Herandyl's Story

Twas a beautiful day, and everything seemed brighter to the young Valkeryia soaring over the tree tops. Freedom made everything seem more clear, more vibrant. It was glorious. The only thing that marred it was the exhaustion he felt from flying two days straight. Every beat of his massive wings burned, and it was all he could do to stay in the air. His eyes ached, and were starting to close of their own accord...

CRASH

Agony struck him in his right wing. The world was passing by in violent flashes and then he hit the ground. When he awoke, all he could think of was the pain in his wing, for it was horrendous. When he looked, it was bent at an odd angle, missing feathers. As he staggered to his feet, he held the wing close to his body while the left wing went to its normal position. He had fortunately landed near the road, and so he limped towards it, groaning with pain as he did so. His sword was sheathed, while his armor was hopelessly dented, thus he took it off and threw it to the side, keeping his tunic and pants on. He moved down the road for what seemed like eternity when he came upon a traveler in a cloak with a great long bow strung and slung over his shoulder. He gathered up what air he could and called out

"Hail stranger! I am sore injured, and I ask thee that may heal me. I am of the Valkeryie race, and I throw myself at thy mercy." and with those words, he fell to his knees as pain and exhaustion overtook him...

Ozmorin and Little Eden slowly trailed their way along the cobblestone road, neither talking but with a thousand thoughts, as a light breeze would seemingly at random flicker past Ozmorin, and he took it as proof, as he had a thousand times before, that Kind was there. She obviously stayed hidden to avoid being seen, although there was a miniscule chance that anyone that they came upon could actually see her manifest, but occasionally she would concentrate enough to dab at Little Eden's nose, causing a wild and futile chase in which Little Eden would playfully dive at nothing, attempting to catch an invisible foe. However, it seemed the grim mood would seep back in and both would return to walking in an awkward silence. This pattern repeated itself for several minutes until Kind gave one last try at lifting their spirits. Suddenly, all to Ozmorin's surprise, a massive gust of wind gusted at his feet, causing him to lose his balance and being sent forward in a comical tumble, and Ozmorin, laying on the ground in a mess, with his outfit being thrown askew, gave an angered glare at no specific thing. He held his discontented face for a mere few seconds before boasting out in a bellowing laughter, and he quickly swept up Little Eden, peskily ruffling her hair in a kiddish and jolly way. When he finally sat her down again and their chuckling was done, they continued walking with a slight smile, for they had but almost, almost, completely forgotten about the carnage.

They walked lightly for only a few seconds before a clearly injured Aina came tumbling out of the brush, and Ozmorin could tell his wing was broken. Dashing over worriedly, Ozmorin decided to help, but he wanted to know he was not obliviously joining a fight and putting Little Eden in danger.

"Woah! Settle down. First, tell me how you obtained these wounds." Ozmorin was straight forward and authoritative.

The stranger rushed over to the ailing Herandyl, asking how he had gotten his wounds. Herandyl's eyes, bleary with pain, gazed at the stranger and studied him more closely. A strong face, this was man who radiated authority. He found himself telling the man his whole story. "I am Herandyl Riolus, of the Aina. I have broken contact with my people and fled, and I flew for two straight days. I fell asleep whilst in the air, and I believe my wing was broken on contact with a tree. That is how I was injured. Nothing more. Nothing less. Now I must ask, are you skilled in healing? For my injuries are beyond my skill." As he spoke he gulped with pain and his voice wavered. A fresh bolt of pain hit him as he shifted a bit while he told his tale, and an involuntary groan was torn from his throat. "Help me... there is no one else... please..."

Ozmorin listened carefully. To him, it seemed like a sound alibi, so he simply nodded and headed out into the woods, leaving Little Eden curiously looking at the stranger. When Ozmorin returned, he came back holding a queer assortment of herbs, ranging from dark purples to bright oranges, and he very casually handed them over to Little Eden. She quickly devoured them, and Ozmorin waited patiently with his hand out, expectantly.

"You may find this gross. Sorry." Ozmorin was soft and apologetic.

Little Eden hacked for a few seconds, but then regurgitated what used to be a gorgeous bouquet of flowers into a slimy pale mush, and the puke was promptly plopped into Ozmorin's hand.

"I know it must be rather putrid, but it came from a time before healing magic. It probably works better too." And with that Ozmorin smeared the disgusting chunky sludge on the wing, letting it seep into the pours and hopefully find its way down to the bloodstream.

"Your wing should be feeling better soon, and within a couple of days and a few more viles of, well, vile, you should be good to go. The pain should somewhat subside, so slow down and tell me exactly what you are doing, my dear fellow?" Little Eden stared ponderously.

Herandyl's stomach flipped over in disgust as the pale sludge was slathered over his wound, but the searing pain in his right wing faded to a soothing coolness. His tortured muscles unclenched as the pain left, and he sagged in relief. He looked at the stranger with thankfulness in his eyes, and then a stream of words began flowing "How did you know how to do that? That was amazing! I wouldn't know how to do that. Who's the fox? I've never seen a fox, only in books. Can you actually shoot that bow, it looks powerful. Is that a bastard sword? I use a longsword myself, as you can see. Oh wow! Are you one of the rangers of Ethiafell? Even in my homeland we've heard stories of you!" His voice was slightly breathless, his wonderment obvious to see. What had seemed to be a terrible day was now looking up indeed. His wing was healed, he had someone new to talk to, and a very interesting person at that. Life was not all that bad after all. For the first time since his crash, Herandyl was glad he had run away.

Ozmorin was struck with question after question, and all he did was give a confused look to Little Eden. He began speaking soft and slow, as if speaking to a child of five years, but he was sure the Aina would find it sincere. That already brought a smile to his face.

"That was simple archaic-medicine, when magic was only a whisper and no two-legged creature walked the earth, well maybe bears at times, and the regurgitation was just to mix it quickly and let it work faster, I had no time to act and had to treat quickly. Or so I thought. To answer your second question, yes, I have been trained to use a bow since I was four as to survive, but I digress, I am no ranger. Although I once was. Finally this is 'my pen'. Oh! I almost forgot your most important question throughout your rambling, for this is Little Eden, a fox which was born over ten-thousand years ago and come from a time, like most things I have been taught, when elementals ruled." He patted the top of the fox's head lovingly.

Ozmorin held out his hand and helped the boy to his feet. He looked off down the road and sighed, it was miles until the village where the families were and he could tell that the fancy to help had left him, and Ozmorin, being raised by the wood, is no man to fight intuition. Looking now to the woods to his right, he knew that if he trailed through the forest for miles, he could arrive in the town of Caintry within the day, and he preferred the lush green to the grey stone. Suddenly hearing the slight shuffle of his new companion, he sighed once more realizing he may not be able to tread the thick brush as well with those wings, and he obviously could not fly with such an injured wing. Sadly he could not follow, and Ozmorin looked down at Little Eden and, as he expected, she could see his decision making.

She simply and casually waved her head toward the wood, clearly saying Leave him, there is a village close and I want grub. He will be fine. Let us finally get of this road

Ozmorin nodded and turned to the winged boy. "Sorry, but the way we are going you cannot follow, and there is a village that way," he pointed down the road," where you can get medical supplies. This is farewell, my fellow." Ozmorin placed his hand on the Aina's shoulder in a sarcasticly empathetic way, and then sharply turned into the woods, Little Eden close behind.

Herandyl stared in shock for a moment, then two as his savior walked off, and then he made a decision. "Hey, wait! I'm coming with you! I'm a good swordsman! And I can fly! Surely thats useful?" While saying that he charged into the underbrush, chasing the elusive ranger that was not a ranger and his companion. Branches tore at every inch of Herandyl but it did not deter him. For in him was the blood of the Aina, and he would not bend to some thistles. Forcing his way through, yelling the occasional "Hey! Wait!" he doggedly pursued Ozmorin. Then, it happened. Not being familiar with moving through the dense wood, he ran straight under a branch that was a little too low, and it scraped the top of his head in an extremely painful way. With a quick curse he unslung his sword and begin hacking his way through the wood in a fit of anger, the sharp sword slashing the bushes with ease, and thus he continued his hunt. He would not be left behind. No, no he would not.