The Preacher Ch.1

Chapter 1
Alone in the woods

             The owner of these bright green eyes was a young dog-boy named Dart, who had just woken up from a disturbing dream. It involved a fox, a tree, and shadows. Although, for the life of him, he didn’t know what it all meant. Well, might as well start the day, he thought bitterly, getting up from his makeshift bed. He stretched his back and felt it crack in several places. The night devoted to hunting had taken more out of him then he thought. Although his capture had been successful, he made a mental note to get his bow fixed soon. Scratching his lower back, he looked over at the reflective mirror on the wall and studied himself.

               He was not like your average dog. Because of mixed parentage, he was reviled and was often not considered to be a true dog. Unlike most of the others, who were brown, white, black, or any other shades of these colors, he had short dark red fur that covered his entire body. Also, his tail was long and slender that ended in a barbed prehensile tail. He had two long black wings that were draconic in design, but suited him just fine. Because of these wings, he chose to never wear shirts; they would confine them and make it difficult for him to move around effectively. As if to complete his peculiar design, he had two little stubs for horns that were situated just behind his ears. He liked his appearance because it made him feel special. But not many others shared his feelings. At the age of 19, he was forced to live as an outcast, surviving off the fruits and meats the forest provided, and drink from the river that ran through it. Most of the clan didn’t think he could survive more then a few weeks out here by himself.
              
             He had proven them wrong by showing up in the village exactly 15 months later, looking physically fit and healthy while the others were not. He had enjoyed laughing at the expense of his old tormentor, Brog. At the time when he was at his worst, Brog was at least twice the size of Dart and took great pleasure in causing the poor pup problems. But now Brog was nothing more then an overweight mutt who could not hurt a fly.

              Lila, his old friend, knew who he was the moment he returned. She was nice, with long amber hair, bright blue eyes and your average body built for a female aristocrat. Dart and Lila had grown up together, always playing together and scaring the squirrels when the weather was warm. He could remember their long walks along the border of the land that Lila’s family owned. Her father was the pack leader, and she was the first-born female from his litter. Her brother, Renol, had left the pack after a battle for dominance had ended with Renol lying close to death on the ground with blood dripping from the fresh batch of wounds his father caused. After he left, Lila turned to Dart, who was like a brother to her. But when Dart returned to show he was still alive, he was depressed in learning that she had bonded with another male and had a litter of pups of her own.
Pushing this sad thought from his mind, Dart walked over to the wooden basin next to the mirror, and splashed some water onto his face, letting the final remnants of sleep flow down his chest in the form of water.

             “Might as well start off the morning,” he grumbled again, and walked over to the empty fireplace, where he picked up a log to use as firewood, and threw it into the fireplace. There, he focused his thoughts to force the log to catch flame. In as little as three seconds, the once-empty fireplace had a cozy fire in it, and Dart was roasting a slab of deer meat over it for breakfast.
After his breakfast, Dart walked to the door and grabbed a long wooden rod about 4 feet long and an inch thick. This rod was actually his favored weapon. When pulled apart, the rod became two short swords; each blade was about a foot and a half long and made out of iron, which was the best he could make due with.

            Taking a look around his home to make sure it was secure, Dart opened and walked out of the door, locking it with the wooden latch at the top near the rim. After making sure it was securely locked, he walked out of the clearing he made and into the forest, following the sounds of the river.
Strands of sunlight peeked in between the trees as dawn slowly approached. Dart always benefited from taking his baths during the morning just as dawn was about to rise. He enjoyed the rays dancing along the water, making little reflections of light on the rocks. He also liked it when the rays reflected off of the waterfall, which caused little rainbows to form.

            After an hour of walking, he reached the river, and began to follow it up stream. Not too long afterwards, he reached the small waterfall that he always bathed at. It was about the size of his hut, with lots of smooth rocks to sit on while letting the water fall on him. The water during the morning always started off cool, but warmed up as the day progressed. This place also made hunting and fishing easier whenever he needed it.

            Dart set his swords down and stripped off his pants and undergarments. Then, after making sure they were secured, waded into the pool, and sat under the water fall. The cool refreshing water helped ease the tension from last night’s hunt. For a couple of minutes, he just rested under the waterfall, feeling at ease with the world around him.

           After resting, he sunk underwater to search for crawdads; his bait bucket was getting low, and the winter season was only a few months away. It was always around this time that he began to secure fish and meat for winter because food would become scarce once the leaves fell and days became smaller.

          For nearly twenty minutes, he searched for his bait, but only managed to come up with a few minnows and one crawdad. Slightly disappointed, he dug a small trench near the river and put some water in it. He then put his freshly caught bait in the hole so they wouldn’t escape. Last time he had a decent sized collection of bait, he had wondered off to get some berries and when he returned, the minnows had flopped and flipped out of the hole and back into the river. Because of this, he had a harder time catching fish to store for the winter.

          Behind him, a bird chirped loudly, startling Dart and forcing him to spin around, holding a rock in his hand. But after finding out what it was, he merely threw the rock at the bird, which flew off a second before the rock hit it. The rock continued flying until it hit another rock, and a small rockslide occurred down the hill. Dart paid no attention to it until his ears picked up the sounds of rocks echoing. Looking up, he searched for the source but couldn’t find one. He threw on his clothes and grabbed his swords, then made his way over to where he had thrown the rock at.

          Surveying the land, he found that the rock had rolled down the hill and landed on the edge of a cave that Dart had never found before. He made his way down the slope and walked in front to the entrance. It was big enough for him to stand in, but dark enough that he couldn’t see more then fifteen feet inside it. Using his tail, he picked up a rock and threw it into the mouth of the cave. It disappeared into the darkness, and he heard a faint clacking sound as it landed on another rock. He continued waiting for a few minutes, but nothing happened. He unsheathed his swords and conjured up a little ball of green fire to hover in front of him. Slowly, he made his way inside the cave, following his little green fire as it lit the way for him.