He awoke in the injured tent, light creeping in from outsidfe the cracked curtain. He was covered in an old rawhide blanket, up to his chin and felt the coarse bandages around his body. He remembered falling from the cliff, something that should have killed him...

 

Everything hurt to the point where only his warrior pride kept him from crying out, the feelings coursing through him akin to agony. He was alone, something he was used to, but this was different. No one was there at all. In the few times he had visited the injured tent there was always someone running around to check, even a few of the shamans checking his status, smearing more herbs. 

 

He sat in the complete silence, only able to barely make out the sounds of animals and people beyond the curtain, soft and distant. He wondered what was happening. He could hear a bit of yelling, and bit of discontent. There was something shattering and the wail of a woman, which alarmed him more than anything. 

 

After a few minutes of this the curtain to the tent moved to the right, and a large group of people stepped inside in single file.  

 

A few shamans, their face paint smudged with water, some he had known since he was a small boy, were glaring at him. 

 

What did he do?

 

He knew... he knew something had gone terribly wrong. 

 

It wasn't the healers that disturbed him the most. It was someone he had never seen outside of a ceremony.

 

The elder of the other clan.

 

She looked weathered, beaten down, and hardened, sending chills down his spine. She gave him such an angry look, that he wanted to cower behind his cot like a little boy. Her gray hair was severely pulled back into a bun, her gray eyes piercing his frail body like a knife. Her ever-present robes were wrinkled at the top, still a midnight black color with rose colored trims. She always made him nervous, always made him want to run like a scared rabbit. It wasn't even the fact she was the highest ranking Clan; it was more the mere look of her would send a strong warrior into hysterics. 

 

"You." She pointed a finger at him. "Do you know what you have done!?" she screeched, shaking it at him. "You have lost our Valuable!" His elder tried to calm her down but she would have nothing of it, ranting away at him until he bowed before her. Spittle was flying from , and her face was turning the alarming color of ripe tomato. She only paused for this, and grudgingly became silent as he spoke.

 

"We understand, ma'am. Please return to your village. We will deal with him accordingly." 

 

She her nose into the air, staring down at him, turning abruptly on her heels. She walked with her back straight and lifted the curtain to the exit- 

 

"You better." She left it as a parting remark and left him wondering just why his leader was bowing to her.

 

Seconds after she left, the curtain swung closed as the rest of the group followed her out...

 

"You have made a grave error, Baekhyun," the elder whispered. "You have shamed the entire clan and the Masters have answered. Now we must answer with you." 

 

Baekhyun struggled to pull himself up into a sitting position, opening his mouth to protest.

 

"Silence! Your foolishness has already cost us our freedom!" 

 

Baekhyun stopped, confused. What did he mean by freedom?

 

"The Masters have decided that we must serve the South Clan for the rest of our existence to begin to pay them back for what they have lost!" The leader's

face was turning a heated shade of red, almost as horrible as the South Clan leader's. "Do you understand what that means? What you have caused us?!"

 

He was inches away from Baekhyun's face now, but he couldn't reply. 

 

He never thought it would come to this. 

 

"You are to become well enough to leave this bed and then leave this village. Never return again, Outcast." He said it with such venom that the younger had never heard before, and he knew, he knew there was no arguing. 

 

The now scorned clan member nodded his head, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. "I understand." 

 

"Leave soon, Outcast. Before someone takes a knife to your back." 

 

Baekhyun felt his heart twist at the words, pulling his knees to his chest despite the pain, silently beginning to weep.

 

He never wanted this. 

 

---

 

When Chanyeol woke up, he found himself in a bed, staring up at a clean, white ceiling. The lights were bright, hurting his eyes, but he couldn't move his head yet, so they watered in response. The sheets were overly warm, confining and very prickly to his skin. He made a soft sound in the back of his throat...

 

"Chanyeol!" A familiar voice, and he jerked, trying to turn his head to it, but it wouldn't go. "Are you all right?" The voice sounded closer and a face leaned over him, curiously looking down at him. "Channie?" 

 

It was Jin, the worry on his face startling Chanyeol. He tried to open his mouth, but nothing came out but a dry croak. Jin's face retreated and he came back with a glass of water in a cup with a straw, angling Chanyeol's head down to drink. He took large grateful gulps, trying to think of anything but what happened, what he dreamed. The water was washing down his throat but not washing away the dream. 

 

Chanyeol wanted to scrub his forearm hard, and when he looked at it, he was alarmed it had turned into a fiery burn mark, trailing up his entire arm.

 

"Yah, the cafe workers found you passed out on the floor. She said she was only gone for a minute. They still don't know how you go that." He motioned to the itchy burn mark on his arm. It didn't actually burn anymore, just a sensation of heat crawling deep in his skin. He just wanted to know what he had in his hand to cause this powerful of an effect...

 

Chanyeol was starting to get back some of his energy and sat up gingerly. "How long have I been here?" He pushed his hair out of his eyes with his right hand, glancing at the clock. 

 

"A few hours. I told the teachers in your next classes as soon as I found out. It really did come in handy that you put me down as an emergency contact." 

 

Chanyeol nodded. He didn't have anyone after his mother passed away three years ago, nor knowledge of his father...

 

A spark behind Chanyeol's eyes brought the memory of the strange male saying something about how he was his dad. He hadn't seen or heard from his dad in over seventeen years. How did the man know to say something about it? 

 

"Are you still planning on going out tonight?" The worry in Jin's voice seeped through, and Chanyeol nodded, trying to push back his nervousness.

 

"Of course. I would have to be dead to change that." He smirked, trying to push a feeling into that he didn't quite have at the moment. 

 

Jin's answering smirk was all that he needed to lift his spirits.

---

 

A quiet figure stood next to the door, its arms crossed, head down, a small smirk on its face. Silent as the two children pattered on about what they would drink tonight, whom they would hit on.

 

Lips curled into a cheek-splitting smile. 

 

“Stupid boy, your time will come soon,” it whispered deeply. “Just...wait. “