Okay. I redid this chapter. Changed some things, added about a thousand-five hundred words...yeah. Hope you like it more! Review, please! Oh, and check out Winter Crusader's profile, too. She's got the same kind of things going on, and some of the same characters.

Previously: Taran rolled his eyes and continued walking, his stride long. He’d barely gotten out of the edge of town, walking parallel to a creek, though maybe thirty feet away from it, when a small object - a knife?! - flew by his cheek, close enough to cut. He was being attacked.

Spinning towards the direction of the knife, Taran found that no one was there. Trees, yes, a person, no. This did put him on guard though, as he laid one hand lightly on the hilt of one blade, ready to pull it out in a moment’s notice. In his naiveté, he didn’t realize that he should’ve already had it out until too late, getting thrown back into a tree. A second passed before he realized someone was pinning him there, a knife at his throat, rendering him unable to access any weapons or move in the slightest. It was a man of roughly the same height, but that was the only thing they had in common.

This apparent enemy had jet-black hair—save for strikingly white bangs—which was longer near the front than it was in back, at least two feet of length for the longest strands. The back was spiked up slightly, and, suppressing a laugh as he realized this, reminded Taran of a cockatoo. Any humor other than that was completely void, and this stranger was obviously not amused in the slightest.

“Who are you?” the man demanded, his voice a low growl. He was speaking in the common tongue, English, but there was a harsh accent, something with an eastern European taste, perhaps. His blood-red eyes were glaring into Taran’s in an expression that could only be described as dangerous.

“I don’t think you have a right to ask me who I am,” the pyro shot back in fury, his anger partially fueled by the fact that he wasn’t even sure what his name was. “Not to mention shoving me up against a tree with a blade at my neck!” For a second, there was a flash of what could have been admiration in the man’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by an even stronger hatred than before.

“Congratulations; you’ve even got the accent down, but you forgot wings, and the colors of your hair and eyes are slightly off. You’re not that good.”

What the hell was he talking about? Forgotten wings and wrong colors for hair and eyes? It didn’t make any sense.

“What are you talking about?” Taran practically yelled, struggling futilely against the iron grip that had bark pressing into his back and neck. “What do you mean I forgot wings? And what the bloody hell does my appearance have to do with anything?”

The man’s crimson eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, staring with an intensity and hatred that can only be achieved when the lighter side of emotions have fallen victim to the darker. He was scrutinizing Taran carefully, making sure not to skip a single thing, and the hatred finally dissolved to pure determination. Which was probably not a good thing.

“I usually don’t give a damn about fairness; I’ll make an exception for you.” He stepped back, letting the knife that was in his hand disappear somewhere within a jacket he was wearing. It was more of a cloak, almost, with long bell sleeves and multiple straps and belts. There was obviously more than one hidden pocket, for though the man’s frame wasn’t bulky, the jacket, here and there, was. The crimson eyes flickered down to each of Taran’s swords before meeting his eyes again. “Get the fucking blades out and start before I lose what little patience I have.”

Taran raised an eyebrow, straightening and unsheathing one sword, letting it rest comfortably in his right hand. Now that he was unpinned from the tree, he was feeling less threatened and more relaxed with the situation despite the fact that this man was obviously out to kill him. Everything was a bit too confusing right now in the first place, and adding accusations wasn’t making anything better. He rolled his shoulders before speaking. “Before we fight, I’d like to know what exactly we’re fighting about. Attacking someone for no reason isn’t something that normally happens.” I think, he amended silently.

“Too bad.” Those were the only words that were spoken before the man lunged forward at lightning speed, producing two small blades for his hands as he did so, and shot a third straight to Taran’s neck. Again.

This time, the pyro was ready, his own sword blazing up to deflect the knife. A second later, he had both weapons out, needing the two blades to keep himself alive. Soon enough, though, he found out just how much experience he had; at least, compared to the freak that attacked him. They both seemed good, and, judging by the expression on his opponent’s face, the level of skill that was being produced wasn’t the same level that was expected. Good.

His left sword was knocked away, and Taran’s eyes went wide as he dodged another flurry of knifes thrown straight at him. Where this guy kept all the blades was beyond knowledge. It was like they were fabricated out of thin air! Even so, he was able to dodge most of them, wincing at the few slices that did cut into his skin, and twisted to the side, grabbing the trunk of a tree to help stabilize himself. Too late, he saw the man practically appear right in front of him. Too late, he saw the kick aimed for his head. The decision came in a split second: Don’t worry about dodging; it’s impossible; worry about hitting him back. And that’s exactly what he did, ducking just slightly to hit the hilt of his sword hard against the other man’s head. At least, that’s what he thought he did, his mind failing him as a combination of hard leather and metal struck him, throwing him back into the creek that he’d been trying to avoid, rendering him completely and utterly helpless.

∙Ω∙

Cold. Unbearable pain throbbed, excruciating in its intensity as the mind slowly woke up. What just happened? He kicked me…then what? I fell backwards, I think. Wait- I’m still alive. Where is he? What happened? Taran shot up, eyes going wide, and groaned as a headache pierced his mind, falling back down almost immediately. Once again his gaze was blocked by closing lids, trying to keep out the burning sun that should have, by all logic, been soothing.

“Are you okay?” The voice was sweet, feminine, filled with concern.

“Yeah,” he said on reflex, one hand having risen to his head. The pain was still unbearable, obvious in his voice, and he could feel the girl shift closer to him.

“What hurts?” she asked, her concern still evident as she laid a hand gently across his, over his forehead. The problem was, he couldn’t pinpoint anything that hurt more than anything else. It seemed endless. A grimace formed on his face as he tried to isolate a single area. Well, the pain in his head was different than the pain throughout his body…did that count? He didn’t notice that the girl’s hand had yanked back on contact with his skin.

“You’re freezing!” Her voice was filled with alarm, making him curious enough to shift his hand to look up to her. O dear Lord. It was the same girl from the bar, Raine. Typical, huh?

A single thought flashed through his mind: Why the hell does this have to happen right now? Why does it have to be her? He groaned almost inaudibly, letting his hand fall back, and caught a glimpse of her confused expression; she’d probably misinterpreted his sound for one of pain, not frustration.

“I’m fine,” he repeated in the apathetic tone from before, forcing his muscles to work, to lift him into a sitting position. His head swam.

Raine looked truly concerned, but for what reason? Surely it couldn’t be because she was purely worried about a complete stranger…and yet, that’s what it seemed. Her blonde hair swung from side to side as she once again leaned forward, her hand pressed against his cheek. “God, you must’ve been in there forever to be this cold! Here, I’ll start a fire.” In there? Ah; he’d fallen into the creek.

Taran rolled his eyes. He didn’t like being taken care of like this, and though he knew he was far from fine, he also knew that if he’d been in the water for a terribly long amount of time, he’d be dead. How that knowledge came was unknown, but it was there.

“Don’t start a fire; I’ll do it.” His voice held a resigned tone as he tried to find that same fire that he’d used before, tried to figure out how to make it come forth once again. No more than two seconds after he started concentrating, flame coated his body, licking at every part of him, but scorching nothing. When it dissipated, leaving both he and girl in complete shock, he was dry. And not in so much pain any more. “That’s convenient…” The words were soft, amazed, as he looked down at his hands; one hand flew to his neck, where the necklace—the only part of his past he had—was no longer lying. “Shit!”

Raine jumped at the word, already startled by the fire, and leaned away from Taran as he stood up and ran to the water’s edge, looking for the small leather string and charm. Nowhere. It was gone. Once again, a curse left the man’s mouth as his hand clenched into a fist. Wait…no, he could see it, could see that it was caught around a rock, glinting tantalizingly in the sun. There had to be a way to get it. But it was in the water.

“What are you doing?” Raine asked from behind, a suspicious-yet-curious tone in her voice. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, making him flinch away at the touch. He didn’t know her, so he wasn’t going to trust her that easily.

“Attempting to get that.” The words were blunt, he knew, but that was fine by him. For some reason, he wasn’t feeling all that social.

The young woman leaned forward to look at the band of leather, a quizzical expression making her face look more childish than it already was. “The necklace?” Without another word, she leaned forward and pulled it out, holding it out to him with a doubtful gaze.

He stared, surprised that she’d helped so easily, and knowing full well why he’d been so reluctant to touch the water when he had first woken up. It hurt. A lot. “Thanks.” Taking it from her, he ignored the stinging sensation and placed it back over his head, relieved to feel the light, comforting weight. After a second, Raine spoke again.

“My name’s Raine, in case you didn’t get that in the—”

“I got it,” he interrupted, looking her straight in the eye. The innocence in her gaze was almost overwhelming. “I’m… My name’s Taran,” he corrected himself, inclining his head once to her in courtesy. Raine smiled so brightly, so sincerely it was almost sickening.

“It’s nice to meet you, then, Taran.” She looked across the creek, into the trees on the other side. “What happened? How’d you end up in there?” He followed her gaze before answering, choosing words carefully. Screw that.

“I was knocked out by some guy who thought it’d be fun to attack me.” At that, he turned, looking for the man from before, who, of course, was nowhere to be seen. “In fact, I’m going to have to find him.”

Raine spoke the worry that soon shone in her eyes. “Did he have black and white hair? And red eyes? And did he look real, well, evil?” He stared at her in response, a single eyebrow raised.

“Yes. Why?”

This time, she looked away, biting her lip and appearing even more innocent than she already was. “I saw him, too. He was just getting out of the water and looked really mad, but then he left. I don’t know what he was going to do, but as soon as he saw me, he just left.” Well. That was an interesting new bit of information. Strange how the guy would’ve attacked him so bluntly and then just left when he saw Raine.

“Is this place always so strange? The people in it, I mean,” he questioned, glancing to the girl once again. She tilted her head as she thought.

“I don’t really know; I haven’t been here that long.” A slight blush colored her cheeks. “And it seems like you know this place better than I do.” She laughed nervously here, positioning her right hand behind her back so it was clasped over her other forearm.

Taran didn’t respond, his jaw clenching as his eyes scanned the area once again. No, still no sign of that man, but he had to be out there somewhere. It wasn’t likely that he’d have attacked for no reason, and it was just as unlikely that he had attacked and not cared if Taran lived or died. Either way, the pyro figured, he was screwed unless he could get some more information.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a familiar motion. Habit, probably. “I don’t know it that well,” he said after a moment, looking back to the girl. “I mean, I know that it’s a dangerous town, and I know that there are plenty of idiots residing there who think it’s fun to mess with women and children, but I don’t know the town itself that well.” The words came out distracted, as he was still searching for that stranger that seemed simply to have disappeared. Went away, as Raine said, probably to go tell his little master that the pyro was probably dead from the water. Yeah, I’m going to have to find that guy.

“Are you from London?” The question was random, thrown out so casually that Taran looked to his new acquaintance in surprise.

“Huh?”

“Are you from London? Your accent, I mean… It’s British, so I was just…wondering. I’ve always wanted to visit London.” She was smiling, even through the sheepish blush that rose to her cheeks, and was staring at him with those wide, blue, innocent eyes. Reminded him of a child, really.

The problem was: he couldn’t answer that question, because he didn’t know where he was from. Desperately, he tried to come up with a roundabout way of answering the question, a clever evasion that was somehow still convincing, and sighed like before, producing absolutely nothing for the first, most crucial few seconds. Luckily, his pause wasn’t too long to be considered simply hesitation. “I’d rather not say where I’m from, actually. I’ve learned that most people keep it generally low-key. Don’t like others to find their families and the sort, you know?” Offering a slight smile with the false explanation, he was able to say the words calmly, and was actually quite happy with that. It was easy to lie, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing in every case, but right now, it was very good, and it certainly had the possibility of becoming very useful in situations to come, especially if that stranger decided to threaten and question him. This, given the situation before, seemed about as unlikely as it did probable.

Raine looked down, her brow furrowing slightly, but she nodded. “That’s fine, I understand.” A brief pause took place before she once again met his eyes, giving that sweet little smile that Taran began to view as her trademark expression. “I’m from Germany, though. Beautiful little town, really, but I’m glad I left.” A different tone in her eyes said that there were unexplained emotions, but there was no point in questioning them. If she wished to tell more, she would. As it so happens, she didn’t speak on that matter again, but instead changed the subject after another few seconds of silence. “Where are you headed now? Now that that…man is gone—have you made any enemies? Is that why he was after you?” Her head cocked to the side in confusion, wonder, and Taran shrugged.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure. There’re plenty of things that I could’ve done that would’ve made someone mad.” He hadn’t even thought about that before. Maybe the man that had attacked him so randomly hadn’t been doing anything that was random. After all, he acted as though he knew Taran, and that would make sense: if Taran had forgotten what he had done, or had forgotten a previous encounter, then the situation would have seemed completely random. In fact, the more he thought about it now, the more he realized that that was probably the exact case. “Thank you, Raine,” he said suddenly, expression troubled, but somehow satisfied at the same time. She, on the other hand, looked completely confused, absent-mindedly biting her lower lip as she watched him.

After a moment, Raine nodded as if to say a ‘you’re welcome,’ and bent down to retrieve the sketchpad and drawing utensils she had placed on the ground. “I don’t know what you’re thanking me for, but I’m glad I helped you, anyway.”

That made him look toward her suddenly, for he realized that he hadn’t thanked her for helping him in the first place. If she hadn’t, he might well be dead this very moment, and they wouldn’t even be having the conversation they were. “And thank you, also, for getting me out of there.” They began walking as they spoke, an unconscious, mutual decision, and he watched her, hiding a smile at the fact that she was carefully watching her feet. Okay, a smirk. “I’m surprised that you got me out, actually.” For a second, he paused, brow furrowed, as he tried to think of how she might have done that, and then shook his head. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even want to know.”

Raine laughed, a beautiful, carefree sound, and shook her head. Still smiling, she answered, “It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that. But when something needs doing, you need to do it, so I did. It turned out well, I think.” Briefly, she grinned up at him, then resumed watching exactly where she was going, picking her way across the rutty terrain.

After Taran’s nodded answer, it was silent between them for a long while as they walked on the outskirts of town, staying near enough to see it, but not so near that they could hear the bustling marketplace more distinctly than a hum. It was strange, the companionship between them, and not entirely welcomed at first, but after a while, nothing that Taran wanted to get away from. Such luck: first he wakes up without knowing anything, then he gets called a girl by the woman walking next to him, is annoyed by that very same woman, gets her away from a certain vampire predator, is attacked by some red-eyed freak, gets knocked out, then wakes up again only to find that it was the girl from the beginning that happened to be there. Now they were walking and were perfectly comfortable.

He sighed. This turn of events wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t excellent either. And there was still that stranger that he would have to deal with eventually, assuming he would find him. Then there was the matter of trying to get his memory back. In short? There was a lot to be done.