Semblance

I

The air was crisp and cold, contrasting perfectly with the sun's warm rays. It was autumn, Gunner's favorite season, when the leaves turned orange on the trees, the smell of pumpkins wafted through the air, and Castle Stolt hosted it's annual Drajyr Festival.

The weekend of Drajyr was Gunner's favorite week of the whole year, because it allowed him to stay in Castle Stolt for two full days and hang out with his idols. Like many other children in Wottingvale, Gunner hoped that one day he might join the ranks of the Battlesmiths at Castle Stolt, the home of Wottingvale's greatest heroes.

However, if Gunner had known what he would have to do to get there, he might not have been so eager.

He had decided to camp out the night before the Drajyr Festival, so he would get early spots in line and might even get personally greeted by a Battlesmith. He had seen other people do it, but had always thought they were crazy.

Gunner had always gotten into the castle. Gunner had always participated in all of the activities. But on his eleventh strait year of going to the festival and never personally talking to a Battlesmith, he had decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.

He set up a tent in front of Castle Stolt, parallel with the large grey wall that overlooked all of Wottingvale. He had a sleeping bag, a sack full of his things, and some money for food and games during the festival. He was long asleep when it happened.

• • •

At midnight, a group of Weavers attacked Castle Stolt. Woken by a large boom and the hot smoke in the air, Gunner rushed out of his tent in his sleepwear, with just his pack on his back. He ran as fast as he could, sprinting around trees and buildings, legs aching and burning like the fire around him.

Passing between people and Battlesmiths alike, he never gave it a second thought. Only one thing ran through his mind.

Laura.

Gunner's younger sister, Laura, was his only family. They lived together in a cottage that their grandfather had owned before he passed away, off to the righthand side of town. The Weavers may have only attacked Castle Stolt, but Gunner was unsure of that.

"Laura!" he yelled, dashing towards their house. "Laura!"

The fire had not yet reached the cluster of cottages where Gunner and Laura lived, but it was spreading quickly, thick black smoke filling the air and obscuring the moon.

"Laura," Gunner said as he busted into the house. "you need to wake up, Laura! We've been, uh..." Gunner didn't want to scare her, for his fear was already too much. He hoped it didn't show, when he said: "We need to leave, now."

"Why?" she said wearily, still partially asleep.

"No questions. We're going out the backdoor."

With this, Laura heard the urgency in his voice, and she snapped to attention, rushing quickly and quietly around her room, gathering essentials, and then rushing out the back door.

"Don't look behind you." Gunner said.

Laura gave him a small nod. She might not have understood what was happening, but she did know the urgency needed.

That was enough.

"Stay in front of me, and don't look back. Don't turn back. Just keep moving." Gunner gave the instructions slowly and clearly, but his voice wavered a bit. Laura knew he was scared. Of what? Maybe it was better to learn later.

They dashed across Wottingvale, going towards the forest where they would be more difficult targets. Now that he had Laura constantly in his line of vision, Gunner's mind felt free to ask itself questions, even if it didn't have any answers.

Who was attacking them?

Why were they being attacked?

What was their quarrel with the Battlesmiths of Castle Stolt?

A few men stood at the edge of Wottingvale, where the town met the forest. They were ushering people down a path, pointing and talking quickly and loudly. As they approached, Gunner could hear them better.

"This way!" one shouted. "There's a safe house not to far from here! Follow the path and you'll be safe! Go, go, go!"

"Thank you!" Gunner yelled back at the man, but he was too busy yelling at others to get to the safe house. Gunner admired the bravery these men had, putting themselves in danger to help others, even if they weren't on the front lines.

He hoped this was how Laura saw him now.

They ran father into the forest. Gunner's legs were aching. So were Laura's. Smoke filled their lungs, making it hard to breathe. Leaves nipped at their sides from all directions, thorns scratching their skin. Amidst all the chaos, Gunner lost sight of his sister. His fear was overcome by worse emotions. Anger. Sadness.

Helplessness.

Still, tears and blood trickling down his face, Gunner continued running. But not for long. His foot tripped on a branch. He tumbled down a hill, full of dirt and rocks and smoke and blood.

Then there was black.

• • •

Gunner woke up to the smell of raw meat. He lay perfectly still as the sounds of breathing reached his ears and the wet warmth of a tongue went across his ear. He heard a low snarl and tensed up involuntarily. The wolves inched back, getting ready to attack, run, or whatever action they would need in the next few seconds.

Gunner shot up and punched one in the nose. It howled, and the wolves chased him across the forest. Gunner would not outrun them. He had neither speed nor stamina at the moment, but he did have his brain. Tired, it noticed the trees and Gunner began his quick ascent up a large trunk, grabbing at branches and bark until he reached the canopy where he could drift back to sleep.

• • •

The sky was beginning to brighten up when he awoke. Gunner could no longer hear the wolves' snarls or their panting breath. Gunner cautiously descended from the leaves of the tree and dropped a few feet to the ground, feeling the blisters and pulled muscles from the events of the previous night.

While this morning was supposed to be full of festivity, Gunner was left worrying about his sister Laura, his home, and the direction of the safe house that he hoped Laura had made it to.

Was it northwest? Yes, Gunner thought that might be the direction they had been headed when leaving the village. Using the simple Compass Pattern that all Wottingvale children learned in school, he Weaved the direction northwest into his mind, and started off towards his general impression of the safe house.

While the forest seemed scary and cramped during the night, in the morning light, it looked serene, with beautiful purple flowers dotting the bushes and ripe orange fruits hanging from the branches. It was very quiet, silent only for the sounds of birds chirping and singing, and the rushing water of a bubbling brook.

Still, Gunner pulled out his small knife, for he had seen the wolves of the night, and did not know what malicious creatures would disguise themselves as those of daylight. He was prepared to defend himself and his supplies, because he needed to see his sister before he could let himself die.

It was a mostly uneventful day, and he made progress getting to the edge of the forest. Along the way, Gunner had tried one of the orange fruits on the trees. They were bitter, stinging at his tongue and making his head tingle.

He decided to never eat another.

• • •

He got to an area full of large mushrooms, varying shades of red, green, and yellow. He had found they were home to some ladybugs, and they flew around and did their normal routines. That is, until they noticed him, and started swarming him. Waving his arms wildly, fe fell to the ground, and only then noticed the bones partially hidden under the mushrooms and the soil.

He sprinted away, wondering if there was a single pure creature in the forest.