The Ruler and The Hunter //Original Countryhumans Au

Chapter 1: Origins

It was early morning, frost still mingling in the air and on the leaves of a few early opening flowers. There was a brisk breeze passing through, still carrying the cold of spring. The pine and fur trees stood high, birds chirping gently, a soft fog still drifting around but not a blinding one.

The wild forest was a true beauty and even though this was just the edge of it all it was still mesmerizing and unique. Moss and lichen latched onto the bark and trunks and rocks, mushrooms blooming here and there with their few bright colours of red, white and blues. The nearby town and Kingdom was far away so the forest wasn't disturbed by roads or towns, relatively peaceful.

Mountains stood over the forest in the North, glittered with snow and dark stone, a wild and deadly place for those who were weak and just mortals.

And though the forest was far away from any sort of large settlement there was still one small house. A sort of wooden cabin hidden under a small undercut of a cliff, vines hanging down from the rock and across the small stone tiles that lay across the roof. It seemed a little beaten down but was still a good source of safety.

America sighed irregularly, eyes narrowed and heavy with tiredness. He hadn't been able to get any good sleep lately, his head always filled with nightmares that seemed to haunt him even when he was up and awake, broken memories that followed him and seemed to take any opportunity they could to just pop into his mind.

He looked around, sitting at his small desk and leaning back into his chair, surveying his small home. It was quite bare. A few books hardly filling up the excuse for a bookshelf, a dagger discarded on his desk, his bed just a wooden platform with some sort of animal pelt. When it came to decorating his house or making it seem more comfortable for anyone he never had the time, never bothered. It was a lonely life. No one ever came to visit, not that he really wanted anyone to come...

The loner swallowed and looked down quietly, staring at his dagger.
It was hard to hunt for some decent food. Maybe he would catch a rabbit here and then but it was getting so impossibly hard that he was starting to lose all his energy and give up. A frown formed on his face, pushing himself out of his seat and grabbing his dagger, shoving it into the small sheath he kept on his belt. He wore dark clothing all the time, a grey top, black pants and combat boots which were scuffed and scratched. The only colourful thing in this sad home was his eyes, but even they were starting to become boring and cloud even though he was still young, barely 19.

Even getting up seemed like a challenge as America found himself stumbling and wincing, struggling to focus on his surroundings.

It was hard.

Grabbing his bandolier and slipping it on he felt his heart sink a little, staring down at the now useless thing. It used to hold about five daggers, all shiny and beautifully made. But now there were none, lost somewhere in the forest and other places America didn't want to set his mind to. The past was like a demon to him, a ghost that tried to make his life even more hellish than it already was.

He headed to the door, picking up his jacket from where it had been discarded on the floor carelessly, America pulled it on, not really caring. It was a navy green jacket, nothing glamorous, just simple with a few stains and scratches here and there.

America stepped out onto the porch, kicking the door shut behind him, he didn't need a key in such an isolated place, sighing a little as the cold breeze kissed his cheeks. The forest was nice... so open and free.

Unlike that place that sat at the back of his head.
Squinting and shaking he grumbled, jumping off the porch and into the grass, stretching his arms before heading into the bush and trees. Over the years he had learned to hunt on his own and even though he was nowhere near the best he was thankful that his skills could still get him at least a bit of food, even if it only lasted a few hours. There was still a bit of fog around, not the worst America had seen before. The last time it had been so heavy America had almost gotten lost in the forest, having to run about aimlessly until he found the usual path he took.