Chapter 8:A New Home
The chopper landed on the small bare patch of ground, seemingly identical to every other bare patch of land on the whole godforsaken continent. Squall stepped down, ducking under the spinning blades and quickly made his way out of its reach. He looked around at the swirling landscape, on one side, a vast primeval forest, on the other, a few miles out the forest broke out into a vast field of snow. The Trabian snowfields. He suveryed his immediate surroundings and realized he was alone. There was no base, and the helicopter was slowly taking off! he rushed over to it, but the pilot was ignoring him. The Fuck!! Squall thought, what is this?? He began to feel very alone. Was this some kind of prank, he asked himself? maybe there was a path somewhere, hope briefly flared within his mind. he walked around a bit, and with every step, a piece of optimism chipped off his resolve. Alone, abandoned by a crew pilot. He could feel the anger rising in him. His father had warned him about this feeling. It was hopelessness, mixed with strength. It fueled the horrendous Lionheart attacks with which his father had leveled more than one sorceress. Pure rage. alone. hopeless. He could feel it boil in him, something he never felt before. It was almost evil, the closest evil to good, undescribable power was filling him. All he needed was something to vent it on. He looked around, seeing deep into the woods on one side, and far across the plains on the other. So alone. It brought him further.
A thick figure dove out of the trees at him. a wendigo? It bore its talons down onto Squall's front. It was all he needed, the power shook the wendigo off and threw it across the glade and into a tree. the trunk shattered underr the heavy impact. the wendigo made dazed noises, and stumbled to its feet, trying to remeber what it was doing. Squall didn't hesitate, he pulled his blade out of its sheathe on his pants and dove for the creature. He was surprised the damage he did with such a small blade, he had chopped the wendigo clear in half. Out of the corner of his eye, and on the far reaches of his hearing, he heard the clopping of many hooves and saw a large figure astride a gallant steed, riding off into oblivion. What was that power? that figure?
"Holy shit man!! you fucking toasted that motherfucker like a fucking whore, man!!" an astounded comment sounded from behind
Squall whipped around, bearing his gaze down on the noise. Anger flared in him, he was ready to kill. The figure leapt down from the tree quickly, landed on the ground. It was a galbadian soldier, dressed in fatigue pants and a green tank top. He had a rifle slung across his shoulder, and several knives were sheathed around his body. He was tanned a sinewy, and looked a very alert.
"Hey, I'm scott, but everyone here calls me Steve, how do u do?" The freindly looking man offered his hand out to the still shaking Squall. But Squall wouldn't take it. How could this guy be so bold?
"What the fuck is going on!!?" Squall screamed at him, gesticulating wildly.
"Relax, they do it to everyone, the chopper pilots get bored, so they play little pranks on the infantry, they did it to me too, at least I found you quickly, they left me three miles out from base once, it took me a week to find it!"
"Still, what if you hadn't found me?? I could have died!"
"And the air corps would burn for it, fair enough, lets go, I think theres more out there. Ha, wendigos, who's letting out the moonstones this time?" Sure enough, off in the distance, the semi-audible howls of more creatures growing closer. "I hope your in good shape, it s a tough go from this angle back to the base."
They took off quickly, and picked their way through the forest roughly towards the plains, though the tree coverage kept constant. Here and there the pair encountered a craggy hill to climb or a small brook to cross, but Scott, or steve, seem to find places where logs had fallen. They had been moving at a steady pace for a little over an hour when the broke out onto a worn path that trailed of into the woods, and beyond that, Squall could see the telltale man made clearing of an army base. The trail moved up hill for about twenty minutes, when they hit a machine gun nest, Scott waved to the bleary eyed crew, who slowly waved back. The next thing on the path was an opening and a small wooden sign that stated "2D,69", with an excited heart, Squall paced slowly out into the clearing and saw his new home.
The chopper landed on the small bare patch of ground, seemingly identical to every other bare patch of land on the whole godforsaken continent. Squall stepped down, ducking under the spinning blades and quickly made his way out of its reach. He looked around at the swirling landscape, on one side, a vast primeval forest, on the other, a few miles out the forest broke out into a vast field of snow. The Trabian snowfields. He suveryed his immediate surroundings and realized he was alone. There was no base, and the helicopter was slowly taking off! he rushed over to it, but the pilot was ignoring him. The Fuck!! Squall thought, what is this?? He began to feel very alone. Was this some kind of prank, he asked himself? maybe there was a path somewhere, hope briefly flared within his mind. he walked around a bit, and with every step, a piece of optimism chipped off his resolve. Alone, abandoned by a crew pilot. He could feel the anger rising in him. His father had warned him about this feeling. It was hopelessness, mixed with strength. It fueled the horrendous Lionheart attacks with which his father had leveled more than one sorceress. Pure rage. alone. hopeless. He could feel it boil in him, something he never felt before. It was almost evil, the closest evil to good, undescribable power was filling him. All he needed was something to vent it on. He looked around, seeing deep into the woods on one side, and far across the plains on the other. So alone. It brought him further.
A thick figure dove out of the trees at him. a wendigo? It bore its talons down onto Squall's front. It was all he needed, the power shook the wendigo off and threw it across the glade and into a tree. the trunk shattered underr the heavy impact. the wendigo made dazed noises, and stumbled to its feet, trying to remeber what it was doing. Squall didn't hesitate, he pulled his blade out of its sheathe on his pants and dove for the creature. He was surprised the damage he did with such a small blade, he had chopped the wendigo clear in half. Out of the corner of his eye, and on the far reaches of his hearing, he heard the clopping of many hooves and saw a large figure astride a gallant steed, riding off into oblivion. What was that power? that figure?
"Holy shit man!! you fucking toasted that motherfucker like a fucking whore, man!!" an astounded comment sounded from behind
Squall whipped around, bearing his gaze down on the noise. Anger flared in him, he was ready to kill. The figure leapt down from the tree quickly, landed on the ground. It was a galbadian soldier, dressed in fatigue pants and a green tank top. He had a rifle slung across his shoulder, and several knives were sheathed around his body. He was tanned a sinewy, and looked a very alert.
"Hey, I'm scott, but everyone here calls me Steve, how do u do?" The freindly looking man offered his hand out to the still shaking Squall. But Squall wouldn't take it. How could this guy be so bold?
"What the fuck is going on!!?" Squall screamed at him, gesticulating wildly.
"Relax, they do it to everyone, the chopper pilots get bored, so they play little pranks on the infantry, they did it to me too, at least I found you quickly, they left me three miles out from base once, it took me a week to find it!"
"Still, what if you hadn't found me?? I could have died!"
"And the air corps would burn for it, fair enough, lets go, I think theres more out there. Ha, wendigos, who's letting out the moonstones this time?" Sure enough, off in the distance, the semi-audible howls of more creatures growing closer. "I hope your in good shape, it s a tough go from this angle back to the base."
They took off quickly, and picked their way through the forest roughly towards the plains, though the tree coverage kept constant. Here and there the pair encountered a craggy hill to climb or a small brook to cross, but Scott, or steve, seem to find places where logs had fallen. They had been moving at a steady pace for a little over an hour when the broke out onto a worn path that trailed of into the woods, and beyond that, Squall could see the telltale man made clearing of an army base. The trail moved up hill for about twenty minutes, when they hit a machine gun nest, Scott waved to the bleary eyed crew, who slowly waved back. The next thing on the path was an opening and a small wooden sign that stated "2D,69", with an excited heart, Squall paced slowly out into the clearing and saw his new home.