Oni - Part 7

Kronik sat on a small outcropping of rock, hanging several feet over the village, and the small group of people he had come to name as friends. His posture and expression fitting that of tess's dream. As he looked down, he thought of many things. The day of his departure would arrive with the dawning sun. As he looked to the east, where the suns first rays had yet to crest, he vowed to himself that he would one day return to the small village, perhaps to spend the rest of his days secluded from the world, as the men and women of this town had done. He wondered, as he shifted his weight slightly because of a small, awkwardly placed pebble that was causing discomfort, about the upcoming negotiations he had heard a drunken man and Uri speaking of a few nights past while he sat in the tavern. Would the town be the same, or would it become just like all the other villages in the region, overcrowded and corrupted. The thought that anyone would allow such a place to become as corrupt as the rest of the world sickened him. His mind ran circles, as he bolstered his resolve that he must leave, if he were to find and destroy the ones responsible for the loss of everyone he had cared for. He unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck, where the burned mark placed by his lost mentor had began to prickle. Before he could completely accept that he was to leave, his heart steered his mind back to the one thing that had kept him there so long, if it wasn't the villagers, it was one villager in particular. He ran his conversation with Uri over and over through his head, as he had come to understand that for reasons beyond his comprehension, he cared for her.

He blinked as the suns first rays peaked over the cliff and cast light onto the quiet town. Soon it would be bustling with life, as the people went on with their daily routines. He smiled, as he watched a young boy he had never seen before wander through a darkened alleyway behind some closed shops. He watched the boys movements curiously for a few moments, before turning his attention to the arrival of the clan emissary as the small procession of a one person carriage and two mounted riders slowly passed the heavy wooden gate.

If he had continued to watch before he turned down the path leading back to the inner gate, he would have seen as the little boy put several apples into his pocket while the shopkeeper was busy opening his doors, or he might have seen the emblem on the flag the rear horseman carried matched the symbol carved onto the bodies of both his parents and the beheaded body of his mentor