Vignette Contest: September

[AdventWings]

Ah, ha! Welcome to this month's episode of the Althanian Monthly Vignette Contest!

So, let us hear the Rules for this month's Vignette Contest:

1) One submission per character. Multiple accounts by the same author are allowed.
2) Please make your posts during the duration of time allotted (which is during the month of September). Editing your posts is permitted so long as they are edited within the contest's time frame.
3) The moderator judging the monthly vignette contest will post a vignette at the end, but will not be eligible for a prize.
4) Only on-topic vignettes will be considered for the prize. The topics are meant to be broad enough that no character should be particularly limited.
5) PCs must be involved in all vignettes. How "canonical" you choose to have the events of the vignette is up to you.
6) All participants receive 5% of the EXP they need to reach the next level. The top three finishers get 100, 75 and 50 GP respectively.

For those of you in the Western World (read: America), September is no doubt the month everyone of us is reminded that it's time to dread the traffic jams and army of kids taking to the streets.

After all, it's the start of a new school year!

And on that note, here is the prompt for this month's contest:


You run into some schoolkids lost and stranded without an adult. There's no sign of help coming for the kids and you are somehow compelled to get involved (either willingly or forcefully).

Agh. Don't you hate kids when they're being so clingy? At any rate, what do you do about it? Shoo them away? Take them on an adventure? Take them to the nearest police box? (Is there a police box on Althanas?) Or do you simply lure them in for whatever nefarious plans you've been concocting for World Domination?

It doesn't matter what race they are as long as it's clear they're still in school. It doesn't matter what region of the Known/Unknown worlds, either. That is for you to decide.

But you better not take them too lightly: I never said they're harmless children...

[Tainted Bushido]

The sun was low overhead as Taka continued to walk through the lands of his home. He had taken to the more chaotic western province in the hopes of hiding at the edge of Concordia and still allowing him to sneak into battles to protect his homeland. It caused him a bit of pain when he was forced to part ways with the ronin Hoturi, but he knew that they would meet again one day, and they would fight, enjoying the fight as much as any two friends could. This however, led to a problem as Taka was now forced to live alone. He had managed to find a small hovel at the edge of the forest, and lived there after putting up the customary signs warning of his taint.

He had taken to enjoying his life alone, as he finally was not wandering looking for something that was not there. He knew better than to assume he could even fit into a normal village, not when they grew curious as to the bandages he had to wear, and further, had to clean and redress daily. The legions from the taint were at the moment pulsating, threatening to grow and force him to merely bandage himself fully to avoid a growth hitting him unaware, but he was more than willing to wait. He lived in seclusion only occasionally entering a town to buy some basic food stuffs for himself. It was a bland living, but he didn't need excitement.

At least, that’s what he told himself. The guardians and the Kami on the other hand, seemed more than willing to give him some.

They had come while he was preparing his rice for supper. Cries of fear had at first alarmed Taka, as he emerged from his home, his daisho on his hip. He looked forward at the edge of the clearing that marked his boundaries as they came, practically stumbling over themselves. Amongst them was an obviously wounded person, who they dragged even as Taka assessed them. Not a daisho between them, but dressed far too finely for peasants. He could see the topknot of a warrior on them before it clicked in his mind, students...

There was a Dojo in the nearby city only two days journey. He had heard that it was the main facility to the slowly growing Samurai caste here in Western Akashima. The class had been small, only because there had been a mass walkout of samurai after the Duchess of the West Asuka Yamihara had taken her throne as was only right. However, that wasn't the concern; they looked upon the gruff looking ronin before they dragged the child over. He looked at them before he spoke, "In the cupboard next to the bed are fresh bandages, wrap him up."

One of them seemed to ask questions of him but Taka cut the obvious question off as he barked harshly, "Do it whelp." As the boy ran to do it he looked at the other one, "What happened?"

"Maho Tsukai..." The boy managed before Taka looked at the edge of the clearing.

"A blood witch? Where?" Taka asked.

"He must be coming; he attacked us on our way back from leave. He was laughing when he caused wounds to open up on Ichiro," The boy said frantically.

"Get in the house, do not eat any of the food, I'm tainted and I do not wish to force you to commit seppuku. I will hunt the witch, do not leave unless someone you trust or I come back," Taka replied firmly. The boy nodded as Taka looked at the edge of the clearing and sneered. A blood witch was bad news, those who dealt in the magic of Jigoku; they often cast their spells using their very blood in an effort to spread Jigoku's taint. If the boy had been cut open, it undoubtedly meant he was tainted; only a finger of Jade could possibly have saved him.

Moving into the forest he looked about slowly as he made his way back to Akashima. He could see that it was beginning to grow dark, and Taka knew he was more than likely to be killed. Still he moved slowly, each step deliberate. Finally he heard it, muttering and cackling, it sounded like the gibbering of an Oni as he narrowed his eyes and focused on the noise. Finally he spotted the man, if he could still be called such a thing.

Where Taka had black patches of skin that slowly spread from his hands and along his back, this man was a mass of blackened flesh. Fresh wounds were spied in the waning light as blood the color of pitch poured from them. The man mumbled incoherently as he rocked back and forth, giving praise to Fu Leng, king of Oni. Taka remained silent as he observed the man before his rocking stopped, and he spoke, "Ah, another tainted warrior. Does this one seek to join me, or will he seek to kill me and further his futility."

"You're on my land Tsukai, I would give you the option of fleeing, but I doubt you are worthy of such a chance," Taka replied firmly.

"This one is a fool, and should perish," He muttered. Taka moved to cut the man down before he heard the man’s gibbering once more. Blood from the man's wounds seemed to evaporate in a thick smoke before cuts and wounds opened up on Taka's forearms and chest. He ignored the pain of these wounds, they were only minor, and could be healed later. As he slashed out with his Katana he noticed his own blood evaporate as the man's gibbering erupted in a cackle. A red shield erected in front of Taka's blow as the Katana bounced harmlessly off the man's protection. The shield then broke as the tsukai grinned a toothy smile.

The wounds continued to bleed as the Tsukai moved slowly back from Taka, causing the man to growl threateningly to the blood witch. The man only continued his joyus cackling before he said once more, "Tainted you are, and tainted you'll die. You are not capable of harming me Samurai. You don't have the strength, your oni is weak."

"I don't need an oni to kill you," Taka spoke as he moved forward. The tsukai began chanting once more before he erected a barrier that would again protect him, however Taka had not struck, and as the barrier came down the Katana came in its wake cutting the man across his cheek, and nearly cutting through his skull. As he brought the blade across he shifted stance so that his katana was hefted in his hand casually, his grip choked up to the tsuba. He then let out a grin as he spoke, "Do your worst witch, your knowledge cannot save you, your magic cannot save you, you will perish."

More chanting was heard as the witch had not even stopped chanting. The grin was only made wider with the cut on his face as he let his own blood evaporate to fuel his magic. The smoke seemed to curl and grow before it formed into a large fist and slammed forward into Taka. Taka, unprepared was thrown back and hit a tree, before a resounding crack echoed from ribs being snapped in the resulting impact. "This one thinks himself strong, so weak, so pathetic," The madman cackled as he moved forward tanto in hand, ready to finish off his prey.

"You...are...wrong," Taka stated as he coughed, blood flowing from his lips. The Maho Tsukai began chanting only to find Taka had sheathed his Katana. Frowning he looked at the Ronin who seemed only eager to cut him up, before Taka adjusted his stance. He focused intently on the Maho Tsukai who seemed confused by the odd behavior, before he rushed forward ready to gut the ronin. It was then that Taka acted, in the final blow of the fight, his Katana drawn in such a quick fashion that he had sliced through the wrist of the Maho tsukai cleanly, on the way to the Tsukai's torso, where Rengoku embedded itself up to the tsuba. With a savage kick the blood witch was sent off his blade in a spray of blood.

Taka panted as he coughed again from the exertion. Bowing slightly he cleaned his blade before re sheathing it and spoke, "May you rot in Jigoku." He then hobbled back to his home, trusting his instincts as night had finally embraced the land, even as the moon began its climb. When he reached the edge he looked and saw the three boys waiting at the edge of the clearing, even as Taka continued to bleed from wounds within and without. Coughing more he made his way back tot he house before he spoke sternly, "Now get, I need to rest."

[Paradox]

"Here! Pass't over here!" The boyish outcry echoed through the cityscape, startling the lanky Shylan into reality as he passed over Radasanth's erratic cobblestone in deep self-contemplation. Slightly confused, his broad-brimmed hat spun left and right, guiding his eyes along the slate, one-story buildings that lined the narrow alleyway. He noticed that he'd strayed a little bit too far to the east, bending away from the main road to his destination, the merchants' quarter. Shrugging off the high-pitched shout, he turned around, preparing to backtrack and make the proper turn northward. He halted when the air swathed him with far-off laughter. In travelling, he'd heard many different laughs, seen many different smiles, but the echoes further east sounded pure unlike any innocence he'd ever beheld, like bells on the lips of newborn angels.

Olbrand sighed, scratching the woolly hair on his jawline as he stood still, indecisive. The childrens' avid voices grazed at his eardrums as though to persuade him, and in this they performed admirably. Half-grimacing, the Shylan spun around his axis once more, this time setting foot in the direction of the impassioned sounds, deciding that the shops of tomorrow would have as many new canteens and gourds to choose from as those of today, and it wasn't as though he'd be leaving this humongous city any time soon. Thereby, he'd had spent woefully little time actually enjoying himself since he had left home five years ago. Home. Haidia. You never heard the children smile back in the wastes. He quickened his pace, casting off the bleak memory as he rounded the corner into a small, rectangular square, with five children gathered in its midst.

They did not notice the adult that had just invaded their blissful sanctuary, for the gaze of each infant was inevitably drawn toward the blobby, half-solid ball that flew and rolled all around the venue, bouncing off walls and feet in such high tempo that Olbrand found it hard to believe that there was actually any point to their activity. The nervous, scrawny boy standing with his back against the far wall suggested that the ultimate goal of each child in the field was to place the ball against the wall between the two loose stones left and right of the goalkeeper. Although it was apparently forbidden to touch the ball with one's hands, the youngsters found enough use for their upper bodies in bashing their opponents away, or grabbing them by the neck when they did manage to slip by. Since they were all bearing tatters in different shades of dirt grey, Olbrand couldn't see whether it was every man for himself or if there were teams of some sort. He quickly got an answer when the single girl on the field, frail but swift as a Haidian ringsnake, subtly placed the ball against the wall, the lithe frame of the keeper diving into the dust one second too late.

"Great goal, Pez!" One of the boys exclaimed, from which Olbrand gathered that they'd been on the same side for the course of the game. The girl named Pez received a rather rude hug from her single teammate, which she only half answered before locking eyes with the observant orbs beneath the rim of the Shylan's hat. Although his expression was blank, Olbrand could not help but feel concerned as he viewed the girl's ghastly features. She might have grown into a pretty woman, had she not looked so underfed and insomniac, with dark circles underneath her eyes. There was a smile on her lips, though, worriless as one would expect from her young age. The Shylan quickly adjusted his judgment of the quintet; these were probably children of poor families, not simply street urchins as he'd first assumed. As his eyes left Pez's face, he noticed that the four others, too, were looking at him in silence. The ball, after rebounding off the wall harshly, rolled to perfect stillness, inches away from his left foot.

"G'day, boys 'n gal," he started rather weakly in his heavily accented version of Common, as though his tongue choked on the 'g'. The outlandish greeting elicited a burst of stymied laughter from the younglings, and it sounded genuine, though Olbrand could not help but feel the sleek rapier sheathed by his side helped much in averting the childrens' ridicule. Not about to be intimidated by mere children, his posture took on stricter form as he asked why they weren't in school. It was still early afternoon, after all, and as far as the Shylan had gathered from his short sojourn in Corone's major city, education for youngsters stretched into early evening, if only to keep them from causing trouble out on the streets. He judged the five in front of him fourteen, maybe fifteen winters young, but definitely no more. His question was met with more rejoiceful giggles.

"Ish no skool todai!" the burliest boy happily informed him, the roughness in his language making Olbrand wonder whether any day was school for the kid. "Teacher'sh sick."

The Shylan snickered inaudibly. Of course, the disease of their mentors would make any schoolgoers smitten with joy, especially on a day like this, when the weather felt as perfect as the prospect of an afternoon full of hilarious ball games.

Somehow, his amused reaction startled the kids slightly, as though he were about to reveal that he was their replacement tutor for the day. Seconds of increasingly uncomfortable silence passed. The Shylan's eyes jumped between the fidgety group and the soft, round object at his feet.

"So," he grumbled dryly, half a grin plastered between his facial hair, "any of ye kids care to explain how this here game works?" And he placed the tip of his leather boot over the ball.

[Inkfinger]

I got a little carried away, I think, but ah well. Hooray for sneaking backstory in! Leads almost directly into Byzantine (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17778)

Cael Inkfinger sat on a bench in the outside gardens of the Cathedral of St. Denebrial, blowing on his hands. The Gardens were kept warm and lush by the Aeromancers, true, but the warmth didn’t instantly remove the cold from his bones. He had to do that the old fashioned way – the way that involved a lot of rubbing and blowing and hoping his feet warmed before the cold set into his scarred and damaged bones and left him stiff and cranky for a week.

His body was not making a graceful adjustment from the time spent in Corone and Scara Brae back to winter. The events in those lands may not have been wonderful – may have, in fact, been entirely terrible – but at least they hadn’t turned his fingers blue beneath the ink.

There were children racing ‘round the garden; a motley trio, varying in age and species just enough that Cael felt safe making the assumption that they were from a school visiting the Cathedral who had managed to slip their tutors, or the charges of some religious order, cut loose while their guardians spoke inside. It wasn’t anything he lost time thinking over – they were there, laughing and teasing one another on the paths through the flowers; he was here, sprawled on a bench like an overgrown teenager, half-asleep with the comfortable warmth – as he waited for his brother.

Why, exactly, Ludvik wanted to see him was bothering him. The older man knew his opinions on this country – monarchy and an almost fanatical devotion to a Saint were not Cael’s cup of tea, so to speak – so to ask him here, to Knife’s Edge, was a bit of a stretch. A several thousand miles worth of a stretch.

There was a shriek, followed shortly by a splash.

By the time he turned around (already knowing exactly what he’d see) the tallest of the children was hurriedly fishing the smallest out of the decorative fountain. The little one – a young, feline looking thing that Cael didn’t even recognize, more cat than a Nekojin – had burst into tears that were rather disproportionate to falling in a fountain; her ears flat to her head, her tail and fur spiking exactly like a housecat’s. Her slate grey robe clung to her like a second skin – second fur? – and her nose was running.

Cael chuckled, shaking his head as he watched. It reminded him of his brothers – somehow, he (being the youngest) had always wound up being the one in the pool, or fountain, or stream…

Motion beyond the fountain caught his eye, and – as he watched – he caught a glimpse of a tall, broad-shouldered man, one of the types that it was difficult to guess an age. He may have been younger than Cael, may have been older, with a thick curtain of long, pale-blond hair. He wore gleaming, gold-plated mail over deep crimson robes, and he seemed to float when he walked. He approached the children – the two older trying to soothe the younger, or at least stop her caterwauling – with a smile on his smooth calm face.

It was that face that made Cael sit up and listen, instantly suspicious, hand reaching for his sheathed naginata. He’d seen an expression like that before, not too long ago. His leg panged as if in response. He tried to ignore it so he could pay attention.

“Hello, children,” the man’s voice was measured, as silken as the expression on his face. His common had no accent, Cael noted with some jealousy. “Is everything all right?”

“She fell in the fountain, mister.” The second youngest, a little human boy, said, politely enough, though he was clearly angling to step on the oldest’s foot. The oldest – an Orc girl who still couldn’t be more than ten – elbowed him back. Hard. “Kili pushed h-oomph, stop that!” Kili just stuck a vibrant green tongue out at him.

The too-polished man smirked, but it wasn’t a very friendly smirk; it was more as if he were laughing at some private joke. He held a graceful hand out to the little girl, nodding at the boy with mock solemnity. “How about we take your…sister, is it? And find her a new set of clothes?”

Cael was on his feet before the sentence finished, arthritic joints moving faster and smoother than he would have thought possible as he skidded across the stone path and –with the aid of his pole-arm - vaulted a bank of flowers, landing hard on the path behind the group. He staggered to catch his balance, leaning hard on the naginata, before he snagged the back of the little cat-girl’s robes, pulling her back before she could take the other man’s hand. His blue eyes narrowed to angry slits, voice rough with anger and the pain from his foot.

“Get away from them.”

The other man’s face barely moved; if it wasn’t for the ugliness lurking behind the flinty-green of his eyes, Cael would have almost felt driven to apologize. Marvelous – he’s a magic user. Is there such a thing as charisma spells?

“Why?” He purred, voice still warm and sleek; if voices were cats this one would be large and glossy black, with claws like razors. “Since when is it against the law to help lost children?”

“Since,” Cael ground out, shoving the little cat girl behind him and beckoning for the other two. The pair exchanged glances before hurrying to join their sister. He thanked whoever was listening up there for that small blessing, holding the naginata between him and the strange man. “I don’t think y’r ‘xactly gonna give ‘em anythin’ they need, love.” And I’ll be damned if I let it happen again

The man before him just stared before he tossed his head back, laughing. The laugh seemed to make the already-light garden lighter, as lively as a mountain stream. Cael felt the little cat girl take a step forward; barely noticed the other two children grab her arms, apparently frightened by the turn of conversation. He praised them silently, shrugging out of his jacket and passing it to the boy.

“Give her that, little one.” His eyes flickered to Kili’s black, relieved to realize whatever effect that man’s voice had on her surrogate sister didn’t seem to have the same power over her. She just nodded – Cael turned, taking a step back when the other man moved toward the group.

“They’ve been left here. By themselves. In a church, love.” The patronizing term of endearment sounded a thousand times better – and yet a thousand times worse – on the other man’s lips. “Clearly someone doesn’t want them anymore…”

“Not true!” Kili spat out behind him, helping her brother drape Cael’s coat over the younger girl, who was almost lost in the silver-and-blue folds, just her shivering face visible. Cael swallowed a pang of nausea, tried to transmute it to anger at this scum. “Mother Lei is here to speak with…” Her forehead creased in thought. “…someone, she’ll be back soon.”

Cael nodded back at the Orc-girl, without moving his eyes, sneering at the other man. “See?” I won’t let this happen again, I’ll do better this time, I won’t just rely on rumors…. They’re wanted, y’ bugger off, or I go an find a gua-”

The other moved so fast Cael barely saw it. A mail-clad shoulder drove into the shaft of his naginata seconds before both the hardened wood of the weapon and the polished metal of his attacker’s armor rammed into his stomach. His breath left in one concussive gasp as he fell backwards, head slamming into the pavement of the path.

Everything went dark between the stars; everything went dim other than three howls of anger.

...failed again…

And then even those left.


---

It was cold the last time, too. Cold and windy and snowing…and dark, so very dark. Cael could still feel the burn of the rope around his arms and his neck. He could still feel the unwanted, hot hands on his face. He could still feel the sensations of walking through the village; still feel the imprint on the back of his head where he’d been hit.

He’d rather feel all of those forever than feel what he suspected came next.

The scribe had never planned for any of this. Yeah, it had been a good rumor. Yes, it would have ruined the man for a few months, until the minds of the villagers – the minds of the fiefdom – were washed clean by a winter. Until it was proven wrong. Then they’d just…let it go, and by that time he’d been long gone with the money he’d got to start the stupid rumor in the first place.

There had just been one snag. He’d never expected that rumor to be true. And now he couldn’t block the sound of the child crying from his mind…

Even with the cliff at his back.

He knelt there in the snow, hands tied behind his back, head bowed. This wasn’t what he’d had planned at all, wasn’t anything like it was meant to be. He was bruised, he was bloodied and now, in all likelihood, he was about to die. He’d had to listen…he’d had to hear...he’d…

Gods above he was an idiot. He should have seen it – never have trusted. Just told the proper authorities and let it go. Maybe then he wouldn’t be in this mess

“Caelric?” The man – Krueger - knew his full name. Somehow, there weren’t enough words to say how wrong that was. Cael blinked up at him, managing a sickly scowl. “Ah, good. You’re awake.” Cael nodded, once. The motion made his head swim. "Good." He said again, bending down and latching one strong hand through Cael's hair, bending his head back. Cael bit back a yelp as Krueger snarled in his face, breath rancid with old alcohol. "You screwed it all up, Cael. You and your stupid stories. Didn't it ever hit you that sooner or later you'd hit on a real one?" Cael just bit his lip against the yanking pain in his hair.

"Too late for that, I guess." Krueger jerked his hand free, shoving him backwards. Cael flailed, falling flat on his face, but not over the cliff, eyes squeezed shut. He heard harsh laughter, but didn't dare open his eyes. He didn't want to see, didn't want to know...just didn't. He kept them shut tight when hands hooked under his arms, jerking him back to his knees.

He never saw which, exactly, of the men delivered the kick that did send him over the edge.

But later on, in his nightmares, he was kinda glad of that.


---

Cael woke with a gasp, sitting up far too fast. The room swam - room? Since when was he in a room? - before his eyes as he looked around desperately, not really sure what he was looking for. The children? His attacker? Krueger and his henchmen, three years later? He didn't see any of it. Just the inside of what looked like an infirmary. He managed to stop the room from moving through sheer force of will, knuckles white with his grip on the mattress.

He didn't see what he was expecting.

What he did see was his brother, sitting on the end of the bed, arms crossed. He was smirking.

Cael found his voice. "What happened?"

"You pissed off some foreign tourist." Ludvik answered without preamble. "Good going with that." Cael's mouth dropped open, ready to launch on a wave of protests when Ludvik snickered, holding up a hand. "Don't, just don't. He's been here before, we've had complaints about him before, but never...caught him in the act." He grimaced. "I think this time we can actually get him banned from the grounds...If not hunted down and killed."

"Good." Neither man was joking. Cael stared down at the bedspread, feeling an odd almagamation of elated and sick, not wanting to think about the memories, his failure. His punishment. Ludvik reached out a pale hand, dropping a thin card on the bed.

"They left you a message. The kids were the charges of some convent or other, uh. Sisters of Diligent Charity or something. They say they owe you. If you hadn't been there..." He trailed off without really looking at Cael.

Probably imagining Lilja or Heidi... The thought of his nieces in that situation made his head hurt, made him want to take his naginata and...he forced the homicidal feeling to subside through sheer force of will, only letting a mild "Huh," slip out. He took the card, flipping it over. The handwriting on it was thin, spidery, as if the hand that had held the pen was old. "Well, glad I could help..." If only a little.

"Yeah..." Ludvik eyed him. "Y'gonna tell me what you were dreaming about?"

Cael just played with the card, staring at the thin, green-ink letters. So I couldn't save that child. Maybe now I've repaid part of the debt...

"Well? How about it? get it off your chest?"

The offer was tempting, but the burden was his right now. Cael just looked at his brother, and shook his head.

"No."

There might be time for that later.

Maybe.

Ludvik just sighed. "Right, then, I had something else I needed to talk to you about..."

[AdventWings]

Phew! That certainly took me a long while to finally come around to this! While the entries were few, I certainly was not disappointed.

Either way, here is the result for September's Vignette Contest!

#1 - Inkfinger!

While the story was rather long, the quality and creative twists was not immediately seen. What caught my attention was how you connected this event with the one in your past... A grim realization that you used as a motivator to not retreat to inaction. I... Feel sorry for the little werecat girl, though. *Sniff*

#2 - Tainted Bushido!

Admittingly, TB and Inkfinger both took similar approaches to the prompt. And truth be told, that certainly gave me a hard time deciding which one was the better of the two.

TB's story, after careful read-through, portrayed an almost ritualistic approach to the story. An injured party seeks shelter, the experienced swordsman goes out to slay the evil demon. Fighting ensues, the good guy slips up and sets himself up for the demon to finish him. Then, at the last moment, an almost poetic counterattack with his lightning-fast attack. Then the swordsman goes back to the way things were.

It's a tried and true formula, one which this one did not deviate far from its core movements. Not bad, although a bit too predictable at times. (Especially for a guy who's passtime involves subtitled Japanese Animation.)

#3 - Paradox!

Well, OK, you had a nice little "slice of life" scene depicting children playing among themselves. While a rather surprising twist in relation to the prompt since you interpreted "compelled to get involved" means engaging in their plays, I was hoping to see more interaction with the children rather than a distant observation. Nonetheless, the setup is remarkable for further character developments.

Thank you to all three participants! As I've said before, I was certainly not disappointed.

Inkfinger receives 100 EXP and 100 GP
Tainted Bushido receives 100 EXP and 75 GP
Paradox receives 100 EXP and 50 GP

And to conclude this month's contest, a Vignette of my own:

~~~

How long...?

How long have I been here...?

Biting winds tugged at my jacket as I trodded through a field of snow, threatening to lift away the smallest of remaining comfort against the unkind forces of the winter night. The sound of crunching snow was the only thing I could hear above the deafening silence, the effect was only enhanced by the endless expanse of white rolling hills stretching as far as eternity could go.

It was an odd experience. I was only a pilot for a space fighter, but an engine problem crash-landed me onto this... Weird world. Electronics didn't seem to function properly and the last time I managed to contact my rescue team ended without any proper identification. I reckoned that the away team would have the Valkyrie's wreckage salvaged and hauled back to the Battlecruiser Pride of Felasia in orbit by now... But that still left me unaccounted for in this blizzard-covered land.

Shit, this place is freezing.

Sheesh... I could use a good cup of coffee right about now... Eh?

I had forgotten how long I had walked, but the first thing that I saw was something I had not seen for many nights on end. It was just barely a speck in the distance, a flickering yellow glow that would certainly not be a natural occurance in weather such as this. It danced in my eyes, an alluring intangible object that did not fail to register a wonderfully tangible sensation within.

I'm... SAVED!

It was a campfire. Definitely a campfire. There was no way it could have willed itself into existence, however, and I was hoping it was not an illusion as I threw myself headlong for the warmth of the fire, traversing the barrier of knee-deep snow as a madman would only know.

From a distance the landscape was an unimpressive sheet of white, although the closer I came to the fire the more details I could glean from my destination. It was a house - or what used to be one. All that remained were some untoppled walls and a few charred remains. The fire danced through what used to be a window, but I was too elated to notice anything out of the ordinary.

Of course, by the time I noticed her, I was already sitting on my knees and warming my hands over the fire. And it took me anther few minutes afterwards to realize I was staring at the campfire's owner who peered at me with emotionless eyes.

I merely blinked.

"...Ah... I come in peace?"

I gulped. However, instead of the usual shriek of surprise or terror I was slowly becoming used to, the small deep blue eyes merely glanced at me intently and muttered a few barely audible syllables.

I tilted my head, wondering what she said.

***

Before I knew it, the two of us were on our way from the relative comfort of the deserted ruins of an abandoned house towards what seemed to be (by what the little girl was trying to say, apparently) a larger, more hospitable town. I was very surprised to find such a small kid out there in the bleak landscape, all alone by herself. It was odd, considering she looked no more than a twelve year old girl judging by her size. Although on the bright side, it also meant she was much lighter than I anticipated.

"...Ah..."

The little girl (Whom I've begun calling Little Miss to indicate I was speaking to her) muttered dryly, as if thirsting for sustenance. I glanced at her worriedly, hoping the lass would not leave for the far plane before we would arrive at our proposed destination. I was unfamiliar with the terrain at all, but at least I could still walk. Little Miss, on the other hand, seemed to know the area well, if not a little too tired to walk a single step further.

The howling wind blew against our bodies and I froze to the spot, shivering in the exposed coldness of the winter night. I wondered if Little Miss was also falling victim to the winter air as well for she clung to my back, digging her face into the nook between my neck and shoulder.

Ah... If this was Karen instead... My mind drifted as warmth spread, tingling my senses into euphoria. Gak! Dammit, snap out of it! Happy thoughts, not dirty! Bad!

I mentally berated myself for thinking up such unethical thoughts with Little Miss still on my back. To think I could have imagined such an image about a little innocent girl. I felt so dirty...

But in all seriousness, I did notice something odd about her. There was this smell... A smell I could not really pin down. Perhaps it was because of the cold wind and the constant frost forming on the tip of my nose... But the smell reminded me of blood. No, it was probably just me.

"...Ngh... Nnn..."

Little Miss suddenly began moving restlessly and I jumped, a part of me dreading that she might have reached her limit. Just by luck I managed to find a string of glowing yellow lights on the horizon, perhaps belonging to the town she had been trying to steer me towards. With the little girl beginning to wrestle against herself more violently, I hastened my steps forward. My mind racing for an explanation, trying to figure out if she had a disease that required the town doctor to treat as soon as they could... Or even worse.

But the underlying need remained present no matter what outcome it could be: Little Miss must make it to town.

I barrelled into the city square, still carrying the Little Miss on my back and started shouting (in my own language, since I really wasn't thinking quickly enough) which attracted a lot of attention from the townfolks. Surprisingly, no one was asleep even though the moon was high in the sky and barely visible through the feathery white cloud above. Two people ran from their home and took the Little Miss, cradling her in their arms.

They must be her parents. I thought as weariness suddenly overtook me. I collapsed under the strain of the marathon, feeling lucky enough to simply just sit at the edge of the unused fountain in the middle of the square. Beats of sweat gathered under my black fur, but I was far from unhappy. Seeing a loving family reunited... It was more than enough to refresh my spirit.

Then, of course, I saw the father of the family roll up his sleeves and bare his muscular forearm. A gigantic question mark popped above my head, then shattered into an even more enormous exclamation mark when Little Miss bit hard into her old man's arm. Blood seeped from the wounds of the pierced skin which was quickly swallowed by the little girl...

My stomach turned, then realizing a similar story I had read of in a book back aboard the Battlecruiser's archives.

...Oh, shit.

A cold chill ran down my spine. My right hand instinctively clasped against the left side of my neck to check for wounds where Little Miss had snuggled during the short but arduous jouney, finding the supposed injury to be surprisingly absent.

...SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTT...

Color drained from my face upon the realization at how close I was to becoming a dead rug in the snow...

The parents seemed to be saying something which I could not understand, but judging from their tones they were either thankful or apologetic. I anxiously declined any offer they might have presented to me and immediately headed back out into the wilderness.

It's not that I don't like them... Erm, vampires, it's just that I would rather stay alive and warm-blooded a little more longer...

~~~

[Taskmienster]

exp and gp added!