He tried to rise once more with all his strength this time, and fell to the ground as an arrow pierced his shirt inches away from his heart.  He laid on the ground, arrow protruding from the shirt, and looked around the blackened place, glad for any sign of the attacker;  he could see none.  Examining the arrow, he noticed that the shaft had a strange glyph on it that seemed to portray a horned giant bathed in flames being shot on all sides by little arrows that were nicks in the wood.  Surprisingly these nicks didn’t affect the strength of the wood in any way, and the feather was a marvel upon itself.  The colors of the feather were mesmerizing: reds, blues, greens, and even strange colors that he knew not what the names were, but all were appealing to the eyes.

Yet he noticed a female figure that strode triumphantly out of the woods and she was also quite appealing.  The figure wore no armor, wearing only simple clothing that one might make out of anything at hand, just like the clothing he had on, for she was the same height as he and only a few items in this area of the woods would be suitable for such clothing. On her these clothes gave her a divine look as each fold that moved seemed to cling to her frame just to be able to touch the radiant skin beneath a bit longer, and when it did finally wrinkle away, it only seemed to become darker and more solemn till the next movement brought it right back to where it had been before.  Her hair was golden and shined with the intensity of the sun, a sun which was not allowed to disobey its master whom kept it in a tight scarlet colored ribbon and it seemed a crime by itself to diminish this body, this goddess. It was her eyes they were the deepest shade of green that he had ever seen in any living thing and he was lost in them.  Even as she bent over and plucked out the arrow, he was lost in her eyes and could do nothing to move and stare at her with a vacant face.  Quickly leaping back as she noticed that he still took breath, she drew a short knife from a sheath upon her side, and stood poised for the strike.  Even as she was poised and ready to take his life he didn’t care– just to touch her beauty as he passed would be bliss. Even as she stood death glowing in her eyes he could not help, but love her.

“Hello who are you?” Aslotes asked sheepishly.

“…”

“Why don’t you talk?  Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I couldn’t if I wanted to I-I think you’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he said, blushing.  All his reply was silence. Even though he could tell she understood him, she didn’t lower her guard and she fidgeted every time he moved.  He decided to remain where he was, not wanting to upset her at all.  He talked to her in a friendly way, fumbling with words and blushing every time he looked her in the face to his embarrassment.  With a sigh of innocence and a roll of her eyes, she put away the knife and put her hand to Aslotes forehead.  He instantly felt a shudder of excitement run through his body and one word in his mind “Sleep.”

He awoke to her a second later, but it must have been at least a few hours or possibly a day, he knew not.  But he did know and feel the uncomfortable steel around his ankles and wrists quite distinctly and could tell he was somewhere very old.  It was a dark room with light coming in, only slightly, from a hole in the wall about the height of a man’s head, and oddly no metals in the room besides his restraints. They would not budge to any spell he used on them and only seemed to get uncomfortably tighter as he tried to free himself.  He laid in the room not mad at the woman, but had a distinct longing to see her again, hopefully to make her talk.  For her he imagined her voice would be as soothing as her looks, it just had to be.  It was in this daydreaming state that her face seemed to appear right in front of his eyes, looking down at him from outside of the room.  Propping himself up as best he could to her height, he looked up at her, not talking, just cherishing the sight of her face– the lips, nose, and mouth all so perfect to him that they seemed not of this world, the Nether World, or even of the Divine, just too…perfect.

“Why do you stare at me with such odd looks stranger?” said a voice in Aslotes’s head.

“What!?  You do talk, but wait. you didn’t move your lips– how’d you do that?”

“O no you don’t, I asked the question first.”

“Tell ya what– lets play a game.”

“I don’t have time for games.”

“Well you do for this one, every question I answer you have to answer one of mine– deal?”

“I could just wrangle the answers out of your mind, you know.”

“I assume you could, but where’s the fun in that?  I have been trained in the energies by an adapt mentor.  So I think it would take quite some time and cause quite a bit of pain for both ends if it was tried.”

“I doubt that you’re that strong.  You fell asleep when I just motioned for you back in the ruins.”

“W-well there’s a perfectly good reason for me not resisting.”

“O really? And what would that be?”

“Ha!  See, you will have to play the game to find out that one.”

“Fine, I will patronize you, but I asked the first question already so out with it, why do you stare at me with such odd looks?”

“I-ummm-I find you very pleasing to look at, and umm hey, what else am I gonna do any way, right,” stumbled Aslotes, blushing and looking away for a second.

“You find me pleasant to look at…ha! It’s been a while since any one has been that frank with me.  Ok, what’s your question?”

“I guess I will start out with the first one: how do you talk without moving your lips?”

“Well, you wouldn’t really understand.”

“Try me.”

“Ok then.  I cannot talk.  I was born that way and anyone who is born with a deformity or abnormality is put in the position I am in.  Basically patrolling the border and killing any non-friendly creatures that come too close.  So I use the energy to plant what I say in your mind and you choose to pick it up.”

“What do you mean that I choose, not that I don’t enjoy your voice…”

“And there you have. I want you to hear my voice.”

“Ok I understand.”

“Ok it would be my turn again, correct?”

“Umm let me think…yes it would be.”

“Ok then…what in all that is good was that thing you were?”

“I-I don’t know.  I was dying, I think, and the next thing I know I felt that I would betray my mast-family if I had died.  For they had died making sure I would live and the next thing I know is that I could see what I was doing, feel the rage and pain, but do nothing about it…it was terrifying.”

“You mentioned mas-er family.  Who was this family of yours that died protecting you?”

“They called themselves Zealo and Yurk.”

With this her eyes seemed to go afire and she left a hole in the ground.  He could tell she was running somewhere away from him.

“Wait please at least tell me your name.”  But all was silent and he felt as if his heart had sunk deep down into his belly. But then he heard a whisper fill his ears as if it was right behind him and it said, “Sayla.”

He cherished the name, running it over and over on his tongue, loving the very sound of it.  And, finding nothing else to do, laid down and fell into a restful sleep, his mind filled with dreams of her face.