Cold
The wind was sharp, biting at his skin as the cold moved around him. His quills were rustled as it swirled around his body, enveloping him in its harsh element. The being was still, sitting in the quiet dark. A small chill made its way up his spine, but he did not move, did not acknowledge the fridged cold.
He sat still, his knees drawn to his body, his arms resting carefully atop, staring ahead without truly seeing. He didn't noticed the soft flake of snow that floated downward, perching on the tip of his nose.
He had lost all trace of time. Minutes melting to hours, swirling together as if one with the wind. He still had not found peace.
He could not get her face out of his mind. The pursed lips, the furrowed brow, the anger, the disappointment in her eyes. That was the worst part. Disappointment.
He had tried. God, how he had tried. Things were just so different. He was used to moving, never stopping, never resting. That had become his life. He had lost his sense of being, of kinship, of family, never settling long enough to become a part of something, running from any chance of becoming close to anyone again. His mind had been so focused, steeled to his one and only task. Restore honor to his tribe, make his father proud.
The task was done. Over. The Emerald was safe. The only thing that kept him focused, the only thing that drove him, was within his protection. His life had come to a screeching halt. And he was suddenly surrounded by others, by friends, by family? And the most shocking part, he had suggested it. Forming a new tribe. It was such a meaningful moment, the first time he had come together with beings he felt he could trust in years, his feeling of accomplishment, his battle won. He felt happy, secure in the moment. Even if only for a moment he thought that things were going to be better. He didn't have to do this alone anymore. And he was so lonely. But it hit him fairly quickly that this new way of life may not be as easy as he thought. He didn't know how to conform. How to "fit in". How to live.
Everyone had been so nice. They seemed happy to let him have his time. To figure things out. They would invite him to eat with them (always providing his favorite, the closest link he had found to home on this strange planet). They invited him to play (the base of ball game was fun…if he could remember what fun was). But at the end of the day, after the talking, after the playing, after the eating he needed to be alone. To reset. To think.
As one month bled into two he began to feel some pressure. He watched how everyone seemed to fit together, to be one, to be family. He began to desire that himself. He wanted to belong. He wanted to find comfort. He couldn't leave this place (he had made an unbreakable vow, after all) so he decided to try and fit, to make this a home. Something he had forgotten long ago.
He started with resuming some of the normal behaviors he had lived for so long. He began to forage (he may have pulled up flowers in the garden - flowers that earned him a sigh and pursed lips when she had seen). He began to try and train again (the trees he had used had not been approved it seemed).
He began to feel discouraged, frustrated, but his new friends had encouraged him to keep trying. Find his thing, make himself at home (but maybe ask first if he was going to interfere with vegetation).
He picked her flowers ("Honey, this is so sweet but you can't pull flowers from the neighbors yard…"). He had tried to play ("I'm glad to see you trying new things, but you have to be careful…we can't keep fixing the shed.").
His new guardians had tried to talk with him. They did take time with him, sit with him, speak to him, but their talk always turned to questions. Questions about his past, questions about his tribe, questions about his previous life. He didn't want to speak of it. He was afraid that if he let it out, if he opened the carefully guarded door, that they would see him, and they would not like what they saw. When he didn't want to talk, this also caused disappointment.
But today was apparently his biggest mistake yet. He had been in the woods, taking a moment to gather his thoughts after a game with his friends. Honing his senses, listening to the leaves, feeling the wind, letting the cold air of approaching winter keep him sharp. He had started to walk back toward the house when he heard an unfamiliar sound. His senses were immediately on alert. The sounds were coming from the house. The house could be under attack.
He had run through the trees, slowing as he came to the house. He had heard the grinding sound, screaming, menacing, coming from near the shed. His eyes caught a being, dressed from head to toe in brown, mask over his face, weapon screeching and activated.
His warrior instincts kicked in, like a sleeping beast coming to life. He must protect his new home. His new tribe.
He had defended his home. He thought he had been fair. He had not harmed the intruder, but he had made sure he would never come back. He finally felt like he had done something right.
Her high pitched voice came from the front door as the intruder fled. "Wait, what happened?" "I'm so sorry!" "He's just a kid, he didn't mean any harm!" She chased the retreating intruder to his vehicle and put her hands on her hips as she watched his car peel out of the driveway. He watched her stand there for a moment, waiting for what surely would be praise for protecting the home. When she finally turned, her face was not happy, it was not proud.
"What were you doing?" "You can't attack people like that!" "He was trying to fix our shed!" "You could have really hurt him!" He shrank under her gaze, retreated from her words, eyes stuck on the ground. And as she stared she left him in pouring deluge of disappointment, of failure.
He found himself retreating (pathetic for a warrior). He walked for some time, unsure where he was going, unsure what he was trying to achieve. He ran from disappointment, from failure, from life.
He kept messing up. He couldn't get this right. He couldn't figure out this world.
He didn't want to do this anymore.
And yet, he couldn't leave. Bound to this planet by an unbreakable vow to protect the ultimate power. If he left, even if he took the emerald with him, he would break that vow. That was not an option. He would not breach his own honor in such a way. Honor was all he had left.
Maybe he could make a new home. Forge a shelter in the forest. He could return to solitude. Solitude. Where he could be himself without hurting anyone. Where he could go back to being alone, the way he was meant to be.
Yes, that may work.
Suddenly a sharp gust of wind pulled his mind from his thoughts. He suddenly shivered as he felt the cold cut his skin. He had experienced cold. He had survived in cold. But this cold felt deeper, more biting than it ever had before. He pulled his arms around his body, suddenly regretting not bringing anything warm. In his haste to escape his shame he had not felt the cold. Now he could feel it deeply, penetrating to his bones. He had to find shelter.
He slowly willed himself to stand, suddenly feeling a deep exhaustion. Tired of running. Tired of failure. He took a deep breath, the cold wind burning his lungs.
Shelter.
He put one foot in front of the other. And without knowing where he was going, he walked.