The sun's too bright. All this time sleeping on the hard ground made a body sore, and mine is no exception. The grasses weren't soft, and the streams that ran through the plains had animals that are too dangerous to sleep with. The bugs that circled the streams and rivers at night made it impossible besides. The soft ground of the rivers out of the question, I slept on the hard grounds behind bushes or near trees. It turns me painful and sore, that coupled with the foul water I drank that turned me groggy and tired. Painful.

So sun shining its golden rays into the eyes felt more like blades than the welcome kiss of the morning, moreover because the morning was not welcome. Sleep pushes these things away, the daylight brings them back. And the largest mistake; never realizing how bad walking could be. For hours on end, for days on end, for nights on end. And not stopping because the Grims won't, and surviving is all that matters. So one foot moved after another, after the next. I forgot which way I was hoping a while ago, though I'm no longer sure it matters. I came back to the main road the moment I found it, as it's easier to travel and it gives a greater sense of direction.

Stumbling over I rock unseen because my eyes were too squinted in the sunlight, I wished for sleep. It was welcome now I suppose, the purple clouds came, and when they didn't I would walk back to the same place Lysiria took me to, as the old man stood outside and waited. He never said a word as he stood amongst the golden grasses, just placed his weathered hand to my forehead, and sent me to a true sleep, in which dreams flowed through, me greater than reality.

But awake now, the road looked forbidding in the sunlight. The grasses seemed to have grown as well, reaching my knees. The road was smooth, however, and the plants would not touch it. Kara's system of using their prisoners to pave their roads and keep them smooth for travel has remained in practice, Kara being one of the most tactical kingdoms in Onkira. The slave system used in Kara was more commonly referred to as a thrall system, whereas the practices of Teap to the East where blatant slavery with no hiding it. The seemingly eternal war between the kingdoms of Teap and Gailun, separated by a single Great River. It is known the Orcs of Gailun have taken a city beyond the River, Oarad.

Stumbling along the road, I wondered yet again where exactly I would go. Hunting was getting hard, though there was plenty of game. And though I was getting better, the tall grasses and lack of trees put me in a completely different environment. I did not doubt that I could and would learn, but I did doubt that I could in any way live like this forever. Not just the living on the move, but should I live in Kara rule my death would be swift. Grims have ways to find soul eaters, and Kara was full of them. I had to leave this place, yet how I would I didn't know. It felt as though if I had walked for another sixteen days I would still never see the Watch, one of Kara's four great towers on the borders of their rule. Mayhaps the closest one, the one that I was headed for, was the fourth, I don't remember. Still walking groggily and stumbling, with the little sleep I had walking made me feel capable.

The road turned in a bend up ahead, curling around a tree and out of sight. Turned left to walk around through the grasses, but stopped in confusion. I couldn't remember why I'd walk around. I started walking again but something was telling me that this was wrong, and I kept feeling the need to turn. I'm too tired to turn, the path in where I'm walking and the grass is off the path. That takes more time, why would I do that? But something is telling me no, something is getting overshadowed by my sleepy mind. The bushes around the tree seem to click together as the wind blows through them and the grasses. Nearing the tree I smell the leaves and dew on the green. Feet follow the turn of the road as it bends and my eyes softly close. The body awake, but the mind drifts letting the scents take it through the nature surrounding, pulling through a waking dream. And the bushes rustle louder as I pass the tree, the wind blowing soundlessly over the plains-

"Stop your ass and give the shit sack over before we gut you, bastard!"

The waking dream screeches away as my eyes open, to the shadow from the shade of the tree, with an ugly fair-skinned man in front of me with a large forehead and three moles. Leathers on, worn and abused, with a short sword in his left. He has stringy, dirty blond hair, but balding which paints for an uncomfortable image. As the wind sweeps my coiled hair past my eyes, I notice another man behind him, tanned and muscled, clean-shaven, and scarred. He doesn't have a shirt, and it holding a rusted and nicked greatsword. And an archer to the left, arrow nocked but bow not drawn. The man to the right has a small pouch at his hip and a long dagger in either hand. He's watching me with a killer look in his eyes, which meets mine calmly. His body says he'll kill if he has to but truly doesn't care either way.

That's why I felt this was wrong. This is the best place to set the easiest ambush. 

"Bastard!" The ugly man calls my attention back to himself. He doesn't seem to be very tolerant, leveling the point of his short sword at me while his other hand curls into a fist. For a brief second, my brain is still too caught in the dream for me to understand. "Hand over whatevers in the sack and any valuables and you won't die." I stare quietly before placing my sack, which has my clothes, sling, and rocks, and a small bag of coins within. He didn't bother to look at them, just stared at me the whole time as I slowly rose back up. "Empty your pockets!", he hissed. 

I looked at him, perplexed for a moment. "I don't have pockets." It's almost as if I think that a good robber would notice the person they're robbing.

He seethed. "You think I'm sort of idiot? Pull everything out your damned pockets before I kill you." He followed through with this by stepping forward, sword help in threat as his pinched face pulled his moles around. It all seems so hazy, and the seriousness of the situation should be more felt than it is now. But I'm too tired to care.  

"He doesn't have any pockets, Hulin." The knifeman walks over to go through my bag and stops when he pulls out the pouch my lumber master gave me before I left Captin City. He opens it and counts the coins as the tanned man with the long sword walks in to kick the bag over himself. 

Hulin, the mole man, looks back up and seethes. Not sure if it's anger or embarrassment that causes him to raise his hand, but he does and brings the short sword down, across my cheek and over my chest. I fall to my knees in shock as he walks closer. Why...

As the wind blows through my cut, the sting brings things into perfect clarity. The sleep I needed is pushed to the back of my mind, the pain I felt gone. I can feel it build inside of me, a hollow force growing in me and pushing itself through me. As the blood leaks down my cheek and chest, my mind hones itself. The scent of the ugly man walking towards me grows as he seethes, and it's nasty. His legs kick out into my side, flipping me over to my back. He keeps kicking, cursing at me for being a fool and not emptying my pockets. Every time he hits the puffed skin where the Vovvess tore, it brings a wave of pain, crashing over my body before being pushed back by the hollowness rising in me. I could only lay there and put my arms around myself. 

When he finished, he crouched and searched my body. His hands were rough as he patted me down, pulling at my clothes and taking off my boots. He took the knife from me and tossed it behind himself. "That one is mine." After looking at my spear haft, he twirled it and through it to the side. After he stood, he delivered another curse and kick and walked off, boots and blade in his left.

The tanned man slung whatever still stayed in the sack over his shoulder. "Let's go. He's got nothing, probably some ophan." He looked back, "Thanks for the game." Then he walked through the bushes and cluster of trees, Hulin following with the dagger man, and the archer bringing up the rear. 

The hares I'd caught. I forgot that I had left the two in there. Groaning as I rolled over, I got my hands beneath myself and rested on my knees. The wounds were burning but the pain was going down, and the hollowness had stopped building. It's in every limb, suffused energy. Standing as the pain dissipates, I limped over to the place where Hulin had discarded my spear haft. I picked it up and shook it, turning it in my hands. I could hear there voices fading in the distance I walked, no longer limping, to the edge of the road, standing there was the hollowness swallowed everything. The voices were gone, but the scent was still there. I walked through the bushes and trees, the spear haft swinging lightly at my side as I tailed them. 

---

Calkolh stood silently as Gven shifted through the body of the leader of Reavers. They had been traveling south with the stolen Caravan, toward a great river presumably to get on a ship to take them out of Kara. Where they expected to get the coin to transport a wagon full of ore and themselves had yet to be seen. The other eight Reavers lay Unconcious behind him, bound with Brentina to the left of them. Calkolh turned to glance at her before turning back around. She was strongly built and tall for a woman though still shorter than Calkolh by a head. Her face was lightly freckled and she had brown eyes, hair always in a thick braid that kept it between her shoulders with several silver pins stuck inside. Her face was round, and though she was pretty she didn't have the high or pronounced cheekbones that pronounced nobility. Her face always seemed austere, and she wasn't well known for altruism, and the nights spent camping with her told Calkolh that she was only for business. 

Calkolh didn't mind, he wasn't very interested in making friends or anything beyond that. Her mistrust was an issue, however,  but this was the only mission that he expected to be with her on and seeing that he overlooked her imperfections. He turned back to the caravan that the Reaper was walking through. The twisted steel sword in his hand seemed heavier than it should be. Noticing, he pulled his ebb from the blade and slipped it inside of his cloak. Stepping over the body that Gven was sifting through, for what he didn't remember, he called to Brentina. 

"The prisoners are supposed to be guarded," she responds, "and I was assigned the job."

Calkolh looked back at her and raised an eyebrow, perplexed. "They're unconscious." She looked back at him firmly, clenching a hand. "And if they wake?"

Calkolh turned completely, wondering if she was thinking about the situation. "They're- nevermind. And if they do wake up, you don't think that you can catch the one or two the somehow managed to escape while bound? On an open plain?" She didn't respond as the wind blew her braid to the side and moved stray strands of hair. Her cloak remained still, as did Calkolhs. He took after her silence, turning to walk toward the wagon, but smiled nonetheless as he heard her footsteps follow behind him. 

The Reaper was searching through the wood and splinters of the ruined wagon, floating or placing or back into the wagon, but also looking under and around the wagon as if to search for something. Calkolh sent out an ebb of his own, floating the quicksilver ores through the air and placing it into the cabin. The walls had several holes in them from when the blades and knives tore through, and the top was completely removed. Another dead body was next to the cabin, riddled through with holes. Calkolh still couldn't think through why they tried to steal something so valuable with only one caster, and a weak one at that. However, the fire caster did have a quiet powerful explosion, and he still had enough powder left to use it five more times. The situation needed to be controlled, and his life was a casualty. Calkolh didn't regret it. Pushing the body aside with his foot as Brentina put the last of the ores and ingots into the wagon, he asked, "What are you looking for Reaper?"

Their master looked at him and turned with a slowly raised eyebrow to see Brentina abandon orders. Brentinas face flushed slightly but she didn't back down. Their mentor turned back to Calkolh again and moved past the wood on the ground to get to them. "There was something more here, they are a part of a bigger group. I'm looking for a clue as to where they were going."

Calkolh knitted his eyebrows together, confused by the redundancy. "We have eight prisoners, at least six will make it back alive to be tortured. Kara will get the information either way."

The Reaper shook his head as if exasperated. "We use politer words for discrepancy; not tortured Calkolh, questioned. "  Calkolh made a slight show of looking behind him as Gven walked up. "Who else is here?" The Reaper looked at him with cold eyes, showing that his jest was not funny. "A day shall come when you will deal with more sensitive clients, and it is better to put softer words into practice." Calkolh nodded, the reasoning made sense. Beyond that, suggestive words seemed to help p with the upkeep of the ominous aura surrounding them. 

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The Reaper turned and walked back towards the bound men and woman. "And the information isn't going to Kara." 

Calkolh and Brentina both turned towards him, disbelieving and confused at the same time. Gven simply shrugged and followed, stopping when he realized Calkolh wasn't. Though Calkolh was sure Brentina turned because she saw it as dishonorable, Calkolh was suspicious. Their mentor was loyal fiercely to the Grims, beyond doubt. But to withhold information from Kara was separating Grims from Kara, and that seemed... scary. Rumors of Grims revolting and forming their faction in the Eastland were just rumors. 

Maybe, however, they were reading too much into it. Calkolh walked past Gven to catch up, and Gven followed as Bretntina brought up the rear. "What do you mean that it's not going to Kara?"

Reaper shook his head and gave a dismissive wave. "I'll tell you when you're ready. Needless to say, these goons are going to go straight to the Grims in Captin City, and you will go back to train or continue on missions." Brentina seemed to be caught between asking a question and questioning authority. Calkolh was not. 

"Why wouldn't this go to Kara. This was a Karan shipment, straight from the mines. The rest of the band, wherever at, should be found."  The Reaper nodded, kicking one of the prisoners awake. "They will be."

Calkolh took back to silence, thinking. This was adding force to the rumors, and this was just one instance he knew of. The Grims were sworn to Kara for centuries, and if this was the first time he'd seen then how many other times had this happen. What else were are they keeping from Kara? This was a door that opened up entirely new aspects and possibilities Calkolh thought as he pulled up his hood to shadow his face and eyes. The others did the same. 

The man Reaper had kicked back to life looked up groggily. Seeing for cloak Grims looking at him, he fouled his breeches, trying to push back but instead just pushing into his companions. Reaper pulled his sound around the man so that it seemed his voice came from all directions. "Where are they?" 

The man's eyes flicked around in fear, unable to settle on one place as sweat broke out on his face. "I-I don't know a-anythi-n-ng, I swear! They never told us where we'd end up, just gave us instructions on people t-that take us to the next place. It was a line, we never knew-"

"Enough." Reapers cold voice cut through his pleas and caused the man to fall silent. He turned, pulling the sound out of the air around the prisoners so that the man couldn't hear what they were saying. Reaper turned to them, "The contact we managed to get this information from is, from our last reports, in Winra of Teap. Seeing as she has very little reason to move- good pay, contracts, and a leisure life- we can assume she's still there." He pulled a long blade out of his cloak, with a blood groove in the middle. "She may have more information that she's keeping from us. If so, we need this to find the rest of the group and report it back to the Grims. That said, he's going to have to die." Without turning, the blade shot backward from his hand into the other man's throat. The wet, gurgling breaths he took as the blade slowly fell from his neck were disgusting. "Kara is undoubtedly going to make us turn them over, and we don't have time to train and take the information from this one beforehand, nor the resources." The knife fell out with a slow plop, as he slowly flopped pathetically. "We're going to Heron, and I'll message both the units at Heron and Captin what has happened here." His blade shot back to his hand, and he wiped it off on his metallic cloak before putting it within. "We'll acquire mounts and, continue to Winra, while the Reavers are taken back to Captin. When we get the information we need, the mission will be over." 

Brentina spoke up for the first time, and both Gven and Calkolh were mildly surprised to hear it was the thing they were both thinking. "Heron is several weeks out of the way. Months even. Why would we go there when it'd take more time? We should go straight to Winra."

Reaper began to undo some of the notes that bound the Reavers. "Because I have something to attend to their first, and beyond that, the entire trip will take less time with the mounts we are getting. That said, help me lash these fools to the wagon. They're going to help us pull the wagon to Heron if they die." He had kicked them all wake now, and they began to beg to live. 

Thoughts flowing, Calkolh began to drag a screaming reaver to the wagon.

---

I'd been following them for near a quarter-hour now, the hollowness still pulsing through me. The sent of Hulin was still persistent, ensuring that I didn't have to follow them off of sight and hearing alone. Keeping low in the knee-high grasses, whenever the archer would look back I'd drop, keeping out of sight so as not to get shot down. Even with my speed, I knew a good archer would pick me off in seconds. I couldn't really on my strength either; I had no idea how strong I'd be compared to truly strong men. Catching them unawares would be my greatest advantage, one that I had no hope of giving up. The Hulin was surprisingly the least talkative one out of the group when I could hear them, the tanned man and the dagger man talking the most amongst themselves. Every so often they would complain about a man named "Lenir", saying he'd better have food ready when they got back and threatening to murder him otherwise. Apparently, he was a poor hunter, which was why they took my game. 

The grass tickled my chin as the wind blew it into my face. With my spear haft gripped tightly in my right hand, I began to speed up as the sound of running water was heard in the distance, and I saw trees on the edge of a river. Smoke was coming out from behind a few of them, and the years of the river cutting through the ground caused the ground to dip, most likely several feet gently into a gentle slope. The men were walking down into it, voices swelling as they met each other. I crept slowly and cautiously to the edge, laying flat on my stomach to peer over. 

The men stood talking and jesting, the archer still in the back, skinning my hares. The dagger man was on the other side of the campfire, near the river. The tanned man and Hulin were talking with who looked to be Lenir, sitting by the fire with loud voices. I watched as the archer tossed down a skinned hare and picked up the next. The dagger man caught it and gave it to Lenir, who stuck it threw and put it over the fire, next to three others. It seems he did a fair job this time. My pouch of coins was resting next to a bedroll near the fire, and the dagger man grabbed my clothes and threw them on the fire. As the flame roared, I looked again to see my options.

Crippling them wasn't one. They are most likely much stronger than I am, and if I didn't fight with the intent to kill then I may no survive. Which I suppose doesn't matter, as I'd have to kill to survive anyway. But killing was still uncomfortable, and if I could I'd prefer to avoid it. It doesn't seem like I'd have too much of a choice now. I liked a bit to my left. The archer was the closest to me, though still maybe eight or so paces away, a few spans away from the tree which was a few spans from the fire. Sneaking wouldn't do much good here, the grasses would be making to much noise too close to him for me to go unnoticed. I'll have to sprint. I could feel the hollowness in me build as I tensed, preparing to move.

The archer stood, grabbing his bow in his right with my hare still held in his left. He took his first step as I shot down the slope, spear haft out aiming for his spine. He heard the grass crunch as I crashed behind him, but by the time he saw me, it was too late. With my speed, I carried into his body and pushed my knife into his spine and through his body, my own crashing into his and forcing him into the ground, muffling his shout. As we fell into the grass I saw the rest of his band standing, and the voices stop. They can't see anything through the thick, swaying grass, but staying low and peering through the grasses I see Hulin walk over with his short sword out, calling for the archer. I'm not listening, can't even hear the archers name as the hollow energy dampens me. He walks closer, eight paces, fives paces...

I shoot out of the grass, pushing for as much speed as possible, blasting across the five paces in one step faster than I should've moved otherwise. On instinct, he brings his short sword up to cover his face or chest, but this time I'm aiming for his legs. As by spear sinks between his leg and hip with little resistance from the leather, he cries out. His back leg buckles as he slashes down, but it's too late. The short sword gives me it's the second graze of the day as I force my hand into his gut, pushing him away to pull out my spear haft. He screams again as the tanned skinned man comes up behind him, longsword drawn. I slide the blade of the spear haft through his neck, blood squirting out warmly onto my own neck and face, up my arm. As the tanned skin man comes up behind him, I grab my own blade from Hulin's belt and run up to meet him, hoping to put his body between me and any ranged weapon the hunter has. As I move as fast as I can the distance to where the tanned man is, apace from the tree, I see the dagger man reach into his pouch with wide but quick eyes. 

That was all that there was time for, as the man slashes his longsword down. I raise my own blade, using all the strength I can muster, but he's still stronger. Much stronger. His eyes narrow as he sees me stand up to his slash, and he applies more pressure, quickly pushing the longsword toward my neck. I notice a knick in my blade as he grunts, pressing the blade with both hands to my neck. And as he draws blood, I realize that the haft is still my other hand. I stab out with it, and he moves back, but not as quick as the blade arm moves forward. It penetrates partly into his abdomen drawing blood and granting a hiss of pain from him before he moves out of range. I move back as well but know he won't be surprised a second time and that a drawn-out fight isn't-

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the dagger man throw blue powder into the air in front of him, then punch it with a fist and flicking two fingers in my direction. I turn towards him as lightning shoots across the space between us and a reflex that I don't know I have jerks my right arm up, and the empty power pools from within my arm, surrounding it.

The glass-like energy ripples as it absorbs most of the blast but still forces me back, knocking me onto the ground. The lighting runs through me, making my body stiff. And as a longsword comes down, I use the same arm to push my knife in its path. 

Both my energy and the blade cause the longsword to rebound, but the knife breaks, causing me to flinch and drop it. I began to roll to my right but see the hunter standing by the fire with a sling aimed towards my head, and roll in the opposite direction, right in the path of the tanned man, swinging to cut me in half. He screams as he swings the sword down, but the hunter, out of instinct, follows my moment and releases, and as I roll into the tanned man's path, the rock goes into his back. The scream turns into a shout of pain, and for a second he rears back, but a second is all that's needed. Lunging up, the spear haft sinks into the flesh just below his chest, right in his center. The voice comes out of his throat broken as the air leaves him, and his eyes go slack. His sword falls to the ground with a heavy thud. I get my feet under me as he falls forward, and move out of the way of the dead body.

The hunter, a mere eight paces away, is staring at the body in a sort of shock. It's the last thing he's going to do, running as another bolt of lightning shoots just past my face. The hunter jerks into awareness, but too late as my the blade of the spear slides into his neck, and pulling it to the left rips out through the side. The blood splatters as I drop and roll, another bolt of lightning flashing past and the body falls. I pop up to see him digging in his pouch again, and run towards him. I knew I could reach him, but not without first taking another blast of lightning and I could still feel the shock of the last one. I'm not a fool, and as he quickly pulls out another handful of whatever it is I run to the fire between us and kick the burning embers and wood into his face. The powder stays in the air unused as he flinches back, but as I see his eyes widen in that second with fear I realize that it is a mistake. 

The powder and embers collide and exploded with a strong crackle, blue flames appearing out of the air, and eating through the space between it and his face. The scream that comes from him is rough and shrill as the crackle of flames on flesh is the undertone of his pain. I flinch back, falling with my hand shielding my eyes, and eyes closed as his screams persist. Looking back up, I see him rolling on his back, hands shaking but afraid to touch his face. And he's still screaming, shrill and broken, higher than I would have thought possible. I get up, sick as the hollowness disappears from my, and walk over to him. His face is covered in broils, puffed and burned, eyes gone. I'm grimacing as I stab his throat, deep, the screams cut off abruptly with a sharp, wet sound,  just wanting the sounds to stop. And they do.

I look back behind me, seeing the bodies on the ground, and feeling the still-warm blood on my face as my revulsion rises. 

I bend over, sick as I retch up the contents of my stomach.  Stumbling, hunched, to the river, scrubbing desperately at my face and arms to get the blood off. The water washes over me and carries it downriver, the chill passing over my skin. 

After a few minutes of scrubbing and shaking, I stand and walk back to the burned face. I quickly take both daggers and what's left in the pouch, unable to look at his body. I walk to the hunter, removing his belt loop from his waist and tying it around myself. I clean my spear haft on his breeches before slipping it through a loop, as well as the daggers. Looking into the pouch, I pull out the powder. It looks like fine crystal ground down, though how I don't know. My first time fighting a caster. Hopefully the last. 

I grab my pouch and take the cloak from the archer's shoulders, going to clean it in the river the best I can before putting it on. It' s a simple, well-spun brown cloak, and it should help with the night chill, drying in the hot sun before. Walking over to Hulin, I take my boots back, putting them on and moving my toes. 

I look back at the roasted hares over the fire but have no urge to eat. Taking the archers' water skin back to the river, I crouch and allow it to fill, waiting with the one calm moment it feels like I've had in eternity. The water sounds soothe as the winds blow under the shade. Looking at the clear water emptily, my mind blank and unfocused. 

I walk past the bodies and fire, back towards the road and don't look back