The Sayers Son

Daybreak

It was not but 6am in the farlands, the sun slowly rising over the horizon. Light started flooding through the crooked mystic trees almost like a tsunami hitting land with full force. The  Ray's of light bounced playfully off  the leaves giving them an almost surreal golden glow, contrasting of the thick trunks , each and every groove of the trees bark still filled with shadow , shadows that would then continue  to project  ghost like trees on the ground.

In the distance the flickering dancing glow of a campfire illuminated the mouth to a small cave. Hard to make out the silhouette of a young man was cast to the side on the wall. Well crafted , the site of the campfire looked well lived in the mosaic  like leaves of the forest floor turned to bare dirt then turning into trails of commonly walked on areas. The young man stood up as if shocked daytime had arrived so fast , time moves differently in these parts. As the young man stood up it revealed  a neatly  woven rug he was sleeping on , The fibers of leaves ,green moss and long entangled grass all came together in what could only be described  as a masterpiece although the rough edges  suggest this was crafted by the young man whom is , or was, clearly a master in his craft.

As the young  man emerged from the cave the birds and creatures scattered back into there hidden woodland homes , theres no people here in the farlands  just nature ..... and a young man .... slightly odd  considering most that find this place find there grave soon after.

The slow rushing sound of water trickled across the ground , a river , an ancient river flowing so softly yet flowing with the power and premise of a whole army. The young man was making his way to the river the light revealing his sharp but bulky features

As like the trees the sunlight flowed down the young man ,harsh lines forming to reveal  the brown leather  strap which was purposely laid diagonally from shoulder to waist and round again. The  dark white fabric slowly waved around as a slow calm wind picked up. Fabric to be compared only to  that of  rough poor quality  of cuts, a poor man it would seem , however his waist suggests differently , the sun continued  to flood down his body to bring into sight an amazing brown leather sheath and satchel.  Mystic symbols and letters embedded into the leather , the Mark's of a craftsmanship tools and stamps still incredibly visible. It doesn't make sense compared to the rest of the man's apparel. A tubular roll of roughed up paper was poking out of the satchel and  barly visible the shiny steel chain.

As the man walked on a small rattle was audable , like the chimes of a wind charm in the breeze , he continued walking on , creating an almost heavenly scene , like moses parting the seas any creature ahead parted to create a walkway for the young man , his rough vainy hands reached for the bag , covered in a light  layer of dirt his hands very delicately  reached into the satchel to remove the roll of paper , the chain came with it and a beautiful gold and silver compass  fell to the ground . It was like time slowed down , his reaction was fast and sturdy  as if coordinated and practiced and most importantly  strict , strict like a knife after training , strong and disciplined

It was odd he didnt reach for the compass but mearly outstretched his hand  as if to shake another. The compass almost hit the ground. As if time stood still the compass froze and the energy of the moment changed , a strange and fascinating  feeling rippled through the forest. With speed the compass returned to his hand  like a well trained hound called back by his master. The young man  murmerd to himself whilst looking around in a panic like state. His voice low and deep cut through the forest with protection he didnt intend "  I need to control myself"

The young man full of secrets who could he be , clearly a man of craft  it poos like hes made his own rug , and it would be safe to presume the leather work was his ... his presence  in the forest felt powerful . It would be safe to say this young man , this young man is a child of the sayers , and a powerful one at that.