Kit was a bastard warrior. Was. He fled from the life a few months ago, but still beared the reputation. A burn scar, a brand marked his left bicep. The symbol of the bastard. Even though he left the other warriors...he would always be one of them. He had all the tattoos, scars, and piercings of a bastard warrior.

He had gone into town to buy some rations, but the villagers saw his mark and did not hesitate to strike. He ran into the forest to escape. Although it worked, he was now alone in the forest. Injured, tired, and feeling as if trying to survive was hopeless. He stabilized himself on every tree that he passed, trying to stay upright and conscious.

Eventually, he collapsed. He was beginning to fade from the blood loss...but he was grateful to surrender to death in such a beautiful place. A place with lush green life. A place with beautiful plants and equally beautiful creatures. His eyes began to shut, but before they did, he saw something move...

"W-whos there?....Don't.....come any...closer"