Traitor's Blood.

 Leaving his family was not the greatest feeling he had felt in his life. Neither was the fires of rage he had felt in his life, day after day which burned him inside out. The blood felt warm on his skin. Its touch burned intensely, stinging him like a scorpion's venom, the red liquid stained across his arm and the rest of his damaged body. Whether the blood was his own or the dead warriors, it did not faze him or make him flinch one bit.

 Broken inside at the thought of never being able to ever see his family again, those faces that made him happy, tore up at his blackened heart. It's pulse increasing, beating more as each memory came forth & disappeared just as quick, just like raindrops. While the ravens gathered above like the shadow of death itself, to feast upon the dead bodies, he slowly sheathed his sword. The sword was old and greatly experienced, yet was almost whenever it was swung and slashed. Killing his once good friends with his own hands did not seem to affect him. They had played together, been hunting, spent nearly everyday with each other since they could walk and yet only he was the one left alive. These men had brought many smiles to his face but today, when he looks at them, not even a chill down his spine is felt. He carries on to the forest, through the massacre.

 The round evergreen eyes that had looked into his soul and begged him to stay, lingered in his mind like a terrible nightmare. Leaving the carnage behind him, he wandered further into the forest. He carried onto whatever path the spirits led him. Whether the spirits looked over him now, was very unlikely to happen. To escape from himself and these emotions he could never understand or even control, was his deepest promise to the clan. He had betrayed that clan. He also knew, that he would never return.

 What burnt inside him along with the deep aching sorrow, was truly something mystical. Making this choice made him think he could find a cure, an answer, just anything that would make him understand. Understand why, he must forever stand alone for the rest of his life.

 It was not an easy task. Killing his own Grandfather, the one who had learned him, fed him, brought him up and who had taught him the most important things in life that would help him get better was a complete disgrace. No water no matter how pure could cleanse the sin off him. This disgrace had come too early in his life, again something he could not understand. His father had a reason to be killed by him. If only he had known earlier.

 Stopping in his tracks he crouches down on the dry ground, which soon became wet due to the intense flood of tears pouring from his eyes. "Just like his Father..nothing different...exactly like his Grandfather" they had all said among themselves. He knew that he would eventually hurt everyone...even if they were who he deeply loved. He always knew in his shattered thoughts, that he would claim his unfortunate title as The Traitor.

  Lifting his head to the sky, and raising his bloodied arms he shouted into the open space "Why must I plague this land, with the venom that lives inside of me!?", the forest soon becoming quiet to listen to the man's testimony. He felt the intense burn & stinging once again, as his blood flowed the evil that had always resided in his veins. This curse, this memory, this dark mark had plagued him for too long.

 It was now his time to dream. Dream, think of the new life he had ahead of him. Instead of continuing this nightmare, he would make better use of it, be made pure instead of being made the Traitor's shadow. It was his time to take in and to drop the dark events which feasted upon his mind each painful minute. Long hair, dark eyes and a face full of scars stared back at him with remorse and regret through the knife's reflection. And with it he cut in hard, into his now fading black heart. When he cut in, he would dig deeper, and deeper until he reached what he had desired for so long now. He would soon find in time, his new beginning, his own....

Freedom.