Outcast (A Yogscast Fan Fiction)

Chapter 8: Broken

Liam's POV

The walls are made of branches.

That's his first thought when he awakens. Dark, solid spruce wood branches curving together to form a small but efficient room, with the exit rimmed with an oak wood frame. Light filters though a canopy of spruce leaves, and he blinks, wincing at the surprising brightness of it. Pale fingers tighten on the edge of the bed, gripping the woolly mattress as if his life depends on it.

"Hello?"

His voice cracks and turns into a whisper halfway through, and the same hand which gripped the mattress now flies to his neck, flinching as it burns maliciously. Memories slowly seep into his mind, of the fire, of the flames slitting his skin and the smoke ripping his throat and lungs to shreds.

A figure walks through the wooden frame of the door-less exit, and Liam freezes, watching him advance.

"Hey, you're finally awake!" The man appears to be quite young, early 20's, with short, cropped blonde hair and piercing green eyes, like the colour of the brightest grass in spring. Clothed in a thin, olive drab shirt and ecru shorts, he sits quietly on the end of the bed in which Liam is laying in.

"Where am I?" He says. Well, tries to say. The choked whisper which comes out of his mouth causes the figure's forehead to crease in concern.

"Relax, you had a pretty bad time out there. Almost got cooked alive! I'm Martyn, by the way, and you're in one of my little houses." Martyn's eyes become distant for a moment. "I used to come here all the time..."

Swallowing, Liam tries to sit up, but Martyn pushes him back down. "No, no, you're pretty badly injured. My friends are crushing up some herbs as we speak for the burns, but as for your throat...well, only time will tell." When he finishes speaking, he studies Liam warily, who shuffles awkwardly under the weight of his green gaze. "Actually, would you like some water?"

Liam nods rapidly, wincing as his jaw throbs with the action.

Martyn beams, his smile wide, before gently tilting Liam up so he is sitting up slightly, leaning against a fresh white pillow which smells of alyssum flowers. This comforts him a little, as back home, Liam only has a shirt of his mother, whom he does not remember, and the only smell on it is the same scent as the pillow.

A brown cup is handed to him, and he sniffs it cautiously before raising to his mouth and drinking it.

Instantly, he shoots back, hissing as his throat aches in protest.

"Not a good idea, huh? I'll wait for my friends to finish those herbs, then we'll see what we can do about your throat."

A silence stretches between the two.

"Hey, I have an idea!" Martyn grins. He rummages through some nearby drawers, expertly crafted from dark oak wood, and pulls out a piece of paper and a pen.

"Write things down on that, since you can't talk. You must have a lot of questions...I've never seen you around here before so I'm guessing you came from another island or something?"

Liam hesitates; he has no reason not to trust this stranger who saved his life. However, he is not quite comfortable with Martyn knowing the real reason he is here-if he found out that he was banished, he might not treat him so kindly.

Yes, he writes on the board, what is this land called?

Martyn ponders this for a moment. "We don't have a name for it, really. Everyone just calls it home."

Liam writes on the board, his hand shaking a little: Everyone?

"There's a lot of us," Martyn smiles, "most of us are good guys, don't worry!" He pauses, and his expression darkens slightly, his eyes narrowing, which makes Liam shiver. "But there are some who are not."