The heat, laughter and music thrashing happily in the air were foreign to the boy, in fact, his entire town seemed a lot more foreign than he remembered it: The smell of exotic spice and seemed to drift lazily amongst the smell of bloomed Thernlin's, suspiciously dark skins laughed over flasks of ale, unlike the usual snow skins that silently appreciated delicate glasses of wine. The ashes of a large bonfire fought furiously against the star sprinkled sky before burning away. He watched cautiously as a suspiciously dark skin approached him, she talked clumsily at him, some words slurred and all words not understood; it was a bizarre, clumsy and eerily familiar dialect and he didn't like it at all,

"Please, leave me alone filth-skin." He replied, she cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, her dirt-brown eyes scanned him suspiciously up and down. Then she said something he understood,

"Elfin! Elfin!" The sound of disturbed barstools and disgruntled growls filled the air and suddenly he was reminded of the ferocity of the past battle, the sound of the barbaric languages as they approached the walls, the falsely alluring smell of spice and the growling sea of filth coloured skins marching menacingly upon  his peaceful town.

No man in the captured town of Bein could've accurately described the actions of the emerald eyed boy on that glorious eve, though some would try, claiming he disappeared in a cloud of red smoke slaughtering a few innocents on the way, or that the confused boy simply defended himself valiantly against his aggressors, the truth was much less extravagant: He was scared, terrified of the shadowy beings that approached him, embellished by the roaring light of the bonfire, he closed his eyes and drew the short blade at his hip. Like a cornered animal he panicked, lashing out with whatever he could, nails, legs, fists, a sword, it didn't matter, but it worked. Quickly the crowd of filth-skins had jumped back in confusion, anger and fear, leaving a gap for the fifty-year old boy to clamber through, he took the chance and scrambled down the flickering cobblestones.

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Author guidance for This story

Change of heart in this story, I think our "protagonist" will stay anonymous for as long as possible and I'll probably change the perspective of the "bad guys"

updated Jul 17 '09 by CraziestToaster