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crazkoala

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       Placing the arrowhead on a flat rock, Fate pressed the point of the knife into the center. The hilt post between both palms, he rubbed his hands back and forth, causing the sharpened tip to spin and begin carving a hole in the smooth flint.

       The merciless heat of the midday sun blistered the bare skin of his un-shaded back, but the light helped him work. Finally, with sweat dewing on his skin and his injured shoulder aching uncomfortably in protest a small hole had been frilled through the arrowhead. Dragging his bag toward him, he rummaged through its unorganized contents. After only a few moments of searching, he withdrew a pouch that contained his most valuable treasures.

       Carefully, he removed each delicate item from the tweed sack. Anyone else would think him foolish for treasuring such trinkets, but nature had given him these gifts, left them for him to find. On the craggy stone before him lay a braided section silky white unicorn mane, the golden talon of a phoenix, an onyx griffon claw, and now the arrowhead.

       With practiced hands, he unbraided the unicorn hair, slipping on first the talon, then the arrow, and lastly the claw before twisting it together again. He tied the two ends together to form a necklace.

       He kept these things not for the value in money, but for their significance in his memory. Each had their own priceless history. Gingerly, his glorious necklace dangling from his hand, Fate fingered the latest addition; the arrow. A melancholy smile touched his lips at the memory. He lifted his head and his eyes found her. Her dark glossy hair was splayed around her in a silken fan and the sunlight danced across her pale complexion. Only a worn quilt covered her nakedness. He had stolen her innocence, and she his.

       The mere sight of Ivory set his body ablaze with emotion that was difficult for even him to suppress. There was the burning desire to touch her and the unyielding need to protect her fragile existence—but mostly the pain that was aroused by the danger he put her in by being what he was.

       An Enchanter, and the last of his kind. The race had been annihilated in a war that occurred in the feuding shadow of the past. Only one family had survived and he was their single living heir to the talent they possessed—to trust and be trusted by animals. He couldn’t “talk with most of them necessarily, excluding Fairies, Centaurs, and the Sphinx fir they had human qualities, but he did exchange feelings with all living creatures.

       It was supposed to be a gift for those pure of heart and intention; but to him, under the circumstances, it acted almost as a burden. With the War of the Kingdoms raging around him at a fever pitch, he was a valuable piece to be played; a priceless pawn in their dispute for power. The rulers would use his gift to capture countless animals that would be used in battle—steeds for the knights; dragons, horses, and wild dogs would all be abused for their benefit.