Messenger by Miega  

A Figure in the Dark

Night comes, and the stars with it. Feet pound against dark earth as a figure, wreathed in inky blackness, sprints across the open plain, eyes glowing like a lightning bug. A cloak swirls around them, blending into the night. From the north, a putrid stink is carried on the wind, and the cloaked figure slows for a moment, hesitating, before picking back up at an even more hurried pace, disappearing into the wood.

Dawn comes over the meadow, rays of sunlight touching the dew-strewn grass, and making it sparkle like crystal. The ground is rent asunder, blood and mud slicking the grass. In the light from the rising sun, the figure who crossed the plain the night before can be seen lying against a tree, pale and fair-haired, with blood staining a large cut on their side. Around them, four beasts lie dead, their crude weapons imbedded in their flesh. 

Hours later, a group of horsemen in gold and silver livery come riding out of the forest on grand horses, fair faces exuding splendor like the sun. They circle once, noting the beasts as dead, before noticing the figure sitting against the tree. They dismount, fair faces carrying expressions of worry. The figure wears a cloak pin, with a red hawk clutching an arrow - a messenger from one of the villages nestled in the foot of the misty mountains, though not one the riders are familiar with. 

The riders gently pick up the figure; they’ll heal them, and hear their message before sending them back to their village. Their real concern is for the beasts. They should not be roaming this close to their hidden valley, and yet they are nearby. 

Chapter End Notes

Ok, so, I'm planning on eventually adding a second part to this, but I probably won't.