Chronicles of Dras

Chapter 1: Black Smoke & Persistent Wolves

The forest was more than a collection of trees and wildlife—it was a living symphony, humming with the rhythm of nature. Birds' songs echoed through the dense foliage, creating a melody that filled the air. Each rustle of the leaves, stirred by a gentle breeze, added harmony to the symphony, while the distant call of a stag served as a poignant reminder of the raw, untamed beauty of the world. There was a world untouched by man, thriving in a rhythm as old as time itself.

In the heart of this forest lay a small, serene village, nestled in a clearing by a babbling brook. The village, a collection of wooden cottages and farmhouses, was a testament to mankind's ability to coexist with nature. It was here that the hunter Dras had grown up, raised on stories of brave warriors and mythical creatures by the elders. The fields around the village were filled with crops, the result of hard work and a deep understanding of the land.

The villagers lived in harmony with the forest, taking only what they needed and always giving back. They hunted deer and gathered fruits, but they also planted trees and cared for the wildlife. It was a balance, mutual respect between man and nature. The village was Dras's home, a place he knew as well as the back of his hand. He knew every tree, every path, and every stream in the forest.

The people of the village were like family to Dras. He had grown up playing with the other children, learning to hunt with the men, and listening to the wisdom of the elders. His own family was a central part of the community. His father, a strong and silent man, was respected for his wisdom. His mother, with her kind heart and gentle spirit, was loved by all. And his sister Danu, with her laughter and endless curiosity, brought joy to everyone she met.

Life in the village was simple but fulfilling. The people worked together, cared for one another, and shared in the joys and hardships of life. They celebrated the changing of the seasons with festivals, shared stories around bonfires, and helped each other in times of need. Despite the dangers that sometimes came from the forest—wild animals, harsh winters, or scarce food—the village was a sanctuary, a beacon of light in the heart of the forest.

Amid this symphony, a lone figure moved with sure-footed grace. A young hunter, Dras, navigated the familiar terrain with ease, his sharp eyes scanning every detail of his surroundings. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his knife, ready to draw at a moment's notice. He wasn't merely a spectator in this world but an integral part of its symphony. His presence was as natural as the rustling leaves or the chirping birds.

He moved with a purpose, his destination a small clearing where he had spotted a deer earlier. As he neared the clearing, he slowed his pace, his movements becoming even more deliberate. He crouched low, blending into the undergrowth as he carefully approached the unsuspecting deer. His heart pounded in his chest, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins.

As he prepared to make his move, an unfamiliar scent wafted towards him. It was faint, barely discernible against the earthy smell of the forest, but it quickly grew stronger and more distinct—smoke. His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest, and he abandoned his hunt. Rising to his feet, he scanned the horizon through the dense foliage. A plume of black smoke, stark against the verdant green of the forest, rose high into the sky from the direction of his village. Ice-cold dread washed over Dras. The world as he knew it was under threat.

"No...no, no, no!" Dras muttered to himself, his mind racing. He grabbed his bow and knife and sprinted towards his home, his heart pounding in his chest. "Please, let them be safe," he prayed as he ran, the image of his family flashing in his mind.

As he reached the edge of the forest, he found himself on a hill overlooking his village. The sight that greeted him was one of devastation. His home, his village, was ablaze. His heart sank as he sprinted down the hill, his mind filled with thoughts of his family.