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.
***
So Patch, unaware of his true parentage, grew up in the small, underground town of Holm, safe from any prejudice, though that's not to say he wasn't aware of said prejudice. His foster parents were surprised, sure. When Mrs Chamberlynn heard a knock at her front door at 5 in the morning, she opened the door to find absolutely nothing in front of her. Shivering in the cold night air, she had been about to shut the door when she just happened to look down and found a baby in a basket tagged "Patch". So yes, they were surprised, but they loved Patch as if he were their own, which to all intents and purposes, he was. And so his childhood was happy and he lived well.
It was the fight with his girlfriend that drove him to sign up. She dumped him in the end, it was a massive knock to his confidence, and as he drank himself silly in that dingey little pub at the mouth of the cave his village resided in, he struggled to remember the girl's name, or even what she looked like come to think of it. What he did know however, was that she thought he wasn't good enough for her... but he would change that. So, still in a drunken haze, he bribed a friend to dye his hair violet, swaggered down to the Military Registry office, and signed himself up as a half blood (humans were strictly forbidden to join).
Only the next morning, when his best friend, the Sober Bunny kicked him in the face, did Patch Chamberlynn realise his awful mistake. By then of course it was too late. With his face settling into a perfect image of guilt and fear, he slunk down to breakfast to tell his oblivious foster parents the whole story...
Patch's legs were shaking so much that once or twice he almost fell down the stairs, and once or twice he considered hurling himself from the nearest window and running off to lands unknown far away from the whispers of war. But this idea was swiftly extinguished. Yes he intended fully to escape his dreadful fate, but as he saw his parents chatting merrily over breakfast, and the look of delight on his Mother's face to see him, he felt he at least owed these people an explanation.
The idea of having to leave these people, possibly forever, chipped away at his heart like a pickeaxe at stone. It was a cruel and harsh turn of events, and it was all his fault. Only now, with the weight of the news he was about to deliver, did Patch fully appreciate every detail of his home. The morning light streamed in from the window, gracing every surface within reach with a soft, yellow light. A lump grew in Patch's throat so he busied himself for a while watching the dust dance in the flickering light before settling on the apple green kitchen benches. Flowers decked the kitchen cupboards and there were even some Spring daffodils in a vase on the small, round, maple dining table. This quirky, old, daft place was his home... and through his own stupidity he would soon have to part with it. The idea brought with it such a sadness that for a moment Patch was rendered speechless. It was only when Joice Chamberlynn encouraged her son that he eventually swallowed, inhaled deeply, and spoke.
"I have to leave," He stated simply, keeping it short lest his voice crack.
He could not have predicted his parent's reaction. His Father, James Chamberlynn, roared with laughter, heaved himself out of the chair, and waddled over to Patch, clapping him on the back firmly.
"Haha my boy, so you've found a girl to settle down with have you?! We were wondering when this day would come; I mean, 25 and never had a girlfriend? Who is she? What's she look like?" The man said.
Patch looked down at his Father, who was a good deal shorter than him and bit his lip. The man was nearing 60 and he was the owner of a very impressive pot belly, yet his face held no wrinkles, nor any signs of aging, bar the laugh lines and grey streaks in his dark hair. Patch looked between his Father and his Mother, who was also grinning widely at him, even more interested. Their son fully intended to tell them the whole story and he even opened his mouth to say it, but...
"Her name is Emily. She lives in France and I met her a few months ago when she came here on holiday. We've been corresponding ever since and I'm going to France to live with her," He stated, almost robotically. "I'll miss you both terribly," He added with immense truth.
At this point, Joice rushed up to hug him and squeeled excitedly.
"That's lovely Patch! You must let us come and visit!"
"Of course I will Mum," He managed to cholk out eventually.
A few hours later, Patch's bags were packed and he was ready to go to... well anywhere really, perhaps he could really go to France, and pray that his parents would forget about his promise to let them visit. However, once again, Patch's plans for life were altered as he reached Wickery Bridge and two men stopped him in his tracks.
They were both at least six feet tall, muscular, and stern looking. One had deep red hair while the other one's hair didn't seem to want to settle on a single colour. Although it wasn't immediately clear, Patch felt he knew exactly why they were here.
"Hi, I'm Edward and this is Jack. We're here to pick up the newest soldier," Said the one on the left sarcastically, a sinister smile forming on his long face.
Patch didn't have to be told twice. Faster than he ever had before, he turned in the opposite direction and began to run; but what he hadn't counted on was both men being faster than he was.
The last anyone heard of Patch in the little town of Holm was his tortured screaming as he was dragged along Wickery Bridge and hurled into the back of a pod-car.