The early morning sky was just a Scott had remembered. The Light blues marred only by the gentle gold of the rising sun. The night’s darkness still lingered at the edge of the sky, hidden just behind the clouds. It was that time when the sun was barely rising and the moon still hung high in the sky its image faint, but its silver exterior still luminous. On any other day, the sounds of the birds chirping their morning songs would have filled Scott with a sense of awe but today was not that day.
It had been an age since Scott had taken in a breath of fresh air. Fresh sea salt sprinkled his tongue with each harsh breath. He had made his way into a small seaside village running from his masters from their slaves and guards, swordmen and spies, anyone who the magistrates could send after him. The young man would rather enjoy the day, sit there at the water’s edge towing the gentle waves while taking in the salty breeze but instead the breeze carried with it the scent of blood and death, of rotting and burning flesh.
The broken mangled bodies of Tevinter mercenaries and sellswords laid sprawled among the moist sandy dunes. Severed limbs and heads piled up in a pool of fresh blood, the flesh was torn from bone, eyes and throats gouged out by fangs and claws. Others laid burnt, by flames and ice and yet others still had no wounds at all. Their bodies were unblemished by claw or steel or spell. Those were the poor sods that still lingered on the battlefield. Their spirits tore asunder by a special type of weapon, a new spin on a knight enchanter’s signature ‘blade.’
Scott clutched his ribs with one hand, fresh blood oozing through his fingers. A patch of white wolf fur on the back of his palm receded back into his skin. He had fought for his life, his freedom. There was no way in hell he was going back to be their prisoner again. Sweat soaked his naked body, his muscles screaming, straining from days of being on the run of fighting and killing. He caught the sound of crunching sand under heavy boots, turning his head in that direction as a jet of flames sprouted from his open palm. “Stay back!” Scott’s vision was blurry, dimming at the edges as more blood poured from his wounds. His eyes transfixed on the hulking figure before him. “I don’t wan…wanna h-hurt you."
