Dappled shadows danced across his exposed flesh, illuminating the unconscious body in a juxtaposition of light and dark. Clothes that had clearly once been fine were now ripped and covered in a grimy mixture of mud and blood and who knew what else, one of his boots was missing, and dark bruises were visible where his flesh was exposed.
He awoke with a grunt as the sun flashed across his eyes and rolled instantly to his knees as he took in his surroundings. He winced as his headache made itself known and resisted the urge to throw up, though the lack of any obvious threat made him relax some. As mornings went, it was rather normal; no memory of the night before and a headache that threatened to kill him had rather become the norm. There was, at least, nobody chasing him, and he seemed to still be in possession of most of his clothes and his money. How he’d got into the forest was a complete mystery though, as he last remembered being at a party in Brassbridge.
He raised a hand to brush his hair from his face and paused, slightly worried by the dried blood that crusted under his fingernails. It was probable he’d just hurt himself during whatever drunk madness had possessed him to stumble through the forest, though experience with waking up and discovering someone had stabbed him made him slightly more cautious. Given the state of his shirt, most of the blood appeared to have originated from his chest, though an attempt to pull the fabric away had him biting back a curse.
He needed to get himself home, wherever home was. Panic started to well up, as he’d never been completely on his own before in unfamiliar territory; as a member of one of the most influential noble houses, Gabriel Alexander Fairfax rarely went anywhere without a collection of servants and sycophants. The one blessing was the path he’d passed out by, as it had to lead somewhere. Once he was out he could pay someone to give him a horse and point him in the direction of the city. His father, he was sure, would have some pretty words waiting for the return of his prodigal son.
Which way was best to go? Forwards was just more trees, with little indication of whether it curved deeper into the forest or not. Backwards was much the same, though the white tear in the air didn’t look particularly inviting. Forcefully ignoring the implication of its existence, Gabriel limped as hurriedly as possible away from the impossible, eyes glazed with an almost maniacal look.
It was unsurprising that he fainted after just a few steps.
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