Change

[Seuss 1056]

 

Spoiler

 

Image from

 

The nightbound veil over Azuras stretched from one coast to the other. 

Vast planes of unturned grass and remote terrains laid underneath a star-sharp blanket provided by the endless Void above.

Fading, flickering lights assist a new moon in casting against all but the hollow dark underbellies of heavy forestry and subterraineous caverns.

 

Whispering winds carried tall evergreens to and fro, calmly gesturing to the giants of pine so the shadows cast by their many needles danced along the everdark flooring beneath nature’s canopy. 

Frost dry air separated the calm forests just outside of Verdegrad from the cruel frost bound diorama of the Rimeglen.

 

Mountain peaks that stretched for the Heavens above loomed over the northern world.

Many coniferous adventurers wished to climb and plant themselves along the jagged face of the cold anchored body.

The summit-lost giants saw little of the forest at its base the higher it rose.

A muffled tune of wildlife offered the occasional offset from an otherwise isolated portion of untouched land.

 

Within the devouring darkness of the dense coniferous forest laid a source of light.

Fluttering embers of yellow and lapping orange spilled out from the burning set of wood situated above an ash pile.

The flames held darkness just outside its perimeter from encroaching within.

Pine trees washed over with an amber hue on one side contrasted against the creeping void that laid behind them.

As splintering segments of wood crackle under the intense heat, a trail of dark smoke rose from its source and disappeared into the sea of desaturated blues and sky-matte purples.

 

A variety of items and trinkets were laid out across the bed of pine needles in the fire’s immediate vicinity.

A thick bedroll, still tightly packed and yet to be unraveled sits up against the stump of a tree long fallen with the head of a hunting axe embedded into the old wood.

Pre-split, carefully rationed stacks of firewood rest close by the fire, along with a leather-bound bundle of twigs and dried moss for kindling.

A pair of worn boots rest at an angle towards the flames to dry, and a quiver of aurum-tipped arrows sits just next to them,

Small game is skewered through and cooked just over the heat-warping fire.

 

Along the edge where a light-starved void separates the camp from nature’s endless world were various portions of raw meat stuck to branches.

Large sections of bark torn from trees were coated in wild honey and placed away from the camp’s reach.

Various omnivores, or predatory visitors, felt more inclined to take what laid available rather than fight in uncertainty. 

 

Above the fire dripped a hare’s translucent, amber liquid fat, sizzling upon contact with the engulfing heat below; should it remain like such, the underside would harden and scorch.

A hand extended forward, grasping the skewered animal by the wood that kept it still and turned the body over.

 

A monstrous shadow pulsed against the mountain’s stone face, cast by the warm light over a lone hunter who sat with his back to the fortified stone behind him.

An amber soft glow cast over a young man postured atop a fallen evergreen.

A cloak as dark as a shadowed olive was draped over his shoulders, and a fallen hood revealed long, unkept burnt sienna hair lazily pulled into a loose bun.

Loose strands fell in front of a pale man’s face, and verdant eyes reflected the yellow hues of a fire he had attended to.

 

Just to his rear, resting over the night’s dew grass sat the preserved skull of a once incredible buck with its antlers still residing atop the cranium. 

The headgear was a trophy from a time long past; however, it was one treasure among what little he had to care for.

Across the marrow were etches of various strikes and slashes – from animal and humanoid alike.

Dried streaks of once scarlet red now stained tawny.

This was Cassian Basileus.

 

Image from

 

As his hand recoiled from the game now turned, the woodsman brought pressure off the heels of his feet and leaned more on his natural chair.

His boots still by the fire, so off-white, wooly socks pushed down against fallen needles and cones.

Either hand secured items that rested on his left and right, retrieving a knife and a carved section of wood.

 

The satin-polished bowie knife was held aloft, blocking the light of the campfire, but allowing a glow-held halo to stretch around its silhouette.

A clip-point blade stretching twenty-four centimeters.

A pronounced spine contrasting against a subtle bevel that hyperbolized the weapon’s aggressive edge; a weapon designed for slicing and stabbing without hindering mobility.

 

A gentle flip sent tip-over pommel before calloused hands caught the blade between two fingers.

The handle was carved from a White Stag’s antlers, and supported with brass fittings to reinforce and divide the grooves of the contoured grip.

A gentle smile came over Cassian’s visage as the weapon turned once more.

The gift he received from a friend now settled back into his palm as the sharpened edge was brought against wood.

 

A section of oak, now reduced to a patchy carving, began taking the form of a character.

Shavings slipped off the knife with each pass by, falling over his lap and the forest floor.

There was once plenty of wood on this piece, but after numerous accounts of whittling the fibers down, it soon began taking shape.

The carving was of a woman.

The figure itself was light beige – the same as the oak.

Long hair came down just past the shoulders before forming along the uncut portions of wood.

She was a fair carving; the rugged and sliced markings on the wood did not steal from her the elegance in her appearance.

 

From the horizonless, heat-faint depths of the woods came a brittle snap of a twig hidden between the root knotted trail.

The knife bit into the wood as Cassian’s forearm halted the action.

His eyes peered upwards into the night pressed void in front of him.

Carmine eyes reflected just enough light to appear formless beyond the tree line.

From the height alone, it had to be a meter off the ground or so.

 

A slender, four-legged creature crossed into the glint-spilling realm the fire provided.

Soot dark, matted fur clung against an emaciated wolf.

Prominent ribs viewable under lean-drawn skin that appeared withered.

Each step carefully measured, the true predator encroached upon the light’s source.

Lips furled back as the snap-ready jaw was poised for sudden violence.

 

The hunter provided plenty of freshly hunted game just by the outer perimeter for animals to feast on willingly; yet it passed by.

Tested and tried again since he was a boy, it was the first he encountered a creature that ignored its offering and lurked onward.

The carving was placed down and traded for a slim cut of Hare.

The piece tossed forward, landing between the front paws of the snarling wolf.

Cassian glanced back down to retrieve his project, yet the ebon blur from the corner of his eye moved unlike the dipping of its maw, but instead the lowering of hind legs.

 

Image from

 

A shadow swallowed over Cassian as the predator’s thinning mass leaped between himself and the casting fire.

He kicked off the ground, raising one hand as the other reared the knife.

A lunge too quick to be braced against as the wolf’s jaw snapped shut around Cassian’s right forearm – sinking teeth into treated leather and inducing a yelp.

The savage slamming of its body against the man tripped him over the log he could not space himself from.

 

As they toppled over, another tearing scream of pain echoed into the darkness as one of the antlers behind him pierced into his left tricep.

The canine’s rear legs pressed against Cassian’s core, resulting in the worrying crack just by his lower back.

Something certainly cracked, but he was not afforded the luxury of caring right now.

 

Cassian ripped his left arm across his body, freeing himself of the antler once there.

As his fist met the wolf’s temple, it was without his dagger.

In the initial collision it fell from his grasp, resulting in the frenzied slams of his fist against the beast’s temple.

The breath-stolen man, grunting for air as energy and strength slowly leaves him, continues to reel his arm back and slam, scratch, smack, and desperately force the jaw that kept his arm pinned from remaining pinched.

 

A high pitched whine escaped the canine as his teeth released from where it indented into leather, pulling back and lunging downward once more.

Cassian pushed his hips up and turned his left shoulder over, letting the maw strike the dirt beside his head before it rolled over and off his body.

The bed of needles under his feet gave way like ice as wool socks slipped along scattered pine.

Air escaped his lungs as quickly as they filled; hands smacked against earth in search of his dagger just a meter away, still echoing the fire’s ember hues.

 

Weapon secured, the sudden mauling upon his rear thigh incited another roar of pain.

The wolf recovered quicker than he, maintaining a grip-fast bite on the leather bound to Cassian’s leg and refusing to release.

The dagger was swung, but given how he laid, it was out of reach.

Writhing in pain, the hunter tried to turn himself over, striking out with his free leg as  his heel met the sturdy cranium of the attacker.

 

With enough force, the wolf began toppling backwards, freeing Cassian from the bind.

He struggled to his feet, limping on his good leg and losing feeling in his right arm.

Time blurred as crackling wood deafened to mute drums.

Dilated pupils constrict as the night-breaking light of the fire cast warmth on him.

 

A break afforded to him, Cassian risked taking his eyes off his enemy in search of his bone-wrought helm – the deer skull.

His left arm aches from where the antler pierced skin during the initial collision.

The pain from his lower back, what he originally believed cracked, was merely struck.

Behind the log sat pieces of bone; scattered portions of cranium split almost down the center line and resting akin to fossilized remains.

The antlers, wholly intact, inclined inwards towards one another as a result of the broken mask.

 

Time had no longer blurred.

It came to a standstill.

 

Image from

 

The subtle winds no longer carried foliage gently across the forest floor.

Radiant light halted its attack against the darkness; likewise, the eternal void ceased its endless devouring of light.

His erratic heartbeat, once pounding between his ears, disappeared.

The only movement before Cassian were the standing hairs atop the wolf’s back, and its low stalking form readying for another attack.

 

The wolf lunged once more, jaws snapping for a limb to adhere to as Cassian rushed forward.

Summoned strength in his right hand slammed against the underside of the wolf’s jaw, allowing the two to collide hard enough to knock the breath from the canine for the first time.

They hit the ground in a tangle; the wolf’s back meeting dirt as Cassian relentlessly dug his feet into the grouping of pine needles under him and pressured his opponent from escaping.

The wolf growled as gnashing bites met no target.

A yelp escaped the beast as the hunter’s dagger found home in its gut.

Cassian’s right forearm pressed down against the predator’s throat, keeping its jaw at bay as the dagger was yanked free.

 

The tide of battle had turned drastically. 

The predator–now prey– whimpered and struggled the same as Cassian in their initial clash.

Clawed legs scratched at a tearing tunic as desperate bites continued to no success.

The knife once more pierced the creature’s ebon hide, allowing blood to flow.

A lucky paw strike caught across Cassian’s forehead, drawing blood, but not freeing itself.

 

Carmine eyes stared upwards at an imposing shadow.

The fire’s light just barely illuminating verdant eyes surrounded by crimson ichor that flowed from the wound across Cassian’s brow. 

A monster with talons replaced the once-prey this wolf intended to make a meal of.

 

Fear.

A choking gasp escaped the wolf as it cried out.

Legs kicked out frantically in an all-or-nothing attempt to escape.

An instinctive last stand that came at no cost.

The dagger met body again.

The metal pierced its hide with ease.

The monster’s eyes refused to blink.

Spent thin, the feral wolf panicked hopelessly as its body soon went still.

 

Time around the hunter resumed as his ragged nature slowly wound down.

A defiant soul kept a tight grip around the bone-hilt of his dagger.

He offered it mercy and food.

He designed his small world so the need to fight was futile.

Yet he still fought for his life.

 

Image from

 

The crackling flames were not the same as before.

The chittering insects became a mocking symphony to no end.

Every gentle change in movement just outside of his peripheral became an enemy.

Cold eyes looked away from that wolf towards his first trophy.

His deer mask was destroyed.

 

Cassian turned back to his fallen opponent. 

Those carmine eyes no longer screamed for a hunt.

They cried for survival.

He offered it mercy and food.

 

The world was not designed for Cassian.

He was not designed for the world.

As the rise and fall of his chest calmed, he brought his dagger upwards.

The world around him would not spare Cassian the kindness he spared it.

Monsters of the Black Church would slaughter him on a whim.

The knife glided along the wolf as the pelt was separated from body.

Devils of Fallen Aenguls would take those he loved without sympathy.

The inner layer of the pelt was shaved down and lightly heated by the flames.

Lawless men would strike his head on a pike.

Cassian stood before his trophy.

A part of him died along with it; a piece of him that still sought that mercy.

He glanced down to the torn cloak over his body–a useless cloth now.

 

The hunter gathered the remains of his helm and discarded it to the flames.

The cloak from his shoulders now free of his form met the fuel hungered fire.

His foot nudged the fallen work of oak that he carved at once before.

Ember lighting still danced across the beauty of the woman in heartwood.

It too soon became food for the fire.

 

As Cassian held up the blackened wolf pelt, he stared into the carmine eyes one last time.

There came a crack in the depths of darkness.

Another followed as many pairs of yellow caught reflection from the campfire.

Cassian dawned his enemy and turned his back to his past. 

A monster’s shadow, affixed with eyes of blood red, stared out to the void.

 

The void blinked

 

Image from

 

 

Spoiler

A narrative post for a changing of the tides for my character as I start delving into a different path his story will take place on