Will
“Do you know who has caused this destruction and the… N… Na… um… the winter?” Dzel followed Will through the hall, up the stairs and into the wide decorated chamber. “You will have to explain more to me… I have not heard of your country nor do I understand your ways.”
Dzel was very far from home.
She had trouble following the explorers story. She assumed that the destruction and the trouble in this land must have been caused by a powerful magic-wielder, for, in her home such a thing was possible. What she had never heard of before were words like ‘nuclear’, ‘industrial’, and ‘mortars’. These words confused her understanding of the story. She did not grow impatient. She understood that things were not what they seemed, and other things were best understood with time and patience.
The riddle would unwind as it was meant to.
“As for myself…I last remember being in the wood... I do not know where I am now, but surely, I am very far from that fair forest. I do not know how I arrived here instead. It is unlikely, but possible, that I have been bewitched... ” She tilted her head from side to side, as if amused by that idea.
She became quiet at his signal.
Inside the backpack was a set of cloths. Pants, underwear, a grey t-shirt. Two protein bars, woolen socks, a flashlight, a rubix cube (unsolved), a plastic bottle of water, a gameboy with a red cartridge, a stopwatch, and a handgun, which, if Will were to check he would find three bullets in the magazine.
Upstairs…
Dzel looked toward the altar, her face solemn. She marched toward the altar and closed the eyes of the dead.
“You are wise… I do not think we are alone, Listen.”
The ‘other entrance’ was simply the other half of the large once-great hall with the walls and ceiling missing. From outside, the wind carried in a conversation…
“H-Hello. Trying to escape the cold as well?”
"No need to apologize friend, it takes more than that to ruffle this monk's feathers. This cold will take its toll on anyone if we're out here long enough. Well you're a tiny thing aren't you? That's Herbert over there. Did you know that you have feathers stuck to you dear? how curious! Oh my, they are stuck on there good. Did you use glue? Listen. That room back there is a mess...blood and gore everywhere, but it seems the only way to shelter is down those steps Herbert is heading towards. I don't know about you, but I am growing quite weary from holding this dreadful cold at bay, so I'm heading that way too. You're welcome to join us if you like. I'm sure there will be some kind of shelter below and maybe we can all figure out how to get off this cursed mountain."
“You are a good man.” A third voice.
“I’m Ryann. It’s nice to meet you both.Oh! Um, there’s no glue. Only flesh and feathers. I’d like to accept that offer, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Alexander (Clone 1)
An arrow hit him in the shoulder. He cursed as he faltered, and the second hit him in the chest.
Alexander looked up at the woman and her arrows, she drew the third and stepped close to him, the arrowhead pointed straight between his eyes…
The clone bled. The clone winced in pain. Then the clone disappeared.
Arrows clattered to the ground. The girl was left wide eyed and astonished. She picked up the fallen arrow and ducked back behind the rock. She waited for the man to re-appear. Her heart beat fast in her chest as she posed for the counter attack and questioned her sanity…
Xavier (Clone 2)
“We should move quickly.” A look of deep concern crossed Xavier's face. “I sense danger.” He quickened his pace through the snow, headed northward in order to reunite with his original copy.
They would come upon Alex (original copy), a man strangely identical to Xavier, sitting in the snow. He knelt beside a man in a long coat. Alex had dragged the body close to a patch of fire in order to warm the poor unconscious man. It seemed to do little to help.
Alex looked up, bemused at the sight of his clone. “We have both found someone it seems… Even Alexander… He is gone...”
“I shall stand watch.” Xavier offered, turning his back to Alex and Vata, casting his eyes about for signs of whomever, or whatever, had killed Alexander.
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