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Mar. 29th, 2007 03:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsPrompt: Early
Word Count: 442
Dawn slunk in like a tomcat after an evening’s prowl, slow and proud and full as the sun moved steadily over the horizon. The burning ball of light was red that morning, streaking the sky with trails of fading pink and burning off the fog that had settled over the valley during the night. Kalla groaned and buried her face in the bundle of clothes that served as her pillow. Her night had been filled with strange dreams and a fitful sleep that had brought her little peace. No nightmares, thank the gods, but odd visions and what felt like memories even though they couldn’t possibly be so had kept her thrashing on her bedroll until the wee hours of the morning.
Almost on instinct, face still blindly turned into the protectively dark fabric, she freed a hand from beneath her cloak and felt along the edge of her bedroll. A smooth wooden handle, as chilly as the air around it and damp from dew, and then the even colder bite of steel, the axe was still next to her. It was her savior and her curse and, only six weeks since the horrible night when it had helped to start her down her bloody path, she clung to all it represented even as part of her wished she could be rid of the burden it represented.
As usual, a faint buzzing filled the back of her mind, the sound like a fly ramming futilely against a glass jar in the summer before it finally succumbed to the heat. It drove her a little mad but she embraced the feeling on mornings like that one. No birdcalls beyond the occasional raucous squawk from the ravens that circled overhead and her night had passed in silence beyond the slow dying of her fire. She was alone in the borderlands, a young woman stalking paths that even troops of grown male soldiers avoided with a fire burning in her eyes and a lust for revenge propelling her footsteps.
‘Time to get to it.’ Sometimes she wasn’t sure if she was just hearing the voice of her conscience or will or if something or someone actually was talking to her. The razor edge of the blade slid along her fingertip as she moved her hand and she sighed and kicked off her covers. With the sun’s arrival, she didn’t have any more excuses to lay around and nothing would get her to her destination besides her own tired feet. Kalla sat up and blinked in the early morning light and settled her axe over her knees, the dual blades winking in the sun’s crimson rays.
Word Count: 442
Dawn slunk in like a tomcat after an evening’s prowl, slow and proud and full as the sun moved steadily over the horizon. The burning ball of light was red that morning, streaking the sky with trails of fading pink and burning off the fog that had settled over the valley during the night. Kalla groaned and buried her face in the bundle of clothes that served as her pillow. Her night had been filled with strange dreams and a fitful sleep that had brought her little peace. No nightmares, thank the gods, but odd visions and what felt like memories even though they couldn’t possibly be so had kept her thrashing on her bedroll until the wee hours of the morning.
Almost on instinct, face still blindly turned into the protectively dark fabric, she freed a hand from beneath her cloak and felt along the edge of her bedroll. A smooth wooden handle, as chilly as the air around it and damp from dew, and then the even colder bite of steel, the axe was still next to her. It was her savior and her curse and, only six weeks since the horrible night when it had helped to start her down her bloody path, she clung to all it represented even as part of her wished she could be rid of the burden it represented.
As usual, a faint buzzing filled the back of her mind, the sound like a fly ramming futilely against a glass jar in the summer before it finally succumbed to the heat. It drove her a little mad but she embraced the feeling on mornings like that one. No birdcalls beyond the occasional raucous squawk from the ravens that circled overhead and her night had passed in silence beyond the slow dying of her fire. She was alone in the borderlands, a young woman stalking paths that even troops of grown male soldiers avoided with a fire burning in her eyes and a lust for revenge propelling her footsteps.
‘Time to get to it.’ Sometimes she wasn’t sure if she was just hearing the voice of her conscience or will or if something or someone actually was talking to her. The razor edge of the blade slid along her fingertip as she moved her hand and she sighed and kicked off her covers. With the sun’s arrival, she didn’t have any more excuses to lay around and nothing would get her to her destination besides her own tired feet. Kalla sat up and blinked in the early morning light and settled her axe over her knees, the dual blades winking in the sun’s crimson rays.
