WIP: Moonlight in Scarlet
May. 7th, 2009 03:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jasonandrewHere is what I am working on at this moment.
“Moonlight in Scarlet"
by Jason Andrew
“There are three things cannot be long hidden by man or god: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”
Prince Gautama Siddharta, the founder of Buddhism, 563-483 B.C.
The throbbing agony in his feet faded to soothing numbness. Shivering, he unfolded his arms to examine his shaking pink hands. They looked like a skinned pair of boiled rabbits. Rob knew that he would soon succumb to the snow sickness if he did not find shelter. If only there had been time to find warmer clothing before he fled from the castle! He brought his tender hands to his lips and tried to blow into them to keep them warm. His chest ached, as though his very bones and heart had grown heavy.
The familiar woods where he played by daylight transformed in the darkness of night into a hostile dredging landscape of ice and snow. The juniper trees drooped, weighed down by thin sharp icicles. Each step sapped his strength as he pulled his feet from the wet snow and climbed further up the slope.
His escape from the castle was achieved by a happy string of circumstances. Mother had bid him to take any opportunity to flee and seek help. Rob hid in the supply wagon during a drunken brawl and almost made it to the western river bridge until he could no longer hold his cough. The wagon stopped suddenly jerking Rob awake. Knowing that he would be taken back, Rob ran as fast he could into the woods.
Rob had hopped that he had enough of a head start, but the barking of the wolf-hounds indicated that his uncle’s huskarls were almost upon him. He thought of surrendering to them and letting them take him back to the castle to warm himself by a hearth. Surely, his uncle would not punish him too harshly and his mother must be worried?
Father deserved better. These men might catch him this night, but he wasn’t going to make it any easier for them. The decision bolstered his withered spirits. He no longer cared that his hands had grown numb like his feet; only that he find help for what was left of his family.
Rob quickened his pace. If he reached the Nore River, the ferryman would take him to Desi Mumhain. And from there, he could find someone that could help his family.
The savage wails of the wolf-hounds grew dangerously close. Their pants and snarles seemed to surround him. The dogs glided over the snow effortlessly and were quickly upon them. The huskarls at the castle had trained these dogs for generations. They could track a man and stop him without drawing blood. Or with a single command, they could rend flesh with their fangs. Rob tumbled into the snow face first. He barely managed to turn upon his side before the pack had completely surrounded him. He was too frightened to move.
“They caught ‘em!”
Rob glanced down the hill. Bundled in heavy winter grab, the huskarls marched towards him from the basin of the hill. Their grim face flickered in the torchlight. They were none too pleased to be in this snow storm. “Come down, lad! Save us all a heap of mischief this night!”
The wolf-hounds yelped excitedly. They huddled together, pushing against each other to establish dominance over who would loom over him the victor. The winner was the large grey wolf-hound with a missing eye named Anlan. Anlan had been his father’s hound during the boarder wars.
The younger dogs and the pups snapped playfully at each other and barked joyfully. Anlan froze. His ears perked and the old wolf-hound sniffed cautiously for danger. He growled softly, not as a threat to Rob, but as a warning to the pack.
The others quickly fell into line behind the old wolf-hound. Rob had seen such behavior during hunts with his father. There was something dangerous at the top of the hill. Some scent that frightened the dogs. Anlan’s ears lowered; his tails between his legs. He crouched his head low and backed away from Rob. The other wolf-hounds did the same. Once they were back at the base of the hill, they turned away and ran into the darkness howling.
“Must have caught scent of rabbit!” one of the young huskarls grumbled. He violently waved the torch in the air trying to scare away any nearby animals. “Devil take you, dogs! I’ll not chase you this night.”
The tall huskarl with a thick grey mustache turned his attention to Rob. His name was Cadoc. “Listen here, Young Master! You crawl down from there and we’ll tell your uncle that you came along willingly. You won’t be punished as severely. I’ll see to that.”
Rob’s resolve waivered for a moment. Cadoc kept his word. His own father had often said as much before he died. “I have to get help for my sisters!”
Cadoc scoffed. “I saw them both less than two hours ago. Worried as to pull their hair out about you.”
Did Cadoc not know of what his uncle planned? Could he be an ally. One of the huskarl gasped and then pointed at the crest of the hill. “Wait! There’s something lurking in the shadows. Run boy! Run!”
Rob could barely lift his head enough to see the outline of a tall figure stepping out of the darkness. Nothing could be seen of the face due to a thick fur cloak and hood. He noted the black gauntlets, heavy soldier’s boots, and the leather wrapped pummel of a sword. “Sir, help me? My sisters are in danger.”
Rob’s imagined savior did not speak. The worn boots stepped over him and descended down the hill. The only sound was that of the displaced snow. The huskarl drew their swords. “We are on the King’s business. If you interfere, I’ll split your skull.”
The warrior lifted his hood. The huskarl gasped. Rob pushed himself out of the snow, trying to sit, trying to get a better view. It was a woman’s voice that spoke as her blade flashed in her hand. “I claim this child, this night. Do not think to take what is mine!”
“Moonlight in Scarlet"
by Jason Andrew
“There are three things cannot be long hidden by man or god: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”
Prince Gautama Siddharta, the founder of Buddhism, 563-483 B.C.
The throbbing agony in his feet faded to soothing numbness. Shivering, he unfolded his arms to examine his shaking pink hands. They looked like a skinned pair of boiled rabbits. Rob knew that he would soon succumb to the snow sickness if he did not find shelter. If only there had been time to find warmer clothing before he fled from the castle! He brought his tender hands to his lips and tried to blow into them to keep them warm. His chest ached, as though his very bones and heart had grown heavy.
The familiar woods where he played by daylight transformed in the darkness of night into a hostile dredging landscape of ice and snow. The juniper trees drooped, weighed down by thin sharp icicles. Each step sapped his strength as he pulled his feet from the wet snow and climbed further up the slope.
His escape from the castle was achieved by a happy string of circumstances. Mother had bid him to take any opportunity to flee and seek help. Rob hid in the supply wagon during a drunken brawl and almost made it to the western river bridge until he could no longer hold his cough. The wagon stopped suddenly jerking Rob awake. Knowing that he would be taken back, Rob ran as fast he could into the woods.
Rob had hopped that he had enough of a head start, but the barking of the wolf-hounds indicated that his uncle’s huskarls were almost upon him. He thought of surrendering to them and letting them take him back to the castle to warm himself by a hearth. Surely, his uncle would not punish him too harshly and his mother must be worried?
Father deserved better. These men might catch him this night, but he wasn’t going to make it any easier for them. The decision bolstered his withered spirits. He no longer cared that his hands had grown numb like his feet; only that he find help for what was left of his family.
Rob quickened his pace. If he reached the Nore River, the ferryman would take him to Desi Mumhain. And from there, he could find someone that could help his family.
The savage wails of the wolf-hounds grew dangerously close. Their pants and snarles seemed to surround him. The dogs glided over the snow effortlessly and were quickly upon them. The huskarls at the castle had trained these dogs for generations. They could track a man and stop him without drawing blood. Or with a single command, they could rend flesh with their fangs. Rob tumbled into the snow face first. He barely managed to turn upon his side before the pack had completely surrounded him. He was too frightened to move.
“They caught ‘em!”
Rob glanced down the hill. Bundled in heavy winter grab, the huskarls marched towards him from the basin of the hill. Their grim face flickered in the torchlight. They were none too pleased to be in this snow storm. “Come down, lad! Save us all a heap of mischief this night!”
The wolf-hounds yelped excitedly. They huddled together, pushing against each other to establish dominance over who would loom over him the victor. The winner was the large grey wolf-hound with a missing eye named Anlan. Anlan had been his father’s hound during the boarder wars.
The younger dogs and the pups snapped playfully at each other and barked joyfully. Anlan froze. His ears perked and the old wolf-hound sniffed cautiously for danger. He growled softly, not as a threat to Rob, but as a warning to the pack.
The others quickly fell into line behind the old wolf-hound. Rob had seen such behavior during hunts with his father. There was something dangerous at the top of the hill. Some scent that frightened the dogs. Anlan’s ears lowered; his tails between his legs. He crouched his head low and backed away from Rob. The other wolf-hounds did the same. Once they were back at the base of the hill, they turned away and ran into the darkness howling.
“Must have caught scent of rabbit!” one of the young huskarls grumbled. He violently waved the torch in the air trying to scare away any nearby animals. “Devil take you, dogs! I’ll not chase you this night.”
The tall huskarl with a thick grey mustache turned his attention to Rob. His name was Cadoc. “Listen here, Young Master! You crawl down from there and we’ll tell your uncle that you came along willingly. You won’t be punished as severely. I’ll see to that.”
Rob’s resolve waivered for a moment. Cadoc kept his word. His own father had often said as much before he died. “I have to get help for my sisters!”
Cadoc scoffed. “I saw them both less than two hours ago. Worried as to pull their hair out about you.”
Did Cadoc not know of what his uncle planned? Could he be an ally. One of the huskarl gasped and then pointed at the crest of the hill. “Wait! There’s something lurking in the shadows. Run boy! Run!”
Rob could barely lift his head enough to see the outline of a tall figure stepping out of the darkness. Nothing could be seen of the face due to a thick fur cloak and hood. He noted the black gauntlets, heavy soldier’s boots, and the leather wrapped pummel of a sword. “Sir, help me? My sisters are in danger.”
Rob’s imagined savior did not speak. The worn boots stepped over him and descended down the hill. The only sound was that of the displaced snow. The huskarl drew their swords. “We are on the King’s business. If you interfere, I’ll split your skull.”
The warrior lifted his hood. The huskarl gasped. Rob pushed himself out of the snow, trying to sit, trying to get a better view. It was a woman’s voice that spoke as her blade flashed in her hand. “I claim this child, this night. Do not think to take what is mine!”