A Touch Of Lightning (COMPLETED!)

Chapter 3 Running, Always Running

Chapter 3

Running, always running

Callin sat up, eyes in slits, moving like an old man. The gnawing cold was relentless, working its way deep inside overnight, like it was now chewing on his bones. His tiny campfire was nothing but a few embers, glowing dully in the dark underneath his pine tree shelter.

Clenching his teeth against the searing pain of his arms, Callin reached behind him, pulled some dry sticks out from his stash, and tossed them on the embers, blowing gently on them until they flared to life. He wanted to feel the warmth, he wanted to see the firelight. He wanted some reminder that he wasn't simply an animal.

It had been weeks since the Flayer attack. Weeks of hazy pain and confusion as he stumbled through the snow, his arms dripping blood, his thoughts centered simply on survival. He wasn't sure what had happened that day the Flayer had attacked him, but he remembered waking up in the small cave to the thick scent of his own blood.

He remembered waking up to searing agony up and down both of his arms, as if they were being held in a vat of molten steel. His skin had been stripped off of his arms. Every last inch of the skin on his arms, lying on the cave floor in thin strips amidst the puddles of his congealed, frozen blood. What had the Flayer done to him? Was this the reason they were called Flayers? Callin could hardly believe it.

He remembered staggering out into the wilderness, running. Always running, yet unable to escape the pain in his arms, unable to comprehend why his healing power wasn't working. At some point on the third day after the Flayer attack, he had recognized that his arms actually were healing, but just seemed to be taking a very long time to do so. His healing power would normally have healed a wound like this in minutes, or even less if his power was surging wildly if he was in a fight.

And then, on the fourth day, he had stepped into a crack in the rocks under the snow and had fallen. He had heard the snap of the bone in his ankle, had felt the explosion of pain race up his leg. And then, a second later, that pain had faded. His ankle had reset itself, able to move as naturally and freely as if nothing had happened. He understood then that his healing power was still working, but that it simply wasn't trying to accelerate the healing of his arms. It was like his arms were healing at a normal human pace, but any other injury he sustained would heal lightning fast.

Now, weeks later, he still didn't know why it was like that. Why his healing power couldn't work on the wounds caused by the Flayer, but worked as normal for any other injury he sustained. But at least now his arms had healed somewhat, now the pain was manageable, no longer causing him to blindly move forward each day. No longer causing him to run like a wounded, terrified animal.

As he sat by his meager fire, he heard his stomach rumble. He felt the deep exhaustion dragging at his very core, as if there were chains made from lead tied to his every bone. It had been many days since he had last eaten anything more than a handful of edible roots he had dug up, and a small fish he had caught with his bare hands.

He stood and stretched carefully, beginning to focus his mind. Beginning to center himself, to prepare. These were the mental steps he had learned in his training at the lab. He could almost hear Ghost, his trainer, telling him how critical it was to keep his mind centered.

"The warrior has a perfect connection between his body, mind, and surroundings. He is balanced and ready for anything. Do not let yourself falter, do not be distracted by fear or pain. To falter is to die."

Callin considered how close he had come to dying in these last few weeks. He had forgotten that training. He had allowed the confusion of being free of the structure of the labs, combined with the pain of his stripped skin, to overwhelm him. He had allowed it to ruin his balance, his focus, had allowed himself to move blindly. He bared his fangs in the shadows, his eyes glinting with primal fire. He would not forget again.