Free Falling

Against the cloudy sky, a brown-feathered hawk glides on the winds
coming from the east. It screeches, crying its war’s song. Causing a
light jacketed rider to turn his head and looked up, a hand reached up
to block the sun from hitting his strange eyes. Snow white hair flowed
gently in the wind along with the ends of a long red and gold knitted
scarf. The dark bay horse nickered and pulled on the reins, making his
rider chuckle and pat the horse's neck. With a word whispered in his
ear, the horse took off in a playful run on the light green grassy
valley. The rider laughed and encouraged with ‘yea’s and kicks against
the beast’s sides. They thundered on, making animals that were enjoying
a cool breeze with their afternoon meal to run wild away from the horse
to avoid being trampled upon.

The rider reached to pull out the darts that loosely bound his long
curling hair from his face to let it twirl free in the rushing wind.
With a carefree look on his young freckled face, the rider closed his
eyes, letting the feel of flying in the wind like the brown hawk rush
throughout his blood and body. Upon the cliffs to the right of him,
stood a cloaked figure that watched man and horse enjoying an afternoon
run. A grin formed on his tanned face as he commits the sight to memory
before disappearing from view. With a silent promise to find the young
man in a near by future.

The horse was slowly allowed to trot, panting from the run as they enter
a forest. The rider draped against the animal’s neck, snow white mixing
in with dark brown as the man muttered nonsense cooing. He rubbed his
calloused fingers against the taut muscle and skin. They were brothers.
Each proven time and again to bleed and fight for the other, dive to
pull the other out danger. They wore identical beads and feathers in
their hair. Also they wore a leather and ribbon headband around their
head with the braided ends lying against the side of their faces. The
horse trotted to the sounds of a flowing river, stopping on the edge and
bowing his head down to drink at the cool water. His human brother
slipped off his back and couched down beside him, scooping water up with
his tattooed hand being used as a cup.

Then he stood up to remove the dark red saddle and grey saddle pad
dropping them onto the ground, next came the draft tract and reins. He
took out the brush and brushed down his brother before letting the horse
go bath in the cool water. He smiled before he slipped out his shirts,
belts and boots, folding the shirts and sticking them under the boots
and the belts over the saddle horn. He unstrapped daggers and throwing
knives from various places on his body to lay on his shirts. Leaving on
his black breeches with ice blue leather laces up the sides, leather arm
band and single fingerless leather glove, the rider waded into the water
till it came up to his lean waist.

He scooped up the water and splashed it onto his pale body. He had the
lean body of a warrior, scars on various places on the skin from
practice and from battles. Symbols and pattern rings covered his left
bicep, right forearm, wrist, hand, along the spine of his back, and on
his freckled cheeks. Large silver hoops with colorful rings dangled from
his ears with a large bronze piercing through the conch of his right
ear. Necklaces, either leather cord or silver and gold draped from his
neck, filled with charms, beads and pendants. Shell bangles clinked
together on his right wrist and two fingers on each hand were laced with
rings.

The sound of wings flapping in the air caused him to look around, and
sniff the air with his sharpened nose. Smelling nothing that screamed
‘Threat’ to him, he dropped to his knees and ducked his head back to dip
into the water. Fingers danced in the water as toes dug into the muddy
ground of the river. His brother splashed around before trotting back
onto dry grass to rest in the open sun to dry off and keep guard as the
human continue his relaxing bath.

Fish nipped at the slender body and hair floating in their water,
causing the owner to chuckle softly, feeling younger then his
twenty-three years. He was forced to grow up quickly when his childhood
ended at ten years old when raiders burned down his village and
slaughtered his parents, uncles, aunts and then stole his brothers,
sister, cousins, and friends to be sold into slavery. He was spared only
cause his mother hidden him away under the hogs' troth at the end of her
life and strength.

Then as a young boy, he lived wild in the forests. Traveling roads and
stealing from travelers. Eventually he was taken in by a traveling
circus. There he learned how to be nimble and swift, jump high and do
awe-inspiring flips in the air. Then he was taught to sing and dance
with great joy for life. He learned how to apply his newly learnt skills
to fighting later when he was forced to leave his circus friends.
Between that eventful day to now, swimming in the cool river, he
re-gained a family. A wild stallion that was wary of men but allowed a
wild youth pet his head and neck and climbed onto his back to forever
ride together to where the wind took them.

They belonged to no kingdom and served no master but themselves. He
offered his skills and weapons when there was money to be made and they
offered the strength of their arms, legs, and back to those that need
it. They were a force of stubborn wills and sharp wit, who would back
out of a war if they saw nothing in it for themselves or they don’t like
their employer. They would do what it took to make a gaggle of children
giggle and clap their hands in joy.

A sound of water splashing made the young wonderer to stand up in the
river, water glistering in the light on the pale taut body. He pushed
back wet hair that was plastered to his face and blinked at the stunning
sight of a large white stag that was swimming across the muddy water. A
shinning light from inside the brush on the other side of the water,
caused the strange cattish eyes to widen in alertness as he raced and
splashed around in the water to get the majestic animal to swim away
faster. He even screamed and jumped onto a large bolder and leaped from
rock to rock. An arrow pierced through the air but the young warrior was
able land with a splash in the water, causing the grand beast to run
through the water now. The arrow still pierced fleshed, through the
covered hand of the white stag’s rescuer. A curse from the brushes and
his own cry of pain rang as one throughout the air. The white stag
disappeared into the dark forest, to be never seen again but not
forgotten. Cursing rang in the ears of the warrior as arms pulled him
out of the water.

“Dammit, you idiot! I get it that you want to save the stag’s life but
you do not get into the line of fire!” A blond man with sun kissed skin,
dressed in brown and green suede leather clothes, scolded the other as
he pulled the hand towards himself.

The young warrior winced and spit back “Oi! I’m the idiot!?” A look from
the hunter told him that it was an agreed idea. “Don’t you know that
it’s bad luck to kill a white stag?! It’s bad for the forest and for the
fool that killed it!”

The hunter rolled his stunning blue eyes and broke the arrowhead end off
the shaft and told the paler man to grit his teeth before pulling out
the rest through the bleeding hand. He then pulled off the ruined glove
and tore a strip from his white undershirt to use it to wrap around the
wound. “Get your gear and horse, we have a physician back at camp that
can do a better tending then I can.”

“Why should I go with a fool like you?” The snow-haired man snorted as
he pushed up to his feet with one hand and stomped toward where he put
his gear. His horse was looking on, watching as a spectator to between
his brother and this newcomer. He wasn’t about to jump in anytime soon,
and leave his warm spot in the sun.

“Cause a wound like that might get infected and judging from the weapons
you have here and the whole ‘I’m a wanderer’ look you got going on here,
you need that hand to earn money.” The hunter followed, waving his hand
at the couching man as he took in the warrior’s look. “I only care cause
I was told good deeds allow you to live longer then bad ones.” He
quickly spoke when cat like yellow eyes looked at him with a thin
eyebrow raised.

With a dry laugh, the slightly shorter of the two men pulled on his
leather vest-shirt then pulled on his cream-purple thin cloth jacket,
careful of his bandaged hand. “Coming from you, the one that was about
to doom a forest and himself!” He pulled out long black steel darts with
red tassels and twirled his long wet hair, binding it up loosely.

“Look, you’re getting that hand fixed even if I have to pin you down by
force to do it.” The blond man sighed and gave the other body one more
judging look. “And it looks like I won’t have a problem doing it either.”

At that, the wanderer laughed long and loud. “Ha!” He poked at the
other’s nose, ignoring the fact on how he had to reach and tip his head
back to do it for sake of pride. “You can’t hold down a newborn lamb let
alone me.” Then he buckled his belts with clumsy hands around his narrow
waist, bunching up his cloth jacket inside and out of them. Then he
looked back up to get his own look-see of the hunter. “You look like a
noble’s boy. Well-fed and never had to work hard.” He chuckled out a
loud “Too well-fed at that!”

The taller man bristled like an angry cat and hissed out “At least I
Haven’t got a girl’s body.” He folded his arms against his broad chest
and turned out his nose like a snob. “’m not fat.” He muttered to himself.

With a "mmph", the warrior whistled for his brother to come to him so he
could place the riding gear back on him. He winced at the strain of the
wound in his hand. Longer and broader hands pushed his bony ones away to
take over the placement of the saddle. There was laughter when the horse
tried to bite the hunter's fingers when it came to putting in the bit.

“Soar has always had good judgment about people.” The warrior finished
up with the bit and looped the reins back over the saddle. “And I trust
him to point out the bad.” He adjusted supply packs and weapons’ straps
on where they belonged.

“Whatever.” The hunter waved a dismissal hand at the comment, grabbed
the arm of the warrior and start dragging him over to the log-bridge
that connected the two sides of the river. “Let’s get that hand fixed.”

Clearly, he was just as stubborn as the shorter man. Not to be out done,
the warrior dug the heels of his boots into the ground and pulled back
on his arm. Soar just watched as he followed, laughing at it silently.
With a growl the hunter, picked up the other and threw him over his
shoulder with the warrior, yelling and kicking his legs in the air and
beating his back with his fist, he walked on.

After a while the warrior gave up and pouted, he would never admit to it
though but his brother would say he did, and allowed himself to be
carried to the hunting party of his newly made friend as they set up
camp for the night in a clearing a few feet from a bubbling brook. Both
men ignored the confused and questioning shouts as the hunter walked
into the tent that was sent up for the physician, really more like his
student that agreed to go on the hunting trip while his master tended to
a nearby village that had been plagued with a flu for the past week.
Soar waited calmly outside, nibbling on some greenery.

With grunt, the blond man dropped the insufferable snowy-haired man onto
the ground. The dark tawny haired healer turned away from assembling a
small worktable to watch the king’s son fling a strange young man to the
ground and raised his eyebrows as if asking 'what is this?' The blond
lord just grabbed the pouting man’s wrist and held up the bloody palm up
at him.

“He got in between this great big white stag; I mean he was big and
silvery white, not albino, and my arrow.” The healer had already
unwrapped the make-shift bandage to check over the wound, seeing that
the bleeding was slowing down.

“Once again, it's bad luck to kill a white stag.” The snowy-haired man
hissed out as the healer cleaned the wound and checked for splinters
before rubbing some ointment on both sides of the wound and wrapping a
white bandage around it and tied it securely.

“Well it's still a stupid thing to jump in front of an arrow.” The
hunter leaned against the work table, muscular arms folder against the
brown leather covered chest. “By the way, what’s a boy like you doing
out in the woods alone, armed to the teeth?” He tilted his head at the
cat-eyed man. The ‘boy’ snorted and looked up, falling back onto his
elbows that kept him from out right laying on the bedroll.

The healer put away the unused bandages and bottles of ointment. “You
drank the milk of the Mist Dragons from the snow-capped mountains in the
north, the ones that lead into the Ice lands, didn’t you?” His onyx eyes
looked over at the man who was studying him back,

“Yes, I did. I was bitten by this demon snake while I was near the
mountains.” The warrior turned away and crossed his legs as he folded
his arms behind his head. “I wondered into the cave of such a dragon and
she made me promise her a favor before letting me drink her milk.” The
yellow eyes looked back up at the healer and the hunter.

“What does that have to do with you being on your own in the woods?” The
blond man was getting annoyed from not having his question answered.

“I see the side-effects from drinking the milk weren’t just rumors.” The
healer pointed at the white hair and cat eyes of the warrior. “Tell me,
you aren’t really like forty or sixty 'cause I know that side-effect is
false.”

The warrior blinked owlishly before throwing his head back into a
roaring laugh, showing off two sets of elongated canine teeth from the
top row of his teeth. “No man, I’m not that old. I’m like twenty-three.
But the milk does make you age slower.” He wiped the tears from his
eyes. “It is really beside the point, since my hair is already white.” .

The healer nodded and then lowered to offer his hand to the warrior that
was lying on his bedroll with a friendly smile. “I’m Lucan.” The warrior
blinked at the hand like it was a foreign object that he had never seen
the likes of before.

“Roark.” He offered the un-injured hand back, letting the two hands
clasped in friendship and greeting. “Who’s the fat idiot?” He leaned in
with chuckle, nodding his head off to the fuming blond who really was
getting fed up with being ignored.

“I’M THE KING OF CLAVORN’S SECOND SON, PRINCE HENRY” He flung himself at
Roark, straddling his waist and grabbing him by the collar of the jacket
and shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “AND I'M NOT FAT! YOU
GIRLY-MAN!"

It actually took Lucan and a few of the other men to pry the enraged
prince off poor Roark.