Fourteen - Tarka

I sprinted through the green leaves and branches surrounding me on the jungle floor. Alden was not used to running through this kind of area like I was, and even if he were, he would be the pathetic type that wasn't used to running at all. I don't know how it happened, but I kept a good hold of the scimitar while running at what seemed a billion miles per hour. It kept slashing through branches to the side of and in front of me, but that helped me all the more.

I finally dashed up a tree before Alden caught up to where I had been. He slowed down to a stop, scratched his head, looked around the trees and even looked up at one point. Luckily, I had hidden myself well enough to where he didn't see me. He let out several large huffs of breath before finally starting back to camp.

It dawned on me that I could potentially have fun with this. I was quicker than Alden (AND Tristram probably as well). They didn't know I existed. "I wonder how many things I could steal from them? I could make them think it was each other . . . Now wouldn't that be a sight?" I thought to myself and chuckled. Why not give it a go?

I swiftly flew from tree to tree ahead of Alden towards camp. When I saw that Tristram had fallen asleep sitting against one of the trees, I hung from one of the lowest branches and dropped down to the ground. Being cautious and making as little noise as possible, I slipped the scimitar's handle in one of his hands resting in his lap. I was also careful to point it towards the ground, so that if he awoke suddenly, he wouldn't stab himself. When I heard the sound of Alden's footsteps coming up behind me, I scampered up the tree again and waited for some fun to begin.

Alden stepped into the campsite and stopped. He glanced at Tristram snoring. His eyes widened. "So it was YOU that took my scimitar! I bet he's only been pretending to sleep, " he said to himself and the sleeping Brackin. He sped his footsteps up, bent down and slapped the Brackin. Tristram awoke with a start. "I'll be taking that back!" said Alden rather loudly.

Tristram furrowed his eyebrows. "What're ya talkin' about, Alden? I don't know how that got into my hands, I promise!"

"Oh yeah, sure."

"Honest! I've been asleep the entire time."

"Okay, whatever you say," Alden stated very loudly again, but he still didn't seem convinced.

I stifled another giggle. I went away from the campsite for a while to find something to fill my growling stomach; I didn't want it to give me away! About an hour or so later, I was able to find some fruit to keep me filled for a bit. I made my way back through the trees and climbed back up in the one overlooking the Brackin and the Palkin.

The two men had built a fire, eaten some fruit they found in a tree and some squirrel or rat thing that Tristram had caught, killed, and skinned. As the moon rose in the dark sky, they drifted off to sleep. I looked around at something else I could take. Something of the Brackin's this time. But what?

I found it. Tristram's knife; it was laying out in plain sight by the fire on one of their unused blankets. It was perfect.

I slid down the tree and landed soundlessly on the ground. I tiptoed with my scaly tail held up so it wouldn't drag and make noise. I stepped onto the blanket.

Before I could grab the knife, I felt myself being lifted up, almost catapulted into the air. The blanket engulfed me, and I couldn't see anything. I bobbed up and down in the air. "Shoot! They set a booby trap! I should've known. They probably set it up while I was gone. Curses!" I thought to myself. I tried to wriggle my way out of the trap but it was no use. I was stuck.

I heard rustling beneath me and then both of the men chuckling. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? A THIEF!" Alden exclaimed.

"It'll think twice before it decides to steal from the two of us again!" Tristram agreed.

"That was a great idea to set up that trap, Tristram."

"Ahh, well I've learned a thing or two from being a Brackin."

I felt myself being pulled down and set on the ground. I struggled to get myself free, but the blanket was still wrapped tightly around me. Finally, the blanket opened above me.

My green eyes finally met with Alden's very blue and very confused ones.

Thirteen - Alden

I had a dream I was running. The ground was soft, and the trees seemed to move out of the way as I raced through woods. When I got to the end I saw nothing. It was like the world just dropped off into nothingness. I turned to go back the other way, but when I did so I felt a grip on my ankle, pulling me down into the depths of nothingness. I clung to the edge of Terraro's surface, crying out for help. Below me a menacing cackle echoed. I dared a look down, to see who it was that clung to my ankle, and saw the glowing eyes of Lesion, slowly digging his clawed hand into my ankle. 

"Come with me." He hissed, yanking me off of the edge.

I bolted up right, body shaking and sweat dampening my ripped up tunic. I sat back against the tree I had fallen asleep under, taking note of Tristram's sleeping form against a tree across the way. Still trying to calm myself, my fingers searched for my scimitar, but to my dismay felt nothing but leaves. I sat up straighter, becoming more alert. After searching my area thoroughly, and searching quietly around Tristram, I realized I was never going to find my scimitar.

I sat down again, defeated. I glanced up through the leaves, trying to get a gage on the time, but the trees hid the location of the sun, leaving just a few rays leaking through here and there. 

Tristram was snoring quite loudly at this point. I didn't know what to make of him. He was a Brackin, and for all I know I can't trust the Brackin people. But then again, he's an exile like me. A part of me wonders if he knows anything about my brother, maybe he was even responsible for my brother's death... No. My brother would never fall prey to the barbaric acts of which Tristram explained. If I knew Fastus at all, which I surely did, I know he died trying to get back to me. No matter how hard I always pushed, he was always there when I needed him to be... until now at least.

I stood up again, trying to be as quiet as I could; Tristram kept snoring away. I ventured a bit into the woods, figuring I should find something new to defend myself with. As I walked between two intersecting trees, a tree-nut fell in front of my feet. Confused, I glanced up, thinking I wouldn't really see anything, but did see brief gleam through the leaves. I tried to get a closer look, and surely enough I caught a glance of a light bouncing off of my scimitar. 

"Hey!" I exclaimed, excited to have found my scimitar. "There you are!" I made a move to climb the tree when suddenly my scimitar was moving. "What the--?" There was a flash of green, and suddenly I realized that my scimitar was being held by someone. "What?" I sat there, stunned for a second, and then I began to grow furious. "The heck!" And I began to run after the thief.

Twelve- Tristram

I listened to Alden's snores. We slept under the stars that night, a beautiful clear one. Had it been raining, I would have brought out the tent, but why trouble yourself when the ground is dry, the sky is beautiful and I finally wasn't alone... "of all the people I met in the forest, it just had to be the brother of the man I killed," I thought, "there is no doubt about it, I can see the family resemblance...". I pushed the guilt away, for now at least.

I happened across Alden quite by accident. I had been hunting and saw an odd color through the trees, it had turned out to be Alden's skin: dark, unlike all the green here. It was a miracle I even saw the kid, the forest is so dense, especially here in Viridi territory  that you can pass someone who is five feet away and neither of you notice. It had happened a couple of times already. I would be walking along then glance behind and there would be a trader a couple feet behind me and to the left, having crossed paths ten seconds before and not even noticing.

It was these chance encounters with traders that probably saved me life. The crate I had been given contained a proper knife, a waterskin, string, and flint. Both were old and not suited for the humidity of the forest, hence they broke after a couple days. By then, however, I had scored some kills for both meat and fur. Traps proved very effective for catching smaller mammals, but I had several close encounters with the juks: ferocious cats whose meat and skin were both profitable. I traded what I could spare whenever I came across a caravan, and had gotten a couple of proper knives, a tent, and a pack that could both hold supplies as well as water.

Perhaps I could trade some more of my skins to get the kid some stuff. He looked like he'd been out here a week or so. If he really was banished, then it would have to have taken him  a handful of weeks at least to cross the desert and reach this far into the forest. He's lucky to be alive. Besides his rusted sword, he didn't look like he had much else on him. He was deliriousness too, he thought his brother died a few days ago... if only he knew it had been a little over a month now... and that the murderer was right next to him. Guilt washed over me once again... Leaving this kid brotherless. I caused his banishment. Surely he wouldn't have done whatever it was if his brother was still alive. Maybe this was my chance for redemption... taking care of the brother of the man I murdered. It certainly can't be a coincidence that we met in the forest. I'll have to tell him in the morning, perhaps ask him to join me. I'd hate to be alone and he needs someone to take care of him... he can't be older than 16, untested by the harshness of life... but now... My eyes kept drooping... couldn't focus...

As I started to drift, I thought I saw something move up in the tree above... a flash of green, a different hue than that of the tree, in the moonlight... But I fell asleep, and when I woke, whatever it was was gone.

Eleven - Tarka

"What?!" I thought to myself in surprise. "Now a Brackin man, too?" Still up in the tree, I crouched down even further on the branch I was on. I was even more determined to keep myself out of sight as much as possible. Who knows what they might do to me?

I looked back down to the Brackin man. He was very large, large enough to squash either I or the Palkin. There was something about him though, that made me not as afraid of him as I could have been. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Standing over the Palkin, he scratched his head with one of his very wide fingers and looked around. Probably didn't know what to do about him. With the meat still in his other hand, he kneeled down to the much smaller Palkin and tried to gently shake him as much as possible. However, his way of being gentle was still considered pretty rough by me as he shook the Palkin a bit too violently. With no response from the Palkin, the Brackin looked around again. His eyes finally caught a large jungle leaf that contained lots of water from the rain storm. He stood up, and plucked the leaf from the tree trunk it was attached to. He stared at it, then at the Palkin. What was he going to do with it?

I didn't have long to figure that out as he walked briskly towards the Palkin and splashed him with the water. The Palkin awoke with such a start, I had to stifle my giggles. I shook my head at myself. I'm laughing? I haven't laughed since before . . .

The Palkin's breathing slowed down after a bit, while he and the Brackin stared at each other for a few minutes. They didn't speak for the longest time. Then, finally, "How long was I out?"

"Not very long."

"Oh." Then silence again.

Oh, how intelligent these two men seemed to be . . .

The Brackin lifted up the meat he had in his hand. "Want some? Or is it still too much to handle?"

The Palkin shrugged. "It's the only food that's been offered to me since . . ."

"Since when?"

"Since I was banished."

"You too, huh?"

The Palkin raised his head towards the Brackin as he was given some meat. "What do you mean 'You too'? You weren't banished because everyone thought you were a traitor to your own people, were you?" He took a huge bite of the meat, his eyes from even up in the tree were large from hunger.

The Brackin lowered his eyes to the jungle floor. "Well, not exactly that, but it might as well have been."

The Palkin raised his own eyes, mid-bite. "What did you do?"

"I killed someone."

The Palkin slowly stood up, on guard now. "How?"

"I hit him in the head with a rock." The Brackin looked up at the Palkin man again. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. It doesn't happen a lot, the one I killed was not meant to be killed. He taunted my people. I threw a rock in a fit of rage, and it just happened to hit him. But even the Brackin people as a whole know that it is not right to murder someone, ever."

The Palkin relaxed his shoulders. "My brother was killed a few days ago." Now it was his turn to look down at the ground.

The Brackin raised his eyes. "This is getting really interesting," I thought to myself, still sitting on the branch.

"What happened to him?"

"He was a Palkin scientist and went on a mission. All I know was that he was killed." The Brackin's face turned a ghostly white. "That's . . . awful. I'm sorry for your loss."

"He was the only one of my people that ever remotely cared for me."

The two of them stood in silence again. Then, the Brackin finally looked the Palkin in the eyes. "I don't even know your name. If we're both banished from our own lands, we might as well get to know each other; it seems we already have a bit."

"I'm Alden."

"Well, Alden, I'm Tristram. Glad to put a name to a face." He shook Alden's hand vigorously, forgetting that he was more than twice Alden's size.

"I'm glad to finally know some names, too," I thought to myself.

Alden looked up towards the now clear sky. The stars were out in their full glory, and the moon was no exception. "Well, we should probably get some rest. We've got to start gathering food and make ourselves a more reasonable shelter if we're both going to live here for a while."

Tristram nodded. As they both laid down on the moist jungle floor, I held my breath as everything seemed to fall silent. Once I finally heard them snoring, I climbed down from the tree as quietly as I could. "Maybe I should try to find them some food . . . Wait, why am I trying to help them? What does it matter to me?" I thought to myself. Maybe it was because I recognized their loneliness, their outcast status in their own land.

I was just like them.

Careful not to make any loud sounds, I tiptoed back to my village in the moonlight, making my own plan of action.

Ten - Alden

My fingers wrapped tightly around the rusted scimitar as I lay on the wet soil and leaves. With Callow being in the middle of town, no one was there to watch his boxed up items, and for some reason we treat everyone, even traitors like me, with trust. So I had marched the walk of shame alone, and taken the scimitar on my way out. But now... Now there was nothing.

I looked up through the Viridi trees as I lay uselessly on the damp jungle floor. The trees began to drip, and a rolling thunder paraded overhead. Letting my head fall back to the ground I felt everything within me breaking. It's not like I particularly cared for my job or home life, but what am I supposed to do now? If my life had no purpose before it surely didn't now.

Each breath seemed to grow more painful, and I had a hard time telling the difference between the falling rain and my own tears. Silently I lay, stifling my thoughts and ignoring the stab of hunger that grew more powerful each moment. Eventually, I thought I might die from hunger, having no way of telling time in the condensed spot of trees I had collapsed under. My fingers grew white as I clenched the scimitar, wanting desperately to just be rid of this pain, when the hunger began to subside. I have no idea how long it took, but the hunger went away in time.

For a little while the rain seemed to stop. I looked up with a groggy view of sunlit leaves. Before I may have found it a beautiful sight, having seen nothing but a distant view of what trees might look like, but everything seemed so meaningless instead.

"Brother..." I whispered, in a hoarse voice, desperate to speak with the one person who ever listened. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Then I heard a sound, like a large feather falling from a flying berkalo and landing on top of a paper, like when it was cool enough to set tables up outside in the evenings just before the sun had fully hidden. Shifting my glance I saw a blurred vision of someone standing before me. It was a brief moment, and I'm not sure it was real, but by the time I had closed my eyes and opened them again I saw some kind of meat before me.

The thought of eating turned my stomach. I reached with the hand unattached to the scimitar and tried to push it away from me, when a loud voiced boomed.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

I flinched back from the meat, trying to raise my scimitar in a sad attempt at protection, my vision almost doubled as I glanced about.

"Oh man..." I felt a cold touch on my shoulder, and a pulsing sensation began to stir in the raised skin of my branding. My finger's lost grip of the scimitar and my head started swimming, thoughts of my brother being dead and the searing pain of being branded crowding my head. "You don't look very good." A distant voice murmured as I drowned in darkness.

Nine- Tristram

It rained the first week of my exile; drenching freezing rain that seems to freeze your inner being, or perhaps that was my banishment talking... Anyways, it had picked up from the gentle shower earlier. The branding itself was quick, the shape of a skull branded on the back of my left hand. Then the ceremonial knife, no more than an inch, carved an x in my palm. A death certificate was signed... I was now dead. They handed me the knife, the final piece in my supplies yet, sadly, useless for any real purpose. I was lead out into the rain where I would join six members of the royal guard to the western border, a three day journey.

It was silent. None of the guards spoke to me even though three of them served under me and another was my friend in the academy. They were all stoic and silent; their only purpose to deliver me to the border. Other than that, I was dead. They didn't speak to me, didn't give me food or water, didn't help me if I stumbled. I started to worry about how I would survive in the jungle that served as our western border. My knife was useless, serving only as a reminder of my betrayal. I had no knapsack, no water skin, no protection from the elements. I was dead.

We arrived at the border around noon on the third day. The rain hadn't let up and the fear of survival was even heavier on me. I looked out at the forest; its vibrant green, its tall thin trees, its strange noises... I heard footsteps behind me and noticed a presence on my right. It was Leno, my friend from the academy. We met on our first day,we were bunk mates. He was an excellent strategist and swordsman and would have been a great general had it not been for his fear of horses. We trained and studied together and even after the academy, we were good friends. He dropped a small crate, no larger than a knapsack, beside me, though he did not look at me. I looked around at the others, the first time I had seen their faces the entire trip. They were all sad. Each one was looking at the ground, not out of humiliation or pity, but in honor. They were showing their honor for me, their appreciation for strength in the face of death. Strength? I was dying inside. I wanted to run... but I didn't, perhaps that was this strength they saw.

Without acknowledging me, Leno spoke. "Let it never be said that we punish those who do good." He looked at the crate and spoke to the others, "I believe we're all packed up and ready to go. Lets go home." And with that they left, leaving the crate behind. An unexpected, and forbidden  gift no doubt with some basic supplies. Perhaps I'm not dead... certainly not to those who love me. I'm just gone to them, moved far away. I looked again at the forest. The trees made a canopy: a good shelter from the rain. I picked up my crate and crossed the border...

A weight lifted from my shoulders and I ran in the rain.

Eight - Tarka

Grabbing my bow and arrows, I ran out the door and practically flew down the ladder connecting my hut to the ground and dashed to the outskirts of the village for my weekly escape from everyday life. I stopped at the gate. Even though I had escaped the village many times, none of us were technically allowed out of there, unless you were a Viridi leader leaving town for "important business," whatever that may have been. I looked all around me to see if there was anyone around to see me leave. Nobody. I started walking tardily out of the gate, when I heard soft crunching and squeaking behind me. I held my breath as I turned around. A Viridi salesman with a fruit cart was walking away from me, probably towards the marketplace. I released my breath; none of the common people really cared what I did. As far as they were concerned, I did not exist. And I was okay with that. However, the elders were a different story altogether. I was a troublemaker to them. Not being caught by anyone, I stepped through the barrier between me and temporary peace and freedom. 

Deciding to enjoy my stroll through the outskirts of town, I took my sweet time making my way through the Viridi jungle. About ten to fifteen minutes into the walk, I came upon the tree. OUR tree. Sighing, I climbed up the branches to a good enough height to where I wouldn't feel uncomfortable sitting or standing there for a while. Was this the branch? I sat down, my scaly legs sprawled out, my tail hanging off the edge, and my eyes closed. "So many memories," I thought. This was my real home. 

He slid down on the branch above my own head. He could tell something was wrong. "What has happened, Tarka?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you're not exactly your spitfire self today."

How could I tell Damian what was happening? My mother had passed on from a severe illness; we were all grieving. I was also turning 15 in a few days, and the Viridi tradition says I have to move out and support myself after that. I hated it. My father was completely unsympathetic to my current plight, even though I was the only family he had left. I hated him even more. 

I clenched my teeth. "There's a lot that's happened."

"I heard about your mother's passing. I am very sorry. I cannot even imagine your grief." His tail bopped me on the head. I looked up at him, with a slight smile on my face. Intentional or not, everything he did made me feel better about things, at least for a little while. He gave me that smirk of his. 

"How can I help?" He climbed down beside me on my branch and looked at me with those temporarily tamed green eyes. I shook my head. "I wish I knew. Maybe you could wave your hand over me and make us both disappear from this place forever?" 

He chuckled. "I can make some magic, but not like that." He put his scaly arm around my shoulder. Chills ran through my already cold-blooded body. "Like what?"

"Well, I can make things disappear for a little while." I gave him a quizzical look. The mischief came back to his eyes, and before I could stop him, he tickled me all over. I squealed with delight, screaming for him to stop at least a dozen times, but I didn't really want him to. After five minutes, we stopped, both out of breath laughing. 

Before I knew what I was doing, I said, "I love you, Damian." He stopped laughing and looked me in the eyes; uncertainty replaced the mischief. My eyes widened. What did I just say? What have I done? I quickly stood up on the branch, grabbing a hold of the trunk with my claws trying to balance myself. "I think I have to go." 

He reached for and grabbed my wrist. "Why? I want to talk about this." My worried eyes looked down at my feet. I sat down again, my head buried in my knees. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no! I'm so glad you did. Because I feel the same way." I perked up and lifted my head. What? 'Can this be true?' my eyes asked him. "I truly do. Ever since I laid eyes on you in the marketplace. Your hair, your eyes, everything caught my attention. Spending these last few months with you have been my safe haven. YOU are my safe haven, Tarka." He took my hands in his. "I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but . . . I didn't know what you would think. But now I know." His smile was brighter than the sunlight peaking through the top of the jungle's trees at that moment. 

Glowing with relief and delight, I smiled back. 

My ears picked up the sound of running footsteps through the jungle beneath me. I opened my eyes and quickly stood up, turning my head just in time to see something . . . or someone . . . come racing towards the tree I was standing in. The creature slowed down to a complete stop a few feet from the tree. He looked around, probably to make sure that he was alone and then knelt down, putting his hand gently against the tree bark.

I touched my hand to my bow, crouching down on my branch, trying to keep myself hidden. "Is that what I think it is?" I thought to myself. "Surely this is not a . . . young Palkin man?" I had read about them and have seen pictures of them in books but had never seen one in person before. I stared at the creature on his knees twenty-five feet below me. Grief had overtaken him, whatever had happened to him. Surprisingly, every minute I spent gazing at this pathetic being, there was a throbbing ache that grew within my chest. It grew so much that I had to draw in a long, deep breath. I took care not to make it too loud, for fear he would hear me. 

Then, the young Palkin blubbered about something; I couldn't make out what it was he said. He then became enraged and hit the tree's trunk with his fist. He shriveled back in pain, also recognizing his anger, but then became even more angry and started thrashing around, kicking the jungle floor, tearing nearby plants to bits. Then, when his madness ended a few minutes later, grief consumed him again, and he slid down the trunk of the tree I was hiding in. With his sandy head of hair in his scrawny, long fingers, he wept. 

Another strange feeling came over me: I had the urge to help this poor soul, take him in my arms and stroke the back of his hair and tell him that everything would be alright. I shook my head, laughing inside at myself. "Why would you want to help another creature, especially a strange one like him? No one cares about you, no one needs you; even if they did, they would just manipulate you to get what they want, and then they'd leave you in the dust. Who cares about this Palkin?" 

I reasoned with myself in my head, telling myself that I was just curious. I was so curious that I ended up watching over him as the darkness of nightfall came, with the young Palkin falling asleep right under the branch I was sitting on.