View source for Mirkk (prime)/stories/A Dark Day (short story)

{{creative-work | title = A Dark Day  | type = short story | author = Mirkk | author-displayed = [[Mirkk (prime)|Mirkk Timbertree-Bayvel]]}}
'''A faint distortion begins to appear in the sky above you.'''

'''The rippling in the sky churns and boils and seemingly out of nowhere, Lornon appears high in the sky, poised as if to strike at the sun.'''

'''The looming shape of Lornon slides before the face of the sun, plunging the world into darkness!'''

==The Eclipse of Feastday, Lormaesta the 29th, 5122==


Waking next to the warmth of the fire encased in the belly of the iron sentinel, he raised his head. Something didn’t seem right. He could smell the lingering aromatic floral scents mixed with the woody smell of the fire. He lazily glanced over at the fire made in the crook of the stone and noticed the two others stirring in alarm, though unwilling to give up their resting places. He turned his head toward the door, held open by a wood elf woman who was gazing outside, a wicker basket of fresh linens resting against her hip. Then he heard someone call his name, a faint whisper on the wind.

He rose swiftly, given his age, and pushed past the Sylvan at the door and out the wrought iron gate. His eyes adjusted quickly to a dark that should not be. He glanced both directions before swiftly moving northwest along the hard ground. He thought it strange that it was dark. It didn’t feel like night, and the songbirds of the day were chirping loudly among the treetops, the squirrels chattering angrily at him as he moved.

As he moved, he took in the scents of the surrounding forest, filled with pine, hints of acantha, and the earthy ground beneath. He continued his movement along the road, passing the building at which the other two always stopped, albeit briefly. He pressed on, as he knew he would not have been called unless needed.

He did not fear the packs of men that tried to ambush others. No, they feared him. He had had no issues with them since that last altercation quite some time ago.

He turned the corner and saw the mouth of the place along the cliff, its teeth ridged across the top, the dark tunnel leading further in. He didn’t fear it. He came here often with the others. He lowered his head and looked in and saw them, the other members of his streak, with the warm glow of the amber lanterns illuminating their forms. He could smell the man’s woodsy scent, masked by some sort of sweet fruit. He could smell the elf woman’s scent, too – that of flowers. The man was leaning forward, looking in his direction into the darkness, and the elf woman was squeezing the man’s hand tightly, an anxious look upon her seemingly radiant face.

He let out a low prusten to let them know he was near, and approached slowly as not to alarm them, his large paws making no sound. The woman’s face look briefly relieved, and the man said to him, “Hello River.”

Understanding what was needed of him, he took a position of watchfulness next to the elf woman. His bond with the man was unbreakable, but as the man’s love of the elf woman swelled more every day, so did his bond with her.

He moved with his streak back in the direction of the place with the warmth – the man occasionally lighting a ball of light from his hand. The elf woman stayed close to the man. He stayed on the other side of the elf woman, brushing lightly against her to reassure her of his presence with them. He kept a guarded eye along the hard, flat path southeast, looking for bandits that might accost the others. He could smell the fusty odor of the fallow fields in rest after their fall harvests.

The man and elf woman, despite the darkness of late afternoon, made their brief stop at the building. He stood his vigil until the man and elf woman emerged and continued along the hard, flat path.

As the three moved, the birds of day continued in agitation, all the more so now by the man periodically emitting the bright light from his hand. His ears twitched, hearing something just behind the veil of the woods. He saw a deer that seemed both confused and startled. He pressed his head against the elf woman again to comfort her. Nervously, the elf woman reached down and scratched his head.

Still in darkness, the three reached the wrought iron gates, pushed through the imposing door, and he found himself back in the place with the fireplace, the stove, and the warmth. The man escorted the elf woman to the oak bench where the elf woman took a seat. The man then moved over to the stove and did something with the object on top. 

He was restless now. He could sense the uneasiness of the man, the elf woman, and the other creatures, and so he crept back out the door where he would stand watch until the light returned.