Griffin Erazmus Llane is living in the small house located between the Enchanted Forest and the village, Griffin and his family do not own the best reputation.
For as long as he can remember his dear mother has been the one taking care of the sick...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The night was a constant reminder of the darkness within Griffin.
He had set his mind on one thing, to catch the prey. Right now, his one and only prey was his little sister who carried the fairy soul.
He jogged through the forest. The sky was slowly but surely changing colours. The darkness of the sky was slowly turning orange.
It annoyed Griffin more then it should. He knew he couldn't run around the forest like this when the sun shone down on the forest and the lanes around it. Surely the woods were quiet, but that didn't mean there weren't any extra pairs of eyes watching.
His almost non extinct tail switched in annoyance as he came to a stop near the large hill. He knew he had someway catched up to the kings men. He felt it.
He ducked under a thick bush that smelled of sweet berries when he noticed a carriage in the horizon. The carriage was rather big and was pulled by two dark whining mules.
Just a traveler. But those are the worst gossipers, for a swift second the thought of removing them from his route crossed his mind. But it would obviously draw too much attention. There for, he laid still under the bushes, his eyes following their every move.
After the carriage had disappeared and the sound of whining mules long gone, Griffin felt the change shaking his body. His lungs were pushed together painfully slow, his spine shrunk as his limbs were once again forced backwards. His sharp teeth made for a killer, shrunk back into his jaws as they were replaced with the human teeth.
He gasped as he let himself fall onto the soft floor of the forest.
He had no more time to waste. He forced himself up and changed back into his clothes.
Pants, tunic, belt and leather boots. He scoffed when he realized he had forgotten to take any weapons with him, not even a dagger.
What a fool. There are bandits absolutely everywhere. He tugged the bag over his shoulder and started confidently marching down the road, his eyes never leaving the trails made by kings men. It wasn't hard to find the right tracks, their armor was weighting them down, making the hoofprints much deeper.
Yet there was no trace of them or their camping place. Which means they had been marching through the night.
Griffin cursed under his breath, walking faster down the muddy road.
Half of the day he marched, ignoring his hungry stomach and aching legs.
He stopped on his tracks as he noticed the smoke in the distance. It was a village, set on fire but the fire was slowly burning out.
Ignoring the hate towards humans, he rushed down the rocky hill.
The small village, Derpver, was a mess by the time he made it there. There were wooden boxes that had been filled with different goods, now lay broken and worthlessly on the ground. Many apples, clothes and potatoes had been crushed and were now uselessly mixed into mud. The damage was really bad for a small village like this one. It was probably their yearly income, for some at least. He pitied them.
Something sharp poked his back, making him raise his hands as a sign of defeat. He had no intention in killing them. The man stepped in front of him, his only weapon a pitchfork, nevertheless it was one sharp pitchfork.
Commoners had no great weapons, it was way too expensive for them. The surprise wasnt really the pitchfork or the blood dripping down the man's arm, it was how young he looked. He had expected it to be an old farmer or anyone really, but he must've been only few years older then Griffin himself.
"What is your business here, stranger." the man growled under his breath. He was tired, obviously. But nevertheless the adrenaline was still keeping him awake. His seemingly blonde hair was covered with dirt and hay. His skin had hardly any clean spots as his white tunic was covered with blood. A circle of villagers had gathered around them. Fear was shining through their tired eyes as they tried to hide behind each other. But they were still trying to get a glance at Griffin. Curiosity, humans were always too curious for their own good.
Griffin offered him a reassuring smile, the man in front of him didn't move an inch.
He was smarter than most of the villagers. The boys eyes were hard as steel, distrust and judgment visible in those hardened orbs.
"Just a traveler, I was heading to du Trönmer." he said, blue eye tarting from one person to another. They were all ordinary farmers, women, men and children. A couple of cows mooed somewhere, other than that it seemed as if there were no people. Fear had struck silence in them. They were so afraid so they had pushed a young man to a leader position. Another proof that humans were, and will always be pathetic, fearful creatures.
“Where did you come from?” the same boy asked, raising the pitchfork slightly higher near Griffins neck.
“Village of crop, Wandermere.” he answered truthfully, offering a small smile. His green eyes narrowed slightly, weither it was from sun or high feeling of doubt. “Then why not to go straight there? Why go around?” he'd gone around?
“You see, I've never been there, my family sent me to look for a job just for this season, it's been hard spring so far. Have to make sure that family has enough bread on the table when winter comes.” The traveler lied smoothly, or perhaps it wasn't that much of a lie. It seemed to do the trick as the boy slowly pulled the pitchfork away from his throat.
His eyes were judgmental as he took a step back. “What's going on here? What's all the fuss about? Out of my way, out of my way!” a raspy voice announced, parting the crowd angrily. Short, bald headed old man came rushing torwards Griffin, his grey eyes looked up at him, the years painted on his face in wrinkles. The old man seemed curious and exited as he reached up to touch Grifs hair. “Uncle.” the boy snapped, pulling the ball headed man away from amused Griffin.
“Is he one of them boy? One of the bastards who ruined our village? A troll?” the green-eyed lad pushed the old man behind him, his eyes still untrustworthy.
“no uncle, just a traveler. Or so he claims.” the old man threw his hands in the air, groaning in frustration. “Just a traveler! Just a Traveler, couldn't you be a troll? I'd fight you do death and have another prize hanging on my wall.” he exchanged loudly, obviously not pleased about Griffin being justa traveler.
“Come now, we have a lot to do.” the boy whose name Griffin still didn't know patted his uncle on the shoulder to guide him away. His green eyes landed on the intruder. “come with me.”
