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Just a forewarning, I just made this story because it wouldn't get out of my mind. I'm not sure if I plan on continuing it or not but since I wrote it I felt I should at least share it. But just know that I'm not even sure I plan on doing anything with it. Just something to keep me from getting bored of writing the same stuff.

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Last of the Kevahri - First Sighting

Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but the bright glow of a blazing fire. Mortimer did not know exactly why it had to come down to this but if that's what fate brought to this place then so be it. Though deep down inside he knew it was wrong, he could not defy his king and thus he participated in this massacre. The sound of a wooden hut collapsing in on itself brought him back to reality. His sword carried no crimson stain upon its blade but he was still guilty of the deeds done all around him by mere association. He ran around aimlessly among the huts. There were cries of agony all around him but he dared not seek them out lest he find himself frozen in fear. The sounds of small battles were able to be discerned from where he was standing but each one didn't seem to linger on his eardrum for more than a minute.

As he passed in between yet another pair of huts he heard something cry out. It was not a sound of pain or anguish but a cry of need. He didn't know what it was in particular, but something about that sound called out to him. He looked towards its origin and dashed into what was yet another burning hut. Soon enough this hut would look more like a pile of ash so he had to hurry. Brandishing his sword in hand, he walked into a small room. He saw a table burning in the center and off in the corner he saw another soldier lying face-down on the ground, a gaping hole in his back was all that Mortimer needed to see before quickly coming to his own conclusion about the man's status.

He heard the sound again. His gaze turned to his left as he saw a small crib with a yellow-woven blanket tucking some small creature in. Walking up to the crib, he saw that there was a small tiger-like baby laying there. Its small, blue eyes transfixed on him as he approached and it grew quiet. He wasn't expecting to see something like this here, not on this battlefield.

He switched the blade to his left hand and reached forward to touch the creature. It was then that he noticed a shadow stretch across the wall and he had to react instantaneously. His blade switched back to his other hand and he spun around, the blade following the path his arm traced which not only staved off an attack that would likely have been fatal - as it was aimed at the back of his neck - but injured the attacker as well. The glimmering metal gave a nice cut to his attacker's arm and he recoiled in shock as he was face to face with another of the tiger-creatures - or the Kevahri, as they were often called.

The Kevahri roared in pain at the new injury to its arm. It was then that Mortimer quickly realized that it was a she. It didn't take long for him to make a bold connection that this might possibly be the infant's mother. "Please stop! I mean you no harm!" he yelled as he stuck his free palm in front of him in a stop motion.

The Kevahri woman snarled at him. "Do you take me for a fool? You won't lay a finger on my child. Not while I still have breath in me!" She took a lunge forward but fell to her knee in pain. Mortimer then realized that she was injured - severely at that. He took a step forward in response to try and help her but the female recoiled backwards.

"I am so sorry that this has happened. It is not through my actions that these events have occurred. I promise that if-," his words were cut off as the female gave a fierce roar.

"You're sorry? My tribe is being annihilated and you're sorry?" She looked as if she wanted to say more but she stopped. It became clear to Mortimer that her time was short and the wound in her chest was likely mortal in nature. Her tail thrashed around sporadically. Mortimer wasn't sure what she was thinking but she got up and quickly went to her child.

He watched as the tigress pulled the cub out of the crib, bundled in its blanket and wrapped another crimson cloth around it. She leaned forward and whispered something to it and then turned to look at Mortimer. "Okay, human. If you're so sorry then I will grant you the chance to make amends. You are to take care of my son."

Mortimer's eyes widened at the tigress' proposal. "No, I couldn't possibly... your son?"

Regardless of his protest, the tigress covered the infant over in the crimson cloth and thrust the cub into his bewildered arms. He instinctively grabbed a hold of the bundle of cloth that now held the boy cub. "His name is Jerah. If you take care of him then I will accept your apology."

Mortimer isn't quite sure how to respond but he manages to say, "I'll do my best."

Before the tigress can respond, a 'twang' sound is heard and Mortimer notices a feathery protrusion coming from the back of the tigress. Suddenly mortified, he realizes that she's been shot with an arrow. She falls to the ground, dead. Mortimer looks up to see a young, yet dirty man - he was covered in ash and small bits of blood - waving a hand at him. "Greetings fellow! I'll just leave that as a favor for you to repay. Cheerio!" And with that he popped out of view.

A crack from above as the house continued to burn brought Mortimer back to his senses. He looked down at the sword in his hand, now scarred with the blood of the feline that was dead before him and then to the cub, protected from the world by mere inches of cloth. He couldn't believe what had just happened and yet he knew he had something to live for now: repentance.

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It was the evening she could never have dreamt of. It was her first show among an audience of hundreds. 'Perhaps it even broke a thousand!'. She could not stand to suppress the grin on her face as she stood with her back to the wall in the alleyway. She replayed it in her mind. 'Here she comes! Mademoiselle Lafallete! Come to take the stage by storm with her angelic voice. Here to spread her joyous sounds to everyone in the room.'

It had been a lot of hard work to get to where she is. It's not like she was given much help to begin with. She used to sing in the streets just to make it by. She was a straggly little lass but she was somehow able to gain the attention of a few not-so-unfortunate people that saw the gift she possessed. They took her in, made her beautiful and gave her the chance to spread her music to the crowds. It was a dream come true for her and just thinking about her story made her believe that fairy tales couldn't possibly be fiction if things like this were possible.

As she stood there, reminiscing over the cheers from the crowd, the standing ovation that caused her cheeks to redden and her eyes to glisten, there came a sound from the shadows. Before she could turn around she found a strong hand wrapped over her mouth, preventing the scream that would surely have called for help. She was then pulled towards the man behind her by the waist. She could not make out his face from her position but his chin rubbed against her cheek roughly, the barbs of his shaven beard poking her.

"You'll do fine for tonight," he said. There was a small 'flick' and a knife came across Ms. Lafallete's vision. "Now don't make a sound and this blade here leaves the same color it came out." His hand slowly removed itself from her mouth and lowered itself to her supple breasts. He couldn't help but run the flat of the blade across her smooth cheeks. She was a beauty alright, and he had struck gold tonight. Unfortunately for both of them, his eagerness with the blade caused the young mistress to fear ever more for her life. A shriek came from her elegant lips and faded into the night.

The man grunted and cupped her mouth again. "Now listen here, darling. Just like I told you, if you cooperate with me then this can happen that much more quickly and easily. But if you go on making sounds like that then, well I'll just have to cut out that pretty voice of yours."

Those words were quick and curt enough to bring the young miss to silence. She feared for her life and now her tears, which were not long before brimming with happiness, were brimming with fear. It seemed that this night was not going to end like the fairy tale she had envisioned. She felt her blouse becoming unbuttoned, cast off to the floor and soon her corselet was exposed in the alleyway. The man behind her was apparently lusting after her. She felt his wet tongue on the back of her neck and his hands fiddling with the strings on her back, trying to quickly loosen the last shield between her nude upper body and the environment.

The man gave up and decided that his knife would prove to be a much better tool for the job as he cut the strings that prevented him from the sleek body he desired.

Freya Lafallete knew that the next thing to happen would be for her corselet to fall to the ground, but that did not happen. She heard a sound from behind and the man that had accosted her gave out a loud groan. Turning around, she saw the man feet away from her, apparently thrown quite a ways away to the ground. She held her clothing to herself and backed away. It was then that she noticed what had thrown the thief. There was a large man, clothed in all black attire with some sort of cape that curtsied along the ground. His back was turned to her so she could not see his face but she could tell that he was very strong.

"Oh, is this some bodyguard of yours miss?" said the would-be rapist. He got up clumsily but it was easily apparent that he was injured. As small as he seemed in comparison, he was tenacious as ever. "I'll ask you one time, whomever you are. If you step out of the way then we can avoid any," he had a brief pause, "unnecessary injuries."

Miss Lafallete could have sworn she heard the mysterious figure chuckle. "Am I to assume that means you will leave this lady alone quietly?" He crossed his burly arms in front of his chest. He didn't seem to have a weapon on him and he was surely at a disadvantage when you compared the bare, gloved hands to a knife.

The young mistress was grateful to the gentleman for stepping in but she feared for his safety as well. She didn't want someone to die on her behalf. "Please, good sir. If we go back this way out of the alley then he is sure to not follow us into the open."

The burly man turned his gaze towards her. His face was not as she had imagined it. He wore a black mask that covered his entire face. But it was not the veil that caught her by surprise, but his eyes. They seemed so piercing and yet, so gentle. "Ah, but if that were to happen then I'm afraid this young gentlemen would not have learned his lesson." She just knew that that mask was now concealing a pleasant grin.

Freya suddenly gasped, but it was too late. The criminal had chosen this vulnerable opportunity to attack while her rescuer was unaware. The man's dagger was bearing down on the masked man's chest. Suddenly, the unexpected happened. Miss Freya could not believe it as she saw it. The masked man had knocked the other person's knife hand away from himself and he then slapped the man with the back of his hand in the face, who then proceeded to stumble backwards. Freya was surprised to see that the man now had a slash across his face extending from under his lip to above his left eye. She never even saw the masked individual pull out a knife. 'That knife he pulled out must have been so quick that even I didn't see it.'

The assailant yelled in pain as he touched his face with his free hand and felt the blood smearing onto it. He slowly got back up to his feet, his face contorted with pain and rage. "You'll pay dearly for that." He charged forward, ready this time for the masked man's agility. He aimed for the arm this time. If at first you don't succeed, it seemed this main was destined to fail. His wrist was grabbed in the strong grip, clutched painfully tight enough to cause him to drop his knife. He then received a thundering knee to his abdomen, causing him to bend over just in time to receive another backhand to the face, this time with the masked man's left hand.

The force of this slap was enough to send the man flying, knocking him out and completing his facial features as he now sported another line across his face that resembled an 'X'. The masked stranger then pulled down on his gloves, making sure that they weren't loose from all of this wear and upon deeming the man unfit to continue, he turned around fully to face the lady.

Freya was in awe at what she had just seen. Never in her life would she have guessed that something like this would have happened to her, and definitely in such a queer fashion. She made to curtsy the fellow for the help but remembered just in time that if she let her hands off of her clothing that her now tattered corselet would fall off, exposing herself to this man. She blushed at the thought.

The man approached her, but she didn't back away. It wasn't that he did not look intimidating - for he was - but something about him seemed to calm her; take away her fear. "Are you okay Mademoiselle?" He then bent his head over to her face. She thought that he was trying to give her a kiss and she leaned forward back to him. To her chagrin he was merely checking her neck to make sure she did not receive any injuries.

She regained her composure enough to respond, "Y-yes. Thank you kind sir. I will forever be grateful to you. If there is any way that I might repay-," but she was cut off as he pressed a finger to her lip.

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary. But if you would make sure to be a bit more careful in places such as these when you are alone, then I would be forever grateful in return." He said it so gently but the way he said it made her fluster even more.

She nodded, her cheeks becoming rosier. "I will be sure to keep that in mind."

It was then that the sounds of people were growing closer. Apparently the screaming and yelling had managed to get the attention of someone, perhaps the authorities. She turned towards the sound, her back now to the masked individual and sure enough a few moments later she saw the men she had hoped for since the beginning. It was the local authorities. She lifted one hand, waving at them, the other clasping her clothes to her. "Oh! Over here! Please come this way!"

She watched as the men began to sprint towards her and she turned to thank her savior again, but, to her amazement, he was nowhere to be seen. It was as if all that had been a dream. A dream that she would never forget. 'Perhaps I'm not such a silly girl who believes in fairy tales.'