kyeugh
onion witch
- Pronoun
- she/her
So I have this story. The next event I want is for him to meet a character. This character can appear in the form of a fox, if that helps at all. Anyway, I don't know how to change from my current position in the story to that one. You can tweak the existing story a bit if you'd like, just anything that'll help me progress in the story!
Before you read this! It's a rough draft so it probably progresses too quickly. Don't nitpick, please.
Caine subconsciously heard a small sound and awoke for a moment. He would have fallen straight back asleep, and had forgotten about the brief awakening by morning, but the small racket continued. He moved his forearm across his eyes and sat up a little, surveying his room for the source of the noise. It was gone now, but he recognized it as the pitter-patter of feet against the hardwood floor.
He instantly became afraid, as any human does of the unknown. He still was not sure exactly what the sound was, but he knew it was a living thing. Whether it was a mouse or a crook, he didn’t know. Yet that chance that was something that sought to harm him, which seemed exceedingly high, frightened him, and he held his breath so he wasn’t detected.
Then there was a sharp thud on the floor, and an unclear whisper. Caine slowly sunk into his bed again and pressed his head into the pillow, digging his long fingernails into his palm. There was a quiet rustling now, like the movement of cloth. “Who’s there?” Caine said bleakly. The faint whisper came again, but he still couldn’t make anything of it.
Very quietly, he reached upward, at the string that controlled the light on his ceiling-fan. He took care to extend his arm very slowly. The hour arm on a watch moved faster than his own.
Eventually, he felt the string of metallic beads in his fingers. He quickly jerked it down, and blinding yellowish light flooded the room. Caine noticed something retract slightly. He eyed it, and saw it as a figure completely covered in black clothing. A hood covered its face. Under close observation, he discovered who it was.
“Father?” He got up out of bed, confused. “Caine,” his father beckoned with a rasp in his voice. He removed his hood, and Caine gasped. His skin was wrinkled and sagging, and his hair was thin and silver. His eyes were dusty and sad. “Help,” he wheezed.
Caine slowly approached him. “Father, what happened?” he said. He felt his voice crack. His father raised his arm, and stroked Caine’s face. His hand was bony, and the skin on it was tight. “My boy,” he said faintly, almost a whisper. “You must run. The Odynes are here.” Caine’s heart skipped a beat. The Odynes were a heartless cult of murderers that had risen to power recently. They were known to run from place to place, slaughtering anything that moves in their path.
“They’re here?” Caine choked. “Now?” His father nodded slowly, a small tear falling slowly down his face. “You must run, my boy.” Caine hugged his father tightly. “I will, father,” he replied. There was a loud clatter just outside Caine’s room. “Go! Avenge me, Caine!”
Caine felt a prickly lump in his throat, and his eyes began to burn. He knew his father would not last much longer. There were so many things he had left to ask, such as why he appeared so old, or why the Odynes had chosen to invade their isolated property. Yet there were matters at stake that there were more important. “Goodbye, father.”
Caine put on his black hooded cloak, and quietly but quickly crawled through his window. It was slightly drizzling, and a bit cold, but it was bearable, especially with the cloak on. Caine ran toward the stables. His horse, a larger, black one named Thunder, whinnied when he approached it. Thunder’s saddle and reins were already fixed. Caine took the sheath and double-bladed sword that hung on the wall, and mounted his steed.
Caine slapped the reins, making Thunder walk from its pen. As soon as it was completely out, Caine spurred its side with his heel and hollered, “Yah!” The horse cantered forward, considerably paced. He was afraid the Odynes might hear him, but he decided they were probably too busy demolishing his home.
He was wrong. There was a loud blow of a horn, followed by a chorus of battle cries. Caine glanced behind him, and saw a few of the bloodthirsty soldiers following him. There was a decent distance between them, but Caine knew they had bows. The distance was not large enough. “Faster, Thunder!” He spurred the horse’s side twice, causing it to run forward in a burst of speed.
Caine looked behind him again. The soldiers were on horseback, too. They were speeding up, the professionally trained horses leaving chaos in their wake.
Thunder was breathing heavily now, its breath condensing in the cold air. “Just a bit further,” Caine coaxed. He leaned forward and petted the equine under the neck. “We just need to get these soldiers off our tails.”
Caine began to think of a plan. There was a gap up ahead, and it was about three yards wide. If Thunder could get across it, they would most likely be safe. It was still a large gamble, though. Caine had no idea how far Thunder—or the Odyne horses—could jump.
“We’re going to jump that, okay?” Caine whispered into Thunder’s ear. The horse grunted, but Caine was relatively sure it meant nothing; yet the horse jumped without a command. The cold air felt like a cool flame up Caine’s nose and through his hair, and there were pricks on his face. It was a unique sensation, and he felt weightless in a way, and had to hold on to Thunder tight to stay on. Then there was a hard jolt as the horse landed, and Caine knew they were safe.
He turned around to look at the Odynes. They had skidded to a halt in front of the gap. Some were on their back legs, flailing their front ones and whinnying. Others stood glaring at Caine, their manes swaying ominously in the wind. Their riders gave Caine sour looks, but began to command their horses to turn around.
Caine hugged Thunder. “Good job,” he praised, scratching the back of its neck affectionately. The horse whinnied happily. “Now we have to find lodging.”
They rode onward for a while, but there were no houses in sight. It was only thick forest, with no synthesized things anywhere. The sun began to rise, and the rain subsided. Caine wasn’t tired, but he feared his horse was beginning to tucker out. “Just a bit further. If we go another five furlongs without finding any lodging, I’ll just get off and let you sleep,” he promised. The horse made a strained, high-pitched sound and walked on.
The forest began to thin before long, and they were in a barren desert after a while. The ground became grey and nondescript and the pale sky seemed to merge with it. There was very little vegetation, and whatever plant did exist was dead. Nothing living seemed to roam the land other than Caine and Thunder, and there was no water.
Caine dismounted Thunder, and petted its long neck. “We can rest for a while,” Caine decided. Thunder got down on its knees and then posed in a sleeping position. Caine rested his weary neck against Thunder’s side and closed his eyes. “Sleep well, Thunder,” he bade. It didn’t take very long to fall straight into the world of dreams.
There was a man in a cloak, sitting in a cold throne. His clothes covered his face in shadow. “Hello, Caine,” he said. His voice was harsh and cold, like metal on metal. Caine found that he was in a strange position where he could not move or respond. He only existed, and was forced to watch the mysterious man in the throne.
“I think you and I are going to be quite acquainted, my friend. But for now, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aachi.” From the shadows behind the throne, thousands of Odyne soldiers silently appeared. “You are destined to kill me one day, Caine,” he said, his voice much grimmer. “But I will make it a point to make your life as painful as possible before that moment arrives.” Aachi lifted his head a little, exposing his mouth. It was curved and cracked, with yellow, sharp teeth and a crooked, eerie smile. “Goodbye, Caine.” There was a loud screeching sound, darkness became absolute, and Caine jolted awake.
Caine subconsciously heard a small sound and awoke for a moment. He would have fallen straight back asleep, and had forgotten about the brief awakening by morning, but the small racket continued. He moved his forearm across his eyes and sat up a little, surveying his room for the source of the noise. It was gone now, but he recognized it as the pitter-patter of feet against the hardwood floor.
He instantly became afraid, as any human does of the unknown. He still was not sure exactly what the sound was, but he knew it was a living thing. Whether it was a mouse or a crook, he didn’t know. Yet that chance that was something that sought to harm him, which seemed exceedingly high, frightened him, and he held his breath so he wasn’t detected.
Then there was a sharp thud on the floor, and an unclear whisper. Caine slowly sunk into his bed again and pressed his head into the pillow, digging his long fingernails into his palm. There was a quiet rustling now, like the movement of cloth. “Who’s there?” Caine said bleakly. The faint whisper came again, but he still couldn’t make anything of it.
Very quietly, he reached upward, at the string that controlled the light on his ceiling-fan. He took care to extend his arm very slowly. The hour arm on a watch moved faster than his own.
Eventually, he felt the string of metallic beads in his fingers. He quickly jerked it down, and blinding yellowish light flooded the room. Caine noticed something retract slightly. He eyed it, and saw it as a figure completely covered in black clothing. A hood covered its face. Under close observation, he discovered who it was.
“Father?” He got up out of bed, confused. “Caine,” his father beckoned with a rasp in his voice. He removed his hood, and Caine gasped. His skin was wrinkled and sagging, and his hair was thin and silver. His eyes were dusty and sad. “Help,” he wheezed.
Caine slowly approached him. “Father, what happened?” he said. He felt his voice crack. His father raised his arm, and stroked Caine’s face. His hand was bony, and the skin on it was tight. “My boy,” he said faintly, almost a whisper. “You must run. The Odynes are here.” Caine’s heart skipped a beat. The Odynes were a heartless cult of murderers that had risen to power recently. They were known to run from place to place, slaughtering anything that moves in their path.
“They’re here?” Caine choked. “Now?” His father nodded slowly, a small tear falling slowly down his face. “You must run, my boy.” Caine hugged his father tightly. “I will, father,” he replied. There was a loud clatter just outside Caine’s room. “Go! Avenge me, Caine!”
Caine felt a prickly lump in his throat, and his eyes began to burn. He knew his father would not last much longer. There were so many things he had left to ask, such as why he appeared so old, or why the Odynes had chosen to invade their isolated property. Yet there were matters at stake that there were more important. “Goodbye, father.”
Caine put on his black hooded cloak, and quietly but quickly crawled through his window. It was slightly drizzling, and a bit cold, but it was bearable, especially with the cloak on. Caine ran toward the stables. His horse, a larger, black one named Thunder, whinnied when he approached it. Thunder’s saddle and reins were already fixed. Caine took the sheath and double-bladed sword that hung on the wall, and mounted his steed.
Caine slapped the reins, making Thunder walk from its pen. As soon as it was completely out, Caine spurred its side with his heel and hollered, “Yah!” The horse cantered forward, considerably paced. He was afraid the Odynes might hear him, but he decided they were probably too busy demolishing his home.
He was wrong. There was a loud blow of a horn, followed by a chorus of battle cries. Caine glanced behind him, and saw a few of the bloodthirsty soldiers following him. There was a decent distance between them, but Caine knew they had bows. The distance was not large enough. “Faster, Thunder!” He spurred the horse’s side twice, causing it to run forward in a burst of speed.
Caine looked behind him again. The soldiers were on horseback, too. They were speeding up, the professionally trained horses leaving chaos in their wake.
Thunder was breathing heavily now, its breath condensing in the cold air. “Just a bit further,” Caine coaxed. He leaned forward and petted the equine under the neck. “We just need to get these soldiers off our tails.”
Caine began to think of a plan. There was a gap up ahead, and it was about three yards wide. If Thunder could get across it, they would most likely be safe. It was still a large gamble, though. Caine had no idea how far Thunder—or the Odyne horses—could jump.
“We’re going to jump that, okay?” Caine whispered into Thunder’s ear. The horse grunted, but Caine was relatively sure it meant nothing; yet the horse jumped without a command. The cold air felt like a cool flame up Caine’s nose and through his hair, and there were pricks on his face. It was a unique sensation, and he felt weightless in a way, and had to hold on to Thunder tight to stay on. Then there was a hard jolt as the horse landed, and Caine knew they were safe.
He turned around to look at the Odynes. They had skidded to a halt in front of the gap. Some were on their back legs, flailing their front ones and whinnying. Others stood glaring at Caine, their manes swaying ominously in the wind. Their riders gave Caine sour looks, but began to command their horses to turn around.
Caine hugged Thunder. “Good job,” he praised, scratching the back of its neck affectionately. The horse whinnied happily. “Now we have to find lodging.”
They rode onward for a while, but there were no houses in sight. It was only thick forest, with no synthesized things anywhere. The sun began to rise, and the rain subsided. Caine wasn’t tired, but he feared his horse was beginning to tucker out. “Just a bit further. If we go another five furlongs without finding any lodging, I’ll just get off and let you sleep,” he promised. The horse made a strained, high-pitched sound and walked on.
The forest began to thin before long, and they were in a barren desert after a while. The ground became grey and nondescript and the pale sky seemed to merge with it. There was very little vegetation, and whatever plant did exist was dead. Nothing living seemed to roam the land other than Caine and Thunder, and there was no water.
Caine dismounted Thunder, and petted its long neck. “We can rest for a while,” Caine decided. Thunder got down on its knees and then posed in a sleeping position. Caine rested his weary neck against Thunder’s side and closed his eyes. “Sleep well, Thunder,” he bade. It didn’t take very long to fall straight into the world of dreams.
There was a man in a cloak, sitting in a cold throne. His clothes covered his face in shadow. “Hello, Caine,” he said. His voice was harsh and cold, like metal on metal. Caine found that he was in a strange position where he could not move or respond. He only existed, and was forced to watch the mysterious man in the throne.
“I think you and I are going to be quite acquainted, my friend. But for now, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aachi.” From the shadows behind the throne, thousands of Odyne soldiers silently appeared. “You are destined to kill me one day, Caine,” he said, his voice much grimmer. “But I will make it a point to make your life as painful as possible before that moment arrives.” Aachi lifted his head a little, exposing his mouth. It was curved and cracked, with yellow, sharp teeth and a crooked, eerie smile. “Goodbye, Caine.” There was a loud screeching sound, darkness became absolute, and Caine jolted awake.