The Renegade

.01

Screams. His body came to life from a slumber that carried on for eternity, or so he thought. The back of his throat burned a sensation unlike what he felt in his fingertips – frozen. Panic took hold of his breath, keeping a pace of abnormality. That scream, he came to realize, belonged to him, as he lay immersed with crystals of snow as if the flakes were to keep him warm, so to speak.

He attempted to shift his weight of his legs, perhaps to confirm they still belonged to his body. But even with the slightest movement he roared in agony as the sensation of a knife piercing into his abdomen ceased all rational thinking. He released a cry, praying that his mother would come to relieve him, as she always had done. She never came. No life seemed to exist beside his own faintly beating heart.

Using his hands, he searched along his body to discover the cause of his pain. At first it felt wet, a thick warm liquid that stained his flesh. Meeting his eyes, it confirmed the worst – blood. Further he moved to where the pressure became the most severe; an object had been forced through his stomach, cold to the touch. The only matter now was to remove what cause him pain, none that he has ever experienced before, though he was only ten years' young. Tightening his grip around it, whatever it may have been, he forced his teeth down upon his lip, preparing for the overwhelming agony that plagued his frame.

In his mind, he imagined his mother to be beside him, singing the song that would ease the focus on the pain. Before she would take the time to clean any wound, she held him in an embrace of comfort and love. In his ear, she would sing, "farewell, farewell is never heard when the tear's in mother's eye, adieu, adieu she speaks it not. But my love "goodbye," "goodbye."" And he felt her warmth spreading across his body. Tranquility only existed for but a second until he pried that thing from within his stomach, immediately releasing a scream that carried through the howling winds. With trembling hands, his eyes came to see an icicle that had fallen from above, though he could see no others that accompanied it.

"Mama," he whimpered, feeling the freezing temperatures eat away at his limbs. "Find me."

Theodor's vision blurred with tears that became that of frost upon his cheek. He then searched his memory as an explanation for what had happened. All he could see was a dark figure before him, a large frame heavily coated in snow. Soon after a voice reached him, one that he would often cause him to shift in discomfort. "Boy, keep up!" That man, his father, led the way upon that mountain; a time dedicated to teach Theodor how to survive in the wilderness. Little did they know what would follow shortly after: the earth began to shake violently, and the blizzard separated father and son. Needles collided with his skin, numbing the sensation of warmth he had not felt since the moment he left the comfort of home. He followed the trail of footsteps his father created upon the earth, however, the blizzard eventually consumed any trace of him.

"Papa!" His voice was but a whisper among the howling falling from the skies.

His frail figure trembled as trees began to crumble, leaving a path of destruction. Theodor felt the pace of his heart quicken, leaving a pain that pounded against his skull. There was no preparation for this moment, nor has there ever been. His father believed the skies to be clear; his father's belief failed him.

The horror that plagued his mind forced his limbs to move as quickly as he was able, chasing the wind to what he believed to be safety. But where was he safe? The earth roared as it began to break apart. Before Theodor could realize, above him fell an ocean of white, ceasing his movements – darkness swallowed him.

Life in the present reminded him only of more agony, but he understood only one thing: to survive, he must leave this mountain. With his hand firmly pressed against his wound, he forced each limb to come to a stand in the freshly fallen power. Weakness ceased his figure, though he never once let himself lay back upon the earth. Lifting his eyes, he could only see a vast sea of white. There was no possibility in finding the path to home, though he remembered a small, worn handmade sign that hung from a branch at the bottom of the mountain. To find this sign would mean finding home is no fool's errand.

The journey began with droplets of blood soaking through the fabric that clung to his flesh, followed by crimson steps stained into the blank canvas heavily coating the earth. Each step carried a limp, causing his lips to press together in discomfort. Despite all the odds against him, he believed that a life of great length stood before him; failure in this belief was not a possibility.

This young boy continued down the mountain, growing more faint. It was not far until his foot stumbled upon something that poked through the snow, causing him to plummet to the ground. A loud cry brushed over his lips as he failed to stand up again. Shifting his weight, he moved his head to look at what had caused him to fall. Only in a matter of seconds did he realize a hand emerged from the snow. His vision became a blur, causing his stomach to turn into a sickness, slowing his ability to even breathe. Theodor crawled to the hand, reaching out for any sign of life. As soon as he felt the cold skin upon his own, he knew for certain the man belonging to this no longer belonged as a part of this world; however, the longer that his failing eyes studied the hand, he noticed a scar to which his own father carried. All the answers came rushing to his already frail heart.

Theodor was alone.

"Mama," he breathed into the snow. "Save us." Darkness consumed him.

Note: Hello all your lovely readers! I hope you enjoy this first part, and I hope it was not too intense? Please do comment and tell me what you think! Thank you!