From Ashes

From Small Beginnings

They say that Patch had to be dragged kicking and screaming...

In the many years after what you might refer to as the present day, but was in fact quite a hand full of centuries before this story was even thought of, the Austrian mountains still stood tall and overpowering. Legend has it that the tips of these mountains were once blanketed with the purest snow. In the time of this tale however, snow was a thing of the past and instead the mountains were inhabited by thousands of species of wildlife and sparse forestry, with the odd water feature dotted about. In between two of the mountains was a crevice in which lay a tiny farming village called Rickersville which made use of what little soil there was. A shallow river glided down into all of the nooks and crannies of the mountain until, near the bottom of this small slope, was a hut.

Nothing about this hut was remotely unordinary. There was a miniature garden containing the family's produce; the ripening grapevines slithered up the house, giving it an aged appearance. It was entirely pleasant in every way... but for the horrific screaming emanating from the slightly ajar entryway.

Inside, a woman lay atop a double bed convulsing, sweating, and screaming the ears off the entire house. As she twisted and turned, tangling herself within the smelly bedsheets, her hair changed colours rapidly, mimicking every colour of the rainbow. An elderly man sat beside her, pressing a cool, damp cloth to her forehead, and muttering awkward soothing comments under his breath. His name was Bryce, and he was the family Physician, though his knowledge about children was decidedly limited, much to the woman in labour's annoyance.

After what seemed like an age, and a lot of screaming, the woman's hair settled on the colour purple as she surveyed her child with great interest and curiosity.

"Can i hold him?" she asked timidly, as one saying something she shouldn't be.

The supposed loved ones surrounding this woman looked anything but happy at being present for the creation of life, and after much quiet muttering, the man on the right nodded once.

Upon being presented the baby the woman's face lit up into a warm smile. She gave the baby a slight kiss on the forehead, paying no attention to the fact that his hair-- chestnut brown-- was not changing colour. Her smile and evident love only grew, when her sons wide, cerulean blue eyes fell on her and a tiny, pudgy hand reached out for his Mother's hair.

"Hi baby," She whispered. "It's me, Abby. It's Mummy. I love you so much,"

She planted a kiss on his forehead, and then seemed to remember where she was and looked up at the twelve or so others surrounding her, her smile fading. She looked to the man on the right--her husband John. His face was white and his lips set in a hard line; and his high cheekbones cast shadows across the rest of his face. There was no other word but scary to describe him right now. He was visibly shaking and she watched with growing dread as his hair changed from platinum blonde to black. In an instant Abby knew what was coming.

"He's human." Her husband stated quietly, revulsion dripping in every syllable of his voice. "I'm willing to forget this little mishap but that... thing...is to never be in my presence again... Do you understand that Abigail?"

And before his wife could even blink, Abigail's three brothers managed to seize the baby, despite her best efforts; and, so weak from childbirth, Abby could do nothing but lie there and shout pitifully.

"His name is Patch!"

Then the wave of sobs overtook her.

John's absence spanned out over the course of three weeks, but he eventually returned and explained to his sobbing wife that Patch had been taken to one of the few remaining German Human villages where he would live out the rest of his happy life with the 'riff raff' as he so eloquently named the human race.