authors note: So this story has been co-written in a post-style format, so the chapters will tend to be a little shorter, and a little more broken up than a traditional story. Just a heads up for people. Also, this story is complete, but I'm currently working on editing it. Also because this is written in post-style and it has a lot of different parts to it, chapters will be short and plentiful. Hopefully everything will make sense in time, so enjoy the story and please review!
Amrath blinked, running a cold hand across his forehead. The night was harsh, but he wore only a simple jacket, fleece undershirt and leggings. He could just barely feel the tinge of cold on his fingertips, slowly numbing them. He frowned and flexed his fingers, before stuffing them into the pockets at his side. It was always his weakness that left him so vulnerable to the elements. For a moment he thought of making a fire, but the thought sent distant memories dancing unwanted into his mind. He couldn't help but remember; the pungent smell of flesh, burning. Blood. He had been covered in her blood…
He winced and pushed the memories from his mind and returned to staring out across the field. He tensed as a southerly wind brought to him its scent; and his hand immediately went to the long knife he kept at his side. But whatever had born the unmistakable scent of something dangerous left him; and he was once again alone with his thoughts.
And that damn horse. He glared halfheartedly into the darkness where it had set itself; standing half asleep in the meadow of dandelions. It was a righteous creature, tenacious and proud. He had just recently acquired it from its previous owner, and it was certainly something he wished he could do without. He watched as it shifted nervously under his scrutiny, shying further away from him. He hadn't bothered to remove the saddle from its back, and as it shuffled away the small saddle pack loosened and fell to the ground with a soft rustle.
Amrath sighed and rose to his feet, giving the horse another pointed glare as he knelt down and picked the small burlap sack up. He quietly untied the noose, and pulled from its girth a sole piece of white parchment. On it was the seal of the Northern noble Sir William of Dilthmore, and everything he needed to be accepted into the human king's palace. "Soon Luthe," he muttered to the night. "Soon, enough, and we'll have our revenge." He had untied the paper to stare at the intricate design that splayed across it, before carefully retying the scroll and placing it back into the sack. The horse had wandered a ways into the distance, but he was not particularly worried about the local demons. They knew him well enough to leave the stupid beast alone. With that thought, he unceremoniously fell back into the grass, and let his eyes slide shut. He would arrive at the castle in two days. Two days, and their plan could begin.