Timestamp: 8th day of Winter, 504 AV
Location: Just outside Avanthal, near Alkor's ancestral home.
Time of Day: Night
There was a snowstorm brewing off in the distance, the young Vantha observed. Just over the mountains, behind where the Aurora Borealis were illuminating the horizon with a magnificent display of ever-shifting hues. He had paid close attention as his father strung the bow, though given the opportunity to do it himself found him struggling to even pull the sinew an inch.
They were to hunt again. Alkor hated when he had to go to hunt; he had to watch the other two while they celebrated their victories, and most of the time, he had to carry it all back for them. That was why he always ran off and hid.
That was why Alkor had gotten lost, not so far from home that he was in danger, but far enough that he had slumped down and given up hope. After all, he was still young, only fifteen by that time. He remembered what it was like to sit near the fire, listening to the stories and watching the others laugh and sing, and he remembered that he was nothing like them. Crying in the middle of a frozen hell, he felt the stinging pain of the water freezing almost instantly on his skin and his lips crack as he bit down on them.
He always seemed to get lost, though he always found a way out. Alkor prided himself in being the unluckiest lucky man alive, or so was the name his uncle had given him. Alkor pressed himself off the ground, his muscles tight because of the extreme cold, and smiled to himself. He was used to it, yes, but he had been out in it long enough and not physically or mentally prepared himself for it. That had been his father's error, not teaching his son how to handle himself in such a life-threatening situation.
But when that hand pulled Alkor's and the youth felt himself free of the danger at long last, he smiled up into his uncle's bright eyes and laughed. He was with the only person in the world he trusted, the only person in the world he felt like actually loved him. The man who went out of his way, having instinctively known Alkor was in danger, to save his nephew from certain death.
As they trudged along, Alkor spoke to his uncle quietly.
Uncle, why do I have to go with them? Why do they insist?
The elder man merely smiled; he knew that the day would come when Alkor would grow up and be faced with a reality he was unprepared for. The difference was, Alkor's uncle knew that the boy would make the choice he had not. And he had to prepare the boy for that.
"No one understands why those around them do anything, little Alkor. That's what life is all about. If we knew everything, we would never have to learn. And without learning, we would all be empty."
Alkor hated it; while the logic seemed simple to most, to Alkor it was like a riddle. In fact, the proverb simply annoyed the boy as he walked along, until finally he caved and spoke up again.
So why don't you teach me how to be like you, uncle? Didn't you used to fight with heroes from other lands, far away? Didn't you travel and see the world?
There was an awkward silence, a grim look on his uncle's face. Alkor would be the one to succeed him in his legacy of pain, but in an entirely new way. What he accepted as fate was the single hardest thing the elder man had ever had to accept. He was passing his burden on to a new generation. But he had to bite his lip and smile while Alkor made his own choices.
"Yours is a healthy desire, Alky. To learn and to grow. Don't let it be tarnished by the desire to gain glory. You are still but a child..."
Fuming, Alkor retorted without letting his uncle finish.
I'm a single year from adulthood, Uncle. I want to learn. I don't care about glory, I just want to have my own life. I want the ability to reach out for that. To go to new places, and to live. Isn't that what you want for me? I don't belong here... its so lonely, here, this place, these people... all strangers despite having grown up beside them...
As he trailed off, Alkor watched the night sky and smiled. There was pain beneath the surface, and the elder man could see that. Alkor did not belong there, he was not meant to be one of those people... but more than that, Alkor had the tenacity to succeed his uncle. And as renowned martial artist, the elder man accepted that it was destiny.
To Alkor's uncle, expressing oneself went beyond words and crafts. It was an art that existed only in a flowing moment, in motions that briefly expressed perfection. And in Alkor, right now, he saw that perfection personified. He knew the boy was ready.