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Another SOTH Fic

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Jun. 17th, 2011 | 11:06 am
location: United States, Wisconsin, Sheboygan
mood: coldcold


19 BC
Running, branches roughly scratching his face, he had to run, had to escape. They were coming, the men, the humans, the hunters. They had killed his mother, he’d watched as her blood had drained from her pale form from where the arrows had pierced her flesh. “Run, run fast and never look back,” she had ordered him as she breathed her last.
And so he ran, he’d been running for days now, away from them. His strength was waning, and hunger gnawed at him, making him feel like he was dying. He could hear voices near, not those of the humans, at least not the one he had heard attack his mother. Terror filled him as he realized he was running straight towards the voices, but he couldn’t turn away; there was nowhere else to go.
He dropped to his knees, knowing his end was drawing near. “Mother, I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. A branch snapped ahead of him and he let out a keening moan of terror as the cloaked figure approached him.
The figure knelt by the terrified boy, reaching out her hand gently to brush his dark hair off his forehead. In a quiet voice she said, “Dear boy, what’s wrong?”
He looked up into her kind emerald eyes, “You’re not a hunter?”
The woman let out a small sigh, “Of course not, dear child. Why would you think I was one?”
“They killed… they killed her… in front of me… she’d never hurt anyone… why did they kill her?” the boy sobbed, his slight frame shaking in fear.
The woman sighed, looking over her shoulder at her companion. In a low whisper she said to the other woman, “Find them, Jessica. Deal with those humans. They need to pay for their crimes against this boy.”
The blonde nodded, “Of course, Aerithika. Deal with the boy while I play.”
Aerithika gently pulled the sobbing young boy into her arms, lightly stoking his back while whispering soothing words to him. She could tell the boy was a demon, one of the lesser breeds if the scent was right. His kind was peaceful, living in harmony with humans, and for him to be hunted like an animal was something she would not abide. Still holding him she asked in soothing tones, “What is your name, child?”
“Gregory… Gregory Morgan. Why are they hunting me? I’ve never hurt anyone,” he wept, burying his head into her shoulder.
Aerithika sighed, knowing how cruel humans could be to that which they didn’t understand even an innocent child like the one currently wrapped in her arms. “Fear, Gregory. Fear of the unknown, of the different. They think all demons are evil and must be destroyed, when they can be far, far worse. How hunting a little boy is right in their eyes I have no idea. You’re not to blame for what happened, young Gregory, I promise you that.” Gathering the young boy in her arms, Aerithika returned to her camp to await the return of her companion.
Jessica returned a few hours later, her clothing spattered in blood. A few drops stained her hair, which Aerithika noticed with a fond headshake.
“Have fun Jessica?” she asked the blonde as she sat down in front of the fire.
Jessica nodded, watching the youngster sleeping fitfully in Aerithika’s arms. She licked her lips, “They were more challenging than I would have expected. It was a good hunt.”
Aerithika sighed, stroking Gregory’s back as he shifted in his sleep, whimpering as he remembered the events of the last few days in his dreams. She saw the smile that her friend wore, and asked, “What, Woman?”
“What are you going to do with the boy, Aerithika? He’s so small, probably only five or six years old.”
Gregory shifted, his eyes still closed, but in a soft voice stated, “I’m nine summers old, not five or six.”
The two demonesses smiled fondly ant the petulant tone the boy took, Aerithika ruffling his unruly hair. They spent the night watching over their charge, making sure to help him whenever the dreams became too much for the small child to bear.
5 BC
Aerithika stood overlooking a cliff waiting, waiting for her surrogate son to return from his trip to parts unknown. In the years since she had taken the boy in, he had grown and matured into a fine demon. He had left two years prior to explore, and Aerithika worried for his safety. True, she knew that most any individual who tried to tussle with the young demon wouldn’t stand a chance, but she still remembered the scared young boy she had taken in fourteen years earlier. He was her son, if not by blood then by deed, and she loved him with all her heart.
“Hurry home, my son, hurry home safe,” she whispered to the wind, turning to return home.

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