Chapter One

The house was filled with rushed footsteps, people walking here and there, seemingly in a hurry. A young boy slid down against a wall, aiming his lifeless dark brown eyes at the window. The world outside was dark, heavy and grey. Rain slid down from the glass and nourished the grass below.

The boy sighed, his hair ruffled as he pulled his hoodie over his head, fiddling mindlessly with the untied laces of his shoes. His eyes darkened as he aimed them at the ground sadly.

A tall figure walked around the corner and halted in front of him. The boy sensed the shadow looming in front but didn't bother to look up. He continued to play with the shoelaces, twirling the laces in his fingers blankly.

"Asher," a deep voice spoke. He still didn't look up.

"Asher," the voice repeated, louder and firmer this time. The boy still didn't respond, pretending he couldn't hear the older person speaking to him.

"Asher, I am talking to you. Look at me!"

The boy, Asher, had no choice but to wearily lift his head a bit. He saw a tall man, his hair dark but greying at places. The man had a stern expression on his face, his brows furrowed in irritation. Asher sighed. His father.

His mother had died a year ago, when he was only eight years old. He had always been closer to his mother. He even inherited the same auburn hair and dark brown eyes from her. His father never was the same. His father was always so stern and emotionless and moody. When it wasn't snapping at him for every little thing he did that wasn't perfect, it was yelling for the larger ones. Asher didn't like his father very much. Not anymore.

He remembered his mother tucking him in bed, singing ever so softly, singing in her beautiful, gentle voice that lulled him off to sleep immediately every night. He remembered the days when his father was actually more cheerful, when there were sparks dancing in his eyes. He, his mother, his father and his little sister would stroll under the sun and have picnics in the shade of the trees and everything was perfect.

I want to have that back.

"Asher," his father's deep voice sounded, snapping him out of his memories. "Help with the luggage. We'll be leaving soon, and me and your sister aren't enough. Pack your own things and get ready." His footsteps disappeared and Asher was alone once again.

In the distance, he could hear his younger sister's frustrated grunts as the small girl tried desperately to lift up the heavier bags, only to sigh in exhaustion as the bag dropped down to the floor with a hard thudding noise again. He could hear his father zipping up and taping up the last remains of his bags, boxes and suitcases, opening the door with a click of his key, going to the car and loading up the luggage in the trunk.

Asher growled and slowly stood up, his body a bit sore from sitting in the same position for so long. Literally dragging himself, he stomped up the stairs and to his room, went in, and locked the door. Having no choice and knowing this decision wasn't something he could do anything about, he reluctantly started packing his own things – clothes, books, video games, old toys that he couldn't let go of yet – and sat on his bed after, solemnly taking a view of his room.

His room was mostly white. White walls, very pale brown flooring, white bed, white furniture. It was because his dad didn't like all the "messy" decorations and forced him to take all the wallpapers and posters down. His mother had allowed it.

Drowned in his own thoughts, he suddenly heard a soft knock at the door and blinked in surprise. A thought that it was his father struck him, but no, he knew his father's knock didn't sound like that.

"Go away, Rosie," Asher muttered instinctively, knowing it could only be his younger sister.

Silence. Then, the knock came again.

Asher sighed irritably and jumped down from the bed, unlocking the door and opening it, so just a little sliver of space was available. He saw the hazel-eyed girl stare back at him.

"What is it?" Asher asked, the dark blue hoodie still over his head, shadowing his bangs and eyes.

"Dad says it's time to go," Rosie answered in a quiet voice, staring down at the floor.

Asher's eyes widened a bit and he gave an audible growl again. He opened the door farther.

The boy said, "Alright. You go first, tell Dad I'll come later." And with that, the young girl nodded in understanding and bounded off.

Asher knew she didn't want to leave either. He knew she had also been terribly grief-stricken when their mother passed away. She had been younger than him, only four then. He wondered if his father had as well. He always seemed so expressionless now, except for his showings of anger and irritation. Asher tried to remember what had changed everything.

The death of my mother, Asher realized. That was it.

Hearing a loud call from downstairs, he lugged his bags down and joined his father and sister outside where their old grey car was parked. The trunk was already almost exploding with things, even though the family was careful to only take the ones they needed.

After handing the bags to his father, Asher stood at the doorway, refusing to leave. He looked inside from the door. It was so empty. Aside from the dusty floor, the plain walls, and the occasional painting or plastic plant they wouldn't take with them, everything was gone. Either packed or thrown away.

"Asher, come on!"

Asher saw his sister poke her head out of one of the backseat's windows, calling for him. A thousand emotions were stabbing and cutting inside of him, threatening to tear him apart. He heard somethings. Everything. Voices screamed. Hearts pounded. Rain pelting down.

He just wished he could hear his mother's voice one last time.

His father glanced back at him through the driver's seat window. "Get inside the car, Asher! Now!"

The boy placed a hand on the door frame. Everything had once looked so bright in the sun. He remembered when he had played hide-and-seek with his sister and mother in the house, so happy, laughing so hard. He remembered when his father taught him about cars. Back then he was so much more patient. He didn't want to leave this house, not because of the actual place, but because of the memories that were stored here. His school, his friends, the people and places he's known. Everything, just gone. Abandoned.

He didn't want to leave the place that he last heard his own laughter, echoing through the walls. But he knew he didn't have a choice.

"Asher!"

"I'm coming!"

Asher ran down the steps and stepped into the car, wanting to take a last look at the house and neighborhood before they left, for oh, maybe forever. But another part of him didn't, knowing it would shatter the one last little thing he was holding onto.

He heard the car start up and rumble, vibrating beneath his seat. The windows were rolled up now. A grey, rainy world were behind the panes of glass. He looked over his shoulder watched as the house was farther and farther away, and at last, when it disappeared completely. When he looked to his right, he noticed Rosie did the same.

Dull trees and houses passed as they drove. Soon the busy town turned into stretches of plains and woods on either side of the road, only a few, old homes appearing here and there occasionally. If anyone even lived in them, Asher didn't know.

He stayed silent throughout the drive, just resting his head in his hands as he propped himself up in front of the window. His breath sent clouds of fog spreading across the streaked glass, mindlessly watching the scenes pass by and vanish forever as they continued to move in a direction he didn't know.

And all through the silence, the rain continued to fall.

I know the Warriors part hasn't come in yet, but it will soon! Next chapter or the chapter after that, I promise. I do have ideas for the story and I like where it's heading, but your opinion matters a lot. Please review and tell me if I should continue this!