Children of the sky, hither here; let me delight you with a story that unfolds as we dance. Now has come, and it brings a being of day and night with it. Fairies call him human; the wisps call it a monster. Our friend has roamed for decades, yet it is now that creatures of the forest speak of him with hushed whispers. A knight, some would call him, yet his armor does not shine with glory. The trees call him the Knight of Rust, a creature forgotten. However, like a nostalgic memory, that which was not meant to be forgotten but subsided due to time, he has broke the water's tension. Come close now; still yourselves. Do you feel that? That which was cold exerts warmth. That which was silent now beats softly.

Rivers expanded with mountains of water. Streams pushed all manner of earth rapidly with their currents. The storm was fierce, and under the cold night sky rain fell against rusted armor in a mimicry of war drums. Water trickled through the cracks in his armor, pushing away dirt and rust before seeping into his baggy clothes underneath. Like a mannequin having its joint posed one by one, the figure made its way through the night, illuminated by flashes of lightning. His armor creaked, masquerading as a frog's croak, and his very footsteps were the thunder of the storm as his heels sank into the earth. The body felt weak and the pain was seething, yet he knew he had to walk. If he stopped, even for a moment, the winds of this storm would certainly blow him away. Like stones relentlessly pelting against a shield, the rain crashed upon the figure, meaning to sweep him away like a wave takes a vessel at sea if fate permitted. So, the mannequin continued on through the night.

He moved, yet arrived nowhere. He would raise his foot, shaking off mud and letting the rain wash away grime, only to plant it back down. Every step he took carried eons of fatigue and exhaustion with it, yet he knew not how long he had been walking. He only knew he had to walk. His thoughts were blank, though his mind raced with them. Had time slowed to nothing, or had he already missed the sun? Nothing and everything converged now, and time neither moved nor stopped. How could it? If there is no beginning, how can there be a now to create an end? He grabbed at mist in his mind, clinging to a feeling that was no longer his. Any other idea spoken was immediately lost like one's breath dissipating on a cold day. However, it did not matter what was lost, for he only knew one thing. He had to find her.

Suddenly, a ray of change pierced through the slits of his helmet. As the Knight of Rust came to the top of a slope, the faint illumination of a lantern greeted him. The knight continued his march towards the lantern, leaving behind him footprints that were quickly forgotten. The storm did not cease, and the winds pushed against trees as if intending to uproot them and carry them away. However, the trees did not budge one inch, for they were all intently looking upon the Knight of Rust. It was not the first time, and it was prayed to not be the last, but after a length of wandering, this light had warmth behind it. The journey was excruciating, and every step may have been an eternity, but in a singular blink the Knight of Rust found himself standing before the door of a wooden cabin. The knight moved to knock, but found that in his hand he held his sword. Though the rain worked hard to wash away all things, the stain of life was still fresh upon the steel. The knight sheathed his sword before looking upon the door before him. His breath slowed and his exhaling softened.

Knock. Rust shook off his arm. He planted his heels into the ground, tensing his entire body. If even one muscle relaxed, he would be at the mercy of the storm. Knock. Footsteps, they were faint, but his ears could pick them up. Knock. Voices came from inside. He knew they were human- a father and daughter. How did he know that? Knock. The door swung open. Light poured out of the doorway upon the Knight of Rust. A man greeted the knight, his clothes seemed baggy and his hair unkempt. He trembled as he looked up towards the knight's helmet, but after not hearing any demands come from the armored figure for some time, he cleared his throat.

"A rusted knight who wanders endlessly, forever searching for that which is only known to whomever is at the end of his journey... I know of you. What do you want?" His words were proper, but his accent of a different region was strong. Where exactly was this Knight of Rust? The knight was confused as to how this man had such a proper dialect, but the knight could not find out why he was puzzled by this. He simply instinctively knew it was not normal for a man of his occupation. Wait, how did the knight know this man's trade? His mouth moved apart from his mind.

"You are a hunter. Have you killed a bear this year?"

"Yes, of course. It is only sensible to kill one every year to prove yourself capable to the spirits. I made use of its entirety and offered its blood to the wisps. I would have no fear of the forest if I did not befriend those who reside in it."

"Where is the bear's cave?"

"There won't be any more bears."

"Where is it?" The hunter stared at the knight of rust for a prolonged period of time. Finally, he gave a nod to the knight, some manner of acknowledgement. He pointed down the road towards small path.

"That path leads into the forest. I made it long ago for getting wood. Once you arrive at a large jagged boulder which the path twists around, take a right and you'll find the den." The hunter's body reclined, his tension dissolving. The Knight of Rust gave a nod and an instinctive slight bow. He immediately took leave, a rejuvenating energy filling him, one that he could not explain or describe.

He stepped off the well-worn road and onto the overgrown pathway. The trees managed to block the wind and rain somewhat, but his armor still sunk into the mud and left footsteps which quickly filled with murky water. Back at the hunter's home, the ticking of the grandfather clock was the only indicator of time's continuous march.

After a time, the knight arrived at a large boulder implanted into the soft ground. The path certainly carved around it as the hunter described, and the knight began to follow the path around the boulder. He had taken about five steps past the boulder when something caught his eye. A faint glow in the woods charmed the knight, and took his attention away. Leaving the path, the knight pursued the light. And as the path and boulder went out of sight behind him, the memory of them escaped him.

He found the bear's den. As he stood before its small entrance, he knew this was what he had searched for. The light had vanished, and it too left his mind. He began to-

"What do I see you as? That's a silly question. You're #*^A":$&*, duh!"

-her smile always made him smile... What happened? He held his head as his other hand guided him into the small but protective bear den. It had clearly been long abandoned, but it was the perfect shelter... It was? Why did he think that? He meticulously took off his heavy armor, piece by piece. The armor fell to the stone floor with a thud, knocking off grime and revealing the ornate designs hidden underneath. Lastly he threw his helmet to the side, and it rolled against the cave's wall with a thud. He laid down, a warm feeling inside of him keeping him heated in the cold weather. But as he laid, alone with his own thoughts, the feeling faded. Why had he been walking?

Well, that answer was obvious. He was walking for... Because... To find... He- no, no, no, no, no. He cannot forget; it was unacceptable to forget. That's right, he would never forget. He just had to think. The man's body slouched against the cold and damp cave wall. He waited, but his head began to hurt as he tried harder and harder to remember. His breath quickened, his heart felt as if it could burst. He- he... He truly forgot. He had forgotten. He forgot. How could he. How dare he. Now he had nothing. There was nothing left for this shell of a person. His unkempt nails dug into his hardened skin, piercing it like how teeth pierce an apple's skin. Could he dig the answer out of himself? Was this divine punishment? It did not matter, he had forgotten. He inflicted his body with scars, blood ran from his body into a puddle around him. He grunted, he screamed, he cried. A singular drop of blood dripped down his shoulder. It trailed down his limp arm and off his elbow onto the cold rocky floor. It ran past pebbles, into cracks, and out onto the grass outside the cave, where it became water for the flowers growing. Though in truth it suffocated the flowers who had already become oversaturated from the rain.

He did not understand his feelings. Was he angry, was he sad? These were feelings that he no longer possessed; rather, these were the feelings of another from long ago. He could feel it within himself, the collision of a thousand experiences that were not his. Voices clashed as he desperately attempted to find solitude in the storm, but not even the shelter of the cave sheltered him from that which pierces the heart of man. Perhaps, it was truly time to reach forward and take his future. All was lost now that he had forgotten. No, he could not do that. It would be better for him to take his own life, or spend an eternity wandering in search of remembering why he had to wander, than to give in. Give in to what? What did he mean? But why continue? After all, he felt unexplainable pain that never ceased. Simply keeping this up was a fate worse than death. There was nothing left in the past for him to grip. No, that's not true. He had a reason; something bigger than all these thoughts. But- he had forgotten even this. Did he mean to pursue a fool's dream, to chase after nothing just to find comfort at night? No, this warmth had not left yet. Why accept the cold in this frigid world, when he had warmth still? Yes, he just needed to cling to that warmth. No matter how small it was, he needed to rely on the hope she gave. Yes, her. Her. Her name- what was her name? He grinded his teeth together. Why could he not remember something so important? It was as if a thick fog had descended on his brain like a curtain, covering all there once was. Names, curse them, so unimportant until they are lost. He felt his body tearing apart; perhaps somewhere deep inside himself he could pull out the answers. How could he forget? How dare he forget? Why could he not remember something so integral to his existence? Think. Think. Think.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He awoke in a pool of his own blood. Had he passed out, or did he finally fall asleep peacefully? Peaceful was a cursed word. He examined himself; all his wounds had healed, not a drop of blood still oozed from the deep cuts that were dug. Was he even human? Surely humans could not heal what he did in one night. Whatever the case, his only reminder of the reality of last night, his reminder of his morality, was the new and deep scars that had formed all over his body from his self-inflicted attacks. His body was covered in these scars, but he had no clue how he had gotten most of them. Rather it had been from actual fights, a near-death experience, or if they were all self-inflicted, he was none the wiser. He felt his face; it was always clear of scars except one that ran by his right cheek. That one stung the most, especially when touched.

What now? He had forgotten his reason to get up and leave. Even his reasoning for his endless wandering, that sole purpose that he had almost regained before passing out, even that had now slipped past his fingers. He stared at the dark cave ceiling, he felt the coldness grabbing onto him, pulling him back to the ground. It was like he was sinking. Perhaps he could let himself sink for a bit longer. The frigidness was not unbearable.

Her skin was starlight under dark clouds,

and her words were medicine for embers.

He was a raindrop at the tilt of an iris,

and his very soul a violin with a broken string.

They sung a duet in hushed small-talk,

and diverged from the clamor of marching time.

Her smile was light more captivating than any flower;

his laugh was a fire warmer than any furnace.

She repaired the broken string,

he mended the frightened tongue.

Death crept on the raptors,

sharpening the enemy of all claimed by love.

His mind snapped alive to cacophonous noise, those his ears deceived him and would not separate the wind from the waves. His consciousness pushed forward, but his mind betrayed him. Dreams clung to him like a rope tied around his waist, pulling him under the water every time he gasped for air. Finally, he broke the tension and fell forward, his hands sprawling to grab his attire.

"Are you alright, mister?" Only a helmet managed to be adorned before the voice had arrived; however, it was not a flamboyant procession that found him, or a threatening roar, but rather a soft whisper that echoed the tune of a morning dove. How did he interact with such things again? His mouth knew before his brain.

"I am fine, young lass." His voice was softer, his movements slower, yet not delicate. He knew not why, but a stone fell upon his heart, weighing it down.

"But- but, you're covered in wounds!" Tiny hands pressed against one of his, which was in the midst of grabbing his gloves. They were warm, and they together barely covered his calloused skin.

"Though you may see the maple's bark peeling, you know that it will survive, do you not? It is stronger than the inflictions upon it." His hand rested upon her head, moving through her hair slowly as he consoled her. Next to him, she was no larger than a mouse; though, in reality she stood almost four feet tall. She was not frail, but his eyes took pity on her as if she could be overcome by a gust of wind. Children were fragile; that he knew. "Where are your parents?"

"They're... Home." The child rubbed one finger with another. Her gaze shifted from the bear before her to the stained ground. The eyes processed, and then darted back towards her feet. He sighed as armor began to click into place around his body. Rust dug roots into him. The armor finally settled onto its host.

"I'll take you to them. Does that sound alright?"

"B-but! They'll be upset with me... I shouldn't be out right now."

"C'mon, you can tell me while we walk." The beast brushed some of the grime off his shoulder pieces before lowering himself down. He wrapped his arms around the child and picked her up, letting her sit upon his shoulders. Her feet dangled as she rested her arms on his helmet. The knight instinctively felt for his sword, and upon confirming its presence, marched forward. The child giggled as if she was riding a majestic elephant. Trees seemed to part before her, and wonder filled her spirit. "So, why will your parents be upset with you?"

The child paused. "They always tell me not to go out alone. They say it's dangerous for me, but they were arguing really loudly, and I snuck out during it. I just wanted to see the forest. I always feel at home here. I've snuck out at night before, and the lights guide me. They're my friends, and we laugh together and play all night long. My parents found out once though, and I was locked in my room for an entire week... I don't want that to happen again."

Vast strings of thoughts intertwined and ran through the knight's mind. However, most of them found no spot to attach themselves to. He remained silent, until a corner of his mind felt itself peek through the curtain that held him captive. For a brief moment, words came to him which belonged to another.

"You know, your parents are not perfect. No, all adults are just kids who are a bit taller. However, they do have the wisdom that comes with age. They may fight, and they may make mistakes, but they reprimand you because they care for you. Sometimes, they forget to say the right words. Sometimes, their hearts become calloused, and they make a lot of mistakes, just like a bully on the schoolgrounds. Despite all of this, though, they do dictate your heart. I think you should listen to your parents; the forest is mighty dangerous, and the wisps do not always have the purest of intentions, but that should not repress your wonder of the world around you. I cannot tell you what you should say to them. I cannot even promise things will get better. However, maybe these words will pass over you and find you again at another time. To give up is to be weak in the soul. Sickness may take our strength, age may give and take our wisdom, but only we can choose to be weak, or strong, in our souls."

Finally, the forest cleared, and the two found themselves on a gravel road which marked the threshold of lumbering trees into vast meadows of rolling hills. In the far distance, smoke and noise slipped out of the walls sheltering living houses. The knight slowly lowered the girl onto the ground. She got off, and she looked up at him with a tear-stained face and a smile. He felt his face regain a smile lost to time.

"Will you come with me, mister?" The knight was surprised by this question, though it was characteristic of a child. His mouth opened, but his ears intervened. His body reacted before his mind understood. His hands grabbed her by the hips and tossed her forward. She screamed as she plummeted towards the earth, and he spun around while his hands reached for his sword. However, he was too slow.

When the child regained her composure, she moved through the pain and looked up towards the knight. Her ears were met with a fierce roar which rattled her soul. The knight held open the jaw of the massive grizzly bear, keeping it from shutting upon his helmet. His feet pressed against the stomach of the bear, and its claws scraped away years of rust from his chest plate.

The knight heaved with all his strength, the air escaping him as the bear pressed upon him further. With nature's favor upon him, the knight managed to in a burst of strength push the bear's face to the side, and with the brief moment of freedom he rolled back his arm and sent it flying forward. A tooth flung from the bear's mouth as it staggered slightly. He rolled out from underneath it, and only got to his knees before its claws struck his shoulder, ripping through leather and cloth. With his salvaged arm he pushed the bear's face to the side as it charged, managing to avoid it taking his wounded arm off him. The bear circled around, but in doing so its eyes locked with the emerald eyes of the child. In a blind fury, it charged towards her.

She screamed. Thoughts raced through her heads. If she had another chance, she would apologize to her parents and never do something so stupid again. She would be a good girl, and she would help mom around the house and make papa snacks for when he got home. If only she had one more chance.

When the bear had gotten so close she could feel the warmth of its breath against her, its face was suddenly shoved back. The knight slammed himself against it, and he pushed it away with all his might. The bear's momentum was stopped, and it pressed up on its hind legs, letting its entire weight fall upon the knight. However, the knight had something to protect, and though the bear's teeth dug into his neck, and its weight was enormous, he wrestled the bear away from the girl.

The girl looked around in a panic. On the ground she saw the sword of the knight. She scrambled forward, crawling on her bloodied knees. The pain was immense, but she no longer felt it. A greater purpose drove her, one that cared not for physical pain. "Mister! Catch!"

The knight gave one final grand burst of strength, and slammed his shoulder against the bear. The bear toppled over, and the knight spun back and grabbed his sword which flew through the air. Before the bear could orientate itself, he plunged the sword through its head. The noises died, until all that remained was the soft panting of the knight and the child, and the mimicking melodies of birds unaware of the suffering below them.

He slowly pulled the sword out of the beast. He felt the strength leave him as he fell to his knees. He placed the sword in its sheath as coldness overtook him. He heard shouting, first from the child and then more. His ears alerted him of a waterfall of noises as he felt his body move, but he had no strength left within him. The coldness beckoned for him.

Maybe he could at least join her again this way.

"My grandmother managed to, despite the odds, travel and explore the world. When she was dying, this is what she told me. 'Anastasia,' she said, 'I have been across many seas and through mountains and valleys, and I have seen the greatest tragedy that exists in our world. Not failure, not even fear, though those play into this. The greatest tragedy is all of those who have given up. Those who have allowed their ambitions to decay with their body. I tell you, they are husks walking with humans.' That always stuck with me. I hope that no matter what happens, that we never give up. I, at least, will always keep on trying. Even if something happens, I will make this work. Yes, yes, I know what you said, and I am sure that you will."

Hair like the sunset mirrored the sunrise. Though the cold offered comfort, the warmth pulled at his soul. He reached towards the light. Death sighed, its coming was once again delayed.