Swords of Isadren (BoyxBoy)

Chapter One: Fire

The blood from Asman's wound was beginning to worry him.

The night was cold, and dark, and full of sounds that previously would not have scared him, but now shook him to the core at the thought of a pack of wolves smelling his shoulder and coming to finish him off.

Asman had denied himself the ability to cry, as he did not know when he would come to water again, and it was best to conserve his fluids.

Though, at the rate that he was bleeding, he was sure that he would not make it through the night.

The tunic he had put on for night was long sleeved, but did little to curb the chill of night. His trousers were ripped at the knees and his feet torn to shreds from the ground.

There had been no need for shoes when he was about to tuck into his bed.

Him and his brother had finished their work for the day and already had eaten dinner before it all happened. They both ran the village butchery, seeing as it was their fathers job before he passed away from illness.

Their mother had passed after Asman's birth, though Samdel said he had barely knew her since he was only a few summers older than Asman.

Samdel was almost thirty winters. He was just as young as Asman; he should have died at sixty, or at least fighting in a battle. Samdel was brave, and he did not deserve to die in the same way they killed the chickens for meat.

Asman exhaled shakily and focused on the ground in front of him, though there was little use as the night was pitch black and the only light was coming from the waning moon above.

Even if he had been in these woods before, he doubted he would be able to tell where he was. Each step sent a shiver of pain through his body, his mind clouded with the feeling of his back soaked with blood.

The sticks and stones digging into his feet hardly even felt like anything. The cold chilled wind was nothing, he had stopped shivering perhaps an hour ago.

His eyes kept shutting on their own, but he kept walking and hardly avoiding trees.

As his eyes slipped closed once again, his left shoulder connected with a tree, sending a blinding pain all throughout his body that sent him to the ground.

Asman barely gasped before his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell unconscious.

________________

There was a warmness when he awoke.

His shoulder was still throbbing, but he could not feel any fresh blood.

He was also on his stomach, and on a fur, with the scent of a fire and food lacing the air.

Asman's eyes widened and he attempted to lift himself up, but slammed back to the ground as his wound made his arm give out.

It was light out and the sun on his back was what probably made him so warm.

There were people talking, yet not loud enough for him to catch what was being said. Nobody was in front or to the side of him so he could not see anything but the open expanse of forest.

After a few deep breaths, he controlled the pain and managed to use his right arm to lift himself up so that he was facing the voices. He could feel stitches pulling at the side of the wound.

Asman's breath stuttered as he saw who was there.

Likely around twenty people, all of them staring at him with curious looks. Some of them were men, and some women, most of them were holding a bowl or plate full of stew.