Redeemer

Silhouette Introduced

The shadows were dark in the forest, but if one were an owl perhaps, or a tiger, one could look closely and notice a slim form darker than the shades cast by the large trees. He followed at a distance, so far removed from his object of pursuit, that he could barely keep up. 

The form watched with interest, heart beating rapidly, as Redeemer took on the evil spirit that had been capable of rending entire flocks of sheep into puddles of viscous liquid and tissue in one single attack. The monster was massive, the thickness of six men and three times as tall as its opponent. It had four arms like hickory limbs, claws, and fangs twice the length of a sun bear's. And the man had it dead within minutes.  

He observed as the man cut through the woods and headed to the very cold springs where the shadow had bathed earlier. He kept his distance the same and ran silently uphill to position himself above the water hole. He watched with curiosity as the stranger began to remove his plain brown robe and tunic, and a tightly wrapped embroidered belt made of heavy leather. Revealing an impressively built set of shoulders and a deep and defined chest, he kept his white undergarment on below the waist. His face had been obscured, and just before he sat, he ran hands full of water over his face and through long black hair. The observer knew that face. The body was now that of a mature man in his prime, but that face was one he longed to never see again. He had looked down that man's sword one too many times, and the last time prayed for it to find his heart and end its suffering. Why him? Why now?

Redeemer sat swiftly in the frigid water, then shifted deeper and faced away from the form. A cloud passed at that moment. The full moon shone its pale and pitiless gleam on the warrior's back, exposing the hideously twisted and contorted skin, covered in a whip's scarring. The shadow gasped, and the man raised his head. He sat eerily still.

"You followed since the battle. A persistent foe. Nearly missed you. Blend well in the shadows.  Name?"

"Just call me Silhouette. And if I were a foe, you'd be dead by now."

"Good. I am Redeemer. We are now introduced. That means we are qualified to speak with one another. Tell me. Why should I not kill you on the spot?"

"I don't seem to die and stay dead. Yet it is what I want the most in this fucking world. Why waste the effort?"

"Do not court death. Especially before business is concluded. Others might need..to say things, not yet said. You are right. I do not believe you are foe. Foes do not weep when speaking to an enemy."

Silhouette touched his own cheeks and they were indeed wet. How long had it been since he had wept? He hated the man below because of them. He loved him because he saw the answer of crystal streaks on Redeemer's high, sharp cheekbones in the moonlight. He loathed himself for not resisting the chance to see him from afar, and for feeling the scars within his own soul burst open into familiar wounds. He whirled and flew through the tree lines, melting back into the darkness.

By the time Redeemer made it to the spot where Silhouette had sat, there was nothing and no trace of anything to follow. Except for a long red ribbon caught on a lower branch, still holding tendrils of wild dark hair captured in the grasp of the tight knot of silk fabric.