[OLD - DO NOT POST]

Cold Heart

A Journey of a Lifetime Book One of Four

The first story of the series is called Cold Heart A Journey of A Life Time that consists of 3-4 books. A boy Dalgor, sets out on a terrifying and exciting adventure to discover the real reason why his home village was destroyed. Separated from his brother during the attack, Dalgor is alone in a world he knows very little about. On his adventure, Dalgor meets a cast of dark and mysterious characters, horrifying creatures, battles and wars of bloodbath and disturbing hidden truths."

“Guards!” cried the soldier as soon as his eyes widened at the sight of a body that was slouched against a grotty wall in a dark damp passageway. The soldier desperately cried yet again for the attention from other soldiers. The soldier shot his head around both corners but saw no one, not even a villager. He turned around and stared at the corpse, it was unfortunately a familiar sight for him. He sped through the snow that was crunching underneath his black boots and towards the corpse. It was a woman with long snowy blond hair that reached over her shoulders and travelled halfway down her white sleeves. He quickly knelt on the ground, plucked away the tips of his right glove with his left fingers and then removed the glove. A cold sensation smothered around his fingers and then slithered down his wrists like icy snakes. A hush of warm breath escaped through his chattering lips, it was yet another cold evening in the village he lived in, Burrow. He shot his eyes around the woman for any clues that he could find, there wasn’t anything strange that seemed out of place apart from the deathly look of the lifeless woman. The pupils of her eyes had faded away as though they were petals of a flower that had been starved of water. The creases and cracks amongst her stone dry lips were greyer than a snow owl. He raised his naked hand and pressed it gently against one of the wrists of the woman, a cold sensation numbed the edges of his fingertips as he touched her skin. The soldier pressed both his index and middle finger above her cold yet smooth skin. He awaited a few seconds, though he mentally was prepared to announce her dead, yet another victim. Everything around him went completely silent an eerie atmosphere then surrounded him. The moment had passed there was no pulse to be felt. The soldier sighed, yet another hush of his warm breath rose from the gap between his chattering lips.

It wasn’t the first time that he had found a corpse it was one of too many. Burrow’s had been under a terrible streak of murders for a few years. Each of the victims was suspiciously a woman, regardless of age or appearance. This led to Burrow’s to become a frightened village, women would walk around in large packs, the streets would be deserted of any female company at night, and most of the men were too scared to leave their homes and work, in case of their wives, daughters and mothers being at risk. There was something similar with all the victims, the soldier finished his deep thoughts and then focused on the woman again. He gently stretched out his snow flaked finger tips and touched the edges of the woman’s collar. She was slumped beside a pile of snow, wearing a long white dress that had been dampened due to the snowfall. He gripped the edge of her open collar between his thumb and his finger and then pulled it away from the centre of her long neck. Another hush of warm breath escaped through his lips as he sighed at the sight of horror that his unfortunate eyes had just witnessed. He slithered his left finger tips through his long black hair and then rubbed the back of his snowy head. It was what he expected to see. Sliced across the bottom of the woman’s throat was a grievous wound. There were fine bloody streaks that were dribbling down her pale flesh and towards her breasts. He released the grip of her collar, her dress didn’t move, it had stiffened due to the frost. Just like every other victim he had found, there was a similar slash across the neck. He united his cold right hand with the warmth of his glove. Soon after he tightened his leather glove he pressed his palms against the crunchy snow and pushed himself back onto his feet.