A man with wavy, shoulder-length red hair stood upon a hill, his gaze focused on a vast yellow field of dandelion-colored crops spread out below him. Although yellow, upon closer observation, a color change could be noted; the crops were changing from a dandelion color into a vibrant violet. Obscured by the field with only their heads clear, workers could be seen within, watering and tending to the violet-colored crops. A juvenile wind blew along, the sudden gust causing the man's garments to billow and dance as the heads of the crops did, a small cloud of pollen lifted from the tassels.
The man raised his hands to his hips, his red hair streamed behind him as he breathed in the pollenous air. "Ha-ahh! A bountiful harvest, Anyanwu smiles mightily this cycle."
"Of course!"
He lowered his arms and slowly turned around, the sinewy and well-developed muscles beneath his linen tunic rippling. Standing behind him was another man, less attired and hunched forward. He also wore a tunic, but his was of poor quality, appearing rough and slightly threadbare. The stooped man raised his eyes and plastered a smile, which competed with the light reflecting off his bald head. "With your esteemed presence in our tiny and humble tribe, Sir Dago, the great Anyanwu has no choice but to favor the crops this cycle."
A heavy silence descended as their eyes locked onto each other. This uncomfortable atmosphere continued until the stooped man's eyes shifted away, landing somewhere in the distance.
Noting the shift, Sir Dago's lips curved into a smirk, which disappeared moments later, replaced by a stiff line. "For what reason dost thou reckon thou wast summoned?"
The man's eyes cautiously landed on the other's broad back, his mouth, desert dry. "Sir Dago, how could someone as uneducated and pathetic as I understand the workings of your brilliant mind?"
"Try."
The man swallowed heavily; the pressure to reply bearing down upon him. Sir Dago's response left no room for refusal or bargaining; his tone demanding an immediate answer. His head turned toward the far side of the field, his eyes landing upon the plants.
"The plants on my plot are undergrown."
As the man's admission suggested, when compared with the rest of the field, the difference was clear. While the majority of the crops had already transitioned three-quarters of the way, his had only reached the midpoint of its color change, standing starkly in contrast to its neighbors.
A smile slowly widened across Sir Dago's face. "It is as thou presumest. The time is upon us." His gaze shifted to the west, toward the lucent orb disappearing below the horizon. "Another happening akin to the previous cycle shall not be endured."
With each biting, perhaps threatening, word the stooped man bowed even lower, his expression distasteful and sour.
Sir Dago turned around. "I trust mine words be comprehended?"
The stooped man lowered his face, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands.
A frown appeared on Sir Dago's face, his displeasure evident and his words sharper. "Right?"
Moments passed with the tension heightening. However, before the breaking point, the stooped man glanced upward, broadly smiling. "Of course."
Sir Dago carefully scrutinized his face before slowly nodding his head. "Good," he waved his hands dismissively, "thou art excused."
The stooped man turned around, the smile still etched on his face, and began his descent of the hill. However, before long, a voice rang out behind him. "Halt!"
The stooped man halted in his tracks, then with an apprehensive face he turned and looked back uphill.
Atop the summit, Sir Dago looked down, the difference in elevation giving him the appearance of a Lord looking down on his subject. "Bathe thyself, thy smell is repugnant," he finished, his lips curling into a sneer.
Once again, their eyes locked. However, within Sir Dago's eyes something could be seen. Something that had previously been kept smoldering below the surface was now clear and unhidden...disdain and contempt. An expression of the superiority one would have toward a worm. He then turned away, his gaze trained to the west.
With clenched hands and a face aflame, the stooped man once more turned around before hobbing down the hill.
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"That fucking prick! Does he think he's better than me? Just because the Lord appointed him as the caretaker, he thinks he can do and say whatever he wants?" With his teeth gritted, the man stomped down, flattening the grass below his feet as he did so. "And what's with that way of talking? I've never heard him talk to other Squires that way."
As he walked down the hill, the stooped man ranted under his breath, his words of complaint becoming louder with every stomp forward his foot made. "Doesn't he have any respect for age? I smell? I smell? That asshole wouldn't know a bad smell if it kicked him in the nuts!"
After a few more choice words, he calmed down, his breath settling as his rage left him. Nevertheless, the lingering aftereffects plunged him into a state of depression; his face a mask of deep weariness as he slumped forward, his mind a quagmire. A heavy-hearted and tortured sigh escaped from his throat, cycles of pain and resentment rising to the surface. "I... I... I wish I could tell him exactly what I think of him, but... even assuming that he doesn't kill me, what good will that actually do?" His words were reduced to mumbles as he reached horizontal ground. His gaze turned east, toward the fields. However, his mind wasn't in the moment, instead, he was lost in his memories. "I miss you so much."
A lone tear appeared in his eye, its unitary nature providing insight into his emotional state as it slowly ran down his cheek, wetting his face before falling with a plop onto the ground. An instant too late, he swiped at the tear, a desperate gambit to salvage his composure. However, his moment of weakness was recorded, the streak down his face and the faint drop of moisture imprinted upon the ground sufficient evidence.
Nonetheless, the sight of the wet ground proved to be the anchor he needed to regain his composure. With a hardened heart, he trod on the wet ground, crushing it beneath his heel like it was one of his hated memories. After taking a few deep breaths to quell his inner turmoil, he looked back up, his eyes steely, his face stern and unmoving.
Now calm, he looked around, his eyes glinting. "Where is that girl? I know I told her to wait for me?"
His mouth repeatedly twitched, his face now an obvious mask of irritation. "That girl wants to put me in a bad mood, doesn't she?" His fists clenched, the veins within bulging. "This is the last time! I won't let her—" He raised his hands and cupped them around his mouth. "BRIE! BRIE!"
His hoarse voice rang out, echoing around before fading away. After several seconds passed without a response, he turned around, his hand still cupping his mouth, and took a deep breath, preparing to release another shout.
RUSTLE
His head whipped to the side. Moments later, a susurrus of rustling crops emerged from deep within the field, the ruckus drawing closer every instant. However, just as the noise edged on unbearable, it abruptly ceased, and a shadowed figure burst out from between the crops... right at the man's befuddled face. Unfortunately, before he could register the nature of the threat or raise a hand to guard his face, a heavy impact landed against his face, the sudden force bowling him over.
With a grunt of pain, he fell down, the rocky earth kicking up a cloud of swirling dust, embellishing his garments in a thick layer of grime. Although bruised and winded, the man felt a chill run down his spine and without delay, he rolled forward. The man's gaze lifted, drawn to his previous position. Instantly, his breath seized, and his eyes widened. A cry welled up, yet his constricted throat stifled it, forcing it back down. Crouched several meters away was the source of his alarm: a snout-faced, sandy-colored creature.
The creature was of meager height; barely reaching his shin. Its fur was patchy and stiff, and from its posterior protruded a thin, haggard tail. Despite the meters of separation, they might as well have been beside each other; the stringy hairs within its wrinkled pink snout visible from the man's position. Though he was neither a religious nor a prayerful man, at that moment, he found himself furtively soliciting Anyanwu within his heart, pleading within his soul for the creature—the mole rat—to leave at once. The man slowly scooted away, careful of his hands' placement as he tried to escape. All went well, the distance between them had increased two-fold, and he was moments from escape.
CLINK, CLINK
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He felt his hand hit something and slowly turned, watching with a sinking heart as a stone rolled away. It may be that he relaxed too early, he had always been a bit excitable, perhaps that was his mistake. Nevertheless, at an inverse with his sinking heart, the creature looked up, its hackles slowly rising.
GROWL
A snarl twisted the mole rat's face, elevating its hideous visage to new extremes. The man stared into its glassy eyes, painfully aware of the field behind his back. He briefly considered sprinting; however, he found his leg refused to comply, fear having paralyzed him. The mole rat stepped forward, its feet crushing rocks into dust, its claws marking the ground. It put its nose to the ground and crouched lower; a predatory stance. Consequently, it pounced, many short but sharp teeth visible within its jaw.
Moments stretched out, the world slowed down. However, the man's thoughts raced ahead, swift and clear. Moreover, his heart was still, as calm as a serene lake. Countless thoughts and memories sprung forth, considered, dissected, before being replaced by a new musing. Yet, despite the multitude of changes, only one reappeared without fail, only the thought of Brie, his daughter, prevailed as a constant. At that moment, he was glad she hadn't listened to him, at least she wouldn't follow him to the afterlife. He closed his eyes, a slight smile atop his face. Although he had regrets, he was at peace. Hopefully, his dearest would be waiting on the other side.
RUSTLE
Suddenly, a noise sounded behind the man. An instant later a figure sprang out of the field, their arm drawn back. Aiming, they threw with all their force. A rock flew past the man's head and crashed with a sickening crunch against the mole rat's snout, dislodging its teeth. The creature let out a piercing screech as it collapsed to the ground, disorientated and stunned.
The figure landed lightly beside the man and laid a dainty hand upon his shoulder, mustering all the force in their short frame and hurriedly shaking him while keeping a wary eye on the mole rat.
"Papa, get up! PAPA!"
The man's eyelids flickered and scrunched up before slowly opening. Immediately he saw the mole staggering to its four feet, tail dragging behind it and eyes dazed. Nevertheless, that held little concern to him, what piqued his interest was the source of the voice he had heard. His head turned, dreading and hoping in unison, simultaneously fearful and joyful. With his heart a paradox of emotions his eyes landed upon a figure, his most beloved, his daughter. However, the paradox was short-lived, with one emotion rising above the rest: fear tinged with anger.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he shouted, his strength instantly returned to him. He pushed himself to his feet, his worry a strong motivator. "Get away from here! Go back to the cave at once." He turned back to the mole rat, bending down to pick a rock as it shook its head. "I'll take care of this myself." His previous fear forgotten, he stood proud. His lips tightened into a stiff line as he gazed ahead with steel-filled eyes, mentally prepared to combat the hideous creature.
Ignoring the resistance from his aged bones, he pressed forward. His fifteen cycles worth of experience had him recognize the creature's posture—a savage beast, volatile and crazed, a danger to itself and all unfortunate enough to sight it. He glanced over his shoulder and shouted once more. "Didn't you hear me, leave at once!" Yet, moments later, his eyes widened. Defying his order, Brie stepped forward, her quivering lip and wide eyes betraying her fear. Her father stood frozen in horror as she positioned herself between him and the mole rat. Instantly snapping out of his daze, he lunged for her, arm outstretched and face stricken. Mere fingertips separated them, yet to the man, it might as well have been a lifecycle's journey.
His eyes dilated, having caught sight of the creature crouching down, poised once more to spring forward. He was certain he wouldn't reach her in time, and even assuming he did, he knew he couldn't push her far enough to avoid the mole rat.
What would have happened in the next few moments, had the creature leaped forward? Would he have pushed her away, or would he have been an instant behind, consequently finding the mole rat's claws buried within her chest? Perhaps he would have reached her, but not fast enough to prevent her death, or maybe he would have saved her life, only to lose his in the process. So many possibilities, so many different ways history could have gone, so many ways things could have played out. However, of the limitless possibilities, the outcome chosen by fate was as unusual as it was unpredictable.
SHRIEK
Suddenly a high-pitched shriek tore through the air, the reverberations echoing around. The man inadvertently raised his hands to his ears. The sound pulsated through him, the aftereffects leaving his ears buzzing and his mind spinning. Nevertheless, the man's shock quickly faded, leaving him looking dumbfounded, his mouth agape. He eventually closed his eyes, and after grappling with his thoughts, he reopened them. "What was that, Brie?" The man looked ahead, past his daughter, his eyes landing on the convulsing form of the mole rat. "What did you just do?"
Brie turned around, her eyes quickly darting around, avoiding his gaze. "I screamed."
He sighed, pinching his eyebrows. "Don't give me a headache. Of course I knew that. What I want to know is why."
A smile brightened her face. "Papa, well, I heard mole rats are incredibly sensitive to sound since they can't see. So, with a loud enough sound," she turned shining eyes toward him, "it should be possible to stun them."
The man's eye landed on the glassy eyes of the twitching creature, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Sound? I knew they were blind, but I never thought about using sound."
He raised his hand to his chin. Something about her words sounded familiar to him, like he had previously heard it. His eyes shifted back to his Brie. "Who told you about it?"
Once again, her eyes shifted away. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head, exasperated. He'd known Brie her whole life, those empty words of hers didn't fool him. Saying she thought up that theory was pure rubbish. Though he had his thoughts on who it was, he wanted her confirmation. His self-restraint now thoroughly tested he raised a warning hand. "Brie I'm not in the test mood right now so don't test my patience."
Brie flinched, her hands trembling. "The Elder."
He nodded, as he suspected. Ignoring her frightened expression, he redirected his vision back to the mole rat, straight away noting its lack of movement. "We'll get back to this later, right now I need to make sure it's dead. Stand aside."
The man bent down and, after a moment of consideration, picked up a rough, jagged rock. Immediately straightening up, he stumbled forward, moving toward the still figure of the mole rat. Reaching it, he raised the rock, aiming for its head. However, before the stone could bash the creature's skull, it abruptly sprang up, narrowly evading the strike. The rock landed with a loud bang against the ground, swirling up a small cloud of dust in the process. Hurriedly stepping back, the man prepared himself for any possible retaliation, positioning his body defensively in front of his daughter. Yet, contrary to his expectations the mole rat jumped back. After taking the time to growl in their direction, it clawed the ground, instantly disappearing below.
Silence descended, nevertheless, they both waited a few moments, tense with anticipation for any sign of resumed attack. But, seeing no further movement, the father breathed a sigh of relief as his heart slowed down, the danger had passed. He gazed at his daughter from his eye's edge.
"Papa," Brie asked tentatively. "Is it gone?"
"Yes," he replied. "It's gone."
Abruptly, he turned around, and forcefully grabbing Brie's hand, he dragged her along. "Let's go," he said urgently. They hurried away, the man eager to leave the site behind. In the background, he marveled at the speed with which he moved, shocked at his bones' rediscovered vigor. When they were a distance away, an infuriating thought suddenly occurred to the man. There was no way Sir Dago hadn't known something had happened, the shrillness and pitch of Brie's scream assured that. Meaning unless he had already left, they'd been ignored and treated as an inconvenience. But he knew, Sir Dago knew; it was impossible he hadn't known. Sir Dago had been well aware but didn't bother with them. Their lives were disposable to him, nothing more than insects at the mercy of his whims. He glanced over his shoulder, observing the hill serving as a backdrop. Although distant, he could practically see him observing them from the summit, watching them run away, a sadistic, pleasured smile etched upon his features.
He gritted his teeth and sharply turned away. Let him laugh, everyone had their time, nothing, and no one stayed the same forever. One day, Sir Dago would be at his feet, begging him for mercy. The man smiled. "One day," he whispered. "I'll show you how it feels to act the fool!" Ignoring the confused look his daughter directed at him, he kept on running.
Slowing down to a jog, he glanced at Brie. Now that he was convinced the mole rat was gone, he decided to really look at her. Previously, he had only given passing glances or at best a quick once-over, not seriously observing her. Nevertheless, now that he had, he was not pleased with what he saw. Her golden hair was as it always was, braided down to her waist, and despite the previous happenings, he could still see hints of her sunny smile and sparkling eyes hidden within her countenance. Her figure was not what displeased him, no, what displeased and put a frown on his face was the state of her garments.
"Brie, what happened to your tunic?" he inquired, stopping to observe her.
Brie glanced down, her face paling as she caught sight of a long tear running more than halfway up her tunic. As if to hide to slit, she grabbed the two split ends and turned to her father. "It must have happened while I was in the fields," she said swallowing heavily.
His eye twitched. "What were you even doing there? I thought I told you to wait for me?" Though in retrospect he was glad by her disobedience, he still had his qualms.
Interlocking her fingers, Brie nervously looked up at her father, her eyes hidden by thick lashes. "I saw it come out of the ground and enter the field while I was waiting, so I decided to follow it." Seeing the glint in his eye, her face paled further. "I was once told about it and how harmful it is to the plants, and since you told me not to disturb you, I decided to follow it." Her voice lowered with each progressing word, her gaze following suit. "I lost it soon after entering, and that was when I heard you shouting, so I started coming back. I was far in, so it took me a while to get out," she finished.
The man remained silent, his gaze trapping his daughter. With a deliberate turn, he strode away, the stones beneath his soles scattering with faint clicks as he shuffled over them. Looking over his shoulder he observed Brie, his mind at work. Having children was tough work; he wished someone could have warned him of that.
"Brie," he shouted. Seeing her look up, he continued, "You did well, good job."
A look of surprise flashed past her face, her shock evident. In contrast with her previous dejected expression, her face suddenly bloomed a crimson red, and a wide, entrapping smile brightened her lips.
He grunted again and carefully walked forward, a slight smile tugging at his lips, the imperceptible movement defying his attempts to remain stoic. Seeing the man, the impression might be given that he had already moved on, his previous terror forgotten. However, that impression was only received from observing his outward demeanor. Though this wasn't his first time seeing a mole rat, it was the first time he had been close enough for its pungent smell to envelop him.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Call your brother when we get back, tell him I want to see him."
Brie's face paled. "But... but... but..."
"But nothing," he replied, cutting her off. Suddenly, a thoughtful look appeared, and he raised his hand to his chin, slowly rubbing the slight stubble. Once more, he faced Brie, a smirk plastered atop his features. "Also, tell Caion to come meet me," the smirk widened, "there's work for him."