The WAR *** Not the story you think it is! Or maybe expecting. It's just a mess of many words leading to nowhere. A very slow love story. Or two. This may not be for you... or anyone.
A Story of Family.
In the aftermath of an almost deadly amb...
*** Not the story you think it is! Or maybe expecting. It's just a mess of many words. A very slow love story. Or two. This may not be for you...
Thank you for clicking on this story! Carry on at your own risk!! You've been warned.
The names and places are all made up. This was only written for fun. And I really had the best time writing it!
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"Resistance is a sign that means you're going the right way."
AMBUSH
The border had been breached.
For many weeks now marauders crossed over the border into Alcott robbing and terrorizing the small towns and villages in their paths.
Patrols had been doubled.
Alistair raked his fingers through his silver-white hair as his eyes focused, scanning the trees for the source of the sound he had just heard.
He was way out of his jurisdiction, outside of the town, but he was very good at tracking, and the people evading him were evidently good at covering their tracks too.
Against his better judgment he had followed them, from the outskirts of the town, discounting concerns for his own safety he had gone deeper into the woods after them, alone.
His superiors would reprimand him for being so near the border without his men, and for being there without proper orders when there was a war beyond; above all for not alerting a larger patrol to investigate the matter at hand.
He was alone but he would have completely lost these people otherwise if he had doubled back to his station to report it.
His eyes locked on something, there was movement. Unsure what it had been, Alistair stared hard at a spot in the distance between the trees. When he saw it again, on a thin path where it passed behind the wall of trees, there was no doubt, it was a person.
A soldier.
The uniform was not from Alcott, it was from Ismo-Solum, made from the dark camouflage green that matched their banners in war.
Marauders was one thing. Foreign soldiers on Alcott soil was another very dangerous thing.
Other movement caught Alistair's attention... not just one person, but a much larger group than he had first thought, and his eyes searched the shade and shadows, seeing how they moved with stealth, from tree to tree, moving quietly.
He kept his hand on the hilt of his blade, moving as silently as he could after them.
He thought of drawing on his magic, but he decided to keep it at bay even though he felt the fire that would consume if he let it.
