A Lone Wolf

Elian’s hand darted, snatching the large fish from the sparkling waters of the lake. The sun was beginning its descent and would soon be hidden behind the vast mountain range. Light danced on the lake surface, reflecting off beautifully.

Elian tossed the fish into a sack with three others. He then turned his attention back to the water. Eyes darting, he soon picked out another fish; he could see almost as easily in darkness as a human could in the light, and in light five times better. He followed the fish’s path, and then threw his hand out. When he withdrew it, the fish was grasped there. He threw it in the sack with a satisfactory nod.

Elian rose then, and for a moment his features were fully revealed in the dying light. His pointed ears protruded from beneath his long, sleek black hair, his eyes were a piercing blue. Standing around five foot tall, he wore a long green hunting cloak over a brown tunic. His feet were clad in black hunting boots made from the hide of a boar. Elian was an elf.

Bending down, he picked up his longbow, slung the fish sack and his quiver of arrows over his shoulder and set off into the trees.

The forest of Thallinor spanned the lakeshore in its entirety, and went on for many leagues more after. Elian had travelled it so often that he knew its winding trails like the back of his hand. He would never, not even on the darkest night, lose his way.

His pointed ears tweaked at the sound of cracking wood. He rounded a bend on the trail and entered his camp. A bright fire burned, sparks flying, mingling with the fireflies in the air to form an intricately spellbinding dance. Elian glanced up over the fire to where Mera; his horse, was tethered next to his tent. She was a large, chestnut brown mare with a free flowing black mane. She had served him well throughout the years.

Elian threw the sack of fish on the ground, un-slung his quiver and laid his longbow down. He sat cross legged next to the fire, unsheathed his rapier and skewered one of the fish on its tip. He thrust it into the fire and the fish’s skin began to colour. The blade was resistant to all of the elements, and so was unaffected by the fire.

The smell of cooking fish roused the attention of some of the woodland creatures. A fox slunk from the trees and stayed back, eyeing Elian warily. Elian ignored it, and after a few moments it came and lay next to him. He smiled. Animals always accepted him where people didn’t. People rarely did.

Two thousand years ago, Elian had been exiled from his city. Shorty after, in a battle, he had suffered memory loss. He forgot the reason for his exile, the name of his city, and even its location. He could not remember anything of his former family or friends. It pained him that things were so, and he wished he could return. However, he would likely be put to death if he did. Since then, Elian had shunned society for the most part. He did not feel accepted in most places, and so, preferred a solitary existence.

Elian reached into the sack and tossed a raw fish to the fox. It happily began tearing into its flesh.

As he turned to gaze into the fire again, Elian’s thoughts turned to the world outside. King Vallinor had a reign of terror. He was viscous, and he terrorised the entire world. No one could stand in the storm that followed in his wake. He was relentless. Elian had chosen not to get involved in the affairs of men, or those of other races, but the king’s reign threatened everyone. Elian, like so many others, fought his own private battle for survival. He constantly moved, never staying in one place for more than two nights. It was a dangerous world out there, and he was a lone wolf within that world. While passing through places, Elian had heard tell of a prophecy; one which documented the rise of a hero to overthrow King Vallinor and restore peace and order to the land of Aissur, once and for all.

Elian took his fish from the fire and bit into it, the warm juices filling his mouth. Somewhere deep in the woods a wolf howled. Elian ignored it and headed to his tent to sleep.




The following morning Elian cleared up camp. He left no trace of his passing behind as he set off deeper into the trees on Mera’s back.

The End

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