I rather dislike school, it's cutting into my fiction writing time, a lot. It's good for learning, not good for typing non-school related stories . . . like this one . . .
There he was, in all his shining glory. He wore a dirty, green tunic and a matching, pointed hat that looked like it had been dropped into (and ripped apart by) a pack of hungry wolves, then sewn back together. Dirt not only claimed his cloth, but his skin too. Dirt and blood were spread over his cheeks like natural war paint. His hair was no better, you could just make out that it was blonde between streaks of mud. Despite his humble, poor appearance and dire need for a bath, she thought seeing him stand before her was the most beautiful sight she was likely to ever see in her entire life. She had found him, her brother . . .
The harsh winds rudely interrupted her pleasant dream. She did not curse it for disrupting her sleep, it was only a dream after all, she'd have to wake from it eventually. The ground beneath her shifted, it moved as if it were a walking animal . . . Aryll blinked. Amazingly, she must have dozed off while riding. She had no idea as to where she was. Her stomach growled noisily. She rummaged around in her sack and produced a hard biscuit. It wasn't much, but she'd need to save food, she didn't know how long she'd be wandering for.
She was trotting along a little stream, a tributary to a grander river. She looked she was coming to a bend in the stream, it was disappearing into a rock cavern, from it the sounds of the little creek giggling could be heard. She was intrigued but hadn't the proper equipment to explore. She heard from a family of wandering gypsies that beyond the darkness and in an under water cave was the royal central for the Zorian race. She had only seen a Zora once, it was beautiful. She could hardly tell if it was a male or female by its delicate features, she only made out that it was male by his deep voice.
She turned away. She would have to save exploration for another day far, far, in the future. Dejected and disappointed, she continued her trot. The only way she was getting down there was through strong majic. For the time she could let her mind wander. Then without warning, she perked up immediately, or, just as soon as her horse started to run as if hell its self was rallying against her. With no particular destination in mind, May ran, weaving back and forth, some times making sharp turns almost throwing Aryll off.
The only thing to do was hold on. She was on a path and in the distance, illuminated by the slowly setting sun, a castle. She would have found the sight pretty was she not clinging desperately to a run away horse. She found it approaching faster then comfort would have allowed. Her human eyes could now see a draw bridge, a single entrance was looming ominously above her far too soon, a guard who demanded halt's (the king was allowing no more visitors or travelers for the night, they had important guests at the castle and security was necessary) words were nothing but a blur of sound; his surprised face nothing but an unusual blend of skin and armor. Then she was in the emptying market center. Few were still out to see a little girl, wide-eyed and poised awkwardly upon a young, agitated horse and those who did thought little of it. Why should they? A wild horse in the hands of an inexperienced rider could potentially be a deadlier concoction then explosives near fire. At her age it was expected that something would go wrong with out supervision.
So, about twenty witnesses to her horse's unusual behavior went on working, cleaning away the lasts of a profitable day in preparation for the next to come. Aryll, frightened and shaken, slid stiffly from May who was now, quit thankfully, calm again. Her flash of panic leaving as soon as it came. The lack of reaction from the people was both relieving and discerning. Aryll was more inclined to give into the former rather than the latter.
It was cold, she had noticed for the first time. She had no money left (she had given in to the gypsies' pressuring and had her palm read for a fee) so staying at an inn was a luxury she would have to do with out. Her eyes wandered (as did her feet) seeking out a suitable corner for her to roll up in. The hours passed with no findings and, eventually, the problem occurred to her that she had no place to keep May safe and dry. She didn't have a ruppie to keep her in a stable and a horse couldn't wander around alone, theft was a very real threat to Aryll.
She pondered this predicament as she walked (May at her heels) down a fairly deserted back ally. She hadn't seen anywhere more able to accommodate her thus far (it was now quit late, she had seen much of the city), she settled herself in a little sheltered pile of crates and May settled herself next to it. She wasn't comfortable, but it would have to do, her eyelids felt like lead, they were going to shut here or somewhere less sheltered. As the last thoughts drifted lazily out of her head, she could have sworn she saw his green hat taunting her around the corner. She would find him yet, she would. She find her brother...
Aryll woke up with the coo-coos that morning screaming and hurt, just as disturbed as May was. She had been dreaming again, but this time it wasn't nice, it wasn't refreshing or relieving. It was frightening. She had been dreaming about death again, she knew (even in the realm of night mares) that this bode no good. She had dreamt of death before and found her mother not so alive and not so well. Only this time, it was her brother. She watched with horror as foes of unimaginable strength relentlessly attacked, letting up for nothing but their own demise. She watched him valiantly destroy his assailants over and over again, knowing in her mind that he would eventually slip up and then they would use their trump card. She could feel it, lounging in the shadow just out of sight. Waiting, simply waiting for that slip up, for a chance to raise it's horrible claw and snuff out her brother's precious life.
It happened, she watched it happen. A unwittingly placed jab where blocking was in order. It moved with surprising eagerness in contrast to it's earlier patients. She couldn't let it be, she couldn't let it happen. She wasn't going to lose the last thing she had left. She wasn't going to mess up on the last thing her mother ever asked of her. She needed him to stay alive, for every ones' sake but the monster's. "NO!" She had screamed and started running after it before she even knew what she was doing. She leaped out catching the strike that would kill her brother before it landed, taking a blow to her own shoulder in his stead. Curious eyes were upon her as the act was for filled, but not the monster's eyes. No, those were still staring intently at it's original pray. Aryll had looked past it's frightening facade to see nothing but a puppet, she had looked past the puppet to see the puppet master. For a moment her whole body trembled with true fear, her eyes filled with nothing but Evil's gaze. For that moment before she woke, bleeding from the shoulder and finding May in a frenzy again, she knew that it wasn't really a dream.