The Dragon of the Shadows in the Dark [Being Re-Written]

Fractured Memories Of Another Life

Countless pieces of fallen trees made an obstacle course of countless opportunities to trip blanketed by a vibrant layer of moss. My body subconsciously knew the way to go, hopping from place to place I slowly made my way toward the most beautiful of clearings, my favorite spot in the forest surrounding our home. As I reached the end of the invisible path I came across a wall, which I knew the secret entrance to. (A/N Picture above that I forgot to add, sorry)

Slowly and gently I moved the layer of thick vines that made it near impossible to see through, careful not to rip or tear any of the vines, not wanting to ruin my sanctuary. Once I passed through the entrance I wove in between the rock formations and towards my pride and joy. As the forest comes to life with movement and sounds, my body's stress and tension seeps away like the trickling of a gentle stream down a small hill.

I take in the freshly calm air with that hint of an earthly aroma, the fragrance of home. The scent of flora and fruits hits my nose and a pleasant smile graces my lips, a strong breeze whips through my black hair. The breeze knocks carries a few blooms from their perch to the ground, a couple petals and flower blossoms tangle in my hair and dance around, happily free to move about as they please.

Rock walls rose tall in all directions, and at the edge of the walls were thick trees that loomed high above the edge of the stone. As a young child I had theorized that this was where a body of water used to be, but I never out any though into it. The leaves filtered the sunlight as they moved to and fro at their own pace, a couple loose leaves falling through the air giving the area an air of tranquility. The sound of the forest is that of an orchestra within my mind, playing one enchanting symphony after another. Her leaves dance to an unheard beat, whispering their songs to the wind.

Here in my sanctuary, sheltered by the mighty trees, is every kind of life, from the humble beetle to enchanting birds of every color. The sky vanished almost completely behind a sheet of impossibly green leaves, leaving only a few fragments of blue remaining, like scattered pieces of an impossible puzzle. The air is rich with the fragrance of leaves, flowers and fresh water. Outside is the noon daylight, the powerful rays of early summer, but in here everything is cool and the colors have the softness of that time just before dusk.

The only movement is the occasional bird, roosting in a tree or a squirrel dashing up a nearby trunk. The sound of running water in the brook has the same hypnotic quality as music, I want to stop just to drink in the sound. The huckleberries are mostly red, tart but with just the right amount of sweetness. I take in all the air my lungs will hold and expel it slowly. However, something told me that something was disrupting the place that had been my sanctuary for the time when I was here as a child.

I closed my eyes and listened to the surrounding sounds, fighting against the fatigue beckoning me to sleep. I could feel all of the noises of the forest surrounding me, though I could not sense exactly where they were. The sounds of chirping avian creatures fills the tree tops as the rustling of leaves and the pitter-patter of feet on the stone and soil floor can just barely be made out from they symphony of silence that they forest had to offer.

One thing that stuck out in my mind was the unnaturally loud of the water hitting against something and unless a stone had disrupted the calm creek then something else had caused the disturbance. Slowly, and cautiously I made my way towards the creek, stopping every few paces in an attempt to remember the way to the water's edge. Thankfully, I managed to stumble across what was making a disturbance in the otherwise calm water flowing through the creek.

The glaive from Hak had gotten stuck between a couple of the rocks that line the edge of the creek and poked through the water. The wide blade was perpendicular to the creek bed, causing waves to crash against the metal in an attempt to get back on its original course. Leaning down for a moment I rolled up the pant leg of my monochromatic outfit and waded into the cool water, I stopped before the weapon noting that the creek had washed the blood from the soldiers off of the blade.