The sound of a blade being drawn catches my attention. I open my eyes and scan my surroundings from the tree branch I'm resting on. Below me stands a man with chocolate hair. It's unusual for someone to be in this part of the woods, or this part of the realm, even. Dagger in hand, he wanders the woods, slowly weaving in and out of trees as if he's looking for something. Perhaps he is. Perhaps it's me.
I drop from the birch and land only with the faint sound of my boots sinking into the snow. When I reach the ground I realize how tall the man really is. He must have at least a foot and 60 pounds over me, but I stay in a crouched position and follow him anyways. Silently, I pull the katana from my back and move faster towards him. I place the blade over the front of his neck when a approach him, but he grabs my wrist and flips me over his head.
I land on my feet, but my sword falls from my hand and falls feet away from me, and there's no way to retrieve it fast enough to block his next attack. I whip my body around as he draws his blade back to his shoulders. When lunges at me, I block his arm with mine and throw my left foot into his stomach. It pushes him back, but not enough. He throws a punch at me and I duck under it, coming back with an uppercut to his jaw. That hits him harder. But not hard enough. In the small span of time his focus is broken, I turn and run for my katana, but I nearly choke when an arm around my neck stops me. At this, I freeze. I don't make any attempt to escape his grasp. I just stand still under his towering body as my feet slowly fall deeper into the snow.
"Who are you?" a husky voice growls behind me.
"Who are you?" I quickly order back at him.
"I asked you first." I hesitate at this. He doesn't seem like he wants to hurt me. He's slightly uneasy if anything. His voice is calm and emotionless, but he's holding his knife tighter than necessary. Maybe I should give him some slack, considering I attacked first.
"The name's Pitch," I finally say.
At this he says nothing. I must not be what he's looking for, or maybe he just doesn't know who I am. But the stillness drags on long enough to make the situation more uncomfortable than stressful. I suppose he's debating whether or not i'm a threat he needs to kill. I begin to notice that his bare arm is growing cold and I assume he's human, but no human could have his strength and reflexes. After a long while I break the awkward quiet.
"What are you doing here?" I finally ask.
"What are you doing here," he responds. Now he's mocking me.
"I asked you first." He lets out a heavy sigh and releases me. I grasp my neck in relief and face him. Now that my adrenaline has gone, I notice the small details of him, like his black eyes and stubble beard. His broad shoulders and too-perfect posture intentionally makes him appear more intimidating, and his loose fitting shirt takes away from his muscular build.
Despite our short combat, his body stands tall and still, his face emotionless, as if fighting me off was easy and he wasn't previously taunting me with his cocky yet monotone voice. This angers me and I shoot him a glare.
He begins to brush off and neaten his clothing. "I'm looking for someone," he speaks before clearing his throat. "Maybe you've seen her."
I pause in attempt to comprehend something that was never amorphous to begin with. "Who's her?" I finally ask.
"Her name is Greylin." He breathes out a chuckle, and sarcastically asks: "perhaps you've heard of her?"
I freeze at this. That name, a name I haven't heard in years, a name that sends a chill down the back of my spine. They're still looking. I stumble through my brain to find a response in a tone that sounds calm and collected, something that sounds truthful. I fail.
"N-no"
He shoots me a peculiar look. "What rock have you been living under?" when I don't answer, he rolls his eyes and begins to move away from me. "Well, if you can't help me then I'll be on my way. If that's okay with you."
His sarcasm is really getting on my nerves.
I watch as he walks in the direction he came in. I could let him do so in peace, return home and forget about him, pretend that there's not a whole world still searching for my face. My real face. But where would that get me? I decide to catch up with him.
"Why are you looking for this girl?" he stops moving for a moment and glances at me without turning his head, then proceeds to walk again.
"Those are my orders"
Now I'm even more curious. He doesn't want Greylin, the people he works for does; that's why he let me off so easy. I've been isolated for so long that I've become completely oblivious to the rest of the world. It's safer that way, but also very lonely.
"Who gives you your orders?"
"The Axis."
The Axis. the rebellion that killed my family and forced me out of my home. He's so much different than the rest.
"You're a part of the Axis?"
"Yes."
"It doesn't seem like you want to be."
"Well I am."
"What do they want with Greylin? Why is she so important?"
For the first time in this conversation he turns to look at me, putting himself in front of me to stop me from walking. "Listen, kid, it doesn't matter why they want her, they just do. So if you're not gonna help me then go home!" he makes no hesitation turning from me and moving away from me, this time at a faster pace.
