Keltoi
I didn't immediately leave, as per what my father thought. I made a couple of quick stops first, gathering supplies. I ran first up to my chambers in our large keep, taking the steps three at a time and nimbly weaving through the bustling servants. Dropping onto all fours at the side of my bed, I reached under the unnecessarily large piece of furniture and grasped my bow. It wasn't the nicest bow you could think of, but it did its job, even if I wasn't the best archer around. I put it over my head and one arm through the drawstring, so it hung diagonal over my chest and was out of the way. I picked up my tiny quiver, and all three arrows I had managed to keep, and secured it to the bow with string. I strapped up my jagged dagger to my thigh once again and left.
My next stop on my hurried, invisible escape was a baker's and butcher's out on the street. As much as it pained me to have to steal, I took enough bread and meat, both cooked and raw, to spread over the next day or two before I'd have to hunt myself. I stuffed it anywhere I could, not needing to worry about being seen because I figured out pretty fast that anything that was attached to me was under the mysterious magic.
My final stop before fleeing for good was the armourer near the gates of the walled city. His furnace was glowing red hot with its fire, which did nothing to stave off the freezing veil which I assumed was the magic at work, blades and armour sitting in heaps in various states of completion. I spied a small, freshly sharpened dagger hanging on the wall rack with other nice looking weapons,, and proceeded to strap the new sheathed weapon to my left side.
Now fully stocked and in with a fighting chance of actually surviving exile, I exited through the main gate, not looking back. As soon as I was clear of the city, I left the road, running as fast as I could across the green plains. The shack I was headed to was only just outside the reaches of my father's influence, the Blood Elven kingdoms coming to an end. I'd never made the trip on foot before, Tayler and I had always coveted two Hawkstriders from the stables and rode there and back. We visited it frequently, obviously, so the trip had become ridiculously fast, the Hawkstriders knowing each and every turn and drop through the forest. It certainly was different on foot; I missed the wind through my hair and on my face. It took a hell of a lot longer to get to the shack by foot. Ny the time I got there, my feet were aching and I was beginning to tire, and I still needed to figure out how to turn off the ghost-y thing.
The shack and surrounding forest looked quite different in the mid afternoon sunlight, it was almost foreign. Of course, we had only seen it during the midnight hours, so the dark blues and silvers and shadowy blacks that I had become accustomed to were not present, but were replaced with lush greens of the grass and beautiful golds of the leaves above and the brilliant glowing light that filtered through them. It was a breathtaking sight to behold, and I was sure that Tayler would mock me for gasping out loud, while being just as awestruck as I was.
However the daylight also brought the state of the shack into focus as well. It fit in so nicely in the dark hours of the night, but now it was painfully obvious it was run down and very, very abandoned. The wood had begun to warp and splinter, rusty nails poking out everywhere, window shutters barely hanging onto their hinges. Inside was just as bad. The floor was rotten and splintering as well, cobwebs filled nearly every corner, hung off every old piece of furniture. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and clouded the air with every movement I made that disturbed it.
"This is going to take some getting used to," I coughed as I dumped my bow, quiver and collection of foods onto a worn out couch, waving away the dust. My own hand startled me, not noticing the dreadful cold feeling had worn off, returning me to the regular opacity of normal people. I would have to try and work on controlling whatever that was, whether it be magic or some other thing that was wrong with me.
"The food will only last a few days, at best," I muttered to myself as I started gather pieces of wood. "I'll have to make a fire, cook the raw meat. Don't want to get sick, oh how father would enjoy that." I could imagine my body being found, the cause of death food poisoning due to carelessness, and the grin of absolute glee on the gaunt man's long face.
"Stupid boy," I could hear, "Couldn't even cook his own food right. Good thing he's gone for good." Tayler would probably scoff, and shake her head sadly. I shook the thoughts from my head. No, I would spite the angry, power-hungry, maniacal old man by surviving, then returning to watch him bleed.
I returned my thoughts to my source of food. Of course, I could hunt it, what with my new ghost-y invisibility business, but I had yet to learn to properly control it, at all. I had a limited – very limited – amount of arrows I could use, and even then, I wasn't a very good shot. However, there was a small town no too far from the shack, populated by many different races. It was like a slum, living just off the edge of the Dead Scar, trying its best to keep afloat, doing trade with other local villages and providing some offerings to my father and the other royal Houses, in return for supplies or gold. Tayler and I had been through there a few times on our little midnight lessons, looking for material to focus on destroying or manipulating with magic. They had some nice leather tanning outside an Inn, I'd noticed more than once, as well as stalls and stables and houses, surely there'd be a baker at the very least, if not a small market district.
"Market district," I scoffed at myself, "It's a fucking tiny village, not home!" I shook my head. I was never good with complete silence; I had to keep talking to myself to feel comfortable. Though I was sure in the coming… rest of my life of exile I would become comfortable with the blanket of quiet. At least I would have some sort of interaction when Tayler visited.
Tayler didn't visit the first night, nor the third. I stayed up well past midnight each night hoping she'd turn up, and with every night she didn't the silence grew stronger, and I felt more and more isolated from everything, more and more alone. It was getting close to a week into my exile when I thought I heard her Hawkstrider come bounding across the forest floor for the first time. I burst out through the rickety door, hope and happiness swelling my chest.
But it wasn't Tayler. It was a very large Springpaw, a yellow and red feline denizen of the lands of the Blood Elves and those that surround it. It was swatting violently at the ground, bounding after whatever it was it was hitting, its mouth open slightly, rivers of saliva pouring from the maw of the beast. It was toying with its food, and if it saw me, I might be next. I was about to silently slink back into the shack when it batted its prey over the ridge and I saw what it was playing with.
A rabbit.
My heart froze and my stomach sank.
"Fuck," I breathed. I had an intense love for rabbits of all kinds. They were peaceful critters, just bouncing around, eating greens and vegetables, helping keep the gardens clean of weeds and harmful vermin. I had a stuffed one my mother made for me when I was younger that I slept with every night. It brought me comfort. I was always heartbroken to see them eradicated and chased from the city every time a supposedly important visitor arrived, or harvest season was upon us. I had a bond with the silent, peace loving creatures, and I couldn't let one die in front of me without doing anything.
I steeled myself and I drew my two daggers, an almost inaudible snick letting me know they were free of their sheathes. I kept my eyes on the large beast. It was larger than me, by about two times, and its jaw would have no trouble crushing one of my bones. They weren't usually hostile towards Blood Elves or anyone else besides their prey really, unless you provoked them or prevented them from getting what they wanted.
Both of which I was about to do. The Springpaw brought back its paw and slapped the rabbit once more, sending it sprawling to my side. It squealed as it rolled, and my gut clenched. I leapt in between the defenceless creature and its attacker, waving my arms and daggers around in what I hoped was an intimidating way. I'd never had any experience with hunting, I was 'too sophisticated and respectable for that Lowblood filth', so this encounter was petrifying, even more so when I realised I'd have to kill it, or it would kill me now that I'd gotten its attention.
A low growl escaped its gaping jaws before it leapt towards me. I had about three seconds to process its charge, and move to the side quickly to avoid being pinned and having my throat ripped out. As it passed me, unable to stop, I unconsciously stuck out one of my arms, the tip of the dagger slicing into the meat on its side with ease, deep crimson staining the golden yellow fur, and darkening the red. It howled in surprise and anger before turning on me again, too fast for me to react. One moment I was staring at the wound I'd given, the next I was howling with my own pain as its claws raked down my chest and its jaw found my arm. Its claws shredded the leather gear I was wearing, and it's rather large teeth pierced the bracers from the Casting and stabbed my wrist. I reacted instantly, and instinctually, dropping the dagger in my right hand and bringing my left hand in to strike. The homemade dagger pushed its way, without grace and ease, into the neck of the beast, and it released me immediately, jerking away in shock and pain. It stumbled and howled before crumpling to the grass in a heap, whimpering and snapping at me.
I took no chances. I stood, ignoring the intense pains in my body and the blood drenching my clothes, and made my way to the rabbit, picking it up and cradling it against myself. I then rushed back into the shack, hiding in one of the spaces between broken cabinets and the wall. I didn't know who was shaking with fear and shock more; me or the bunny. I squeezed it tight.
"It's okay, Mr Whiskers," I cooed, using the pet name I'd given my stuffed rabbit all those years ago, "I'll take care of you, Tayler will bring medicine or a healing spell and you'll be right as rain, won't you?" I rocked back and forth. I let out a chuckle. Oh I knew what Tayler would say about this…
"You got yourself injured, this badly, by an adult Springpaw, for a rabbit?" I winced as she applied some of the healing salve she carried to my wounds. "You've never studied their behaviours or anything, you moron, let alone seen one in the wild. Exile really has fucked with your mind already."
Tayler had shown up the next afternoon. She'd found me and Mr Whiskers sleeping – 'unconscious' she said.
"I'm sorry if I can't sit by and have something as innocent as this poor rabbit die in front of me," I shot back. Tayler has always given me shit about liking rabbits. She cared either way for them, but she always made sure to dig into me about it.
"Well it'd better be super fucking special if you made me use most of this stuff on it first, you fucking idiot." She slapped the side of my head with her free hand, a playful scowl on her face.
"I don't get why you couldn't just use a healing spell, Tay. After all you are a super-hotshot royal mage with father's approval now." She tensed, and something flashed over her eyes. It was only for a fraction of a second, but I saw it. I always saw these things with my sister. I'd struck a nerve.
"Yeah… Approval right, yeah that's what I've got. I told you, I'm exhausted," she sat back wiping the excess healing salve onto a cloth, "He's had me practising more than ever now. He's had me do demonstrations and upping my tutorials and it's hard enough getting sleep knowing you're out here, but actually getting to visit you? That's a hard one."
I sighed. I figured she'd be paying the price for my failure, but she was taking it in her stride. I could see she was exhausted too, and the thought of her soon to be arranged, arranged marriage to another Highborn house wasn't helping.
"We'll deal with him, don't worry. He'll get what's coming to him, one way or another. The fuckwit will pay." I levelled a hardened stare at her. She nodded solemnly in agreement. She looked outside before placing the rest of the healing solution on the collapsing tabletop.
"I have to get going, it's getting late and I'm only supposed to be out for a leisurely ride." She stood and brushed her casual riding gear down for dust. "Ugh, these things are so restricting, robes are far more practical. And comfortable, but whatever. I'll try and be back every second day, or at every opportunity. I'll bring back some more healing things, maybe a potion or two if I can get my hands on the ingredients. And definitely some more leather armour for you, if you're going to be fucking reckless and attack the wildlife without knowledge. Put that thing to good use and feed yourself."
"I will, and I'll save some for you for next time," I grinned as we walked to her flamboyantly coloured Hawkstrider. She made a face and a retching noise.
"As if I'd eat that. Kitchen made meals for me only, thank you very fucking much." She looked back at me before she got on her mount, sympathy and worry in her eyes. "I'll try to convince him to let you come back, no matter what. Are you sure you're okay out here?" I nodded.
"I have the locals in the town over yonder to steal from if I need anything. Besides, I have Mr Whiskers to talk to while you're not here." She shook her head as she embraced me in a tight hug.
"You're so fucking weird, big brother."