Greetings to all.

Whoa... the responses I get are very much unexpected. 4 reviews for this -- it's very humbling, and scary. I fervently hope I do not disappoint the expectant readers.

To all who reviewed, I thank you. And I stand by what I write, since I reasoned Hettar was only four years old and with his parents, and so he's expected to be happy. But things are going to take a darker turn now.

Read, enjoy and review, if you can, if only to point out any mistake I'd inevitably make. Standard disclaimer apply.

The first thing he could feel was the hard ground beneath him, with sharp jagged stones digging into his skin. He squirmed, trying to move his right shoulder to dislodge the larger ones, but pain seared through his entire body the moment he did. He bit his lip to keep from crying out – a would-be warrior should not be showing his weakness, after all.

He lay gasping on the ground until the pain subsided, then warily pried open his eyes. His vision swam for some time in front of him, but gradually he could focus. He found himself lying on a patch of empty ground with the greying sky above him, and panic and confusion assailed him. Where was he? Where were his parents? Why did they leave him alone? He had to get up and find them...

He gathered his strength and braced himself, then slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. The pain returned in full, but he gritted his teeth to hold back his scream until he succeeded, though he had to lean heavily on his left arm to remain seated. As he tried to regain his breath, he looked down to his feet and saw a broken piece of rope tied to his ankles, and the memories suddenly hit him – the eastern escarpment, the Murgos, his mother falling from her stumbling horse, the blood and her lone scream, and the black horse dragging him across the plain...

The images kept playing over and over in his mind, until at last he could only see the bloodied, mangled bodies of his parents and hear the cruel mocking laughter of the accursed Murgos. The tears he had been unable to shed then finally burst forth as his horror and grief and anger mingled together with his pain and helplessness, and the scream of indescribable loss and anguish reverberated through the uncaring sky.

"NOOOO!!!"

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Hettar hobbled slowly through the tall grass that reached over his head at times, grateful of the fact that there was a wide, rough path there, apparently made by horses' hooves. After weeping for some time over his parents' death, he had freed his ankles from the rope and checked for injuries, which included a broken shoulder, large wounds on both his legs, and cuts and bruises all over his back and head. He bound the larger wounds with pieces of his tattered cloak, tied the rope around his right arm to hold it in place, and made his way to the grasslands stretching behind him. He remembered, with some difficulty, that he had to go through it to get to his mother's clan. He had never tried to go there alone before, but now he had to, if he wanted to avenge his parents.

The sound of the Murgos' heartless laughter brought new vigour to his exhausted body, and he pushed on grimly, leaning heavily on the stout branch from a randomly grown tree he was using as support. It had been almost two days since the evening he woke up, and he was nearing the edge where the grass no longer swallowed him, and he could see from the light beyond that it was late noon. He had not had anything to eat during the time, though the brief, heavy rain that fell yesterday caused tiny pools of water to form in many shallow holes on the paths, which became his source of drink. About the only thing that kept him on his feet were his deep grief and the terrible, burning hatred for the murderers – but even those were no longer enough to fuel him. He was shaking violently from hunger and weariness, his whole body was burning with fever and pain, and his head was throbbing in time with his heartbeats. He rasped in breath as he lurched doggedly onward in a half-daze, so it was some time before he realised that he was out of the grass, and there were the sounds of hooves approaching him, more felt than heard.

He quailed for a moment, trying to find a place to hide, then he suddenly remembered what his parents had told him years ago on his ability to hear a horse's thoughts. He closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could, ignoring the dull throbs inside his head, searching desperately to see if the hooves meant friend or foe.

To his relief, an answering neigh echoed in his mind, curious at first, then in sudden alarm. You are hurt. Be comforted. We are herd-packs.

Help me, he whispered.

We will come. Wait.

The words of the horse managed to calm him. He was not enemy. Help will arrive. The assurance gave him an extra bit of strength to his rapidly weakening body, and when at last he saw a group of people – Algars? – approaching, waves upon waves of relief washed through him , and his grip on the branch loosen. He saw a few men slid down their mounts with shouts of alarm – was that his father with them? – and tried to force a greeting out, but he was so tired, and everything was spinning, and he wearily closed his eyes as total darkness finally enveloped him.

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King Cho-Hag, the Chief of the Clan-chiefs of Algaria, was nearly thrown from his saddle as his horse, a normally sensible stallion, suddenly neighed and reared his forelegs. He yanked on the reins in an effort to control the stallion, but the animal would not yield. He struggled for some time until he finally calmed it down with words and touch. Being with it for nearly two decades, the king could by now sense its thoughts, so he knew something was seriously bothering the horse.

"What is it?" he whispered soothingly to the agitated stallion.

"My King," the leader of his personal guards rode to his side. "Are you all right?"

Cho-Hag nodded briskly. "My horse sensed something – I don't know what," he said in his soft voice. "I think it would best to follow his instincts, but be ready for anything."

The guard nodded in acquiescence and barked some orders to his men. Cho-Hag stroked the trembling shoulders, knowing it was not from fear, then loosened his hold on the reins slightly. "All right. Show me where is it."

The horse lunged forward at a dead run for a short while before veering left towards a small cluster of tall wild grass some leagues from the eastern escarpment, with the guards bringing up the rear. Near the edge of the field, his rider's keen eyes caught a movement and he slowed down marginally for a better look. Then he suddenly gasped and quickly held up a hand to halt his men.

"There's a boy there!" a guard shouted, pointing towards a young child scarcely more than seven tottering precariously onward with the aid of a large branch.

"Go to him!" the king ordered sharply, his heart inexplicably clenched with dread. What is a child doing out here alone in the wild? Even as several of his guards approached the boy and jumped off their mounts, he weakly lifted his head, then sighed and slowly toppled over, letting go of the branch. One of the men quickly caught him and picked up the slight body as the king rode near.

"Is he still alive?" Cho-Hag demanded, noting with a sinking feeling the various injuries covered only by strips of bloodied cloth and the clumsily tied rope slung over one arm. The man nodded wordlessly with tears in his eyes.

"What kind of animal did this to him?" another guard choked out.

Cho-Hag shook his head. "We'll find out later – if we can get help in time. See to his injuries, then hoist him up to me. I'll carry him to the encampment." He turned towards his messenger. "Bring word of this to Silar, and tell her to ready a bed and the physicians of the clan for him. We'll be there as soon as we can."

The guard nodded, saluted him and spurred his horse, dashing back towards the semi-permanent encampment of the Algar clan where the king and queen were currently visiting.

As guards familiar with medical treatments began to examine him, Cho-Hag motioned to the chief guard. "I want you to take several of your men and trace back his path. It seems that he has endured the wounds for many days, and there may be others with him that we can still help." He doubted it even as the words came out of his mouth, but whatever they would find there might give them some clues as to what had happened.

After the guards treated the more serious wounds with their basic supply, they bundled the unconscious boy with a thick cloak and hoisted him up to their waiting king. The party then cantered as fast as they dared towards the encampment with Cho-Hag gently cradling the inert body to him to muffle any bumping. He only hoped that they could get help for the child in time...

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Queen Silar, the quiet dark-haired wife of King Cho-Hag, sat in companionable silence with her ladies-in-waiting inside the large pavilion erected for the royal couple's visit, threading her needle in and out of her embroidery as she calmly awaited her husband's return from his excursion near the eastern escarpment. She seldom worried for him; his reputation for having the fastest sabre-arm in Algaria and his fiercely loyal personal guards ensured his safety, and she found no reason to be nervous.

An out-of-breath messenger from him, however, shattered the calm atmosphere in the pavilion. "My Queen," he greeted, dropping to one knee in deference. "The King sends an urgent message for you to prepare a bed and medical needs for a young child."

The queen rose quickly to her feet, setting aside her embroidery. "What happened? Whose child is it?"

"We don't know, my Queen," the man replied. "We found him alone and injured some miles east from here. It seems that he had been attacked and tortured – by Murgos, no doubt – and King Cho-Hag is bringing him here as we speak, but we're not sure if he'll survive. The injuries appeared to be quite serious and he is already with fever."

Murmurs of concern were heard from the gathering women, but Silar ignored them. "How long will it take for them to arrive?"

"Most probably in the next hour or so, as they were tending to the boy when I left."

Silar nodded gravely. "We shall see to his needs. Thank you for taking my husband's message. You may leave." She turned towards the expectant ladies. "Let us prepare for this unfortunate child's arrival. Please send for the best physicians of the clan immediately."

Next up: Hettar wakes up.