Author's note.

Yay, another half-arsed chapter... Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Time is tight. I guess that's what words like "Draft" and "NaNoWriMo" stands for though.

Word count

This chapter: 1655

Total: 19720

NaNoWriMo target for the 12th: 20000

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Flasor dropped off a bunch of freshly cut out meat. “This’ll be the only freebie, okay? Heal up, and you can get your own next week.”

Aitken nodded.

“You’re only here once a week?”

“Every seven days, yes. Lowers the risk of detection.” Flasor answered.

“Detection?”

“When I hunt, somebody might spot me, more so if I’m regularly in the area. My hope is they think I’m a stray, so I cycle my location every day.”

Aitken nodded slowly.

“I’m off.” Flasor said.

“So early?”

“Imps gotta eat.”

Flasor left out the door, and climbed down the tree, leaving Aitken to ponder what Flasor meant.

Aitken quickly shrugged it off, he had training to do today. He focused the flames on his finger once more, making a candle-sized flame appear.

Now grow.

Nothing happened.

He tried to focus on two fingers, but nothing would come.

Aitken tried every single thing he could come up with, to better himself and his magic, but no matter what he did, it didn’t improve in the slightest.

In this manner, he kept on practicing his magic day after day, but the flame simply would not grow in size, intensity or quantity.

After a full week of futile training, Flasor returned once more.

“How’s the training coming along?”

Aitken mumbled something, looking down the floor.

“So it’s no good? exactly like I had told you?”

Aitken looked up at Flasor. “I’ll get it down, eventually.”

“Heh, that’s what you think. It’s all wishful thinking. Here, just make your flame and focus on curling it into a ball. Perhaps you will be throwing fireballs yet.”

Aitken pondered for a while, then he made his flame and focused all his might on shaping it as a ball.

“That’ll take a while… Anyway, you seen your wings yet?”

Aitken looked over his shoulder, to see his wings were almost healed up - still a few sporadic holes in them. “I still can’t use them.”

“That’s not the point. You’re gonna have to pull your own weight this time around. Come along.” Flasor said with an ever so faint grin on his face. “We’re going hunting.”

“Like, for wolves?”

Flasor turned around and walked towards the door. “I guess you can call them that.”

Aitken shrugged lightly, then he climbed down as well.

“Sh now, we’ve gotta find some prey.. Well, without being spotted ourselves, that is.”

Aitken nodded and they quietly walked around for a while.

“So hey Bobby, how did yo-”

“Shh. You’re scaring them away.”

“But there aren’t even any here.”

“Which part of ‘shh’ didn’t you get?”

“The ‘s’ part.” Aitken answered, rolling his eyes.

Flasor stopped and looked at Aitken. He put his finger in front of his mouth, pushing his head forwards in the process for emphasis.

A while more passed by in silence.

Flasor motioned for ducking and pointed over at some wolves.

Flasor pointed at Aitken and then at one wolf, then he extended a hand with five fingers pointing up.

Four..

Three.. Aitken nodded and stared at the wolf for a moment.

One… Zero!

Flasor darted forwards, sword raised. After a moment, Aitken followed his lead, and they each attacked their wolf.

As Aitken ran towards the wolf, he noticed the completely dark fur and skin of the wolves, as well as the blood red eyes. That’s… Unusual?

Their size was large - even compared to a human, but to Aitken its back was about as tall as his head.

Flasor gathered two fireballs and threw one with all his might at his target. Effortlessly, the black wolf dodged it, but Flasor simply sent the second fireball straight at the mid-air wolf.

Aitken had a bit more trouble, he lounged at it with his blade, and it simply sidestepped and went for Aitken’s arm.

“Gah” Aitken threw himself backwards. The wolf leapt at him, aiming its jaw straight for his throat.

Aitken felt his vision tunnel, and the adrenaline kicked in harder than ever.

This is familiar… Wait, this is what I felt when I died. I’m not dying to a damn wolf!

Aitken forced his swords towards his chest and it felt like it stood still as the wolf flew towards him through the air.

Move.. Move…

The sword tip of his sword slowly redirected towards the wolf’s chest.

Splosh.

The wolf fell on top of Aitken, snapping for his neck with its powerful jaws. He barely managed to hold it off while its movements slowed down, as it slowly bled out.

“Ah, still at it?” Flasor said calmly as he arrived, dragging the corpse of his wolf behind him.

“... Nah, I’m done… at least now.”

“If you say so.” Flasor shrugged. “Let’s skin these and get going.”

Aitken nodded, and Flasor unsheathed a small knife, removing the skin from the wolf and cutting the meat up.

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Aitken grabbed his sword, and tried to skin his kill as well. The fur was stiff - like the hair of a boar. When he cut it, it didn’t come off smoothly, and ended up as a mess of small pieces of skin.

“... You’re skinning it with a rusty sword?”

“What else was I gonna do?”

Flasor sighed. “Not the type to rely on other people, huh?”

Aitken frowned “Huh?”

“I’ve got a perfectly good skinning knife. You could have lent it after I was done.”

Aitken blinked twice, then his eyes turned more serious.

Flasor frowned lightly “Whats with that reaction?”

Aitken shook his head shortly, but quickly. “I wouldn’t have you figured for the type to rely on others either, based on how you’re all the way out here.”

Flasor shrugged. “Nobody worth my time since my master died.” He looked over at AItken, who was once more staring off into the distance.

“A beef for your thoughts?”

Aitken frowned. “I-... It’s nothing.”

Flasor turned around and waved his hand. “We’re heading off for the night.” He started walking.

Aitken grabbed the fur from both dead animals and stuffed it into his backpack.

A short while passed.

“Flasor, what are you planning on doing later?”

Flasor flinched, staring at Aitken. “You sure you’re okay there? You used my name.”

Aitken sighed. “Just answer the question?”

Flasor shrugged. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

“So there’s really nothing you want to do?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“Not be persecuted. It’s tough being a kill-on-sight target.” Flasor said with a short sigh.

Aitken pondered for a second. “How are you going to achieve that?”

“Simple. I’m probably not. I’m far too realistic to believe in a magical imp-nation somewhere else than Damnation. If I can’t go back… Then that’s that.”

“So you’re intending on running from the church of light all your life?” Aitken said.

“Unless some better offer comes along. How about you?”

“I’ve got a beef with the church of light.”

“Brave… And possibly stupid.” He suddenly frowned. “So that’s how you ended up looking like that”

Aitken froze for a moment. I’ve said too much.

Flasor started grinning. “Now, next you are going to tell me is that your name isn’t really Aitken and your master didn’t die.”

Aitken stared off to the side.

“Ah, here we are.”

This time, the residence was an abandoned hut made from stone. The inside had a lot more furniture, including a bed and a couch.

“This your real house?”

“I’m.. sort of a drifter, but I sure like this place.”

“Light the fireplace, will you?” Flasor asked.

“Sure where do you have the flint and ste-”

“I don’t. Use your fire.” Flasor said.

Aitken moved closer to the fireplace.

“From there.” Flasor pointed over at the couch.

“How am I going to do that?”

“Throw the fire, of course. Well, it’s that or freeze, I’ve got a blanket.” Flasor laid down on the wooden bed stuffed with hay, covering himself with the linen blanket.

Aitken laid down on the couch - which was really just a wooden frame stuffed with hay and a piece of cloth covering it. The wind howled outside, seeping in through every crack in the house - almost as if there wasn’t even a house, the wind was blowing out Aitken’s flame every time he ignited it. It’s so cold in here. How am I supposed to sleep?

Aitken lit up his fire again and again, without any luck.

Flasor sighed. “Catch.” he lobbed a fireball at Aitken, who quickly caught it, and juggled it between his hands.

“Throw it at the fireplace whenever you have it under control… Look, just focus on the energy until it stabilizes, okay?”

Aitken juggled the fireball for a while, until he felt the energy. He stabilized it with his own energy, and held the fireball in his hand firmly.

He lobbed it at the fireplace, and it ignited the wood with a small pop and a splash of fire.

“Good. Time to sleep”

Aitken nodded, and fell asleep rather quickly.

A night passed, and daytime came once more.

They got up, and grilled some meat from last night's catch.

“So, tired of meat yet?”

“You bet.” Aitken said.

“Don’t worry, it’ll get worse. it always does.”

“Think we should find something different, then?”

“In the settlements? Bad idea. They are quite hostile.”

Aitken shrugged. “Isn’t there any kind of demon-gathering places?”

“Ah, that would be with the cultists… Not sure where they are, though. Generally, imps are used as servants.”

“Sounds rough.”

“Such is the life of an imp” Flasor said.

“So there’s no place to call home for imps?”

“Not here there isn’t.”

“Let’s go get some more kills, they can be hard to track down.” Flasor said.

“I’m starting to suspect you’re trying to teach me, instead of hunting.”

Flasor shrugged. “Would that really be so bad?”

Aitken smiled a bit. “I guess not, no.”

“Good. let’s get going.” Flasor said as he extinguished the fire from the fireplace, and walked out the door.

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