I was being followed.
Rather poorly, I may add, listening to the bone rattling cracks of twigs and branches being stepped on. It was almost considerably entertaining, this intruder's lack of stealth. I had no choice but to let his or her gamely pursuit stretch on for an unusually lengthy period of time just to think of an appropriate response. Normally, I wouldn't hesitate to leave the figure panting in the dust, but the way this individual appeared so determined and relentless in keeping close and out of sight was so undeniably pitiful that I simply couldn't bring myself to leave just yet. Not to mention, this dear stalker of mine had managed to stray quite the distance away from civilization. No doubt he or she would fall victim to the maze-like structure of these woods.
I continue my calm pace, reaching behind into my bag for a sip of water. With a replenishing swig and a rewarding sprinkle upon my scorching scalp, I trail my fingers along the intricate indentions pushing along plastic bottle. Air being compressed and adjusted inside from forces acting on the outside. How fitting.
Perhaps this stranger was an actual threat feigning innocence and uselessness. The recklessness could merely be an act; a subtle distraction. A ploy to lower my guard and attack when I least expected it.
My hands grip the bottle, tightly.
Had they found me? Or maybe there was just this one? It had been a while since the last ambush. There was no telling how many had followed me. How many that were driven mad with bloodlust.
I force another swallow of water, thinking of the girl. Her cold eyes never seemed to leave me, haunting since the moment she passed away in my arms, three days ago. The date only lingered so certainly in my mind because it had been the day I lost my identity. Of course, the possibility of ever actually existing was becoming more and more of a doubt. Just how exactly could one be sure of his or her own existence? What did it mean, living? These nights I've breathed, I'd only been surviving. Was I, as a breathing survivor, alive?
Another rustle brought attention to my company's location.
It was terrifying how quickly a single girl's life was taken by the wind, passed to me as my own heavy burden to carry. Did she have loved ones waiting for her? Was she ever loved? At some points I would find myself silently questioning whether there really had been a girl or just some hallucination I constructed to tend to my growing loneliness. I'd lost count, as well as the motivation, to consider how long I've been hunting, stealing, and running… alone. That child, delusion or not, had been the first human being I had exchanged words with, few as it had been, without there being some form of hostility. First since the incident.
Leaves crunch beneath the weight of shoes. The summer breeze flows in, howling. It dives straight towards the source of noise. I stop in my tracks, digging nails into the weak plastic quivering within my clutches. The sound of a can being crushed becomes absorbed by the blazing gust, feeling blindly for my rising temper.
That tiny girl of white was dead. Such a small life, once a flame, had been extinguished.
Why?
"How long do you plan on following me?" I ask aloud to the shadows. There came no reply. A tangle of leaves hid in my restless hair, wild and energetic as the wind. With a single shake, the mess falls away, dancing across the greenery towards the flickering shade.
The question of who I had been speaking to clouds my thoughts. As easily as I could have been directing the words towards the noisy intruder, it was possible I hoped for a response from the girl who I'd never managed to escape from, despite her early departure. So it came to somewhat a surprise when the forest replied in a rough, yet charmingly adequate voice:
"Just until you dropped your act of ignorance."
Shadow morphs into man. A man of the most brilliant blue. Drenched in the noble color, clothed by the uniform and pride of Amestris. The military. A soldier from central command, judging by the closest city. His black hair tumbles messily over his eyes, yet allows me to catch his earthly stare. A seemingly rehearsed frown of serious business coats his lips. This is not the average soldier. This is someone of a higher ranking, grown hard by years of experience, and at such a young age. For a brief moment I wonder, what have those tired eyes of yours seen? But then I'm quickly planning routes, processing evasive techniques, and taking notice of his gloved hands. There was something odd about the pattern decorating the top…
He reads my recognition, raising his thumb and pointer finger directly at me. In a flash, the bottle in my hand explodes, sending sparks up and down my arm. Water spills out, not before a barrier of wind comes to snatch it up in a swift and merciless scoop. In the blink of an eye, the soldier stands baffled, and soaked. Taking advantage of his hesitation, I launch two of my concealed daggers straight at his face. As expected from his skills, he dodges at the last second, leaping away back first, into nearby brush. With a casual flick from the wrist, the blades take pursuit and hit the target perfectly, ripping away cloth and ruining the printed transmutation circles.
"Damn!" the man shouts, but I am not finished. It was a risk having just the single pair. If I were him, I'd pack a spare. His pockets seem promising enough.
Reaching behind at the third and fourth weapons resting snuggly against my upper thighs, I toss them, carefully calculating the wind's strength before altering it. A ferocious gust momentarily lifts part of his uniform, allowing a painless slice into the fabric. Judging by his look of astonishment, I knew I had guessed right. The other knife strikes his attire as well, pinning it to a close by stump. He could pull it away without any trouble, but that was beside the point.
He was a sitting duck.
"What's an alchemist," I ask, narrowing my eyes suspiciously, "An alchemist from the military, I should say, doing over here, so far from his post?"
For a moment he says nothing, yanking away all the puncturing blades and observing the spare gloves with an obvious disappointment. Defeated, he shoves them back into his torn pockets, clutching my knives, the last two I'd thrown. I retain my weariness, sliding away from my bag for faster movement. The first two knives I threw were a way's off. Based on the faintest of thuds I picked up from earlier, they'd been lodged in bark a few yards away from my opponent. This would grant me plenty of time to flee. I had just the two in front of me to worry about.
"What makes you think I'm not meant to be here?" he asks with a hint of smugness. His thumb, even from here, I could see was stroking the engraved symbols of the handle on one of my blades.
Suddenly a swarm of panic came over me. Beads of sweat formed at the base of my neck. I will myself to stay composed. Do not demonstrate fear.
"Your badges," I answer cautiously, ignoring the urge to charge and steal back my equipment. Why hadn't I ditched the guy sooner? If he was here for me, a Colonel, then I really was in big trouble. An alchemist to top it all… "You are a Colonel, are you not?"
The man watches me with what I presume to be interest. If he didn't realize who I was before, certainly he knew now. I had been a fool to carry around items of the palace, not to mention throwing them around so boldly at the enemy. Surely I would be taken and tortured. Kept under surveillance by lunatic scientists trying to figure out why and how I could not die. They would tear off my wings. They would record my cries for death with intrigue.
They would find out I had been the one responsible for the massacre in Aerugo.
Unless…
"That would be correct, young lady," the Colonel says, paying close attention to my stiffening stature. His eyes peaked curiously.
Unless I kill the witness. If there's a chance no one knew of my whereabouts yet, except for this man, then I could just silence him for good and continue…
Continue what? Scavenging for food and shelter? Besides, his was the sort of presence anyone would notice were he to disappear. Last thing I needed was an all-out search for the murderer.
"So," I continue, bending down to my bag, rummaging through the contents while maintaining strict eye contact. Once my palm grazed the hilt of my beloved sword, I felt slightly more relaxed. "What brings a Colonel away from his paperwork?"
"Fair question," he retorts, noting the long blade I drew, bringing it up to me in a defensive stance. A mischievous smile spreads along his lips. Sweetly, he added, "And why is an Aerugo survivor roaming on Amestris territory?"
He paused, spinning my daggers between his fingers.
"With merchandise from the palace?"
Shit. Now would be a good time to-
In a blur, the Colonel's hand shoots out with a knife and I toss it aside with a blast of warm air. Immediately after, I dodge a second attack, rolling to the side. My sword remains close by my side and I prepare to slash at him, but find the area to be completely abandoned. Dammit. It was a mistake to take my eyes off for even a second.
Behind me a blade whistled in my direction. Without thinking, I flick it away, swiveling to face my attacker.
Heaps of dirt fly into my vision, driven by the force of my own winds. With a stunned yelp, I hastily rub at my eyes, burning with a horrible pain, and blindly let go of my weapon, listening intensely for an expected fourth blade. I regain just enough sight to distinguish a glinting object flying towards me. Sloppily, I pushed it away, desperately searching for the Colonel. When I finally find him, my eyes are much cleaner, and I make out his victorious smirk.
I couldn't move.
To my horror, I realize the final two blades had an almost invisible piece of string tied to their handles. Although thin, the material was hazardously sharpened to a point of triggering unbearable pain whenever I tried to move. Just taking a glance down at my body, every spot I attempted to struggle with was now glistening in tears of red. I grit my teeth, fighting every itch in my muscles to move-move-move. How could I have fallen for such a trick?
"So, pretty girl," the Colonel cooed, getting closer with the comfort in seeing me restrained. His eyes look over me, making mental notes. I can't help but feel nauseous. "Are you going to be a problem? Or can we have a friendly one on one discussion?"
"Tch," I mutter, averting his humorous gaze. The sensation of having multiple paper cuts eating into my flesh left me cringing. Just the idea of being caught in such a flimsy trap was irritating. Despite the horrid stings, I struggle, commanding my fingers to twitch, poke, something. The Colonel only watches with amusement, shaking his head pitifully. Suddenly I'm realizing the overall irony of the situation. I was outsmarted by this damn fool who couldn't even manage to sneak up from behind. Unbelievable.
He stood uncomfortably close to my face, flashing a childishly giddy grin. I fight a powerful urge to risk slicing away my body into pieces, just to get one good punch at his sickeningly handsome face. "Up close, you really are an attractive one," the boy whistles, reaching out to wipe a single bang from my steaming expression. "Although you may want to rethink your manners."
"I appreciate the compliment," I say icily, baring my teeth. "But perhaps someone of your status just can't handle a rude, attractive girl like me, so you may as well let me go."
The Colonel laughs, though his eyes go hard. "And why would I release such a devilishly beautiful woman?" he asks, watching as I attempted a second fit of thrashing. "Stop that now. I'd hate to see such pretty skin being ruined."
I pause to glare at him.
"I'm sorry. Would you care to take my place in the spotlight? Please," I say bitterly, ignoring the beads of blood sliding along my trembling legs. "Do come and endure this. It's quite comfortable. And oh so easy to have a conversation in."
In response, he laughs yet again. "Feisty girl. Got some fire in your spirit. I like it."
Good, I think to myself, keep on lowering your guard. I'm not completely out of the ring yet.
"So miss," he starts, crossing his arms sternly. "Do you have any ideas as to why I'm here?"
"How the hell should I know?" I mutter impatiently. "Just couldn't stand being at the office so you came to settle your perverted needs with some girl in the forest?" I click my tongue in disgust, choking down a bitter laugh. "How… Colonel-like of you."
Unfazed, he maintained a classy smile, looking down a bit… low…
"Oy," I snap, annoyed. "My eyes. Up here."
"Yes, well," he coughed, not even bothering to show a hint of shame. "It's not like you have anything anyways."
There was absolutely no need for me to get upset. Absolutely no reason to carry on homicidal thoughts. No reason at all. Yet I failed to conceal a murderous glint in my eyes. For crying out loud. Was this guy for real?
"Your reason?" I croak weakly, thinking how lucky he was to have these restraints separating us. "For harassing me physically and verbally?"
Already I could see his shoulders lowering. His facial expression appeared more lenient. Even his legs passed the impression that he could very well sit on the ground at any given moment. Concealing any scenes of a scheme, I offer my attention.
"It's been rumored that a series of murders were being randomly committed out in this area. The most recent death occurred only three days ago," he informs, passing an all too familiar message. Tensing, I recall the girl. Could he be referring to her?
"So, this gives you the right to attack the first person you encounter? Because I'm near the scene of the crime?" I fire, clearing my mind of unnecessary emotions. He couldn't be talking about her. It was perfectly obvious she had passed away due to some disease. There had been no marks on her from what I could tell.
The Colonel took on a blank expression, tapping the gloved tip of his finger against his elbow. Was the bastard going to bring up the child? And tag me as the killer?
"No. It does not," he replies. He says it in such a simple, calmly matter that I cannot help but glower with rage.
"Then what makes you think-?"
"The description that seems to fit you perfectly, does however," he interrupts, narrowing his penetrating gaze. D-Description?
"What do you mean?" I ask, wondering just where this conversation would lead. Had someone actually been tailing me these past few days? Other than this Colonel, I hadn't picked up on anything. But surely there was an error. Others could look like me. "What were these details you went by?"
With a deep, dramatic inhale, he answered, "A young woman with wild, shoulder-length, dark brunette hair. Bits of red and blonde that gleam golden out in the sunlight. Attractive facial features. Wears an almost royal attire; a dark blue. Appears to be lacking some sort of overcoat. Legs are covered up to the knee in laced boots, also considerably elegant. The main attire stretches down to mid-thigh. Embroidered with white patterns suggesting a higher class. From mid-upper arm to the wrist, a covering with matching designs. Seen dwelling up in the trees. Carries a bag. Has a sword with the seal of Aerugo. Beautifully hand crafted. Almost created just for the owner's hands to hold."
At this, he walks closer to where I stood, now shivering at the cool shivers running up and down my spine. Impossible. This did sound scarily similar to my appearance. And as for the so called missing overcoat… I remember the girl lying inside its fabric. My favorite, almost luxurious cloak. Made by the very fragile hands of my mother. It had matched my attire perfectly. It had been what I'd worn out in the battlefields. My lucky cloak.
Thinking about it now, why did I give it up so easily? Was that my way of trying to rid of the past?
"You-You could just be making all this up. You're practically describing just by looking at me," I stammer, determination to maintain my low profile riling me up. Enough with the stalling. Time to act.
The Colonel appears set on his claim, shaking his head. "Believe it or not, that is the exact description I came to memorize and follow."
My eyes widen. It had slipped past me where the man was walking, where he stopped. He had lowered himself to the ground, just at my feet, extending his hand towards an object.
"STOP," my voice came as a tremendous snarl. Surprised, he flinches, drawing back like a skittish animal. At my sudden outburst, I had instinctively lashed out, having the unpleasant sensation of blades sinking several centimeters into my skin. Blood drizzled at a worrisome rate, yet I stubbornly leaned as far as my bonds would allow, passing on my threatening scowl. "Do. Not. Touch. That."
The Colonel, still in a state of shock, glances over at my fallen sword, reflecting small dots of light upon the shadowy land. It takes him a moment to compose himself, but soon he rises back up to his feet, eyeing me incredulously.
Mentally, I dare him to go for it. Give me a real reason to rip his head clean off.
Instead, however, he widens the space between him and my precious gift, looking almost apologetic. With his compliancy, I graciously pull back to a more stable position. He takes a subtle check at my terrible condition.
"I didn't think you'd…struggle this much," he says quietly. What, was he actually feeling guilty now? I look away, closing my eyes, summoning up the remaining bits of energy I had stirring within my aching mind, body, and soul. It would take a huge toll on my stamina, but I directed the electrical surges to my rustling feathers, itching to be let out.
"Yeah, well," I manage in a grimace, "I didn't think I'd be accused of murder either."
"So you deny it."
Pressing at my back, away from the deadly string, my wings began to pulse an odd rhythm. I knew right away what it would look like out in the open; large, grand, grey, and bright with the red glow of my own engraved transmutation circles. One for wind. The other for light.
"Yes," I retort, growing still with deep concentration. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to disagree with your given details. That person is not me. I did not commit a murder."
Three days ago, I secretly add. My interrogator seems unconvinced.
Wordlessly, he went off on another stroll, disappearing behind one of the trees. In no time, he reappears with a long, dazzlingly intense, blue cloak. My cloak.
"Then this isn't yours?"
"Where did you get…that?" I demand, finding myself to be short of breath. It didn't matter. I needed to knock him out. Now.
But he had it in his hands. Which meant that he had to have moved the girl. He had to have touched her. He had to have purposely pulled her out of the very thing I had given her. The very clothing I had offered to keep her warm. Now she was somewhere out there. Cold. Freezing. Without my cloak. My damn cloak.
Bastard.
"It doesn't really matter, does it? You-"
I didn't get to hear the rest of his sentence. Didn't care to. With a furious exclamation pounding in my head, a storm of violent winds slammed directly into his stomach, shoving him head first at the decomposing bark of the tree behind him. The impact had been so frighteningly powerful, I accidently brought the entire plant down after him. With a repulsed sigh, I knew I hadn't killed him. He'd survive. Probably wouldn't wake up for a while and with a killer headache, but he'd live.
But still.
"It doesn't really matter, does it?"
What a terrible thing to say. Such a hideous sentence. That girl mattered. That girl mattered to me.
My winds came to my aid, tearing away at my bonds. Relieved of my imprisonment, I stretch out my limbs, taking a look at my bloodied uniform. What a shame.
I decide, since he really was knocked out cold, to reward myself with a more dangerous act, exposing my feathery beauties. The designs had already dulled to an almost invisible tattooed image. With a sharp flick, dead feathers molted away into the breeze, revealing more stunning, brand new feathers to compliment the slenderness of my angelic demeanor.
Gazing down, the previous gruesome wounds from the attack were already beginning to close up. They left small impressions. Scars that I would have to keep as more reminders. More indentions being formed from the outside to adjust the inside.
With a groan, I tuck back my secret, approaching the downed Colonel. Not before snatching up my cloak and buttoning it on, I squat by the man I had seconds ago wanted to bash to a bloody pulp, noting his unconscious face with a familiar pity. Perhaps I had gone a bit too crazy with the punch.
His gloves caught my attention. The circle oddly... ominous.
Reaching over to take his limp hand in mine, I push together the split cloth, recreating the symbol. Once it hits me what this man's elemental control was, I pull away as though I've touched something hot.
And hot it was. Flame alchemy. My wings shudder.
I detested flame magic.
Holding in my urges to jump and bolt away from the scene, I vaguely ponder over my history. It was rare to find someone in the field of fire alchemy. So I couldn't shake away the possibility of this man being someone… I had already met.
Boldly, I dig inside his uniform, searching for a wallet or something to shed some light on this stranger. Luckily, I come across an ID.
Colonel Roy Mustang
Flame Alchemist
Amestrian State Military
1885
Roy Mustang? Interesting name… And he was, indeed, a flame alchemist. And he was also in the military. A Colonel… As for the date… I assume it corresponded with his birth, making him… about twenty-five. Five years older. That is, if it was still the year 1910, the year I had left Aerugo.
Thinking about it, I really did wonder how long I had been gone. Months? It felt like years, but…
Whatever. I needed to just concentrate on this Roy. The crisis he had mentioned before piqued my interest. Maybe he really thought the child had been a victim of murder. Or perhaps I had the details confused for another stranger. Granted, I was involved with quite a few murders in the area. But that was only in self-defense. The way he approached the topic, it seemed pretty serious. Was there a vicious killer on the loose in these parts?
But why should I care? Amestris was meant to be the enemy of Aerugo since the Ishval war.
I shiver, pushing away memories of that terrifying event.
I was not welcomed in the lands of Aerugo. Not anymore. So then it should be my choice whether or not Amestris was ally or enemy. Or neither.
Cautiously, I put back the identification card, looking over at the shredded, but still slightly intact, string. Some pieces were longer than others. When collected a few, performing hearty tugs, they stayed firmly together. It even drew some blood. Useful.
As I went about, pulling up the Colonel to a sitting position, finding an appropriate trunk to tie his hands back, I absurdly began to wonder what my problem was. Here I was, tying up some officer that was bound to have a search party up and running for him, having conflicting ideas, and being suckered into the chance of helping out people I used to refer to as the enemy. God. What the hell was wrong with me?
"Ritsu…" I blew out, exasperated. "I'm afraid I've finally lost my mind."
As expected. There was no reply.