Chapter 26

Ranger

We come to a scene of frost bitten pines and maples bestrewn with snow sitting atop a continuous ridge that followed the untamed rapids further and further down a tumultuous slope. The rushing plow of the water was so great that for nearly a mile one could see nothing but a white rapid that roared unendingly down the gulch.

Yet, as is the cycle of all things, that which is harsh and frightening will finds its soft and calm in due time. This river was no exception as at long last the whitewater rapids transferred their terror into a slow current of crystal blue water. The ridge too, as it proceeded, gave up its high ground and merged with the shore at water level.

Though it was still dark, the morning still being hours away, a figure could be seen emerging from the abounding shallows and stumbling onto dry land. He fell to his hands and knees causing a torrential downpour to cascade from his body and clothing as he gasped for breath. He laid on his back and stared up at the moon and stars. He winced in pain at his side who found a tomahawk buried in his clavicle. Growling in discomfort, he removed it then let out a laugh to crown his survival then yelled to the sky to proclaim his victory.

It was Korihan who had survived his plummet and apparently shown as the only survivor of the fall. The cold did not bother him as of late, for the continuous motion of the rapids topped with his struggles to survive conscripted his heart to beat at a rapid pace and his vessels to remain dilated.

He arose to strike a pose most triumphant before the river then entreated himself to build a fire. Soon after, logs and twigs were collected and stacked as cords nearby. He then wished to use the tomahawk to split them into kindling. The edges were marked with his blood, naturally this called him to the river for a cleansing.

He knelt beside it to remove the blemish when the chills began to creep their way into his veins. Time was of the essence and soon after he was shaking the water from his weapon that was no longer soiled.

An alarming rustling took place in the woods behind him causing the warrior to erect into a fighting stance and ready to pounce upon the first sight of danger. The trees moved upon their own free will yet the threat of danger was still presenting itself, of why, Korihan could not say.

Then, without warning nor mercy, the calmness that betook the river resigned rapidly as a geyser shot forth behind him followed by a brooding figure erupting from the shores to slay him.

Before Korihan could react he felt a terrible pain pierce the flank of his back that nearly took him to the ground. Stumbling, the Sawatti war-chief reared around making a savage swing with his tomahawk towards the assailant.

The figure narrowly withdrew giving Korihan to see that his enemy, Ranger, fell victim to nothing. He yielded the knife that was sunken into his shoulder, that he now had turned against its original master.

Soaking wet and fatigued, both men launched towards another in the spirit to viciously conclude what had been started hours prior. Their first initial contact was daring and brutal, ending with a series of near misses than deadly collisions.

Both combatants relinquished their ground to reset, panting Korihan wiped the blood from the gash that was just freshly imprinted upon his cheek. Huffing he began to circulate with Ranger still maintaining his guard to keep his chest squared.

"Elek tan osko?,' said the chief in his own language, 'yama tich nukapa?"

Ranger tightened his grip and replied after a short silence, "Seik-eh."

Korihan proceeded to laugh then growled, "Of all the fables passed down from the visionary minds from our ancestors, there was none other, in my youth, whom I wished to slay more than you."

Ranger remained resolved and upheld his demeanor as he replied, "Of all the people I wished could have had more destruction wrought down upon them, none did I wish for it more than your ancestors."

Korihan gnashed his teeth, proceeded by a blood curdling yell as his feet charged towards his enemy, Ranger quickly moved his feet then thrust his blade for the open torso which was caught by the lightening quick reflexes of Korihan's hand causing them to get tangled up with each other. With their arms locked and weapons struggling to mark the other it became a duel of shear brawn.

Trembling and dueling with bodies that were being exceeded past the peaks of their performance, Korihan found his wrist wrung up so tightly at its pressure point that he relinquished his grip upon his weapon involuntarily. Seeing it thud into the snow, he tried to use both hands to seize the knife, which in the effort got him turned around against Ranger's breast.

The masked man flipped the blade around and began pulling it towards the Sawatti's chest. Korihan resisted with all his might but was finding the point drawing excruciatingly closer by degrees. In a flash effort, he let off the resistance and redirected the pressure downwards. The blade shot down in the blink of an eye and buried itself into Ranger's mid thigh.

A savage cry escaped his lips as he buckled in favor of his injured leg before being taken up by the throat and hoisted into the ground. Korihan was snarling as he turned to retrieve his tomahawk. His foot, however, was snagged by the downed Ranger's hand causing him to sprawl forward. He looked back to see Ranger pulling himself closer while still favoring his injured side, who then arced back his foot and sent his heel straight into the masked man's face forcing him to recoil and let go.

Ranger saw him crawling towards the tomahawk in which he scrambled to catch up, he caught him by the waistband and pulled himself up while his extended reach put his trembling fingers outstretched and just barely touching the weapon. Ranger pulled the knife from his leg with a yelp, then brought it down for his neck.

Korihan recoiled causing it to dig deep into his shoulder. He cried out in agony and threw back his elbow catching him in the jaw. Ranger fell off on his back then saw Korihan grab the tomahawk, roll around and swing for him. Ranger attempted to roll away in the frenzy but was not totally clear as the sharp edges caught the outside of his left hand severing most of the ring finger and half of the pinky in a single blow.

Ranger pulled the extremity into his armpit and groaned aloud then examined the two nubs that once held his fingers, the sockets shooting forth streams of dark red. Korihan kicked him over, causing him to tumble a few feet to the river. He had only moments to collect himself when his enemy was already upon him and coming down with his might.

Ranger gave a hard punch to the hand holding the weapon with enough force to put a hair line fracture in his wrist. More enraged and annoyed, Korihan switched hands but was intercepted by Ranger's as they began to muscle their will upon each other. Then in an ingenious yet unsportsmanlike play, Ranger shot forth his left and dug the bloody nubs into his eyes. The blood invaded his ocular space with a blinding sting with the bone scratching at the organs.

Somehow in the tangle, Korihan's reaction to all of this, combined with Ranger's efforts, caused them both to shoot the tomahawk away and into the depths of the river. Korihan was able to get his vision partially back and clasped his hands around Ranger's throat and squeezed with every intent to kill.

Ranger felt his eyes bulge and his ears on the verge of rupture while his mind began to go cloudy. He had not the strength to muscle the arms from his windpipe and his vision was beginning to blur. In a blind sweep, he began to feel around the shore and by chance found something.

The next thing Korihan knew was a rock the size of a tangerine and with more jagged points to count struck him in the temple. His ears ringed and the dexterity of his body fleeted in an instant. He looked down and caught a glimpse of another strike bashing him in the face, crushing his eye socket and breaking the cheek bone.

Ranger then shot up, pulled the knife from Korihan's shoulder and drove it into his diaphragm. He moaned in sickening despair and fell on his back, too weak to continue the fight. Grunting, Ranger got up and gimped over to the sufferer whose very efforts to breathe brought about pain unending.

He pulled the knife from his gut then said, "Tell me where the rest of your ilk are, and I may ease your passing."

Korihan panted and huffed with tears of anguish coming down his cheeks and could only say in a torturous cough, "They will come looking for me…and they…will find…you…"

Satisfied with what he could muster to say, Ranger kneeled down and began to aim with the tip to pinpoint the apex of his heart. Korihan leaned his head back, closed his eyes and began to sing a song according to his aboriginal heritage, a song that, in his native words asked for the passing of his spirit to arrive safely in the next world.

Ranger had the blade appropriately positioned, and, as he explained to Holo, we see that once the left side of the man's heart was severed, he nearly dropped dead instantly. The singing stopped, his eyes remained shut. The great Sawatti war chief had perished, and Ranger was at last victorious.

The next hour was filled with thisthe activity that was critical to Ranger's survival, he not only stripped off all of his wet clothing but Korihan's as well before casting his body into the river, a burial more than generous for the man. He was able to use the knife and the kindling to create a dainty fire to not only warm himself but dry off the clothing. His aim was to use the extra garb as additional protection from the freezing weather and weaponry he felt confident he was bound to come across.

He cut a few raiments free in long bands to be used as treatment for his wounds. First he put forth his left hand to the fire to sear his severed fingers before wrapping them. Then heated the blade for the pierce affixed in his leg. What alarmed him the most is that when he seared his wounds there was a lack of pain, though not totally numb to its usual agony, it seemed lessened than in previous times.

The cause of his alarm was that, though pain is subjective to the individual, the dulling of sensation could be caused by his body becoming so weak and cold that nerves were becoming numb, or perhaps he had injured his spine in such a way that it produced a type of neurological deficit. But mainly, his primary concern was that his body and mind had undergone so much distress that their communication could be muffled, a possible first sign of severe shock and the beginning stages of his body shutting down.

He was a man very well acquainted with pain and suffering, as much versed as Lawrence was in trade and commerce, he had come to these breaking points before and was far from any sufficient remedy. He drew closer to the fire and tucked in all extremities to keep his core warm.

He trembled and huffed but was hardly deterred from it, his mind was more focused on the future, if Korihan's declaration was deemed correct, then more braves were surely to follow. He was always planning, especially now that he was naked with only a knife to defend himself, he was in every sense of the word, vulnerable.

The present danger, however, did not present itself in the form of a search party, it came in the form of his body being overwhelmed from exhaustion and demanding rest. He struggled keeping his eyes open as they dimmed and fell heavy. Over time his head drooped and a dangerous slumber overtook him.

The lethargy combined with the chills of his battered body began to put his mind in an unusual state. At times he would slightly awake not knowing where he was, other times when he would, he seemed to forget about his situation.

At one instance he saw a summer sky shining down upon a patch of green grass that was surrounded by a rugged and arid terrain. A hut erected itself not too afar off and beside him was a woman he knew so very well indeed. She held a tender youngling in her arms and rested against him in comfort and safety.

He felt her face come to the side of his and began breathing gently into his ear. Her breath was hot, gusty and rather forceful. It was then that he realized that though the images conjured in his mind's eye were not real, the hot breath against his face was. Coming back to reality at the fire pit he jolted upright, frightening away the perpetrator.

It was a painted mare, saddled and geared after the manner of the Sawatti tribe. Ranger took a moment to recognize it as the horse of Korihan who seemed to have been separated during the initial conflict, who wondered down the river in search for its owner, found the campfire and recognized it as a dwelling for humans. She must have sought safety and connected that contained fires was a source of civilization seeing how she would have been constantly hitched near one with mankind around.

Ranger stood and approached her carefully, he could see her ears pinned back and the whites of her eyes that belonged to a head held straight up. All signs of fear and fright in the equine species. He held out his hand but kept his distance to minimize the pressure. After a moments pause she went up and pressed her forehead to it.

"Very well then." he said to her.

The clothes were dry enough to put on then redoubled the garb with Korihan's, The cold was dealt with however the greater challenge was how he was to reunite with Holo. Should he go back up the ridge to their original campsite were she was last seen, or head for Ketchiwa where she could be headed? Those answers would have to wait as his body was beginning to recover and felt hunger overtake him. He kicked out the fire then approached the mare, with a grunt of pain he put a boot into the stirrup and threw a leg over the saddle and trotted off into the forrest.

It was a painful ride through the wilderness for him considering having to stand in the stirrups and balance upon a punctured leg. After a half hour of traversing the unknown thicket he pulled up on the mare to cease her foot bends when seeing an ambient glow exhibiting its radiance through bark and leaves making an eerie homage to the atmosphere of all hallows eve.

He lightly spurred to advance slowly and safely enough to evaluate what lay yonder without the risk of life. What he saw was an old hermit with white gray long hair decorated with feathers and beads dressed in buffalo hide. He had a hunting bow next to him while cooking meat that came from a carcass not too far from him.

The nomad calmly yet apprehensively looked over to see a horse and rider come through the foliage. His hand reached for the bow but withheld taking it up when getting a better look at the rider. Fair skinned, hooded and masked, unarmed and wearing the clothing of the aboriginal design. This hermit had seen many a thing in his day but nothing quite like this specter before him.

They traded passive glances in which the nomad invitingly extended his hand to the fire in which Ranger dismounted and sat across from him.

The hermit then put a hand on his chest and said, "Kahotoe." Then pointed to him, "Sawatti?"

"Nek." replied Ranger.

Rubbing his chin the nomad then replied, "I know pale tongue." then extending a cooked slab towards him asked, "Hunger? Eat?"

He took it and began breaking off strips and slid them down his mask.

"Alone?" asked the hermit.

"Hunted."

He nodded then noticed the blood seeping through his leg, he arose and took out a pouch and walked it over to him beckoning, "Chiluea-Heal." motioning to his thigh.

Ranger took the pouch and opened it to reveal a blue balm that smelled very familiar, he looked back up to the nomad but said nothing then began applying it to all injured areas then went as far as to rub some along his gums as part of a sublingual absorption.

Handing it back the hermit then pointed to himself and said, "Nunavik." then beckoning of the man to divulge the title in which man knew him by.

Ranger sighed then replied with a distant kindness, "Friend…"

Nunavik was confused but sat down while Ranger retook his spot and they finished eating. Soon after he asked of the masked man, "Hunted by Sawatti?"

He nodded in return in which the nomad panned his hand over the horizon and said, "Many Sawatti." indicating they were on the borders of enemy country.

Nodding towards the masked man he repeated with as much emphasis as there was sorrow for his well being, "Many Sawatti."

The deadly silence of Ranger's eyes slowly turned towards him with which there was only one reply, "Many will die."

Nunavik looked sorrowful, "Kahotoe no fight, Kahotoe want peace." then pointing up to the firmament said, "Great spirit want peace. Kahotoe, Sawatti, brothers."

"No choice." said Ranger with a disregard for peace.

The nomad then handed him another slice of meat while stating, "Eat, strength."

Ranger continued eating then noticed Nunavik pull out a hand made pipe with an exceedingly long stem with the feathers of an eagle tied by the chamber. He began checking his pouches and found his own, damaged but in tact and usable. He had no weed however. With a generous incentive, Nunavik imparted of his own in the attitude of goodwill and friendship.

With chambers filled and ignited they began puffing by the fire and sharing a moment. At one point Ranger took a draw too deep and began coughing deeply. Nunavik laughed and cheered in giddiness, "Ha! Need strong chest!" he proclaimed while beating his sternum then took in a draw threefold the length.

He then held up his pipe and beckoned Ranger to do the same, both men then had them raised up as offerings to the heavens in which he said, "Great spirit, bring us peace, Great spirit, bless us. Great spirit, create life."

Ranger nodded and continued to smoke.

Nunavik enhanced the blaze with a handful of logs then said as he laid on his side, "Rest now, Great spirit watch over us."

Oddly enough, despite his disdain to be left vulnerable to the cruelties of warfare, he found a comfort in Nunavik's sentiment that he otherwise would have disregarded if given by anyone else. He put away his pipe, leaned back against the stump of a tree, took a parting look towards the nomad then allowed himself to sleep in the care of this stranger.

Not many hours passed since Ranger's awakening. A silent rustle caught his ear yielding his eyes to open to a crisp morning with a chilly fog concealing many trees and obstructing those closer in view. The fire had been reduced to a smoldering pit of blackened embers, the carcass was still there and so was Nunavik's bow and dagger. The way they were presented appeared as though they were left as a parting gift.

The mare was still present yet she was looking out into the white and opaque yonder. He arose and looked around more for his native friend but could not be found. Rekindling the embers, he seared another portion of meat to slake his morning appetite. He had to bite into it more aggressively this round for the connective tissue was still intact.

He observed the mare in the attitude to appease his idleness when noticing that she was not simply staring off into the abyss. There was something of interest lurking beyond, something within the woods and it was drawing closer. He sheathed the spare dagger and snagged the bow and was prone behind the tree with an arrow clipped in the drawstring as quickly and quietly as a shadow.

The rustling drew nearer with such a notable intent that a trained ear would not mistake it for anything else other than human advancements meddling through the underbrush. The way they proceeded warranted the tides of discretion to flow with them, they did not want to be discovered and only an enemy to a wanderer would advance as thus.

Ranger drew the arrow back with some queer sensation seeing how his hand was robbed of its additional grip. However he compensated and set his eyes to the characters concealed within the effluvium veil.

The delineations began to take shape like smudges drifting through the air like looming apparitions. Though not in clear view, they appeared to have ill intent, that was all that Ranger needed to loose his arrow upon the ethereal invaders.

The sound of his aim indicated he marked true when he heard a faint yelp and crunch of earth following after.

It was not long until another arrow on the opposite end of the line snapped into the tree he was taking cover behind. Unfazed he adjusted his last known position around the bark to prevent his enemies getting a fix on him. He saw another blur moving throughout the labyrinth and shot it as straight as he could but the arrow flailed around his target, the bow was not as high quality as he wished.

Another arrow brushed parallel to the back of his neck with a second coming down, bounced off the ground then sent flipping towards him with the fletchings striking his shoulder and deflecting off. They were coming at his flank in which he fired back to keep them at bay then rushed to the mare, cut her free then launched himself upon her back and spurred her to a gallop.

It was a dangerous rush for the horse and rider as he had her amble and lope past trees and bushes nearly blindly. Ranger guided her head the best he could, dodged a low hanging branch that scraped down his back. Suddenly from the high ridge a Sawatti warrior leapt from above to intercept him, he hit and tackled Ranger right off his mount causing the mare to startle, lose focus and collide with a pine tree.

As the mare recovered from being knocked on her side, Ranger and the Sawatti had hit the ground at inhuman speeds and were rolling over each other across the sharply bumps of the terrain. On the last rotation Ranger reached up and clutched the side of the man's hair so that when they came back around he would slam his skull into the ground with the combined might of his strength, speed and total weight of their bodies. When it was done and the brave's body weakened, Ranger pulled his dagger and, as he was getting up, slashed acrossed his gut, pierced him through the ribs to reach the heart, withdrew and left him to die.

More were coming down the ridge with the others he had left behind surely on the path to unite with their brethren. Ranger vaulted over a nearby boulder, pulled an arrow in the nook between each finger and fired them in rapid succession. To the three he launched at, one fell when being skewered through the leg, another dodged it completely with the final being the only one who was fatally struck in the chest.

Those who were in the clear smartly moved or dove behind cover. He heard the advancement of one coming from behind. Ranger was besieged upon and backed up into the boulder. He dropped the bow to get an additional grip that snatched the back of his enemy's neck and threw him face first into the stone thrice then as he sunk, Ranger kicked the bow up into his hand, held him into the rock with his boot and discharged the tip point blank into the back of his neck.

He heard a snap from above causing him to duck from the bolt that narrowly missed the back of his head. Following the trajectory up into the high perch of a nearby pine, he aimed his last arrow and sent it skyward. A body fell back from the tree branch, bounced off a couple on the way down before landing prone on the roots. Ranger rushed to him, who was still breathing in agony, to scavenge any missiles then noticed something that caught his eye. He was armed with a crossbow, a unique find among people who were recently brandishing inferior weaponry.

The cover of the fog was arguably his saving grace for it hindered both the ability to see Ranger and the accuracy to put him down with their projectiles. One of the brave's realized this in which he holstered his crossbow and led a small group of blood thirsty warriors head on to his last known position.

Ranger saw the leader who foolishly took a sizable league ahead of his comrades who now brandished his battle hammer while the masked man faced him with the dainty knife. He stepped back from the first swing then, as the cross swing was coming back, stepped around it and caught the arm by plunging the dagger through the tricep that went clean through the humerus and out the other side. As the brave screamed in pain and terror he was brought down to his knees by his arm before having his transfixed bone levered back around the knife like a fulcrum and snapped to an unnatural angle. Ranger then relieved him of his hammer stepped around the back and swung it straight way into the man's temple so hard that he suffered from globe luxation when the skull smashed.

There were four others who followed but one, when seeing the carnage, went stiff with terror and turned around and ran away for his life leaving three. Ranger hurled the battle hammer into the forehead of the middle one then slipped out his spare dagger to meet the other two. The one on the right circled around and set up his bow in which Ranger devised a rapid plan. He rushed to the man on the left with footwork that misled the man into thinking he striking high, but at that crucial moment, went low, shot the knife through the gap of his legs then as he pulled it back, caught the flesh of his perineum and slit it clean open.

As the warrior sobbed at the gush of blood that stained his pants and snow below him in a rapid thick of scarlet, Ranger twisted him around and pulled him close right as the nearby comrade attempted to get a shot off, but found his arrow blunted by Ranger's human shield, who then bent his shield over and redirected the cross bow found on his person and returned fire. The bolt hit the bowman between the eyes who turned around while stumbling and stuttering something inaudible then fell to the ground.

Considering his options, Ranger chose to flee from the next wave of warriors as the mini conflicts so far came too close to his mortality to his liking. He bolted across the terrain in a free run like manner to outrun his pursuers. It was a wise decision when seeing bolts, arrows and rocks bombarding his position.

His legs rapidly took him through boughs and underbrush with others in uncountable numbers in pursuit. Coming across a shallow ravine, he jumped and slid down it then vaulted over the stone in his path and made a gliding drift underneath a downed log that was supported by a nearby tree. Yet despite all this maneuverability and grace, he was no closer to getting away.

Then, when coming to pass a nearby tree, a figure emerged from the mirky nebula of the vapor in the air like a hostile apparition. Ranger narrowly evaded the swing by leaping over him and getting a step off the tree and came rolling back to his feet. He sprinted a few leagues more which was concluded by a lance sticking forth and tripping his feet out which was corrected by a tuck and roll. To his astonishment, unlike the previous night when the attack was clumsy and poorly organized, he was intercepted, this attack was coordinated wisely. There was also a lack of horsemen which Ranger noted for many reasons, either wasted efforts on one individual but most likely, as we had fore seen, the fog was too great a hazard for the animals.

The lance was charging for him in which Ranger side stepped, parried and blocked around the sharp end. Again, the weapon was finely crafted and pristinely assembled by the men of the south. There was little time to analyze as the warrior made a downward thrust for his legs. He moved back as the tip dug a small trench into the earth then went up and stepped on it to bar it in place, which was followed up by a powerful stepping stool kick to the chin that knocked the brave on his back.

Ranger lobbied the lance up into his hands as the Sawatti pulled his tomahawk and was ready to make war. The brave undulated his weapon downwards in which he used the lance to parry the arms downward then redirected the tip for a thrust to the throat, but was ducked under. Ranger kicked out the back end and punched the warrior up under the chin, then with a linear rotation to realign the tip, plowed it straight into his chest.

He overheard the rapid pace of the footfalls of the chasing horde come upon him, the first was foolish enough to have his club chambered overhead, but found the spear run straight through his diaphragm and lifted up, allowing his momentum to carry him up and over Ranger's head in an arc and thrown into the ground. He kept the rest at bay, who surrounded him, by swinging and twirling the lance so rapidly that they could hear the wind beat around it and striking the ground in a crude semi circle to kick up snow and gravel at their faces.

This caused them to yield ground for so long until they began advancing in, Ranger responded by making multiple attacks to multiple members of the group, never un-dividing his attention to any person. It was like a formula to a dance, making minute jabs and crosses here and there to making large redirected swings every so often to widen the gap. He only made non fatal lacerations upon his foes but was vigilant to look for the way out, to be surrounded was to be thrust into the circle of death.

That opportunity was created when one poor soul came in too close, in which as Ranger retaliated turned to retreat but was tripped up by the spear creating a stumble and fall. As he was pushing up, Ranger performed a pole jump with the lance by driving the point into the back of his knee and arcing over him using the pole as a support. Those who witnessed this atrocity of humane consideration for one's pain and comfort watched and heard the brutal process of the point driving its way through all the ligaments of the knee and wedging the the femur and tibia away from each other to make the stunt.

Now out of the circle, he turned and repulsed away one which ended with a redirect then lodged the spear up through the brave's jaw and into his brain. Then as he pulled out, met another with a thrust so hard that it penetrated his torso all the way through. Ranger stepped past, grabbed the bloodied end of the javelin and back kicked his hind while pulling through causing the weapon to pass through his body entirely.

By making quick and subtle changes in his position he was able to engage a few brave's one at a time as opposed to all in unison. One of his grander kills was when he engaged a third after felling two others, he jabbed the medial thigh at the sciatic nerve, then as the inuit was stumbling, swung out his good leg with the blunt end then drove the tip through his chest when he hit the ground.

One such brute swung down with all his might with a stone mace that was blocked by the mid shaft of the javelin, snapping it in two. Ranger responded by spinning around him, driving the wooden stake in his leg as he had done so. Coming face to face with another screaming warrior, he shot the steel end of the other half straight through his opened mouth, penetrating out the base of the skull. His screams were then muffled by the wooden beam that compressed his oral airway. Ranger grabbed both sides of the javelin, brought him down and twisted his face around until the head was facing the opposite direction. Then turning to find the downed warrior attempting to pull the wooden stake from his leg, Ranger kicked it to cause the man to flinch and tuck in on his side, then dropped his knee with such velocity upon his temple that it broke through and smashed his brain.

He turned as a bolt flew threw the white veil and passed into his right forearm. The pain shot through him, and like a creature of instinct, fled when the numbers of those who sought to destroy him grew larger with time. He scrambled through the trees while the whistles of passing arrows flew dangerously close to him then came to a skidding halt when he nearly threw himself over a steep ravine. He took a knee behind an oak to assess his arm. It was a clean penetration from the bolt of a crossbow, more favorable than it could have been. Careful not to tear his tissue, he broke off the back and slid it out as straightly as he could. He flinched violently and nearly caused more damage when the shaft brushed up against a nerve sending a painful jolt throughout his body.

Once the protrusion was cleared, he cast his glance about to get a fix on the horde but found them not. Instead of their faint silhouettes emerging through the air, he heard them shouting amongst each other for a time before it grew silent. Then from the midst of winter a small object was hurled over and landed not ten feet from where he stood. It was a small, round stuffed sac that was smoldering.

It took his attention in both curiosity and dread when the caliber of intent was made frighteningly clear when an explosion of unimaginable magnitude ignitrd its fury across the domain. With ears that had gone deaf from insatiable ringing and a bewildered brain that had its comprehension rapidly altered by the extreme change in heat and pressure, Ranger found himself thrown into the frenzy of inertia before getting jarred again and again. Whatever that small contraption was, it hurled him over the edge, sending him tumbling down the ravine.

Pain, dizziness and disorientation are all that birthed from this commute as he fell and spun over rocks, twigs, roots and jagged terrain. It was but a few moments of time kept track by the perspective of eternity for the masked man as he slid, collided and tore up the portrait of mother nature's scene with his indocile descent. At long last his perilous plunder landed him at the base with a humph and a thud leaving him motionless and bewildered.

He breathed heavily with effort for a pretty long while then planted each palm and pushed up. His body felt weak and feigning all over with all the bumps and bruises that would strike upon the body after such a terrible fall. His head wandered up to cast his gaze upon the origin of his descent with fleeted strength to check upon the whereabouts of the villains who sought him and bring closure to his situation. He saw nothing further past ten feet of fog yet could hear complaints of the Sawatii.

Clutching his side he arose and limped further away from harms way. He noticed, when he grabbed at his side, an obstructive sensation was infused into his hand, when looking upon it, found a twig lodged near the middle knuckle and outlined against the flesh. With as much contempt as there was pity for his wretched state, he pulled it out making a small complaint in the process. As he trudged through he felt the air get colder and the fog even thicker. To ward off the elements he pulled in his raiments tighter to conceal whatever heat he could manage.

The sounds of war cries and alarm quickened his pace as he was about to be lay sieged once again. It all stopped when a massive howl coming from a beast of the most unscalable nature overtook all senses. A profound silence followed, that is when a foul wind began to pick up and the snow began to fall magically from the sky. The warriors aforesaid to have been rallying another assault sounded as though they withdrew in fear.

Ranger pressed on. Yet for each step he took forward, the blizzard made a step up in intensity. The teeth of winters rage bit through his clothing all the way to the bone it seemed. He mustered one step after another unsure to where he was pressing on to. Certain doom? The snow flakes fell so rapidly that they sponged out his tracks and with them, any hope to find his bearings. The pain in his side hindered his will, the blanket of snow was so merciless that it deigned to trip him up at every step. And the cold, the bitter cold that lashed upon him was determined to pull him down.

At long last, his body betrayed his will and succumbed to the elements which yielded him to collapse face first into the snow. He crawled forward at a sloth's pace for only a few feet more then fell still. The wind howled and screamed all about him but he heeded it not. Instead he slid a pupil towards and narrowed upon his empty right hand, he desired his sword to be with him, a last memoir to his death and honor for the warrior.

As his eyes dimmed the wind began whispering, at first he deemed it the hallucinations that precede death when a voice, a voice as tangible as the mouth of mankind was heard. His eyes widened up when hearing a woman speak to him, a voice that seemed to say, 'Arise!'

He lifted his head and looked yonder to the unorganized flecks of snow swirling through the thick air and saw a great wolf whose glorious and beautiful white coat was inexpressible to compare with the mind of mortals whose features were complimented by radiant blue eyes sitting considerably away from him yet seemed near. Elegantly she looked upon him as her fur ruffled through the wind like the grass of the most flawless rolling hills.

Ranger lifted up to have a better look, but as soon as he did her large frame vanished and became one with the storm. The randomness of the snowfall began to alter and shift its irregular pattern into a long cylinder that resembled more of a tunnel. It was a pathway.

He got to his feet and began walking through while wondering to himself, "What is this new sorcery?"

The swirling particles continued to lead him through the torrential blizzard unscathed until it led him to a forrest that was completely clear of snowfall and unobscured by fog. He cast a his eyes back to see that the storm that nearly claimed him, abruptly ended beyond this point. Compelled to look ahead he proceeded through the woods and smelled the hickory musk of a campfire nearby.

An encampment was in view pitched with tents and wagons. He supported himself against a tree and passed into the realms of discretion to observe the behaviors of its inhabitants. Who he saw were not Sawatti but men of the south speaking with one another. Listening to their conversation this is what was overheard.

"How close do you suppose we are?"

"From what I've gathered from Agatha, he wishes to travel east another two days."

"Two days! We barely hold our own against the weather as we are."

"Well in any case, where is Agatha now?"

"Tending to that other matter."

"What shall become of this do you wonder?"

"Wonder is all I can, seeing how it's not in my hands."

Ranger was then suddenly held at knife point by an unknown personage who hissed, "Well is this not the most peculiar of finds?"

The unknown then shoved him forward in which he complied until he came into full view of the camp. The alarm that possessed the men dwelling therein was as predictable when the cardinals would defend against the kings men, ready to defend with their weapons.

"Jeb, who is this!" yelled one of the frightened dwellers.

The unknown who held him, known to his comrades as Jeb, answered, "I found him sneaking about wearing them injun skins, bet he's a damn scout for the blinking savages!"

Another, being a formal voice of reason, observed with caution, "He may be wearing those injun robes but I beg to differ."

Agitated beyond rationality, Ranger snapped his reflexes on and threw himself upon his captor, taking him in until he had his own knife pinned against his throat. The group began to make a response until Ranger refuted their design by declaring, "Another step and he dies."

Jeb coughed, "Don't be a damn fool, you make a scene you'll bring all them blood thirsty war mongers on us."

Ranger then addressed him with terrifying confidence, "Fear not, no one will hear you scream."

Suddenly, when taking a better look at him, Jeb was wearing what he recalled to be Lawrence's jacket. The others noticed this pause which created a frenzy of confusion in their minds, but nothing prepared them for what transpired next.

A block of wood was hurled and clocked Ranger in the back of the head. He turned to see the perpetrator who yelled in the familiar voice of Holo, "You Idiot!"