In a village with tall walls, winter descends; gentle but firm. You sit on the side of a road. An empty bowl in hand, but you don't possess the energy to beg. Hollow cheeks and sunken eyes tell the people out and about how long it's been since you've eaten. So they pass by; either too unfortunate to help themselves, let alone another person, or just unwilling. You don't watch the faces moving by, choosing instead to look at your hands growing darker from the cold.

Then a pair of boots stops in front of you.

"When's the last time you ate?" the voice belonging to the boots asks. You slowly shake your head. You don't know. "Can you stand?" the boots ask again. A quick look to your short legs, exposed and numb in the cold air and shake your head again. Strong arms embrace you, lifting your small frame off the hard ground. Light as a feather you're carried somewhere unknown. Having been so long since you've felt a warm body, your eyes close.

When they open, you're wrapped in a blanket, clean, unlike your clothes. A fireplace ablaze warms a cozy room. The pair of boots walk in and set a plate of stew and bread before you. "It's been a while since you've eaten, so only soft stuff for you. Otherwise, you might tear your stomach. And we wouldn't want that now, would we?" A chuckle is met with silence. Skinny arms struggle to bring food to your mouth. You eat in silence watching the flames dance.

"Ready to get washed up?" Dinner is finished. You nod slowly. "Good." You're carried to another room. The tub of water sitting above a small kindling is the only furnishing. A whispered incantation and a gesture of the thumb and sparks flash, lighting a tiny fire under the tub. You're lowered into the warming water, and gentle hands wash away weeks of filth.

Dressed in a shirt far too big for you. "We'll get you some proper clothes in the morning. For now, get some sleep." The strong arms lay you in a soft bed, and wrap the blanket snug. "Good night." The door closes. Lying on a bed softer than anything you've ever felt, freshly clean, and a belly full of food, sleep finds you quickly.

Gentle hands rouse you from slumber, carrying you to the marketplace, protected from the early morning cold by the blanket you refused to let go of. Purchasing more form-fitting clothes, the return home passes by the spot where you were just last night.

Days pass and you can stand again, always walking around with the blanket. Color has returned to your skin and an appetite for heavier food. Your caretaker laughs at your horrendous eating habits.

"You need the meat on your bones, not around your mouth," the smile across the table often says and you often laugh.

Spring comes and you're a healthy weight. Running around the house and the village, with a smile and the blanket in your hand. No longer a homeless little beggar, people greet you, responding to the recent light in your eyes. One day, out on an errand with your caretaker, an announcer comes to the marketplace. "All able bodies are to assist the Crown's Army in a hunt for a Drake! It will commence in five days time! Weapons and armor will be supplied for those without! By order of the Crown!"

"You know, I moved here to avoid things like this. But I guess nowhere's safe from the whims of our ruler."

The next day, you wake to the sound of wood clacking against wood. Dragging the blanket, you see your caretaker. Taking practice swings with a stick on a hastily made dummy.

"Did I wake you?" You nod. "Sorry, just want to make sure I'm not too rusty." With a strong slash, the dummy falls over. "Though, I suppose a Drake would put up a better fight than this. Think you could do better?" You nod again.

A stick lands at your feet and you ready the weapon. "Lesson one: a good stance is everything." A boot pushes your feet apart. "Lesson two: always keep your sword between you and your opponent. Never let it go." A quick incantation is said, vines sprout from the ground and wrap around your teacher's wrist and the stick. "Lesson three: know where you're going to swing." The sticks collide, the lesson continues, and you acquire a taste for swordplay.

But the days and the lessons pass by too quickly before your caretaker leaves into town. Your blanket makes a poor disguise as you follow. Hiding in the carriage intended for the hunters, concealing yourself under the seats next to some equipment. A total of five hunters pile in, unaware of their extra cargo. You overhear the voice of your caretaker. "Okay, we stick together, corner the beast, and when the Crown's Army arrives we'll surround it and attack from the sides."

"Easier said than done."

"It'll be fine, we've got a Caster with us."

"Yeah? You ever fought a Drake before?"

"I never fought anything before. This is my first time out of the village."

"Gods above."

"Well, I've fought plenty of times. Stay close to me, and you'll be fine." The hunters, done with the pep talk fall silent as the Caster recites a long incantation. A strong wind pushes the carriage, propelling it to the Drake's lair.

You've been silent all this time but dust tickles your nose, and no longer able to hold it in you sneeze. A hunter pulls you from under the seat.

"What are you doing here?!"

"I reckon the kid wanted to see a Drake, amiright?" You nod.

"Please don't encourage this behavior."

"Should we turn around?"

"We don't have time, the Crown's Army is expecting us. 'Sides the beast might leave soon and I sure as seven hells don't feel like tracking it." An angry finger points at you.

"You stay right here. Understand?" You nod.

The sound of splintering wood bursts before your world starts to spin. The wagon rolls over twice before coming to a rest. You and the hunters stumble out the wreckage to come face-to-face with the sought after Drake. Razor sharp teeth greet you with a hideous snarl that shakes your bones. The hunters scramble to get into some semblance of formation.

"GET BEHIND ME!" a rapid incantation is shot off and a gust of wind pushes the Drake back. The hunters advance and you retreat to some bushes. Swords clang on shields to harass the ears of the large lizard. The horrid creature swings a massive tail narrowly dodged by the hunters.

"THAT WAS TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT!"

"KEEP TOGETHER! WE ALMOST HAVE IT CORNERED!" They continue to press the beast back, its scales rubbing against a large boulder. Its sharp claws dig into the rock to make an escape, foiled by a sword slicing through a tendon. A loud thud of the earth and the Drake falls on its back.

"WE CAN KILL IT NOW!"

"STAY BACK YOU FOOL!" But the fool rushes forward, eager to claim the glory of the kill. The Drake inhales and spews forth a torrent of flame that incinerates the young would-be hero. The scream of anguish is drowned out by the roaring fire. The Caster creates an air pocket to protect the remaining hunters. The river of flames glides harmlessly over the bubble, scorching the earth around it.

With a hacking cough the Drake relents, struggling to stand up on its injured leg, it attempts to escape again. The hunters pursue it, their blades seeking weak points on the beast. A slice through its webbed wing and the Drake slams an arm into the hunter responsible. A stab to an ankle, the swing of a tail claims the lives of two hunters. The Caster stands alone against the monster.

All the fire the Drake has to offer is split by blades of air. Flames are the only thing keeping the Caster at bay, and being nimble keeps the Drake from crushing its foe. A claw, too quick to dodge, tears through cheap armor. Blood spills onto the ground. You're unable to hold in your gasp and the Drake hears it. Fear paralyzes you as the beast limps over. Its maw opens wide, jagged teeth and a slithering tongue are all you can see.

"HEY! YOUR FIGHT IS WITH ME!!!" A defiant voice yells beyond the horrific view you have.

The Drake turns in time to see a gust of wind propel the Caster into an arc that plunges a sword into its throat. Only anchoring vines keep the Caster from slipping as the beast thrashes around, the opening in its neck getting wider. In a last act of violence, the Drake flings its slayer away. A sickening thud comes from the tree the Caster hits.

The great lizard falls over to drown in its own blood. Free from the grasp of terror, you run as fast as your legs can manage. Tears well up in your eyes, your hands shake while trying to keep pressure on the large wound. A low incantation is said, vines sprout from the earth to dress the cut as best they can.

"Don't worry, the Crown's army will be here soon. It'll be okay. Just lift me up, will you?" You try, the weight is too much for your arms. "It's fine. It's fine, this is enough. Don't worry." In the interest of saving strength, there are no more soothing words.

The Caster, your caretaker, dies in your arms sometime after nightfall. The Crown's army didn't come.

You are alone, again.

Part 1 End