Soulbond: The Beginning

Alright, let's go!

:)

Oh, and choose two colours for your people. Background narrative is going to be black (intro, random evil fillers, etc.) Pascal is going to be brown and his soulbond is going to be green . You both pick two colours, and remember, its first person, except for random narration. After the intro, you guys can do it too.

The next post will start the story.

Click.....click...Damon winced as his dress boots made contact with the stone stairs. Why did I have to wear these shoes? he grumbled. Granted, his usual attire would have been out of place at the palace banquet, but still, he should have thought to bring them with him. After a few more agonizing attempts at tip-toeing, he yanked off his shoes, continuing down the dusty stairs in stockinged feet. Ma's gonna kill me for this, he thought, wincing some more as the carefully darned threads of his socks tore on the uneven stones. This trip better be worth it.
Fifty stairs...one hundred... a few ancient symbols on the walls... then a wooden door. Slowly, he grasped the ornate handle and pulled. It opened surprisingly easily, for the door to an ancient vault, unopened in a thousand years. With some trepidation, he inched across the threshold, stopping in the center of the vast room, awed by the thousands of ancient scrolls. Man, how am I going to find the right one? He gulped, then choked on the stale air. Well, I'll just start with this one he shrugged, going up to a shelf and plucking off an officious looking scroll.
Slowly opening it, he was startled by the styled of writing. This looks pretty sloppy for an official document Despite that minor hindrance, he was quickly intrigued. Lighting a few candles, he sat down on the floor, slumped against a wall.
By decree of His Great Majesty the ... Okay, skip the boring stuff The word "fire" at the bottom of the first page caught his attention.
In this age, the Soulbond has grown to its largest potential. All inhabitants have come to be familiar with the basic fundamentals, and the land has prospered. We now reap the benefits of many years of hardship. Still, it is only proper that praise is given where it is due. Today, to commemorate the tenth Great Bonding, His Majesty has ordered that an account shall be written to preserve the Bond Secrets for ages to come. The Great Bonders have graciously consented to write the account in their own hand. May their tale continue to enlighten future generations as it has graced our own... Scribe Tineso.
Well, after that fabulously formal introduction, I, Pascal, have taken charge of this document. Prepare to be amazed! No, but seriously, this is important. Without Bonding, my life would be way worse than it is. Even worse than it was, all those years ago...Anyways, this is also about two other very special individuals. Actually, five others, making six who form three, who in turn form one... but I'll explain that later. For now, just start with the names. Names are important. I was not always Pascal, but I will not go into that, as it has nothing to do with our story. I guess I haven't changed too much, to be keeping secrets from the world after so long...Alright moving on for real now. You must be tired of me already. In all seriousness, listen, alright?
It all began so many years ago. I first met the other two Soulmates on a very fateful day. The day before the village burned...

Pascal POV
Okay, one thing I need to say right away. You need food That may seem like a pretty obvious statement, but it's important. Why do I say this? Well, okay, I didn't have any food, and I needed some. Like, really badly. And what do homeless, vagabond youths do when they need food? Yup, they take it. This is all just to explain what I was doing on the roof. For some of you, this is not that strange. I mean, some folks have roof top gardens. Let me tell you, I was not gardening. Usually, I wait til night to get food, because there is more camoflauge. Also, during the day, my "official occupation", according to the town council, was courier. Translation: servant to anyone and everyone else. Why? Well, I was sort of abandoned or something, because I was found at the door of some kind old lady's hut, crying and squirming in my swaths of baby linen. She died when I was three, so we didn't really get too close. After that, I was given to community care. Yup, servant for life. Ha! got you there! Did you really believe that sob story? Yeah right. Here's the real thing. I ran away from a strict society of rules because I am a non-conformist, and I became a professional thief at the tender age of seven. Ha! Did you believe that too? Ouch, that hurts. I'm not really all that bad. Okay, well, it's sort of too things. 1) I don't know, it's all really blurry, and I don't know what's real and what I made up to tell people, and 2) I don't want to tell you. Let's just leave it with where we began. I was sitting on the flat roof of a bakery, about noon, sweltering under a coarse outfit of thick cloth, waiting to partake of freshly baked bread.
Yes, I was going to take it, without paying. Weren't you listening earlier? I'm a professional thief. Oh, yeah, I did make it up. Well, I was going to take the bread anyways. Don't worry, I always payed. After a fashion.
Carefully, wrapping my left hand in an old scarf, I crouched on the roof, creeping towards the edge. Leaning over, I flashed a piece of mirror, gaining a view of the bakery's interior. The baker, never mind his name (he dies anyways), was just turning away from the oven, a long row of fresh loaves on a board before him. Quickly, I retracted my mirror as he brought them to the window sill below me. Without waiting another second, I flipped off the roof, hooking one hand in the gutter, and grabbing two loaves with the other. Gathering into a tuck, I landed silently on the main thoroughfare, my bounty already out of sight in my voluminous shirt. After waiting for a minute, I entered the bakery through the front door, bought a small stale roll (from last week) for a microscopic copper piece, and sauntered back down the road. How come he didn't notice the missing bread? That's why I bought more. It distracted him. Don't believe me? Okay, ask him. Oh, wait, he's dead.
I'm not really that heartless. I just pretend a lot. I pretended all the way back out of town. First, I came across some convicts in the stocks. Slipping into the attendant crowd, I politely inquired of the policeman as to why they were convicted. He gave the official view to a curious young townsman. Next, I pretended to have lost a small token (of ambiguous description). This, combined with some elementary flirting, gained some attention from the young feminine airheads in the crowd. They gave a great story of how the two men had stolen some bread from the wonderful baker, and they were so distressed, and would I (who looked so "big and brawny") please do something to keep them safe. It is nice to have that attention, and I have won many a free dinner off of that kind of invitation. Ha! First off, I am five foot seven, no where close to big. Second, despite my earlier lies to you, I did spend most of my life in extreme poverty, which is not conducive to brawniness. I'm not really sorry all those idiots burned to a crisp hours later. Okay, that was more acting. I'm not that mean.
Well, you get my drift. I just pretend to be whoever is most convenient. It is amusing to be everyone. I am great at being ignorant, snobbish, rakish, conscientious, sagacious, trustworthy, mad, vengeful, grief ridden...the list is endless. Almost. The one thing I am not is myself. More on that later. Let's just say, by the time I reach the forest on the village fringe, I have to burst out laughing. It is funny, how I fool the world. Well, it was funny, until that night.

The acrid stench of flaming timbers scorched my lungs. Hacking up black goop, I sat on the floor of the warehouse, surrounded by dancing flames. The fire seemed as crazy as the man who lit it, cackling evilly as it's hordes devoured painted splotched walls and delapidated wood planking. As soon as the fire had been lit, I had rushed down the rusted ladder, readying myself to face the man head-on. Anything would have been better than burning to death. Not very surprisingly, the man had left, barring the only door behind him. Actually, he had lit the heavy oak door on fire. No, I amended, sniffing the air before falling into another coughing fit, he doused the door in oil, then lit it on fire.
Dropping to my knees, I began to rip off a piece of my shirt to cover my mouth. However, I didn't like to ruin an otherwise perfectly fine shirt, so I just took it off and pressed my mouth to it. That eased the strain of breathing, but as the fire raced up the walls of the building, the heat grew even more intense. Red blisters sprouted on my back, the already dry skin withering under the fiery blaze. A sudden pop sprang from the door, sending shockwaves of pain through my body. I screamed as the flaming door shot fiery hot splinters across me. Curling into a ball, the sand against my face provided some cool relief. Thank goodness they couldn't afford to put in wooden floors. With a derisive snort, I realized that I didn't want to die. It's good to know something is real about myself.
Tilting my head, I gazed between my arms at the smoking door. That fire sure was bright...
"Gah!" I yelled, a small tendril of flame sprouting from my scalp. Quickly, I patted it out with my hands, earning a few more burns. Get a grip!I thought harshly. Just think. If the door is spitting splinters at you, then the door must be smaller now. There is probably a whole now. You can run through. It sounded sane enough in my head, but, when I actually looked at the door, my paranoia rose up again. There was in fact a hole in the door, getting wider by the second.
I don't have to go now. I can wait a little bit. I tried to hold down a real surge of panic. I knew another truth about myself. I was scared of fire. The raging temper of destruction, it repulsed, terrified, and even awed me. There was no way I was going to run through that door. Still crouched in the dirt, I contemplated digging myself into a hole until the fire burned out. I almost started doing it, but, well, then the roof started caving in. So, yeah, I kind of had to make a quick escape. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't face the flaming door, I just couldn't. Yes you can. The calming voice came from deep inside me. I started to protest, trying to drown my inner self in reasoning I didn't really believe, deep down. It cut me off. You can do this. Cast off your outer hindranced and embrace who you really are. Look inside and find inner strength... Okay... Creepy voice telling me to run into the fire. Somehow, I found it comforting. Was this really who I was? There were many things worse than courage. Do you really trust this voice? It all came back to trust. I didn't trust myself, so I made up feelings to hide the real ones. Could I trust this "inner voice"?
The crashing of roof shingles behind me made up my mind. Sending up a quick prayer, I stood slowly. With a gulp, I walked towards the door. The fire seemed to be reaching for me, asking to devour me. With a shake of my head, I took a deep breath, and ran through the door. Wood burned my face as I barrelled through, but I made it, pulling in a deep breath upon reaching fresh air. The next thing I knew, I saw the ground coming up to meet me, and everything went black.

Deep black. Thick goopy ink swirled around in my head. What was going on? Oh yeah, I fainted. I tried to stand, to see, to hear, to do anything. It was pointless. Somehow the only action I could take was to think. I hate thinking. Okay, I just hate thinking about myself. Not in a conceited way or anything, but in a serious meditative way. It brings back too many memories, and the lack of them. Stop it! I didn't want to start down that path again. Inexplicably, a twisted path appeared, leading into the blackness. I began to move down it, although I had no power over my movement. Suddenly, everything was black again. No, not black. It was that strange voice from deep inside me again. You just are not looking. You need to stop hiding and look for truth. Agony sprang through my head as a memory was dragged before my unwilling eyes:
A young boy sits on the floor, soft fingers burying themselves in the thick rug. There is no sign of hardship on his face, and he laughs in response to a voice. The speaker drew nearer, still speaking unheard words. A peaceful smile plays across the young face, the corners of the mouth arching up, drawing skin tight across high cheekbones. He reaches out of view...
"Gah!" I yell. I know that image. I am grateful it ended where it did. What happens next is too awful...There is a reason I fear fire. The voice comes to me again. You must accept what has happened. Use it to gain strength for the future. Next, laughing flames devoured the scene, leaving me once again in blackness. No,I thought. [/i]It is not black. It is emptiness.[/i] The voice came once again, a wise, old voice. Yes, you are ready now. Come follow me.
A second later, the searing pain of an arm clamped across my back brought me back to reality. Alright, thoughts are reality too, they just aren't the physical reality. Some girl was trying to pull me away from the fire. No! I mentally protested. I had to get to the voice. It would give me my answers. My spinning vision suddenly focused on a surprisingly sharp image in the growing flames. A griffin? Griffins were the symbol of....I shook my head, falling out of the girl's grip. No, think about that later. Some other girl, (wait, the bounty hunter girl who gets hints at the tavern where she plays violin?!) came up and said something, but I wasn't listening. All my attention was focused on the shimmering griffin in the fire. Somehow, he had made it to the treeline, but the fire wasn't any farther away. The griffin sat just under the edge of the flames, beckoning me with a silent urge. When the first girl was distracted by the other one, I dashed after the apparition. It was going to give me answers. After four minutes of chasing it, it finally halted in a side alley, almost entirely engulfed in flames. The fifty feet between us was covered with mud and burning wreckage.
Come to me. What? I must be out of my mind, I thought, before diving headlong into the grime. I had to get the griffin. It could give me answers, and I felt it needed me too. I mean, there's this story and all about griffins...or was that dragons...Crawling on my hands and knees, I crept towards the creature. He was truly beautiful, even through the soot. Falling flat on my face, I narrowly missed being smashed by a falling window sill. Standing up, I sprinted the final distance and halted right in front of the...whoa, wait a minute! That's not a griffin! Standing in it's place was an icy silver dragon with blue accents. For a second, I just stood there, awestruck by his magnificence.
<Nice to meet you too,> he said smugly.
"Hang on. You're a dragon?" I was very confused.
<Yup. Gotcha, didn't I?> he preened, flashing his silver wings to catch the firelight, turning them gold. <Ready to go?>
"Erm, hang on. You're a dragon, you showed my past, you led me into a burning alley, and now you just say ready to go?" I was incredulous, but also intrigued. How could I, muddy, beat-up, run-of-the-mill me, be worthy of a dragon's attention?
<This is hardly the place for discussion,> he pointed out, jumping up to land gracefully on my shoulder. <Let's leave and find the others first, shall we?>
My body went into auto pilot, running back out of town through the chaotic streets. As I neared the end of the road, I could see two faint smudges standing outside the village. Some people survived! Oh yeah , the bounty hunter gal and girl-who-freaked-out-over-table.
<What are their names?>
"Err...I don't know. Why do you care?"
<Well, I was going to go and get them to come help you, because you're going to start hacking up gunk soon.> This dragon was very smug and sure of himself. It was sort of annoying and endearing, but more exasperating. <But you act this way sometimes.>
"Yeah but I only act...Wait! How do you know what I'm thinking?!" I didn't get any further because the predicted coughing fit seized with a vengeance. As I fell to the ground, I heard the dragon laughing.
<Ha ha. This is going to be great fun. I'm really looking forward to this.>
All I could think of was the cool touch of two pairs of hands.

That ends chapter I. The next one begins chapter II.

This place was creepy. Normally, only a few Souls lived in any single area. They tended to mourn briefly, then move on rather quickly. The place beyon really doesn't seem too bad, but what would I know? Hovering in the air, the figures of hundreds of past Soulbonds flooded my Sight. This place must have a story Soulbonds don't just drop down dead in groups. Reaching out, I felt Pascal doing something in the water. Ugh, water. Awful wet slimy stuff that dampens the Soul, creating a greater connection to the Physical realm. Seeing he needed no attention, I glided over to the nearest Soulbond, a horse.
<Greetings.> The horse raised his head, black pools gazing up at me from a silvery body.
<Greetings.> He seemed slightly startled. <It has been many years since a Soulcreature has last wandered here...> He sighed, sending ripples through his image.
Perturbed, I strove to correct him. <Actually, I'm a Soulbond now, not jus a Soulcreature...>
<Ah, yes, many pardons. You are just so young that I could not identify the markings.> He looked mournful. <I suppose you aren't here to hear a story after all?>
Story? Of...how they all died? < I would love to,> I answered emphatically. <Is it especially exciting?>
<Of course!> he snorted. <It had better be "exciting". We all died for it you know.> He beckoned me closer with a shake of his head, tossig silver mane to one side. <I will show it to you.>
<How?>
<Using thoughts of course. It is very efficient, and an easy tecnique to master. I believe you have sent an image yourself once.>
<Er, yes.>
<Well, then, get ready.> All at once the world spun, and I was dragged to another era...

"Hail, Valdor."
"Hail, Venser," came the cheerful reply. The two men laughed then hugged. Their embrace tightened momentarily, squeezing leather armor. "It's been a long time brother."
Valdor opened his mouth. "Yes, it certainly has..." A piercing whistle broke off his comment. With another glance at each other, the brothers followed thirty other people towards a central stage. The crowd had a varied appearance, some wearing war garb, others in the robes of monks. Still others had horns, tails, and other creaturlike characteristics on otherwise human bodies. A silvery form sat about each person, identifying the crowd as a gathering of Soulbonders. They all sat, watching the tent. Noises came from inside, keeping the crowd from leaving..
"This is taking too long."
"Hush, Venser. You are too impatient." Valdor lightly chided.
"Huh, I think this is all a hoax," Venser protested. "We were all brought by mysterious summons, all of us Soulbonders...for all we know, the only remaining Soulbonders."
"This man promises to give us knew strength. You know our power is failing."
"Is this our fault? Maybe there is some other cause...."
Valdor glanced harshly at Venser. "Quiet! I know you dislike this, but it is necessary. We must try and restore the Soulbonds to what they were."
Venser rolled his eyes, kicking the ground. "Hey! There's a rope here." He tried to pull it out of the ground.
Seconds later, a large net sprang from the ground, enveloping all of the Soulbonders.
"I told you something was up!" Venser quipped as he sawed at the thick rope with badger claws...

Whoa, that was weird...
<Hang on!> I yelled at the horse. There's more right?
<My time is over, and I pass on. Find another to continue the tale...> The horse then had the nerve to disappear, infuriatingly enough, in the middle of a story!
He could have at least given a recommendation, I grumbled. Glancing around, I glided over to a silver Soulbond badger.
<Hello, my name is Venser and -->
The badger looked up with piercing eyes. <Venser? How unfortunate. My life did not bring much luck to the name. I pity you.>
<Wait, you're from the story the horse was telling me.> Why was I named after another Soulbonder?
<Ah, he has told you then?>
<Erm, no, he didn't finish. YOu are all currently in a big net.>
<I guess I must finish his work then.> I was once again launched into a pool of blackness.

It's really weird, getting these story-images.

"I told you something was up," Venser informed Valdor lightly, as he briskly shredded a human sized hole in the net.
"Yes, I realize that," Valdor grumbled, fighting chagrin with scorn. He gestured at the hole. "Since we're one of the last ones in the net, shouldn't we get out now?"
Venser mock bowed. "After you." Making a face, Valdor slid out of the net. Venser remained inside, helping other Soulbonds out. He seemed to talk to himself at points, like he was arguing with himself. "No, I'm not sure. Yes. No. No. Gah! Just let me get everyone out of the net. How could that be a bad thing?"
Just as Venser was himself exiting the mass of cords, someone yelled, "There's a flood coming!" Insantly, Venser began transforming into a massive badger, to dig a hole to hide from the flood. All around, the Souldbonders began merging with their Soulcreatures, and their were soon many different animals tensed and waiting for the water. As the water crashed over them, Venser spotted red uniforms dotting the ridge. It's all a trap! The net, the water. Everyone knows spirits are weakened by water. Vainly, he struggled to separate his physical entity from his Soulcreature, but it was no use. The last thing he knew was a thundering wave of water.

Shaking my head, I shuddered. How awful, to die a physical death. Hopefully, I would never have to go through that, but Pascal...I'll deal with that later. I glanced down at the badger again. Thankfully, he hadn't disappeared like the horse.
<So, you were all tricked?> I prodded.
<Yes,> came the melancholy reply. <We were lured by crown "sorcerers" to our doom. We all came, because we felt our power was failing. I was the only one who thought the cause lay inside ourselves, and the others were too prideful to listen. The net was to distract us and make us connect with our Soulcreatures. The water then drowned us all because spirits are weighed down by water, giving them physical essence.> He looked keenly at me. <I'm sure you have felt this aversion yourself.>
I nodded. <But the plan didn't work. Some Soulbonds didn't die. All of them didn't come.>
He looked mildly surprised. <Oh, really? What makes you think that?>
<I am a Soulcreature, and my Soulbonder had to come from somewhere. All the other Soulbonders couldn't have died.>
Venser the badger form chuckled, and his image began to fade. <How little you know. Farewell little dragon. I will wait for you in the heavenly realms.>
How infuriating! These Spirits seemed to just disappear when they had something good to tell. I didn't even know what crown sorcerers were. Would they now try to get Pascal? Thinking of him, I centered in on his emotions. For some reason, he was extremely embarrassed. Hah I snorted. What'd he do now? While I could feel everything he thought, he was not yet adept enough to pick up all of my thoughts. In the massacre, they transformed into animals...could Pascal do that? I shuddered, as more emotions wafted from Pascal. What is going on over there?. However, I was more reluctant than ever to venture near the river.

I looked skeptically at Pascale as he attempted for the third time to cut out the burnt strands of hair. And for the third time, failing to even lift his arm. Poor guy. Not waiting for him to deny my help again, I seized the knife and deftly sliced out the charred hair, ignoring his look of indignation. His face quickly took on rosy features of embarrassment, I assume at having to be assisted to cut his own hair. After asking him if he needed help exiting the river and drying off, which he swiftly denied, I slowly retreated back to where I had left my violin. Not having anything to dry myself with, I chose to sit on a rock in the sun and contemplate what all had occurred that day. I had been tempted to chase after Kanna earlier, but I couldn't deny that horses were essential if she could manage to save a few of them. It would take a day or two for my ankle to be back to normal condition, and there was no way Pascale could travel in his state. I would have worried about her in the burning barn, but she was rather fit looking, so I had little doubt that she could handle herself. The fire...my mood turned darker as I tried to work out what all had happened. What could have started it? Where had Master Vakrom disappeared to? An answer had wormed its way into my mind, but I didn't want to believe it. Despite this, the more I thought about it, the more true it seemed, until I was certain of it, and all the more dreading what it could mean. Master lit the fire! All of those people dying...My mind was sent back to that time, long ago. In a different village, far away. Before bounty hunting. Before Master. Before the pain and suffering that raked my heart on a daily basis.

It was a bright, sunny spring day. A few puffy white clouds embraced the crisp blue sky. Dew shimmered on the healthy green grass, and birds sang cheerful songs. A very small village was nestled here, made up only of a handful of houses, one general store, and a stable that housed only two horses. A young girl, only six years of age, beamed up at her father and mother, having just convinced them to come with her to go pick strawberries by the river that flowed a half mile from the village. They had been reluctant, since it was their turn to be on guard of the village, but what could possibly go wrong on such a nice day as this? So they consented to go with their young daughter, Aithne, and told their older daughter to keep watch in their stead. The girls' mother put her hands on her older daughter's shoulders and told her, "Now Zerai, this is a very important job your father and I are giving you. If you see anything suspicious, tell Drake, the general good's store manager. But I doubt there will be anything suspicious, so don't worry! You'll be just fine." Zerai, a moody sixteen year old, shrugged off her mother's kind hands. "Whatever.." she mumbled as she stalked off towards the general goods store, where she would climb the roof to observe the surroundings. Her mother sighed and mumbled something about, "She's just in those teenage years." to her husband. They each took one of Aithne's hands and headed out to the river. They picked a whole basket full of ripe, delicious looking strawberries, which the small Aithne was so proud of. She had never been aloud out of the village before, so it was all a grand adventure to her. With a smile that lit up her whole face, she looked up at her parents and exclaimed excitedly, "Look mama, papa! We have so many strawberries! We can share with the whooole village!" Her dad smiled and replied, "That we can!" He then picked her up and placed her on his shoulders. Her mother laughed and picked up their basket of strawberries, and the three started the walk back to the village. They were all smiling and laughing, and it was the happiest place in the world. Until they returned to the village.

I screwed my eyes shut, forcing the tears to stay in. I didn't want to think about what had happened next. I sorrowfully glanced at my violin, and more memories flooded my mind before I could stop them.

Aithne's father noticed upon their return that it was quiet in the village. Too quiet. No birds chirped, none of the horses neighed, and the clouds were darkening. There was not a voice to be heard, and no one was outside. He slowly took Aithne off of his shoulder's and set her down by his wife's side, shooting her a warning glance. He silently told her with his eyes to stay back, and she nodded. She had noticed it too. Aithne looked up at her parent's suddenly serious expressions and confusedly asked, "Mama? Papa? What's wrong?" She looked around and noticed a ruffled lump of blue and red on the ground several yards away. Before her mother could stop her, she trotted over to it to discover a dead blue bird, it's feathers stained red with blood welling from two large holes in its side. Tears welled up in her eyes as she turned to look up at her mother, who had chased after her. "Mama...the birdie.." Her mother did not respond, except to clutch her daughter tight to her side. A strangled shout came from behind them. They whipped around to see Aithne's father being constricted by...something. As far as they could see, there was nothing there. He was suspended in the air, and clearly struggling and in pain. Aithne's mother, Rose, shrieked and took a step towards her husband, but he managed to scream, "NO! Don't come closer! Stay away!" She freezed in her tracks and watched in horror as huge holes appeared in his arm, then in his side. Bite marks, like those of a snake. But huge. A man dressed all in black, with a hood that concealed his face, stepped out from behind a building. With a slithery voice, he addressed Rose and Aithne. "Good evening...I see you have arrived from your little venture into the woods. A pity, really. If you had been here, you might have been able to warn your townspeople about their incoming doom! Ah, I see you are confused. I'd like to introduce you to my companion, Xan. At those words, a ginormous snake was visible to Rose and Aithen. It was twenty feet in length and three feet in width. It's huge head swiveled away from its prey, Aithne's father, to look straight at Rose. The mysterious man turned his attention to the snake, Xan, and said, "Now! Finish off the man, then the woman! But leave the girl..." Aithne did not see what happened next, because her mother had pressed her face against her skirts. But Aithne heard the scream of her father, cut off, and an anguished cry continued by her mother, who's legs collapsed as she trembled with heaving sobs. In her sorrow, she let go of Aithne and fell to the ground, paralyzed with grief. Aithne, her eyes wide with panic and her face stained with tears, scrambled away from her mother, running to her father's side. She cried more when she saw him, and was sad and confused. He was like the bird. But it wasn't a bird. It was her father. From where she stood, she could see into the stables. The horses, too, were like the bird. And the stable boy. She ran into the center of town. All of the doors to the houses were open, and just inside were all of their residents. All of them were also like the bird. She didn't see her sister, but she came to think that everyone she knew was dead. She heard her mother whimper and turned to see her be bitten repeatedly by the giant snake, then lay still and lifeless on the ground like everyone else in the village. The man and his snake turned to her. This was more than a lot for the small, underdeveloped mind of a six year old girl who had never seen death before. This was more than that mind could handle. So when it came to fight or flight, this little mind ran. Aithne took one last look at the man who had taken everything from her and ran. She ran into the forest, branches of trees scratching her face and arms. She stumbled over rocks and large sticks, but she kept running and she didn't stop. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she ran until she simply couldn't run anymore. It was dark when that time came. And wet. It had started to rain. She tripped over something yet again, this time falling flat on her face. Almost immediately upon hitting the ground, she lost consciousness.
Aithne awoke inside of a wooden house on a hide bedroll. The first thing she saw was her mother's violin. She bolted up and out of the blankets, panicked and not knowing where she was, where her mama and papa were. Then everything that had happened the previous night came back to her, and she plopped down on the floor and cried. A middle-aged man stepped into the room, and she backed up into a corner, afraid. He bent down with a sympathetic look on his face, and said softly, "It's alright, little girl. I found you and saved you out in the woods. Quite the tragedy that happened at your village...I followed your trail and discovered what had happened there....quite the tragedy indeed. This violin was the only thing there left undestroyed, so I salvaged it...does it mean anything to you?" Aithne, in her six year old mind, felt like she could trust this man. He had saved her and her mother's violin, after all. She nodded and sniffed, fat tears still rolling down her cheeks. "Ah there now...let me get you something to eat and drink. Follow me." He took her hand and led her to a table, where she sat down. He made her a meal of beans and chicken, along with some warm milk. She ate ravenously, and down the milk. The man chuckled and said, "My, how you can eat! And run, apparently. You traveled quite the distance in one night! My name is Vakrom. I am the bounty hunter in this village. I do happen to be looking for an apprentice....but I am a strict teacher. Would you perhaps like to learn under me as a bounty hunter?" Aithne looked at him, confused. "Bounty hunter? What is that?" She asked quietly. He replied, "It is a person who finds and captures bad guys." Little Aithne thought about it, and something clicked in her mind. A bad guy killed her family. She put a determined look on her face and sniffed, for she had started crying again. She managed to mumble out, "I'll do it!" And thus, Vakrom became Master, and Aithne was raised by him and learned the ways of a bounty hunter.