Book 2 Chapter 2: Maintenance

Chuggin' right along. Book 2, chapter 2. Enjoy! Or don't, be that way if you must.

 Go here if you're new and want to start at the very beginning, go here for the beginning of this book, go here if you just like Protagonize better for this chapter, and just click below if you wanna see it here.

Chapter 2: Maintenance

Life is so wonderful.

Miracle didn’t have any real sense of how long it had been doing this. That didn’t matter; it could continue for eternity. By virtue of these woods, it had discovered the value of what humans called ‘play.’ If it ever paused to ponder people again, Miracle would probably boggle over why they didn’t spend more of their short lives playing.

The puzzle hadn’t changed much since Miracle started; at least, the question was certainly identical. What’s missing? There were limitless answers, or so it hoped. Miracle never wanted to stop exploring them.

The current project was interrupted by a rustling from the southwest. That was unusual. Nothing would come near Miracle unless it had given instructions. It considered, then decided this could be such an instance.

Miracle glanced to the side and saw its creation scurry towards it. It was a tiny, long-eared mammal, a member of one of the few classical clades remaining in these woods. Miracle hadn’t spent much time altering them, or several species of birds; their apparent normalcy would help them watch for trespassers. Perhaps that’s why this specimen had come.

While Miracle hadn’t changed much about this species, it still felt affection for the project. It extended an appendage towards the approaching spy and shaped it to make a comfortable accommodation for the little beast. Once the rabbit scampered into the extremity, Miracle requested access to its memories.

No organism could control another’s base elements unless the subject submitted to that control. All of Miracle’s creations were very submissive towards it, so Miracle had no problems accessing the rabbit’s sparks of memory.

A battle. The term was human, though they sometimes relaxed its meaning to apply to the eat-or-be-eaten struggle between predator and prey. Regardless, this was the literal kind of battle. Violence without regard to survival for at least one participant. Detestable, but Miracle had to admit it was sometimes necessary.

It happened in daylight, which would normally mean it was no concern of Miracle’s. Going further back, however, revealed that the rabbit had first discovered one participant sleeping on a rock within the shade - Miracle’s shade. Courageous, desperate. Unacceptable.

Humans were still strange to Miracle; they were one of the few species with undesigned sentience, and that made them prone to illogical whims. Their impulsiveness had inspired Miracle to make this place its home. It had made efforts to ensure people would avoid this place, but many of those efforts would be undone if that female shared her story of survival with others.

Anything for the sake of appearances.

It was a familiar mantra, but Miracle hadn’t needed such wisdom in a long time. It indulged in several seconds of fond remembrance; that mantra had enabled all of this. Yes, appearances were essential for dealing with humans.

Miracle had cultivated a healthy fear of these woods, but it now seemed like the image might require active maintenance. The rabbit had seen members of those nomads to the west, it seemed like their hunters had won the battle. It knew of their existence, had tolerated their subsistence off the breedable species for generations.

The girl’s story couldn’t do much damage there, but if she left them for the cities, there  could be trouble. If Miracle was to act, it would need to do something soon. Wouldn’t it?

The right spy could follow her unnoticed, even if she ventured to a city. This could be an opportunity. Miracle knew of no species with as much individuality as the human race. There were some behaviors that could be predicted when it came to groups, but individuals? What does a juvenile female do with the story of surviving a night in the so-called Dawnless Woods? How do other humans react to such a story, and what effect does the source have on that reaction?

Miracle liked these questions. It was officially curious.

It dismissed the furry spy and prepared for a prolonged vigil over the girl. What was best to travel with her? A bird seemed obvious; the big ones travelled fast and far. Would there be problems with identification? Miracle doubted it, birds had remarkable vision. Risk of discovery? Miracle tried to think back to its time in Midway, back before it transformed; he’d seen sparrows, pigeons, crows, ravens, and even some raptors in the city. Surely any one of those would work.

Seven pairs of tiny talons perched on various parts of Miracle, jarring it from the plot. It had been thinking of avian spies, but had not summoned  any. What else happened?

It was unusual for two reports in such a short timeframe, and even more unusual for the spies to cooperate like this. Miracle almost dreaded what it was about to see as the sparrows surrendered their memories in unison.

The event was three-quarters of a day old.

A camp had been made in the extreme south of the woods. From the different sparrows’ perspectives, it identified six fires and roughly thirty soldiers. Miracle was impressed they’d found the wood to make even this meager amount of light; the trees were too thick and hardy to leave kindling. These people weren’t amateurs.

Still, the audacity! Fire, in Miracle’s territory, without its permission! Its emotions were dull compared to regular organisms, but Miracle felt something akin to anger.

One of the men approached another. “He passed, captain.”

The officer growled and scratched his head upon hearing the report. “Curse this place. Curse the girl for bringing us here.”

Miracle understood that these men never wanted to come here, but it would have hoped they’d refuse to. It was already considering ways it might reinstill the proper fear into Miracle’s human neighbors.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting…” the soldier considered. “...well, this. What makes her so important, sir? Why is it so vital that she die?”

“Will knowing that help you kill her?” The captain countered.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“I feel the same way, and that’s why I didn’t ask my superior the same question. Orders are orders, soldier. The less you know about her, the less sorry you’ll feel when she’s dead at your feet.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned about mercy,” the soldier clarified. “I just wonder how she could be worth the risk.”

“The general didn’t specifically say to chase her into the Dawnless Woods,” the captain confessed. “But he did say ‘at any cost.’ Are the others angry? Because it’s my interpretation that brought us in here. If they want to resent someone, make sure they know to resent me.”

“No.” the soldier shrugged. “We may not be proselytes - we would have run ahead like the others, if we were - but we aren’t conscripts either. We’ll follow, captain, even if it means we’ll never see the sun again.”

The captain gave a somber smile. “Good man.”

These were the sorts of behaviors that baffled Miracle. What could justify such blind loyalty? It was bad enough they’d be willing to murder just because they were told to. How could they also willingly march to their deaths for the sake of such a heinous instruction?

It made sense for Miracle’s creations to do so; when such things were necessary, it could specifically design them to fulfill that purpose. Miracle never endowed such creatures with sentience, though, and that’s why these humans made no sense. How could one individual praise another for abandoning their own best interests?

Miracle would need years of study to solve the human puzzle, so those questions would have to wait. At present, it needed to address its image problem. All of Miracle’s best profits had come from deceiving humans; it’s how Miracle had made this place its home. If they needed Miracle to occasionally reinforce the Dawnless Woods’ reputation, it would tolerate the tedium.

It wouldn’t be difficult. If they never left the forest, those they’d left behind would know they were last seen venturing into Miracle’s Dawnless Woods. They’d say the same thing would happen to any others who tried in the future. Perfect.

“Are there any problems with the proselytes’ trail?”

“No, sir. They were very thorough. The girl is trying to hide, but they spread traces on the wind. The trail won’t disperse for weeks.”

“Good. We’ll take a night’s rest, we’ve earned it. On the slim chance the proselytes fail, we’ll march quadruple-time tomorrow. That should close a good part of the gap.”

Miracle considered its knowledge. It was time to make a plan.

From the clothing and light skin color, they seemed to be northerners. What were they doing in the south? The answer likely had to do with human politics, and was thereby incomprehensible. At least it meant this incident was multi-national, and word of their demise was certain to spread.

They were chasing the girl that the rabbit had seen, the one the nomads saved. Miracle had decided to follow her instead of eliminating her, but perhaps death was more efficient. While the clan had been benign for generations, they could also probably use a good scare. Miracle could make profit on three fronts if it attacked when all three parties were in one location.

What should it use? The force would need to be enough to eliminate thirty-odd airspeaker soldiers, an airspeaker girl, and a few of the nomads’ hunters. Miracle loathed the idea of losing any of its creations, so it should choose carefully.

A particular project came to mind. It was the result of an experiment without a hypothesis, a creature that combined the hardy nature of an enormous grazer with the clever, exploitive nature of parasites. All of this was made more potent by the presence of a hive mind; several creatures acted as one.

The result seemed mundane, but Miracle was still proud. It would hunt for a day, then laze about for half a year. It was a true apex predator, and Miracle didn’t expect this number of humans to best it. Even if enemies united to try.

Miracle ordered its spies to find the beast. As they left, it almost lamented its isolation for a moment. Even Miracle wouldn’t have a name if it weren’t for humans. They were too dangerous to keep company with, but the species excelled at assigning labels.

Perhaps it would keep spies around to watch the clan after the massacre. They’d surely conjure the perfect name for the terror that slaughtered their kin.

-CUT-

1.) Are things too boring and/or confusing from this mystery thing's perspective?

2.) Were its musings/plots entertaining?

3.) Any trouble with Miracle's eloquence? (were hard words too hard?)

Meta-critique:

A.) Since we've changed the prologue of Book 1, you might not know who Miracle is. That's supposed to be okay. Is it okay? Was it too jarring to enter a mythical being's thoughts when you know nothing about their past?

B.) Were you able to connect things to Chapter 1? Feel like you have a grasp on the sequence of events?

Chapter 1 Redoux!

The first stealth prologue (only book 1 has one) had some problems. Hopefully this fixed 'em!

Here's the Protagonize version, and you can also click below to read it here. Since this is a rework of the beginning, newbies can dive right in. If you're following the bloggy breadcrumbs, this will take you back to Chapter 2: Dance Lesson

Chapter 1: The Long Night Begins

Robin Priest glared at the moon as if it were the criminal he sought..

It shone bright and full that night, but seemed dim compared to the room he stood in. The inner dome of the observatory was made of mirror, and every brazier was blazing. He hadn’t designed this facility to be used this way; it would have baked a normal stargazer by now. The heat wasn’t nearly hot enough to ignore his commands, however.

The observatory’s ‘lens’ was mostly normal glass; manipulation of light was best left to a lightspeaker. A small portion had been cut to insert a proper lens, however, and it was through this that Robin directed the light to reflect off the moon and scan the forest.

He already knew where his prey was. Two of the physical elements gave him constant updates on the runner’s progress, but to catch him, Robin would need to see him. The observatory made imperceptible adjustments as Robin tried to marry the information from wind and earth with the light from this room, but the intense magnification made it look like he was soaring over the landscape at impossible speeds.

It wasn’t long before Robin found him speeding through a familiar lake. The Priest didn’t know how Johann managed to get so far so fast, but it wouldn’t matter now. Despite the fact that Johann was a waterspeaker - and waterspeakers could travel faster through water than on land - there would be no escape from a lightspeaker of Robin’s caliber.

The light from Robin’s fires would need about five seconds to reflect off the moon and back; this meant the image was roughly ten seconds old. Robin adjusted the angle to where he guessed Johann would exit the lake, then took a deep breath.

This made him nervous. If he missed the moon, he’d never come back again. The fact that the window showed the moon and the small lens displayed the forest was proof he wouldn’t miss, but the prospect was still frightening.

It wasn’t nearly frightening enough to match his hatred. Robin Priest scowled as he let the light take him.

As his being dissolved into pure energy and shot into the sky, so did his hatred dissolve into love. He felt affection for every particle of the world that shrank beneath him as he left it behind. In the two-odd seconds it took him to reach the moon, he boggled over how he could have been so angry with Johann. Sure, he’d wronged Robin, but didn’t Johann’s virtues compensate for that?

Robin ricocheted off the moon’s surface and back towards his home. Perhaps he’d forgive Johann after all. There must have been a good reason. They’d been friends for so long, why betray him now?

The light that carried him was tempted as they hit atmosphere; it was so in love with everything it touched that bits of it broke away to give itself to the upper wind. This was fine, so long as enough of it was left to bring Robin’s substance back to the surface intact. The light loved  Robin even more than it loved Johann, so it would certainly resist temptation long enough to see him to safety.

Robin hit ground and became human once again. Despite the intense disorientation from this transition, Robin managed to cross his arms and resume his hateful scowl. His eyes blinked back into focus, and the hate came rushing back as quickly as he’d abandoned it, for the subject of that hatred stood a meager distance in front of him.

Johann was stunned by Robin’s arrival. He was shielding his eyes, and water still dripped off his arms. Robin took note of the oversight and planned his first attack.

“Why, Johann?” Robin asked, trying not to let his voice crack.

Johann responded by clasping his hands together. A moment later, Robin felt an impact against his forehead; a shot of pressurized water. He rubbed the sore spot and sighed, feeling even more enraged at Johann for insulting him with this prank instead of accepting this chance to explain himself.

“Must you?” Robin fought back tears. “Why won’t you tell me what I’ve done to deserve this? Why has my torment become your life’s only purpose? Make no mistake, if you don’t tell me, I will end it.”

Johann just grinned. Robin was astounded; his friend really did have a reason for his actions. There was something to be gained from Robin’s suffering, something he couldn’t achieve through dialogue. Robin couldn’t imagine what that might be, but from the water Johann was sneakily leeching from the lake, the Priest could tell that Johann believed this was his only option.

Robin wouldn’t wait to see what kind of trap Johann was preparing.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t have the patience to hear why you waited so long, why you passed on better opportunities to betray me, why you had to involve innocents, or what wrongs you believe you’ve suffered. You never bothered to dry yourself, and just like your crimes, that displays a complete lack of reason.”

Johann tilted his head to one side, confused, but his expression quickly became one of agony. He dropped to his knees and hugged himself as the ice began to form. No magician could control another person’s heat, but the energy in the water that soaked Johann was fair game. By siphoning it out, Robin could indirectly freeze Johann to death. The ice would be excruciating as it froze to his skin, but Robin knew he was giving his former friend a better death than he deserved.

Robin stumbled as the earth sagged beneath him. Startled, he shuffled backward and looked to his feet. It was shallow, but the land had abandoned its natural cohesion and formed a pool of quicksand.

He didn’t notice the howling wind until he regained his balance. Johann was being buffeted by a sustained gust of warm air. Robin could feel the acceleration of heat transferring from air to ice as the crystals softened and fell away from Johann.

Water, air, heat, and earth. Robin frowned as he recounted the elements required to cast these spells.

“So you can speak to more than just the waters,” Robin observed, once the wind subsided. “More lies, though I suppose I should respect how well and how long you told them.”

“Consider it a compliment, Priest,” Johann replied with a smirk. “I obviously wouldn’t have run if I thought you’d be easy, but I’m capable of besting you in combat. I will, if I must.”

“Don’t insult me, you weren’t trying to escape.” Robin shook his head. “Forget it, I’m tired of your manipulations. If you have a backup plan, set it in motion. I’m about to start mine.”

“Don’t pretend you knew this would happen, that we’d be here now. You couldn’t have prepared a trap here, in this specific place. If you could divine the future, you’d have stopped me before we got here.”

“No, I can’t see the future. And I didn’t. This wasn’t for you, but now it is. Stop me if you can.”

Robin understood why Johann would believe he was bluffing. This was something he’d prepared for a much bigger emergency. He’d spent ten years - ten years disguised as an innocent pilgrimage - preparing his nation for a foreign invasion.

A war in Midway was unlikely, but ten years wasn’t even a real sacrifice for a sorcerer like him. As long as war was possible, Robin Priest felt responsible for the protection of his flock. One decade of work had guaranteed their safety from covetous strangers.

Robin was about to use those preparations. It would be like mobilizing an army to stomp a lone scorpion, an overreaction he knew he would regret. He knew it, but that wouldn’t stop him. He began.

Johann yelled something, but the words drowned as the world erupted in sound. The wind roared through the mountains and trees, and the lake began to steam. Dust and clumps of soil pelted both wizards as they were ripped from the ground and thrown high into the sky, where Priest’s clouds began to obscure the moon and stars. Entire groves of trees and the countless strains of lesser fauna sank into the ground to merge into a new, single species, one that quickly sprouted and grew to hundreds of times the size of the old trees.

The landscape reshaped itself according to instructions Robin Priest gave it during the ten years he wandered his homeland. The elements had been waiting and preparing ever since. His army answered the call to stomp this single scorpion.

Johann finally heeded Robin’s advice. He drew a dagger from his belt and trudged forward, shielding his face from the storm with his free arm. As lake and earth continued to feed the thickening clouds, as the trees grew to pierce them, and until no more light could find its way from heaven to earth, the two wizards clashed.

It was sloppy and ugly; neither was used to combat when every element in their environment was already tapped. Neither combatant suffered anything worse than a bruise or scrape by the time the light was gone.

Robin masked a sigh of relief and manipulated his eyes. The forest reappeared around him, painted in the colors of heat. In this new environment, he had options that would normally be unthinkable.

“This is your plan? You think me afraid of the dark, Priest? I can still see you!” Johann’s head - a blob of red, orange, and green - turned to look at Robin. The Priest wasn’t surprised that Johann could also see by heat. It wouldn’t matter.

“Goodbye, Johann,” Robin called. “I wish you would have just lied forever.”

Air, Earth, Water, Electricity, Light, Fire, and Life; seven elements. Three were physical and four were energy. Anyone would be confused by the asymmetry. Was that really all there was to existence? Robin Priest had been able to prove there was more. Luckily, until this moment, the eighth element was his secret. It was too dangerous, and thanks to the forest’s transformation, Robin could rest assured that Johann would only know of it the moment before his death.

The distance between them was unfathomable, but it meant nothing. The eighth element heeded his call, reluctant as always. The heat retreated from the air around its arrival, creating a sphere of complete darkness, even for eyes that saw heat.

Johann swayed, like he’d lost his balance, and then his feet lifted off the ground. He pitched towards the black orb, falling past the ground as though it were the face of a cliff he’d walked off.

Despite his impending death, Johann seemed entranced by the object hiding in the black. He actually reached for it as it pulled him in, accelerating his own death by a fraction of a second just so he could satisfy his curiosity sooner.

The darkness pulverized the bone and compressed the flesh, sucking Johann in like a diner sucks an oyster from its shell. Robin immediately released the spell, shivering a little as he watched a frigid powder - all that remained of Johann - sprinkle down to lose itself in the barren soil.

The complete absence of light meant that any potential witness would need a way to see in the dark, and Robin knew of no method that could help them understand what they saw. Besides, the enormous trees would require them to get close enough for Robin to know they’d seen something, and that would enable him to act.

That didn’t matter. Without proper light, there would be no way to understand. One would have to touch it, and that would instantly kill them. Robin could turn his thoughts to reversing the forest’s transformation…

“Magnificent!” Johann exclaimed from behind him, his tone of admiration. “Truly, Priest, you surpassed my expectations.”

Robin turned around slowly, begging his senses to be wrong; yet there he was. Johann, whole and healthy, grinned and walked towards him. His arms were outstretched, as if he intended to embrace Robin.

“How did you know where to look?” Johann was beaming. “How did you come into contact? How did you manage to study something so distant and so dangerous?”

Robin slumped to his knees. It was over. Robin Priest was a legend here, known as the only master of all seven of the known elements. The fact that Johann survived meant he knew things even Robin didn’t. Not only had Johann hidden the fact that he was more than just a waterspeaker, he had managed to hide a potential that dwarfed a legend’s.

Robin considered for a moment. Was he certain this was really Johann?

“Ah,” the enemy rubbed the back of his head. “I suppose I wouldn’t have needed to go to such extremes if you’d just tell whoever asked.”

Far too late, Robin finally understood. He’d been such a fool. In his agony, he hadn’t been able to make sense of why someone would go to so much trouble just to torture him. The answer was simple, a tactic as old as theater: to learn a person’s deepest secrets, you must push them to the edge of madness.

Like a desperate, stupid beast, Robin had used his deepest secret to lash out at his aggressor. If only he’d realized, he could have just let Johann push him into the abyss. Instead...

“A straight transaction, then?” Johann, or whoever this person was, continued. “Information for information?”

Robin scoffed at the prospect. There was no way he’d agree to that. He’d done this lunatic enough favors, had dealt enough damage for one lifetime. When this conversation was over, Robin was convinced he would be killed, and Midway was doomed to slowly starve under this impenetrable darkness - his darkness.

The only choice he had left was whether he would empower his killer with even more knowledge. While Robin had never met anyone as capable as he was, at least until today, there must be more of them out there. The world was too vast for him to stand alone at the top. The same was true for this magician.

Whether his avenger came tomorrow or in six generations, Robin certainly wouldn’t make their job any harder than it had to be. Even if it was information his killer was now empowered to find on his own, Robin would force him to make that extra effort, no matter how menial.

Robin sighed and let the fatigue take over. His last labor, that transformation of this landscape into a permanent night, had been a bad one. He hoped that someone could make some eventual good of it.

Maybe we'll do a new survey. Maybe not! These are just to get you rolling, SKIP ANY AND ALL IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH TO SAY WITHOUT THE SILLY QUESTIONS!

1. Were you entertained?

2. Was there tension/suspense? In other words, did you feel the kind of stress or curiosity that kept you reading Harry Potter/The Da Vinci Code/your favorite books?

3. Did you understand what was going on? Not behind the scenes, mind you; hopefully it's obvious that there are things I'm not going to tell you yet, events that are referenced but not explained. Did you understand what was happening in the present? To put it another way, did you feel like you could follow the action?

I'ma harp a bit on this point this time. Robin Priest uses two spells against Johann(?) here: one he prepared over 10 years as a blanket defense for Midland (against any foreign invasion and any tactic), and then the spell consisting of the 8th element that appears to kill Johann(?) by pulling him in and crushing him. It's important that the reader understands these are two different spells; he transformed the landscape in order to prevent any unlikely bystanders from gaining a clue about the 8th element, which was what he used to kill Johann(?).

It's important to understand it was the first spell that transformed the environment into what eventually becomes known as "the Dawnless Woods." So, did that come through in the narrative?

4. Did you ever struggle with the language? Was there ever a time you couldn't determine a word's meaning without looking it up? It's fine if you could tell what it meant from the context of the words around it.

5. This one may not be fair, but if you had stumbled upon this post by accident, would you have suspected it was me who wrote it? Was it obviously amateur, or could you believe it was written by a professional?

Chasing Wind (Arbiter, Book 2)

What? I told ya they'd be short. ^_^

We're back from Comic Con and, again, we're super motivated. I was always considering the idea that a serial might work better in Comic Book/Graphic Novel format, but I figured I should have some material done before I test the Illustrator waters.

A few panels convinced me otherwise. There was a refreshing amount of 'equality in geekdom'-themed panels this year, and now I not only think I want to partner with an illustrator/cowriter, I want that illustrator/cowriter to be a woman.

People are tired of the sausage fest in nerd culture, myself included. Growing up around the women I did, I feel like I can do some appealing to women on my own, but everybody wins if I can bring a female artist on board and share creative control from the very beginning. There's a demand, and that means an audience.

Better yet, I can be part of something good, can come to the gender equality table when too many dudes are being superdicks. Sure, I've heard illustrators work faster than writers and therefore I should have some material ready before approaching them, but now I think I need to find a female illustrator/cowriter to make sure this thing can appeal to an audience of both genders.

That could mean big changes to the first book, but it needs big changes anyway. I suppose I oughta get movin' on finding a partner right away. So, if any of ya know any talented, motivated Illustrator ladies who have the time to consider partnering with a hopeless amateur author, please point 'em out to me.

Yeah, I know: unlikely. I'ma try anyway!

If ya wanna start from the beginning, this is the first blog entry and this is the first book's first chapter. Click here or below for the first chapter of book 2.

Chapter 1: Killing Desperation

Svara woke with a start. They were close again, she was certain.

She was surprised she got any rest at all. These woods were a terrifying place. It was so dark that her eyes couldn’t adjust, even after spending days inside. She occasionally caught breaths with traces of the beasts that lived here, and those breaths were a testament to the terrifying rumors that circulated through each surrounding nation. These monsters were her last hope, the only threat credible enough to endanger her pursuers. As she feared, her final hope wasn’t going to last much longer.

She pushed herself up. Her shoulder ached from being pressed against the mossy rock so long, and the arm below it was numb, but at least she slept. Those chasing her had probably not taken that liberty, and were it not for the fact that they’d caught up again, she’d find solace in their fatigue.

Orientation was a vague memory. Without the sun, without a horizon, without the stars, Svara had no idea where she was going. Still, by the same wind that brought tale of her enemy, she knew which direction was most wrong. She could only hope that meant the opposite way was best.

Svara breathed deep and felt the aches subside. Her art improved her endurance and quickened recovery, but that meant little when her enemies were also artists. Better ones, even. If she hadn’t been given a head start, she’d be dead by now.

The woods were dark, but she could feel the path in her breath. The air had been here for ages, didn’t like to travel far. It knew the land well enough to guide her feet, and it knew the enormous trees even better. She could run without risking injury, but again, so could her pursuers.

This was getting tiresome. It wasn’t physical exhaustion or even fear anymore. The task was just too difficult. She’d tried everything she could think of and still couldn’t lose them long enough to erase her trail. She didn’t have any allies, at least none that could protect her from this enemy. There was nowhere to run, and the only reason she was still running was because she knew she was supposed to. She wasn’t sure why, anymore. It just felt correct, only barely; if she succumbed to the quick relief her enemies offered, she would have failed somebody important.

The wind shifted for the first time since she entered. How long had that been; a few days? Weeks? Whatever the case, it came strong and at an angle to the old current. It was fresh, from outside the Dawnless Woods! Most importantly, it came with heavy traces of people on it.

Who would settle so close to this cursed land? Surely they weren’t inside the forest, were they? They’d have to be desperate or insane. Regardless, they wouldn’t be far from the light, which meant she’d found a way out.

She skidded to a stop, then sprang to her left. Her feet had been faster and lighter than a regular athlete’s before, but now they were infused with purpose. Her new path might put these strangers at risk, even if she never made contact with them. All the same, she wanted to see the sun before she died. She hoped they would forgive her.

It seemed like she’d scarcely changed course before her heels were digging into the forest floor again. She barely managed to stop before colliding with a collection of glowing green lines, a swirling pattern floating in the black.

She stared at it in silence for several seconds as she failed to comprehend what she was looking at.

“Oi,” it finally said in a man’s voice.

“O-oi,” she replied. A person? She breathed deep; yes, definitely a person. What culture used that greeting?

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked casually.

“Running for my life.” Svara wondered for one insane moment if he believed her. What else would anyone be doing out here? “What are you doing?”

“Huntin’ ” he replied. She was sure now, he was insane. “Whatcha runnin’ from? I think ya may have lost it, there’s nothin’ nearby.”

“Good. I’d like to keep it that way.” Svara brushed past him and was back to full sprint in three steps. She called back: “Was nice meeting you, sir.”

For several seconds, she thought she’d never hear him again. He eventually shouted a strange farewell, however: “Aaay-UP!”

The headwind was still coming, which made the blind pathfinding easier. Her pace increased accordingly. The sunlight wouldn’t bring any new advantages, but she was still desperate to feel it again.

In a few short minutes, she suddenly found herself bathed in it. The forest ended without warning, and her eyes stung from the unexpected brightness. She’d assumed there’d be glimmers in the distance as she approached the edge, that there’d be some kind of cue. Considering her experiences inside, she supposed that expectation had been naive.

For a moment, she contemplated the mystery, how she might use this information if she ever needed to go back inside. Then she remembered she wouldn’t live long enough to need an answer. She opted to enjoy the sunlight as much as she could.

“Ye’re pretty quick.”

Svara’s heart jumped at the sound. She whirled around to find a man ambling towards her from the monolithic blackness of the forest.

She almost asked him how he’d kept up, but a quick inspection gave her the answer. A normal athlete couldn’t compete with her art, but an exceptional one might. The scars, the beasthide clothing, the rippling muscles, the arbitrary mix of weaponry; this man clearly lived a life that demanded an exceptional athlete.

“Why’d you follow me?” Svara demanded.

“Hm?” his eyebrows twitched at the question. “Hm. I ‘unno. Never met no strangers’n there before, got me curious.”

Svara frowned. Their trail had entangled briefly before, but now they were even more likely to mistake him for her ally. Maybe her concern was misplaced, though; he didn’t look like someone who would help her.

“Wha’s yer name, lass?” he asked.

“Svara,” she said curtly. She didn’t feel inclined to share her surname. “Yours?”

“I’m Evan.” His tone was disarmingly casual. “Me family’s camped nearby. Wha’ brought ya way out ‘ere?”

“You need to get back to your family, Evan.” Svara warned.

“I do?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” she insisted. “I’m being followed.”

“Evan!” A woman shouted from inside the black. “Wha’s the problem? Why ya move so much after callin’?”

“I ‘unno,” he called back. “We moved ‘cause she decided to. Don’t whine, ya foun’ me trail, di’n’t ya?”

Svara was already certain Evan was insane, and now she believed him an idiot. If the face of the woman emerging from the forest was any indication, Svara wasn’t the only one.

“Who’s ‘she,’ Evan?” Once she was in the light, the woman’s eyes turned to Svara. “Ah, pardon lass, ya must be who ‘e’s blabbin’ about.”

“Svara, Nuray,” Evan introduced. “Nuray, Svara. I met ‘er in th’ woods.”

“For real?” Nuray sounded dubious. “Tha’ true, lass?”

“Yes,” Svara said impatiently. “Listen, you’re both in danger. You need to get away from me.”

The strangers looked at one another in disbelief. Nuray broke the gaze first. “Ain’t nothin’ close, lass. Ye’re safe now.”

“Why do you think I went in there in the first place?!” Svara was becoming desperate; the wind was wrong, she could no longer tell how close the enemy was. They could arrive any second now. “It’s because it was the only place that might be dangerous enough to threaten the people chasing me! They aren’t the dumb beasts you’re used to, they have ways of tracking me…”

“There be more strangers ‘n there?” Evan shielded his eyes and looked into the black, as if it might help him see inside. “This’s a weird day.”

“Didja miss somebody, Evan?” Nuray asked with a hint of condescension. “Ya gettin’ dull on us? We needa keep ya in camp now?”

“Awh c’mon,” Evan rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “If they ‘alf as quiet as she was, ya can’t ‘spect me ta know they there. People can be quiet, tha’s why hunters started wearin’ th’ lummush in the first place.”

“Wait, even she found ya ‘fore you noticed ‘er?” Nuray grinned. “It really might be time ta turn ya in! Won’ be so bad, ya still good fer seed.”

“I’m tellin’ ya, she’s good!” Evan defended. “Nothin’ wrong wit’ me!”

“Ya sure? If a city lass can get th’ better o’ ya, can we really let ya keep huntin’ knowin’ ya won’t be quicker’n…”

A shadow dripped out of the forest and bolted behind Evan. Svara’s eyes went wide; it was certainly one of her assassins. In the split-second it would take him to reach her, Svara was thankful her killer wasn’t interested in dispatching Evan as it passed.

Svara blinked, and by the time her eyes opened, Evan had grabbed the attacker’s cloak with his right hand. The assassin’s weight wasn’t enough to bring the hunter off-balance; his legs ran out from under him and he fell on his back.

“...whatever monster ya might run ’nto.” Nuray’s eyes went wide as she finished.

Evan’s confusion was written all over his face as he turned to look at his catch. He didn’t seem to believe he’d managed it. It didn’t take him long to recognize an opportunity, though.

“Wha’s that, Nuray?” Evan turned to her with a cocky grin. “Ya worried about me?”

Nuray’s shock faded quickly. Svara was startled to detect an air of affection about the lady hunter. “Nah, not no more. ‘twas a good catch, I gotta give it to ya.”

Svara inspected the fallen assassin. He was struggling for breath, and didn’t seem to have any interest in returning to his feet. She felt a brief twinge of sympathy; he probably hadn’t slept in days.

Seven more shadows appeared from the black. Now that the hunters were on their guard, the newcomers approached with caution. Svara gulped and prepared for the worst as the leader stepped forward.

“What have you done to him?” He asked.

Evan shrugged. “Nothin’ much, ‘e startled me so I grabbed ‘is cape.” He turned to the fallen assassin. “Oi, you alright?”

“More or less,” he managed between labored breaths. “Mind if I stay down for a minute or two, sergeant?”

“I do.” His superior sounded firm but sympathetic. “Come on, we’re almost done.”

The subordinate sighed and began to rise. From a crouch, he slipped free of his cloak and sprang towards Svara. Somehow, Nuray was quick enough to tackle him out of his leap. They crashed to the ground and the assassin groaned in defeat.

“Oi, enough o’ that,” Nuray scolded. “Ya need ta tell us why ya wanna do tha’ before we’ll let ya.”

A chorus of scraping metal accompanied the unsheathing of the other assassins’ scimitars. Svara doubted they cared much for Nuray’s assessment. Evan’s smile shrank a little as he turned to face the aggressors, but he didn’t draw any of his own weapons.

“Them’s some curvy steel,” he observed. “Why ya make ‘em that way?”

Nuray released the first assassin, but was careful to keep herself between him and Svara as she returned to Evan’s side. The twice-embarrassed man rose and brushed himself off before returning to his comrades.

“What is all this?!” The shout came from the woods, above and behind Svara’s pursuers. There was a rush of air and a rustling sound, then another savage-looking woman came stomping out of the black. She had a bow in one hand and wore a full quiver on her back, and had more scars than Evan and Nuray combined. “Why’d ya stray so far from where ya called, Evan?!”

Evan retreated a few steps back, ironically more terrified of his kin. “Kirana! I’m sorry, things ‘appened quick!”

Kirana strode straight through the assassins without hesitation. Their grips tightened on their weapon hilts, but none of them tried to stop her.

“Ferget that,” Kirana growled. “Tell me wha’s happenin’, now. Ya in danger or not?!”

Svara didn’t blame Evan for his newfound anxiety. This woman’s scowl would put anyone on the back foot.

“I’m still tryin’ ta figure that out,” Evan’s hand found its way to the back of his head. “I found this lass, the one behin’ me, in th’ woods. She ran off, an’ that’s when I called. I thought it was weird enough ta…”

“Evan.” Kirana arrived in front of him, and her expression somehow became even sharper. Nuray chuckled as she watched. “Are ya in danger, right now?”

“Mebbe?” Evan squeaked.

Kirana thrust the knuckle on her middle finger into Evan’s forehead. He took another step back and rubbed at the sore spot, prompting a guffaw from Nuray. Kirana didn’t seem amused as she turned back to the assassins.

“You lot,” she called. “Why ya here?”

“We just need the girl,” the leader answered, trying to sound diplomatic. “Step aside, we’ll be done with it, and then we’ll be gone.”

“Girl,” Kirana turned her scowl on Svara. “Why they need you?”

“They mean to kill me.” Svara knew she should have run. These hunters had given her a huge opportunity to do so, but somehow, she didn’t feel like that had ever been a real option.

“Why?” Kirana was asking either side.

“Orders.” The sergeant would say no more. Svara knew that doing so would betray their purpose.

“Because of the family I was born into.” Svara couldn’t think of a better way to summarize the matter.

“Not good enough,” Kirana concluded. “You. Murderers. Begone. Your side is wrong.”

“That’s not an option, friend.” The sergeant’s eyes narrowed. “Step aside, or we’ll kill you too.”

“Try.” Kirana commanded.

As the assassins of Svara’s homeland sprang forward, she bit her lower lip and let her tears flow. Why? There were only three of these primitive people against eight of the raja’s elite soldiers. It would be a massacre, the exact kind that Svara had known she’d cause when she switched course. Why couldn’t they have just asked her if she wanted help?

Evan met one assassin’s charge with a thrown axe. Sand and water splashed from the wound on his forehead; the shock of a fatal wound always returned some of the flesh to its basic elements. Nuray leapt into the enemy while Kirana managed to plant an arrow into one woman’s heart.

As the dead fell, Svara admired these savages and their valor, but despaired their independence. None seemed to be acting with the other two in mind. Two more fell from Nuray’s blades, but Svara knew better than to hope. She’d been schooled in history, and knew a disciplined military would always triumph over a horde, even against unfavorable numbers.

Eight against three had become four to three, but the gap had been closed. Breathers excelled in close combat; their speed was unmatched, and these men were practiced at severing arteries without their victims even knowing they’d been cut.

Kirana was beset by two of these killers, and she managed to prolong her life by abandoning a dagger between one man’s ribs. The other clove her bow in two when she used it to guard, however. The sergeant had set his eyes on Evan, and the final enemy had just drawn blood from Nuray.

“I’m sorry,” Svara whimpered. She doubted they could hear her over the melee. Her voice was meek from sorrow and fatigue, but she still needed to make her peace with those she’d doomed. “I’m so sorry.”

Svara was still despairing as the sergeant fell flat at Evan’s feet. Kirana had gotten behind her opponent and was strangling the woman with the string of her broken bow, and Nuray’s victim collapsed into her after a fresh wound to the belly.

Dumb eyes stared at the three hunters standing among the corpses of the eight assassins. Svara had abandoned hope, so she found it difficult to process the scene before her. She was convinced she wouldn’t exist this long, so she was unprepared for the prospect of a future.

“What a waste.” Evan rubbed the back of his head and sighed. “Why’d they have ta force war? They was good, but somethin’ was wrong with ‘em. What made ‘em so desp’rate?”

“They was tired, you could tell,” Nuray explained. “Musta made themselves crazy chasin’ her.”

“They were wrong,” Kirana insisted. “And now they’re gone. Don’ overthink it. C’mon, we needa tell Cas - nah, the elder - about this.”

They turned in unison and noticed that Svara was still there. Nuray chuckled when she saw the blank look on her face.

“Get on back ta yer family, girlie.” Kirana suggested. “These’nes can’t hurt ya no more.”

“I can’t,” Svara managed. She had no idea where she was, or where they were. Besides, their situation had been even worse than hers when they parted. “They’re dead.”

“Come meet ours, then.” Kirana shrugged. “Take a nap there, ya look like ya need one.”

The three hunters walked past, not waiting to see whether she’d follow. Despite her stupor, Svara’s legs moved to follow them. After months of pure desperation, she no longer remembered what life was like without it.

She closed her eyes and lifted her head as she walked. The sun felt nice.

1.) Each book in a serial needs to be able to stand on its own, despite being part of a series. With that in mind, how was this for a first chapter? It's supposed to be fast and furious, but was this too abrupt? 

2.) Any trouble with the dialogue? If you've read the first episode, you're probably accustomed to the rough language, so this question is for newcomers.

 3.) Any problems with descriptions or settings? I'm the type that likes to be extremely sparse on physical descriptions, so let me know if that's a problem.

 Extra credit: the meta-critique

 A.) Remember book one? Any trouble easing in to book two? Evan and Nuray are the only recurring characters so far, though Elder Inga and Matron Cascata are referenced. Anyhoo. Ya alright with picking things up here?