thicket of bushes at the very least.
For some reason, he didn’t think he’d find what he was looking for soon.
After following the wall of rock for what seemed like ever, he bedded down inside a cave and tried to go to sleep, but found himself unable to do so for the nerves wracking his conscience and unease prickling the minute hairs on his arms. Muscles in knots, back in pain, skin cold and his breath fading rapidly in and out of his chest, he forced himself to try to fall asleep, but found himself unable to do so for fear that, while sleeping, something would surely step into their personal sanctuary and force them out by death or will.
This is ridiculous, Odin thought, trying as desperately as he possibly could to try and will his body to rest. Why can’t I go to sleep?
After drawing the bedroll tighter around him, he pressed his hand to the fabric above his body and thought, for one brief moment, of channeling his aggression into the warmth he so desperately needed to keep from what he considered would be a sought-after death from damp clothing.
No, he thought. Don’t.
Given his inability to control his magic, there would be absolutely no chance for him to simply heat the fabric, much less keep it from catching on fire despite how damp at was.
In the end, he decided to suffer.
Over the next few hours, which seemed to roll by endlessly and without regret, he tried to imagine himself being swallowed by darkness and eventually caved in to the lesser emotions that plagued him so. He bawled, sobbed, cried and wished desperately to go back to the group, to apologize to his father and say that he only wanted a slight understanding of his Gift, about how to control it without destroying himself and the things around him. They could work something out. He could take a job at the castle, shining boots or even cleaning rooms, and send the money home in exchange for allowing a skilled mage to train him in his abilities. There would be no pain, no suffering, no dread, worry or consequence, as within the hands of someone who knew what he or she was doing there could be no possible outcome of which could harm him. They could even have him practice on inanimate objects and train him to use his powers for simpler things, like cleaning or helping others. He need not learn how to use his gifts for military purpose. They…
Halfway through his stream of thought, he stopped.
What was he thinking? His father would never let that happen, and even if he did attempt to go back to the group, did he expect the man to welcome him with open arms, with smiles and shame for what he had done to force his son away? No. He knew, to the greatest degree, that his father would beat him senseless and make him cry in front of the other men and boys just to show how a father should discipline his runaway son.
You need to try to sleep, his conscience whispered. How are you going to travel if you don’t have your rest?
He wouldn’t. The most likely scenario would be that he would fall asleep at the crack of dawn, then doze until midmorning before he’d have to start off again, then continue on throughout the day until the sun went down.
I don’t even have a cloak, he thought.
“Gainea,” he said, opening his eyes to mere slits to stare at his equine companion. “Please… if you will… talk to me.”
Despite his inner, possibly-magical connections with animals, the horse did not reply.
As if nothing had been tormenting him, a wave came up and swept him away.
Morning came with the scent of dew and the glistening kiss of rain. Though he had slept for only a few mere hours, and while his body protested even the idea of rising and riding on horseback throughout the rest of the day, Odin opened his eyes to a world that looked absolutely magical. Water droplets reflected golden-orange light in every direction, creating miniature rainbows across his plane of vision; the plants glowed green, as if new and virgin-birthed; and the
For some reason, he didn’t think he’d find what he was looking for soon.
After following the wall of rock for what seemed like ever, he bedded down inside a cave and tried to go to sleep, but found himself unable to do so for the nerves wracking his conscience and unease prickling the minute hairs on his arms. Muscles in knots, back in pain, skin cold and his breath fading rapidly in and out of his chest, he forced himself to try to fall asleep, but found himself unable to do so for fear that, while sleeping, something would surely step into their personal sanctuary and force them out by death or will.
This is ridiculous, Odin thought, trying as desperately as he possibly could to try and will his body to rest. Why can’t I go to sleep?
After drawing the bedroll tighter around him, he pressed his hand to the fabric above his body and thought, for one brief moment, of channeling his aggression into the warmth he so desperately needed to keep from what he considered would be a sought-after death from damp clothing.
No, he thought. Don’t.
Given his inability to control his magic, there would be absolutely no chance for him to simply heat the fabric, much less keep it from catching on fire despite how damp at was.
In the end, he decided to suffer.
Over the next few hours, which seemed to roll by endlessly and without regret, he tried to imagine himself being swallowed by darkness and eventually caved in to the lesser emotions that plagued him so. He bawled, sobbed, cried and wished desperately to go back to the group, to apologize to his father and say that he only wanted a slight understanding of his Gift, about how to control it without destroying himself and the things around him. They could work something out. He could take a job at the castle, shining boots or even cleaning rooms, and send the money home in exchange for allowing a skilled mage to train him in his abilities. There would be no pain, no suffering, no dread, worry or consequence, as within the hands of someone who knew what he or she was doing there could be no possible outcome of which could harm him. They could even have him practice on inanimate objects and train him to use his powers for simpler things, like cleaning or helping others. He need not learn how to use his gifts for military purpose. They…
Halfway through his stream of thought, he stopped.
What was he thinking? His father would never let that happen, and even if he did attempt to go back to the group, did he expect the man to welcome him with open arms, with smiles and shame for what he had done to force his son away? No. He knew, to the greatest degree, that his father would beat him senseless and make him cry in front of the other men and boys just to show how a father should discipline his runaway son.
You need to try to sleep, his conscience whispered. How are you going to travel if you don’t have your rest?
He wouldn’t. The most likely scenario would be that he would fall asleep at the crack of dawn, then doze until midmorning before he’d have to start off again, then continue on throughout the day until the sun went down.
I don’t even have a cloak, he thought.
“Gainea,” he said, opening his eyes to mere slits to stare at his equine companion. “Please… if you will… talk to me.”
Despite his inner, possibly-magical connections with animals, the horse did not reply.
As if nothing had been tormenting him, a wave came up and swept him away.
Morning came with the scent of dew and the glistening kiss of rain. Though he had slept for only a few mere hours, and while his body protested even the idea of rising and riding on horseback throughout the rest of the day, Odin opened his eyes to a world that looked absolutely magical. Water droplets reflected golden-orange light in every direction, creating miniature rainbows across his plane of vision; the plants glowed green, as if new and virgin-birthed; and the
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