Sunset
#1 of Sunset of Lies
You never really know what you have until you lose it they say. They also say that you should always cherish what you have because you don't know when it will disappear or leave. This early winter day, a lone black figure stood against the falling snow without anything or anyone. His life had been one of torment and of anguish. The rays of the sun reflected off the bright powder and mirrored on his dark red eyes.
He had never know family or of possessions or of anything other than the darkness of human beings. Everywhere he had gone the people spurned him based upon his appearance, calling him 'monster' and 'demon'. He had learned by that time to act like they where nothing, as if he couldn't hear them, but down inside all the comments had left a deep, never healing wound that bled anger and sadness.
His eyes looked from the city to the horizon behind him. No one there had given him anything. No one there would even look at him with the smallest amount of pity. They tossed insults and threw stones. Even the city priest had feared him and tried to call up the 'wrath of god' upon this 'devil spawn'. All he had ever wanted was to be accepted, to be received with kindness.
He took his first step forward. This city, along with all the others, would be burned in his memory forever. The crunch of snow was the only sound to be heard for miles around, him being the only one unwise enough to travel in the winter cold. He had no choice, it was his only way to stay alive. He laughed at himself for his stupidity. How the hell was this supposed to keep him alive?
He shrugged as he kept heading for the setting sun. All around him was just a wasteland of snow. He didn't know where he was heading and he didn't even care. The only safe place he knew of was his own mind. There he could be himself and imagine his life as he wanted. He had concocted his own images of perfection. He could be 'normal' in the eyes of the would, not how he looked right now. No fur, pointed ears, or tail.
His other image of perfection was that the entire world looked like him, then he would never be tormented again. But that was all he ever thought of; that was what he brooded on through the sleepless nights and aid-less days that had become all too common. He looked up from his feet and into the setting sun that was barely visible through all the falling snow. How he had become like this he never knew and it was his firm belief that he would never know.
He sighed. He wondered how long until the next village or city. He wondered about his past. He wondered about where his travels would take him. He wondered if he would ever meet anyone like him. He wondered about many things before the sun rolled over the horizon bathing the sky in a sea of darkness.
The stars had become his friends for they could listen to his anger and his sadness but, most importantly, they would listen to his longing; his longing for acceptance. He gazed up into the heavens and there the first twinkle of the stars shown through the thick blanket of snow. At least his eyes gave him better vision.
The stars grew brighter as the snow grew softer and softer, shining as if they were a teardrops of diamond. Soon, as the snow slowly stopped, millions upon millions were upon the blanket of night as if someone were poking holes through it with a needle.
As he looked back down upon the horizon he saw that the next village had appeared already. Night had fallen soon because of the shortened days and the year's end drawing near, celebrating 17 years of his existence. He didn't truly know his birthday. All he knew was that his earliest memory was of awakening on the street at the year's end
As he drew near he saw that a forest near the village had been hidden because of the snow. To his mild satisfaction the ground beneath the trees had remained untainted by snow. It was better than being in town and being beaten by even the beggars. He sat down beneath a pine and pulled his knees up to his chest in a feeble attempt at staying warm. He blew into his paws and wrapped them around his body.
Leaning his head against the tree behind him he tried to sleep and found that he was tired for once and that sleep was finally coming easy. Before he slept, he pulled the cloak around his lupine form closer to himself just incase someone would happen upon him.
As the first rays of the dawn approached he looked down upon the small village, contemplating whether or not to interrupt its blissfulness. He looked back down to the ground in weary resignation as he heaved himself from the cold dirt. He had to find food somewhere or, at the very least, steal some. As much as he hated it, he couldn't go on forever without sustenance. Dusting himself off and pulling his hood back over his pointed black ears, he shuffled down the hill and into town.
The townsfolk stared at his suspicious figure as he treaded along the dirt path. The marketplace was populated with people and thus filled with stares and glances. The people tried to shuffle as well as they could around him but that was the least of what they could be doing. In his mind he gave a sigh of relief. Maybe no one here would bother to look at him closely or ask about his accent.
He walked up to one of the vendors and asked where he could find the village leader. The shopkeeper eyed him wearily and asked him why he wanted to know. He asked for directions again and added that it was of an urgent matter. The man questioned him no more and pointed down the street. With a mutter of thanks, he swept down the street and knocked upon the village elder's door.
When no one answered he politely knocked again. This time the door was answered by an older looking woman with graying hair and a faded burgundy dress. She asked how she could help him and he asked to see the village elder. She shook her head and said he was out on business and wouldn't be back for a few days. He cursed under his breath and asked if there was anyplace he could stay for free.
She asked if he was a beggar but he just looked at her with his crimson eyes and said nothing. He asked again. She said that it depended on whether or not he could work. Apparently some girl and her father had a workshop outside of town where the people out of work could come and work for food and housing. He thanked her as he did with the shopkeeper and drifted toward the southern entrance.
As he walked past a commotion on the street he tried weave his way over to see what was going on. He got hit in the shoulder by someone and his hood fell away to reveal his face. His blood ran cold.
"Hey! Watch where the you're going!" He yelled, then took a double take. "Hey! Wait a second you're one of those animal freaks!"
When he felt his hood come loose he had already darted down the path. Just as he had started running away, a white blur flashed by him.
A wild mob soon formed trying to kill him. After days of going without food, he wasn't in the best physical shape of his life and he had to throw them off quick otherwise he was dead. He darted down side alleys to throw them off and soon the murmur of the crowd died away along with their steady strings of insults and curses.
He sunk weakly down against the wall of a log cabin. The snow had started up again and he started to cough. He slammed his hands up against the raw timbers. This was what he wanted the least: to be trapped in a town and to be getting sick. He cursed and brought his knees up to his chest as he coughed again.
It didn't seem fair. Why had he been singled out of the millions of people to be like this? He sighed and looked back at what had just occurred. Something in the replay seemed out of place. Why had the man called him what he was? Was his case not isolated?
But he did not dare lull himself into a false sense of security. Not with so many hostile people nearby. He slowly got to his feet, using the house for balance, and looked down both ways of the street. He was pleased to see it was devoid of people and the occasional person was too busy to notice him. "Maybe I can pull this off...."
He slid out of the alleyway and noticed, to his relief, that the sun was sinking beneath the horizon. The darkness would help hide his lonely figure as it walked through the drifts of white snow. It also meant that his friends, the stars, would come out and greet him once more.
As he wondered toward the edge of town the houses started to slowly die away along with the hushed dialogue of the townspeople. The rumor of a monster attacking small children was something he had heard before, though he had never gleamed any information.... The only thing that caught his attention was a short and very vague description. White with golden eyes. Now what was that about?
He looked up to the sky and heaved a heavy sigh as he entered the snow filled countryside. There was a faint silhouette of a house with a small plume of smoke coming out of the chimney. He sighed. "This must be the place that woman was talking about."
Despite its appearance of being the close, house was actually quite a fair distance away and the sun had already set fully before he had reached the front door. He pulled his cloak tighter to prevent a repeat of what had happened in town. He reached up to knock on the door but, to his surprise, the door opened before his hand made contact.
"And just what do you want?" she asked him sharply. He just stood there and looked at her. She paused for a second.
"You're not the person I thought you were. Heh heh, Sorry." She moved to the side of the door, "It's probably more comfortable inside than out."
He nodded slightly and passed through the archway.
The inside of the house was brightly lit, basking in the light provided by the fire and the hanging lanterns. He felt warmth start to seep back into his cold limbs. As he sat down in a wooden chair at the table he heaved a sigh of relief. The girl sat across from him, head in her hands, staring intently at him.
He looked back at her. She seemed to be his age or a little younger. Her straight hair shown bright amber in the fire light while her eyes were a strange...gold? He shook the thought from his though immediately. "Just what are you looking at?" he asked flatly.
She laughed slightly. "I'm assessing you."
"Assessing?" he asked.
She nodded her head, "Yep."
"Uh huh. Why?"
She smiled slightly. "I think you'll do."
He didn't like that mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'll do for what?"
She sat up straight and sighed. "I'll be blunt stranger. I need your help with something."
He looked passed her into the fire.
"Why trust me?"
She leaned back in her chair and looked at the ceiling. "I have my own reasons."
He really didn't like where this was going. "I didn't come here to help you. I just need food and a place to sleep."
Her chair thudded back down to the earth. "Well I got a proposition for you, well, more of a threat really. If you don't help me I won't help you."
He looked back to her with daggers. "So that's how it's going to be?"
She stood up. "Yep, that's how it's going to be. Take my offer or get out of my house." He held the gaze putting all the rage he had behind it. Amazingly she didn't even flinch.
He let out a low whine. "Fine. I'll accept that," he said begrudgingly.
She smiled in victory. "Good." She stood up again this time extending her hand and a look of sympathy. "Look, I'm sorry I had to force you but...I had no choice. I'm sorry."
He snorted. "Yeah, right. Whatever." He stood up and walked over to his room.
"I mean it," she said. "Before you go hating me I'll promise to tell you what's going on tomorrow." She sat back down. " My name is Rondo."
He didn't even look back and closed the door before falling down to his knees. He let out a ragged breath. He started to cough again. So Rondo is her name, is it? Well I don't even know my name.... And with that thought he collapsed onto the floor
* * *
"Well that couldn't have any worse," she muttered under her breath as she put the body of this mysterious stranger on the feather mattress. She had come into his room that morning and what did she find? His cold and almost lifeless body. Great way to start a new day, she thought grimly. "Hm...I wonder what he looks like...." She sat down on the opposite side of the mattress.
This really couldn't have come at a worse time. She had a sick person her and her father had been kidnapped by bandits angry about how the town had slacked off their payments. Rondo shuddered. At least he escaped death unlike so many others. She looked out the window out to the snow-covered cemetery that had popped up behind their house. Her mother had died in that attack....
She held back her tears. Mother would have wanted me to be the strong, she thought. Rondo looked back down at the stranger. His hood did a marvelous job of hiding his face and she couldn't even see it. "Well, one little peek wouldn't hurt...I guess." She tentatively reached over. That's when she noticed not one part of his body wasn't hidden. He even wore strangely shaped gloves.
A feeling of apprehension gripped her. This scenario seemed awfully familiar. She took one of his arms and lifted it up, sliding the glove off his hand-paw.
"Oh dear...."
* * *
He looked around and found he couldn't see anything through the darkness. "What's going on here?" he yelled out loud, "Where am I!?"
Sinister laughter rang out all around him as a sharp pain ripped through his chest and he came down to his knees, the iron tang of blood in his mouth. The pain didn't let up and the laughter only doubled itself and he found himself lying down spread-eagled, the world becoming lighter as the laughter got closer.
This was it...
* * *
The soft beating of his heart...the slow but steady sound of his breathing. Light showed through his eyelids as he came back to awareness. But this light wasn't from that...dream. He slowly opened his eyes and the world flashed back into his sight like light at the end of a dark tunnel. He would have laughed at that if it didn't hurt him to breathe.
He turned his head and that's when he noticed he didn't have his hood or cloak on. He sat bolt upright despite the pain that stabbed at him. A young girl walked into the room. She wore a black cloak that covered her face and clashed magnificently with her bright white hair. He froze.
She spoke, her voice light and mild but with the commanding edge of someone years older. "Ms. Rondo expects you to be fully well within the coming day." She held out a clean pair of clothes along with a new cloak and hood. "You may wear these if you so wish or you may wear what you are now."
He slowly reached out to take the clothing and felt a chill shoot through him. He had the feeling the girl was watching him with intense interest. Her gaze felt like the summer sun against his black fur.
As he examined the clothes, she continued on. "I'm only available at certain times so please don't get too used to my presence." She started walking towards the door. "Ms. Rondo has gone out for a couple hours to restock her food supplies among other things. Please feel free to relax and recuperate." She laughed slightly, a sound that actually scared him. "You will need it."
She closed the door after her. Only when her footsteps faded away did he day let loose a sigh of relief. He looked at the door. "Just who or what was that anyway?" He shrugged the thought off, thinking that the knowledge was best left in the shadows.
He looked at his now unclothed arm. After wearing clothes that always hid his form, wearing a short-sleeved tunic and loose trousers felt somewhat...nice. He turned his attention back to the clothing he had received. There was another long-sleeved tunic that was black, in comparison to the white one he was wearing, white trousers, some special leather boots that told him Rondo had indeed seen his true form, a black over cloak with crimson embroidery (probably to match my eyes he thought with sarcastic tone), and finally a hood with crimson embroidery as well.
On the top of the pile were two specialized leather gloves and a note. The note was slightly crinkled and the writing was crooked as though she had struggled to write it for some reason.
He read it aloud. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience and the implications this might have caused," he rolled his eyes and continued reading, "but sometimes things like this happen. I suppose I should have kept to myself and not worried-"
He snorted. "Like hell you're sorry." He crumpled up the letter and threw it against the wall.
It was then he was aware once more of the stabbing pains running through him. His entire body shook, he felt faint and light-headed as the entire room went white. He collapsed back onto the bed with the soft rustling of linen his vision spinning erratically.
"I-is this the way I-I'm go-ing t-t-to d-d-die...?" he asked silently, the words just barely able to pass from his mouth.
He heard the sound of a door unlocking as though far away; the sound of it on creaking hinges. It sounds like an ancient wooden door, he thought. Am I passing into oblivion? He would have snickered in dark humor if it didn't feel like his body was on fire. He thought he heard a woman singing a sad lullaby as the world grew darker.
Before he passed out he saw a young boy.
* END OF SECTION ONE *