The world around him seemed one like giant cave, echoing the wind in his ears as it buffeted his ears and clothes. The clouds hung dark and near, a ceiling of water.
Falin let his legs ride the push of the air when his steps aligned with it, otherwise he pushed through and forward. From the perspective of a small frog under the nearby wind-flattened and moist grass, it seemed as though the man was being pushed around by the currents of massive, invisible creatures swimming through the empty space around him as though he was in water.
As he walked he had his head down, following the path of his feet, deep in thoughts that danced to the din of the howling wind.
It seemed as though every one of the dancers changed and started with a single bow. It seemed a gesture of admission, of ignorance of its own dance before its first step.
"I don't know.
I don't know why I'm leaving. I just... could not stay.
But it's such a nice camp. The people are understanding, kind, and helpful to strangers. I can expect to find that at any of the other camps. What's really special about that place is how welcoming they are, and that they gave me more than I asked of or needed. In this part of the Weald, at least, I can expect that there's a lot of camps down on their luck and begrudging any morsel they can spare; I've also been through many who are doing well with harvest and trade but careful in the giving. This camp, Abhim Sominor, had some of the most agreeable humans that I have ever met. I can feel a smile come to my face just thinking about it. Then why... why cannot I stay. Longest I've stayed in a place has been, yes, Arro Sorinor. Three good weeks. In that time I'd done a lot of healing, and it was pleasant enough just to sit for a time and take in the sounds. I passed that phase of pain. Why cannot I stay in Abhim for even just that long? Maybe 2 weeks?"
As I ask myself the question the speeding wind seemed to catch my chest in an invisible blow. I double over and guard it with my hand, and I'm surprised to find a pain there, seemingly weighing on my heart. I want to stand up and keep walking, to straighten my back and move on, but I know I must not. It hurts, and it won't heal itself.
An image of Annelie creeps into my mind, and her laughter like music trickles in under the wind.
"I could have..."
His Thoughts as Voice petered away, and the sensation of feelings connected to thoughts that could not be tamed filled his vision of his mind. He knelt down in the grass and hunched over, letting the current of the wind pass over him, and breathed deeply and slowly of the fresh stormy air.
Annelie was a very cute woman, but Falin could only think of her as a girl. Sure, she ran the general shop tent and was as shrewd with a deal as any other trader he dealt with, and better than many, but her laugh was so girly, so gleeful, when she held the stone.
He hadn't expected that laugh, and it had caught him in his chest and rocked him back on his heels. He couldn't at first believe that she, curator of exotic goods and strange valuables, had appreciated the small, smooth stone, found among many others just like it or possible better, seemed to take joy in the stone more than he had dared to expect she would from the Fabled Flower he had set out to find. And he had set out to find it, he had to admit. The travelling merchant had piqued his interest in the story of the shelf, and he'd only heard of the Pool of Plenty from Old Man Herro when his asked after the merchant's tale. It seemed stupid now, a bit shameful.
"So it's just that easy, huh," he nearly said aloud.
His thoughts turned dark, then, like the world around him, as the sun passed behind a heavily-laden storm-cloud.
Something had always been bothering him about that villiage. They were too kind. Too giving.
Life is not kind on the Ring-side of the Lower Rim. The grasslands, wild and untamed, are bordered by treacherous, dense woodlands. It is known that in the deeper territories of the grasslands, Alpha Beasts are known to roam - the vast, horizon-consuming plains their province. The wildlife has adapted to their presence, alongside the harshness of the environment, through powerful changes that happen once every few breedings. For a lone wanderer like Falin the necessity to be a Hunter as well, to be able to move within the realms of even just the natural wildlife, is a-given. Even with the right abilities, it is a dangerous and frightening way to travel. So humans travel in small communities - Camps. Each has its own name which can be connected to its greatest leader and its origin. It's dangerous to stay in one place, even though many do, but the majority prefers to constantly travel. Never in one place for long, always avoiding the worst of the natural forces that can be found in the wild world of the Weald.
Among those, Abhim Sominor has a history that can be traced back to the Ring-side of this part of the Weald. And the closer one gets to the Ring, the more dangerous the creatures become, simply because of one factor.
The closely- wedged mountains, rocky and irregular and chaotic, are the preferred traveling avenues and territories of the Alpha Beasts.
Abhim Sominor has been travelling away from the Ring for a decade. It has a history that suggests some sort of power, and strife. There is no creature that can be around the Alpha without being powerful in at least one of the many diverse forms that power can exist in.
And this knowledge, Falin realised, is what did not fit in with his mental picture of Abhim Sominor.
"So it's just that easy..."
I stand back up, resisting the wind's newfound pressure-hold on my torso. The air suddenly felt much colder.
All humans help each other when asked, that is just the way things are done. But no one ever helps me without reservation. I don't contribute anything to them; in fact I pose a danger. They expect that I could get killed at any time, so a favour to someone like me does not last long. Abhim should know this better than many other Camps.
They must have had a reason. Something to gain by my being there, maybe even staying there.
There weren't any other young men looking to catch the eye of Annelie. In that camp I felt safe to make eyes at her, let himself entertain notions, even bring her a gift. There wasn't a threat of entering into a potential rivalry that could sour the attitude of my hosts towards me.
Annelie is a strikingly pretty girl. And her smile... it could melt anyone's heart, and even just the closeness of exchanging a handful of coins might make any vision-enabled man's heart skip a beat.
And the Camp Leader had welcomed me personally with a smile.
The feeling wells up inside me, my fingers crush themselves into fists, and my muscles are hot with tension...
I shout. I let loose my anger, my shame, my doubt.
It's always been like this. Everyone sees I'm different, that I'm naive, and thinks they can get from me what they want, what isn't theirs to have.
Abhim is moving Under, away from the Ring, towards the Crater Forest, fraught with strong creatures.
Abhim wants an extra sword, and they want it through my heart.
They will have neither. They will not use me. Were they in league with the merchant too, stringing me along with a tale of romantic flowers? I swore long ago that I would not let anyone use me. None of them know me. They aren't like me.
And then her smile, and her laughter flashes again in my mind, and I remember the ghost of the smile that was on my lips too. It feels sickening, now.
I scream again, and the sky flashes white as I torture the air through my throat into a sound that could match the storm within me. The thunder-crash following the lightning drowns me out, with its own tortured clamour, and all of a sudden I feel weak. Ineffectual. Powerless.
I let my eyes readjust, and feel the first icy pricks of rain on my skin.
If I'm going to get going it best be now, while I'm still able to find a camp.
I take a few steps, trying to find a rhythm again. Just as I find it though, I hear another rhythm, Heavy thuds in rapid succession, a rhythm of four close beats. It's faint, and far, but coming closer. It's tough to make out much else with the wind, but I can hear by the rise and fall of its volume, depending on the shifting wind direction, that it's coming from my right. Maybe someone on a horse looking for the Camp. I turn to see what it is and -
A wild, crackling light is hurtling towards me, streaking across the waves of windblown grass like the white wake of a speeding vessel on a lake. It gyrates with movement, four legs rhythmically pounding the ground, stretching and tensing, galloping towards... me.
The air is pierced with a high-pitched squeal, barreling towards me on the wind. The light, it's getting closer. I tense up and widen my stance, trying to find my sense of gravity in the midst of this damned wind, reaching for a sword. I can almost see...
Another scream fills the dark day, and at once our eyes connect, its red, blood-soaked, energy-crazed eyes. My organs leap inside of me, and I feel weightless as my mind is filled in a rush of blood.
The Thunder Boar charges right at me, electric energy whipping around it like murderous tentacles, and lowers its tusks, eyes dead-set.
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