World War Turmoil

Prologue

June 6th, 1902.

Amber sunlight bleached the bright pink sky in the West, which blended like wet ink into a soft heliotrope all over. The surrounding trees started to lose their colour, darkening into shadowy figures. The lean, crooked branches extended in all directions— a reminder of eerie monsters.

Nyssa inhaled one last breath of the savannah air, filled with the sweet scent of grass and precipitation. She rose up— taking one last gaze at the sky— and trudged through the mud and tallgrass towards the wooden shack a few meters away.

Lions roared in the distance which reverberated through the ground. A flock of swallow-tailed kites glided above. Suddenly, a strong, ghastly scent hit her like a wave. A pack of hyenas feasted on the carcass of what looked like a buffalo. There were so many flies— it quite literally looked like a black cloud— that it felt as though the buzzing was right in her ears.

She scrunched her face. "Disgusting!" She muttered under her breath.

She turned away from the sight and proceeded to her shack. But first things first...

"Hi Turbo!" She greeted the chocolate brown mare in the small, yet fitting stable she assembled, petting her with a grin. Turbo replied with a neigh and a rather pleased expression.

Nyssa chuckled. "Alright," she continued in a British accent. "I must go now, 'tis getting dark— let's hope you don't get eaten by any lions or something..."

Turbo seemed to understand her, or at least acknowledged Nyssa's somewhat-worry.

She continued in the accent, "or better yet those godforsaken hyenas... And then turn your body into a fly-infested carcass and ring in my ears— an eternal nightmare... For both of us..." She recalled the nightmarish scene with the hyenas and that poor, poor carcass.

Turbo definitely sensed something now, snorted wildly and leapt back. Nyssa laughed lightly again.

"Alright well, laters Turbo, I'ma go eat something." She proceeded to the wooden door and stepped into the dark house. The remaining sunlight crept through the windows and Nyssa made the most of it. She muttered under her breath in frustration until she finally found a lighter. She lit an oil lamp and set it on the table.

The house wasn't much. It was actually bigger than it appeared from the outside. There was a round wooden table in the middle of the room with a vase in the centre with fresh flowers, a sofa on the right and a small kitchen to the left (where Nyssa currently was) and a staircase on the opposite side of the room.

Nyssa was preparing a salad, chopping away, until she sensed something... Something wrong... A familiar but strange presence was in the air. She pretended to ignore the entity.

Suddenly, she snapped around and propelled the knife at the man standing by the door. Not intending to maim or kill him, she aimed right next to his eye.

She never missed.

The man stood by the door in the shadows, he had thick, dark brown hair with a somewhat fringe on one side. He wore a black jacket, navy blue shirt and black jeans and shoes. He rubbed his nose and sniffed. Next to him were some spears.

Gah, this forsaken savannah pollen, he thought. He then spoke;

"Nyssa."

"Alexis," Nyssa replied with a smile and cheerful tone.

The man sighed in exasperation. "Don't call me that— Alex will suffice."

"Alexis," Nyssa teased. He rolled his eyes playfully.