Fir Rukial

Morning spark
softly spoke
to the early mist.
It lifts,
revealing glistening
crimson tiles.

A bronze choir
breaks the silence.

A city wakes.

Silver curtains billowed in the breeze, hands on the sill, a name echoes. Swiftly leaving the room, a body sunk into the ever-folding staircase. At the last two steps, a jump, a quick rush to the entrance, the gates, the square. A name echoes. Kae, my name.

Shouts. Iron clashing. Through alleys, two deserters escape. One, with a sheathed dagger. The other, with crimson feathers on her arm. Shouts. Iron clashing. Tilon and Terra blared through the alleys.

Now, they stand surrounded. Lazuline feathers emerged behind the guards. A tall figure, covered in armour head to toe, breaks the circle. "Seize them." Kicking and screaming the two fugitives headed downhill.

Tumbling through the plaza, the two jumped on a wagon left alone. The woolly creature, in fear, ran off hauling the two. With soldiers still at heel, they hastened towards the city gates.

An orchestrated play of hoofs and cries, gradually increasing in intensity and numbers, crowned by a deafening thud. The two looked behind their backs. A silver-haired boy, face down. And me, aghast.

Screeching voices, faintly interpreted as orders: "Close the gates!" As those got bigger the wagon squeezed out, and with a bang, cloves gushed over them. Furor blared through the valleys.

Racing and slithering down the slope, the army threw darts at us, punching holes in the thin cloth covering the wagon. While lowering our head I crossed my eyes with the boy, interrupted by a shout. "Look out!"

We met with a narrow stone bridge crossing a stream. A figure, with purple garments, and gauntlets on her arms, stood in the middle. The woolly creature, exhausted and terrified, launched herself into the shallow river. Hauling us into a big splash.

I couldn't see or hear anything as I made my way out of the cart. I faintly looked up. The soldiers ran through the stream and around forming a circle, tailed by the feathered armour. Now, we stand surrounded.

In the haze of a torrid noon, as the sun withdrew from its zenith, deep black gashes sliced down the horizon, bleeding soot. As the waters turned crimson, ash filled the air, and the forest set afire, the horror, oh the horror shivered down their spines.

The figure fell to her knees, both in pain and disgust. The others gazed up to the sky, clear blue, as nothing ever happened in the haze of a torrid noon.