the cold, nor him and the man carrying him entering another house registered for him until the time he was being set down in front of a bed, containing a figure. Lying beneath a blanket, one was barely able to see Nhamas bandage covered torso, the smell of herbs, blood and sweat permeating the air.

Eyes impossibly wide, the child stepped closer to the cot, completely focussed on his fathers laboured breathing. Everything around him dissolved into a blur once more after that short moment of clarity he had had when being set down upon the ground. His chest was burning with sadness, fear and despair of never seeing his father smile again. The flame that had slowly been building over the last few days, akin to a bonfire, literally exploded into an inferno of blazing flames, racing through his veins, pumping through his heart, igniting his muscles and drying out his eyes, so much that he didn't cry, not because of a lack of tears being produced, but because of them evaporating immediately due to his eyes high temperature.

Slowly walking forward, his mismatched red and green eyes glowing, the heterochromatic boy slowly extended his hand towards his father's forehead. Tho it never registered to the boy, the room, formerly busy and loud with people scurrying left and right, getting one thing or another, or heatedly talking to each other, had gone deathly quiet after seeing the small child's ghostly glowing eyes.

Step after step, the boy came closer to his father, the fire in his body seemingly growing hotter and hotter, splitting in two differently coloured sections, crimson, violent flames concentrated in his left body half with their greatest concentration in his red, left eye. Almost as if to balance those crimson flames out, his right body half was dominated by calm, emerald green flames, that were, as their red counterpart, highly concentrated around the boys right eye.

Placing his hands on his fathers forehead, he let his red flames instinctively reach out to the biggest energy source in his vicinity, namely the high burning fire to the right side of the room, and let it consume every last drop of energy and life that it could, just to convert it into life force, and direct that into his father's body through his green flames.

As the flames were finally snuffed out by the process of effectively healing his father, whose wounds were slowly closing up, only to leave behind scars that would remind Nhamas of his close encounter with death for the rest of his life, the boy working this exact wonder healing started to exhaust himself and just as his father was finally able to take a deep breath and slip from his formerly fevered sleep into a much more relaxed and deep one with a deep sigh, fell unconscious.

Flashback end

Absentmindedly tracing a long, wide scar that ran across his abdomen and came from this exact close encounter with death, Nhamas was snapped out of his memories by the sound of his sons' footsteps closing in on the chair he was currently sitting in. Focusing back on the present, he could see his son sitting down on the ground in front of him, as was customary for their lessons.

"What are you going to teach me today father?" Raal quipped up from his position in front of him, looking up to the old shaman with wide, curious eyes. "Well little Raal, I think it is finally time to get you started on the runes of our ancestors, isn't it?" The only answer he'd get was an excited whoop from the boy, who'd jump up and race towards his bedroom to fetch parchment and a quill with an inkwell.

Sitting back down excitedly, Raals eyes were trained on the old man that was not only his father but also his master, waiting for hi to share more of his precious knowledge. Fondly the old man looked at his son, recalling the time long ago when he had been as excited at the prospect of learning new things as his boy now was.

"Now let us start from the beginning, what you see here is what our ancestors called "Rtas" or the morning star, a rune that has the innate meaning of protection, light and far sight…."

oOwOo

Alright – firstly I'm sorry about updating late and about this chapter likely containing more mistakes since I have been unable to proofread it. But my aunt needed some help and family comes first so I had way less time than usual this week to write, leading this chapter to be a lot shorter than anticipated. I'll just try and make the next one longer, I guess. Now, I hope you enjoyed this chapter either way! Criticism is, of course, highly appreciated and in the end I can just say: And as always, thanks for reading.