K

ai ate his supper vigorously (not before Kunsu had demanded that he take a proper bath, which he did).  It seemed to the woodsman that the young werewolf had already returned to full strength, although he knew that that was simply not true.  Still, the boy had finished splitting all of the wood within an hour, and had then proceeded to clean up the woodsman’s property a bit by clearing away fallen branches, logs, and even leaves.  Kunsu made sure that he remained within the protective barrier around his house.

            He knew not what other odd happenings were yet to occur, but he knew that this peculiar young werewolf had not come to him because of mere chance. 

            Something deep in his heart told him that this was something far bigger than himself, than Kai, than the village of Rho, than the whole Southwestern province.

            This was something that affected all of Allas Nura.

            He knew this because of how suddenly the monotony of his simple life had been broken.  Such things did not happen to ‘normal’ people such as him.

            He thought of all these things as he ate calmly and surreptitiously glanced at his guest every other minute.

            “You cook very well, sir--er, Kunsu.” remarked Kai, noticing him looking.

            “Thank you.” said Kunsu plainly.  Then, after a moment, “Tell me, Kai,”--the boy looked up at him expectantly--“what do hope for?”

            Kai blinked at him. “I’m sorry, sir?”  When the woodsman didn’t say anything else, he added, “I do not know what you are asking.”

            “What do you hope to gain from my acquaintance?”

            “Nothing at all, sir.”  he said immediately.  “You have already been so kind and gracious to me.  I would never ask for more than what you have already given to me.  And I do not wish to ‘repay’ you for anything, but I am helping you because I feel in my heart that it is the best thing for me to do right now.  This is where I’m supposed to be.  My instinct tells me that.”

            The word ‘instinct’ put Kunsu on edge, for whatever reason.  He shifted a little in his seat and took a drink of water.

            Kai glanced up at the photographs on the wall with sober eyes.

            “Those are your family members, right?”  he asked.

            Kunsu didn’t look at him when he answered.  He took another drink of water instead.  “They were.”  Kai swallowed and stared at his empty bowl.

            “I’m sorry--“

            “Do not apologize for something that was not your doing.”

            There was a long, painful silence.

            “Kai.”  said the woodsman, finally.  The other looked up at him, sad and expectant.  “What makes you different from...them?”

            The boy understood him entirely.  “I am decent.”  he said.

            “...Decent?”

            “I am not a bad person; at least, I do not think I am.  I am not a good person, either, although I try to be.  I try to be better.  That makes me a decent person, does it not?”

            “You believe that you can somehow redeem your race?”

            “Of what pertains to my race I am uncertain, but myself, yes, I believe so.”

            “How did you learn to speak so well?”

            “I taught myself how to read.  I cannot write, but I can read...and speak.”

            “Hmm.”  Kunsu gathered the dishes and stood to take them to the sink.

            “...Is there anything else I can do?” asked Kai.

            “No.  Nothing else today.  It is dark out now.”

            “I can see quite well in the dark.”

            “The forest is a dangerous place even in the daytime.  At night...” He trailed off.  “...You’re better off indoors, where you are safe.  ...Well, safer.”

            Kai smiled a bit.  “With all due respect, I am very familiar with the forest and its dangers.”

            “Do you respect me?”

            “Of course!”

            “Then respect my wishes.”  Kunsu said, plainly.

            The boy nodded obediently.

“My lord, I have received word that the Mapbearer and a small group of fellows are travelling to Craymor, in hopes to have the map deciphered.  They believe that it is a treasure map.”

            Maxwell was quite vexed indeed, but he did not allow his true emotions to be detected by his subordinate.

            “There’s more, my lord.” continued Kuhn, cautiously.  “...There is a Divine in her company, as well as a Moon Child, a Fire Bearer, and an Unawakened.”

            The other rose swiftly, his ornate robes flashing through the air.  He walked towards a window-like crack in the wall and gazed out into the darkness of the forest.  Kuhn watched anxiously as his master crossed his arms and stared at the trees in utter silence.  He remained like that for a few minutes.

            “The origins...” Maxwell said, finally.  There was a long pause. “Well, I shouldn’t have expected this to be that easy... Of course they will try to prevent what will happen from happening.”  Kuhn’s heart stopped in his chest when Maxwell him suddenly.  “...We must stop them, Kuhn... But we can’t do that entirely on our own, can we?”

            Black light flashed in his eyes, which shone like the gemstones around him.

Arya woke very early, before the sun had even risen.  She snuck out of the room without waking Wendy and wandered outside to an empty stone courtyard behind the inn.  The large trunk of a single willow tree protruded from in-between the cobblestones and its hanging branches casted darkness over half of the space.

                Arya stood in the center, arms crossed in front of her, fingers gripping the hilts of either of the katana blades at her sides.

                She was very still and silent for a long moment.  She closed her eyes and let the mana around her flow in and out of her veins until she became one with existence.  Her mind was clear and her heart steady.

                There was a glint of light as her blades flew from their sheaths.  She struck the air, mercilessly yet methodically, obliterating opponents that were not really there.   Unknown as she was by most of the world, there were very few of her age and build who could come even close to rivaling her ability.

                She twisted, turned, bent, flipped, kicked, and punched as her blades sliced the air in clean, even ; loosely (allowing room, of course, for her own implements) following the patterns and methods of her many years of training with her father.

                Time passed and she worked herself until her breaths caught in and she could feel the sweat dripping from her body.

                She was about to deliver a final blow, but her blade collided with another, producing an ear-deafening ching.

                Arya found herself staring Lay in the face.  She maintained the hold for a moment as she caught her breath.  Lay was silent and emotionless as she broke the hold and sheathed one of her blades.  She examined the other one.

                “What are you doing?”  he asked, returning his knife to his belt.

                “Training.”  she answered.  Lay was surprised that the answer wasn’t snarkier; she appeared to be in one of her bad moods.  She always ‘trained’ when her emotions were disturbed.

                “Hmm.”  said Lay, “It seems to me that someone of your level of skill does not need to wake up at such an ungodly hour to merely ‘train.’  Have you not trained enough?”

                “You blocked me just now, didn’t you?”

                He looked at her wearily, knowing full well where she was going with that question. “...Yes.” he said.

                “Then I have not trained enough.”  she said.  She took out a bar from one of her leg straps and sharpened her blade on it.

                Lay rolled his eyes. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t waste your energy.”

                She glanced at him inquisitively.

                “We established last night that something was clearly amiss, did we not?”  he answered her wordless question.  “You may need your strength today.”

                Arya chuckled.  “And I have spent none.”

                “Are you alright?”  he asked her.  The sudden gentleness in his voice made her stomach churn.  She hated when that happened.

                “Of course.  Why do you ask?”

                “Because you seem aloof, and because you’re not the type to tell me otherwise.”

                “Am I the type to tell you if you asked?”

                He eyed her.  “We both know the answer to that.”

                She guffawed. “Hmph.  You act as if you somehow have me on a tether.  Well, dear, it seems that you have much yet to learn about me.”

                “Not a tether, but rather, a string.  And this string often manifests itself in the verbal familiar of ‘dear’...”

                A smirk played at the corner of Arya’s lips as she began sharpening her other katana, the one that Beck had repaired and decorated quite nicely.  She was pleased with its new make and design.

                The others joined them in the courtyard.

                “Are we ready to continue?”  Yul asked, to no one in particular.  He already had all of the groups’ bags over his shoulders.

                “We need to have breakfast first.”  said Beck..

                “We’ll grab something small in the marketplace on the way up.”  said Lay.  “Does everybody have everything they need?  Once we enter the pass, there will not be any place that we can obtain supplies until we reach Craymor--no trustworthy place, anyway.”

                “We’re all packed up and ready to go.” Wendy assured him.  “All we really need is food and blankets, to be perfectly honest.  We should sell anything else.  I assume that we will need the money for other things.”

                “Wendy is right.”  said Arya.  “This isn’t a vacation.  Besides, we don’t want to burden our work horse any more than needs be.”  She nodded once at Yul, who took the joke with a small chuckle.

The group passed through the upper marketplace on the third level of the city and ate breakfast on the go.  From there up the appearance and decorum of the city became much more pristine.  The citizens, who were likewise of nobler breed such as artists and scholars, dressed in white and silver from neck to toe and seldom was one seen without a book or some other instrument of rank in their hands.

                The Fellowship of the Map rather stood out like a sore thumb; a small band of mismatched misfits amongst such refined surroundings.  The folk, however, were amiable towards them.  Despite this, Arya was eager to be out of their way.  Something about city folk irked her; they were too perfect, too...complete, and yet, she knew that they probably were not--behind all of the pretense.  The complexity of such a situation was too much for her brain.

                “When we reach the top, we’ll have to pass through the Hall and make our way to the outskirts of the city.” explained Arya, “I know of a secret entrance into the mountains, through the lower caverns.  We’ll attract less attention that way instead of the common road.”

                “Are we wary of attracting such attention?” asked Beck.

                “Nothing but a precautionary measure.”  said Lay.  “Besides, all varieties of people pass through the common road.  I don’t care to encounter any of the...less pleasant sorts.”

                “You say that, when we already have the likes of Yul in our group.” said Arya.

                “Hey.”  said Yul.  “That’s not very nice.”  Arya smiled at him as Wendy and Beck laughed.  The blacksmith eyed the latter to silence.

                “I’d take the likes of Yul over pickpockets, fortune tellers, and over-enthusiastic salespeop