Seven Souls |Updates Fridays|

1 Larkin

_Larkin_

For such a long, complicated story, it's rather hard to find a suitable place to start. Just when did all of this start anyway? The beginning of time perhaps? When the first winds blew or when the first snow fell? But that is too far back, yet there's no good enough place to start such a tale. Well, surely here is good enough... the beginning of one particular soul out of seven. 

It wasn't a scene out of an extravagant story. This was a day like any other: partially cloudy skies, a light breeze, and people rustling about in the streets. It was a regular spring day, and it was an early one. The village of Comsworth was bustling with busybodies, the people hurrying on their way to start the farming season. It was a joy to start so early- if the moderately-sized settlement was well off this year, they would be more than set for the winter that followed.

Comsworth wasn't anything special, it was just a small village in the far west of the kingdom of Ucryae. A simple mountain town with simple people. It had enough to survive but not enough to grow like many villages and towns under the Ucryae's rule. They had no blacksmiths, no midwives or medicine practitioners. It was a village of farmers, hunters, and fishermen from the great nearby river. It didn't help that being so close to the borders of another kingdom made tensions high. 

Birds chirped in the trees, singing their songs as people walked on. One might have called the scene peaceful. The gentle rustling of leaves and the crunches in the dirt under poor beaten boots and a few bare feet. There was plenty of talking and chatting, a few drunken hollers from the singular small tavern and the sound of a few laughing children as they played tag in the streets.

The town was hardly a mile long in either direction, with most buildings being spread far apart and rather poorly made. Yet, though it was quite low budget, everything seemed to feel cosy. The king had little hold on the village and taxes weren't as high out here so the people found themselves comfortably independent from the capital as they were rarely called upon. Truly this small village felt blessed despite its tough monetary position. 

At the edges of the village, houses were spread much farther apart, where more people had animals. A few goats, some sheep, one person had two pigs. There were horses too- much more than there were the few farm animals. From the edge here, and further out still, going through the forest for a few paces, one would soon find a little hut. A single bedroom, housing three individuals- a little one on the way.

A wretched scream caused the birds to cease their singing and freeze, their tiny beady eyes surveying the scene. The next moment was one of drastic silence, the area only being barely far enough away from the busy village for no one to hear and take notice. All of a sudden, another scream. A wail more like; it came straight from the gut, a belt of pain. More cries and wails followed. The birds fled to the skies, making the trees rustle on their way upward. Gone were the songbirds as they left the area. A couple of eyes from the village watched the birds fly to the sky- but they flew far, scattering in a way that most wouldn't notice was nearly unnatural.

One of the eyes who saw blinked and starred in the direction these birds had fled. A dusty brown-haired man stood holding his basket of freshly just purchased produce as he listened in closely through the ruckus of people, listening to what he feared might be happening. His eyes flicked around the streets quickly. He needed to keep them safe- all of them. It was important. His eyes caught another staring into the direction of the birds. As if sensing his gaze, a woman looked back at him and an instant understanding crossed him. There was a sick, uncomfortable click of realization between the two individuals. The robed woman quickly spun on her heels and ran in the opposite direction from where the birds had been seen coming from.

The man swallowed hard, his heart beating out of his chest in this very few amount of seconds that had passed. With his free hand, he placed over the dagger on his belt, almost instinctively. It would be in his and his families best interest to go after her, to stop her and he took the step to follow her but froze when he heard it. A wail. His face paled as he heard her voice ring out through the valley. This now had a few heads turning. The dusty haired man dropped his basket of produce and ran as fast as his body would allow. His feet were hardly ready and he felt the small pings of pain as they slapped against the rocks and dirt through his thin shoes. He did not mind this at all as he rushed with as much speed as his body would allow.