Take A Walk With Me (One-Shots and More)

Runes (BajanUniverse)

The Marked are hated.

The thought ran through Mitch's head as he pulled his hoodie closer around him.

The Marked are wrong.

They practically preached those words at school, having no concern for those in hiding.

The Marked must be killed.

The knot inscribed on his wrist suddenly felt as if it were burning.

He shut his eyes tight, focusing on the good people in his life. His parents, both caring fosters, had taken pity on him, and he had been taught everything he'd ever wondered about The Marked.

But pity was useless. The ones who stood up for him, they were the ones Mitch was close to. In fact, he met his best friend, Jerome, in detention. They were both in for the same thing: standing up for the rights of The Marked.

What shocked Mitch most was that Jerome was not human.

In Shaëkal, there were three species: humans, The Marked, and The Hunters. The Marked were rumored to have uncontrollable abilities, only developed when they reached a certain age. These abilities would directly relate to the rune on their wrist. Norse was the most common, Wicca the second most, and Celt the least so. Mitch was a Celt.

But Jerome wasn't one of The Marked, either. He was one of The Hunters, allegedly the mortal enemies of The Marked.

And yet, predator was best friends with his prey.

"Umm... I asked you a question."

Mitch jumped, looking up at the blonde boy in front of him. His eyes were a sky blue color, contrasting with the choker necklace around his throat, wrapped in a couple of black chains and a dark moon.

"Sorry... I didn't hear."

The boy smiled, his eyes lightened with amusement. "It's fine. I was just asking why you had on a jacket. It's really hot out here."

It was hot, but Mitch wouldn't admit it. "I'm from Cjâjar. I'm always cold."

His gaze drifted to the boys wristbands, all the way up his forearms, as he spoke.

The boy shrugged. "Fair enough, I guess."

"Can I... Can I look?" Mitch asked awkwardly, seeing a few spiritual signs on some of the bands.

"I guess..."

"My name's Mitch, by the way."

"I'm Jason."

Mitch looked at the spiritual ones, speaking of Mother Nature and The Marked. How was this boy such an open supporter?

He reached out to touch one that read, "I have a Norse and a Wicca, so bring me a Celt," which was a quote from The Marked's Biblija. His fingers hooked under, and skin met burning hot flesh.

Jason leaped away, terror in his eyes, and when Mitch jumped back, his hand smelled of Henna, the type of flower that most Marks were made of.

"Please don't turn me in!"

"Can I see your Mark? I... I won't turn you in..."

Hesitantly, Jason pulled the bracelets off his wrist, showing a pattern of swirls that vaguely resembled Sleipnir.

Jason was a Norse.

"You're a soldier?" Mitch asked, knowing what the mark meant. After all, Sleipnir was Odin's steed to Hel.

"Y-Yeah..."

Mitch hesitantly rolled up his sleeve, showing his own mark.

"Wisdom."

The swirl of lines was confusing to most, but Jason seemed to understand.

"That's incredible... You're a Celt?"

Biting his lip, Mitch nodded. Jason smiled, and threw one of the wristbands at him. Before he could even read it, to see which one it was, the Norse boy in front of him said simply, "I think I found my Celt."

····

I might turn this into a book, but I don't know.

Celts (pagans), Wicca, and the Norse are all nature-related religions. I myself am actually Pagan, and I know quite a few of the Norse beliefs as well.

Anyways.

See ya next chapter?

Baiii

Edit: This will be turned into a book. It'll be posted in a few minutes, with the title Eras.