Unfinished (Working Title: Scarlet Leaves)

Here, I start at the very end; not what you would expect for the beginning of a story. As it is now, I lay on the cold, marble floor in a pool of blood. Fed by a gushing waterfall of crimson coming out of my thigh, being pumped out by the beat of my thumping heart, I was surprised that I had that much blood in my veins, the level of the pool rising to lap at my fingers.

Hopefully, whoever picks this mess of a story up masters the lesson I failed to learn. I would not want this account of my adventures to have been recorded in vain. That would have robbed my life of its purpose. Everything I had ever worked for and sacrificed would be worthless. So my experiences; my mistakes, triumphs, and sadly, my death – would hopefully be for the betterment of the reader.

---

Scarlet leaves crunched beneath the soles of heavy black boots. Fiery copper eyes cast furtive glances behind, restless in their searching. The lithe body flew through the forest, running from an unseen enemy. Blonde hair whipped around in the wind, obscuring the runner’s view. Breath curled out of the mouth and into the brisk morning air. Hands went to the hilt of a sword every few minutes, always ready for attack.

Marie knew that what she was doing was wrong, but it was the only way. That’s how she consoled herself at night when the guilt became too much. When the weight of all she’d done came down on her, the thought of what her actions would culminate in kept her going, pulling her through the rough times and keeping her swimming in an unrelenting current.

Breaking through to a clear meadow, she took a moment to gulp some water from the skin hanging from her shoulder. It was in these few seconds that she was able to relax and focus on things other than escaping and running. Her shoulders, where they had before been furiously moving up and down, began to slow. Her breaths came easier and she started to feel at peace.

Marie’s eyes looked around the meadow, and seeing no danger, she continued to drink the water in her skin. Her thirst quenched, she replaced the skin to her side and then bent down to inspect her shoes. The lacings still tight and the soles still attached, she stood up and took off again.

The path she took led her through a bubbling mountain stream and a cold, dripping and inky mountain tunnel carved long ago by ancient peoples. Upon exiting the rocky passage, Marie welcomed the sight of the little stone hut not 100 yards off. She had finally reached her destination, or at least it seemed as if she had.

In her loping gate to reach the little shack, a series of events began to unfold. Her confidence increased, and why should it not when safety was so close? With her confidence increase, her defenses slackened until she was as doe in the forest. Her gait increased and she was so close to the building when something bowled into her and knocked her flat, taking the air right out of her.

As she struggled to get up, her vision blurring, Marie felt a weight on her shoulder that was preventing her from standing up straight. She looked up and saw a face, screamed and began thrashing wildly trying to free herself.

“Get off me Damian, its me, not some intruder. Get off!” she exclaimed as she pushed his foot off her shoulder and stood up.

“Sorry Em, I thought you were one of them. We can’t take too many chances out here. Come on inside and I’ll fix you a drink,” he put her under his arm and helped her limp to the structure. Once inside, he set Marie down in a chair and began rummaging in the cupboards for two cups and then filled them with water from a pitcher on the counter.

“So, did you get it?” he asked eagerly, sipping at his water while she drowned hers in two seconds.

“Oh, I got it,” she said with a grin, grabbing her pack and releasing the treasure trove onto the table.

---

Damian's eyes glazed over with boredom as he perused the trinkets on the table. He sighed as he contemplated how to break the news to his newest recruit, who although was very eager and happy to help the cause, really wasn't putting a dent into what was really needed.

His fingers restlessly drummed the carved wooden table, trying to gather the courage to speak the words that needed to be said to his protege.
"Marie...This has been... I think...," he trailed off, the right words never coming to mind. He put off the task until a time when better words entered his mind, "Have you been enjoying your time with us so far?"