As the Sun Creeps Over the Horizon by juupren

Prologue

As the Sun Creeps Over the Horizon

Prologue

It was calling him. He felt the pull. He felt it draw him up, upward from the spiraling darkness, drawing him ever onward, back into the light. And then he was aware. He inhaled slowly, drawing in the scents of the night, the delicate tissue of his nostrils dilating in their efforts, sorting through the dizzying patchwork of smells as they continued to flow through his senses.

There. His eyes shot open in recognition – blood. Fresh, and human, as registered in his memories of those scents. Two miles to the West, and getting stronger. And suddenly he was off, the darkness of the night surrounding him, the moonlight shining on his hair, glistening with the stray beams that pierced the tree-cover occasionally. Two miles was nothing to his legs; his powerful strides ate up the ground easily, his skin barely breaking a sweat. The trees rushed by, and at this speed, stray objects – such as low-hanging tree branches, rocks – were extremely dangerous. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he crouched, and propelled his lithe body high into the air. His eyes narrowed into slits against the rush of the wind as his body was thrust into the sky. He hung for a moment, for such power was his to control, and inhaled deeply yet again. There it was, still moving, but slowly, and much, much stronger.

Why did he care? It was only a dying human. A human life in his eyes was nothing, a mere wrinkle in the lapse of time. So why did the death-scent of this human bother him so? There was fear, yes, and exhaustion, anger, and a heart-rending sadness, his nose told him. But there, there it was... that encroaching, overwhelming feeling of despair coupled with love. Such strong emotions, that smelling it this far away was almost overpowering to his delicate senses. But humans are mindless and violent, they feel nothing so deep, this he knew. So then how was this smell coming from a dying mortal? He decided. His curiosity was piqued. Still hanging in midair, he released his grip on the energy keeping him aloft, allowing his body to fall, fall back towards the deep, threatening darkness of the forest once more.

He landed with only a slight disturbance of the dirt beneath his feet, the earth barely feeling the impact of his body. Such was his power. Almost as soon as his feet touched the ground, he was off yet again.

He entered the clearing from which the source of the stench was located, the smell of blood assaulting his senses with its bitterness; so much of it that it was almost unbearable. Quickly, his eyes darted around the clearing, taking in every detail; slowing, his golden orbs rested upon the human of his search. It was a woman. Simply dressed, she was recognizable as a priestess by her traditional garb. Her breathing was labored and fast, and her face was etched in the excruciating pain she felt merely continuing providing oxygen to what blood she had left. She seemed unaware of his presence as of yet, but he chose to ignore her lack of awareness. He silently approached her, striding unhurriedly through the dew-covered clearing, parts of it bathed in the shimmer of the moon, his feet neither leaving an imprint on the somewhat damp earth, nor disturbing the grass as he walked towards her prone figure. He paused momentarily, as her body shook with violent coughing, her throes leaving more of her crimson life-blood on the green and brown of the earth. Disdainfully avoiding the mess, he continued towards her.

He stopped and folded himself into a crouch close by her side. She slowly became aware of him, for his breath was warm on her cooling cheek, a last bit of comfort for the dying woman. Her eyes fluttered open gently, unfocused, not realizing that the one beside her in her last moments was not human. Her breath rattled in her chest, and she used the last bits of her energy to move the hand lying limply at her side to grasp his hand, which had been casually hanging off of his knee. Startled, he struck out... and hit nothing.

There was screaming, terrified, desperate screaming all around him. The air was heavy and thick with the taint of despair, and he found it difficult to breathe. The screams penetrated his senses and left his more primal instincts clamoring for escape. Clamping down on his urge to flee, he realized with grim irony that his senses were almost non-existent. His pathetically weak eyes were clouded by the stifling smoke, and the bundle tucked away in his arms was struggling pitifully, giving off squeaks of discomfort. His blood boiled in rage at the strange woman whose scent had lured him to her, only to drag him into this living nightmare. He thought to drop the wriggling bundle, only to find that he couldn't. His body began moving without his consent, running, into the forest, the night, and the blackness of the unknown, toting him along, an unwilling passenger unused to his body disobeying his commands.

The woman's breaths were becoming faint and shallow... she knew she didn't have much longer, but she had to keep the contact. A life depended on it. She had to compel the man to save her. Save her daughter.

A cave; he was in a cave as he noted with irritation. Dank and damp, and dark. He had always hated caves with a passion, and this one wasn't any exception – he was a creature that was born on the surface world, and was content to stay there. Somehow, it didn't help his temper knowing that his mind was trapped in the body of a human female. How demoralizing. He had resigned himself to this traveling capacity a few minutes ago, seeing as how he hadn't a choice, and there was nothing else to do but go along with it. A look of absolute boredom plastered on his features, he raised a single eyebrow from inside the human's body as she set the bundle down. And again, there was a flood of emotions. This was the worst part for him. The tumultuous flood of feelings made him want to tear something apart. Sorrow, regret, pain, and loss were things he did not feel. While intruding upon his mind, they conveyed to the rational part of his brain, that the woman didn't want to leave the bundle, whatever it was. As if he cared. All he wanted was out. And strangely enough, he got it; in a twisted sort of way. The biting, naked metal of a poorly made sword was digging into his ribs, driving him mad with the blood-lust and anger. How dare a mortal attack him! None had dared to do so in tens of years; or been stupid enough to try. His mind reverted to the detached and cold state of mind belonging to a born killer, just as the smells and happenings of the night came flooding back to him. For a moment, his instincts were quieted, and no longer screamed at him to take the life of his attacker. He just took in the night, relishing the ownership of his own body.

The first thing he noticed upon quieting his mind was that the breathing had stopped. His eyes snapped open and drank in the woman who was once again beside him. Woman... no that wasn't right; this was a girl. Eighteen, nineteen winters at the most, he surmised. She looked incredibly at peace now, her dying wish securely imbedded into the mind of another more able to fulfill it than she: him. The glow of her magic was fading from his sight, leaving her body along with her soul. Damned priestess. How dare she find the audacity to involve him in one of her spells? But she was gone, taken by Lord Death; she was out of his reach, and so he could not punish her for her transgressions. She did not, however, pass without concern. But she went with faith. Faith at the safety of the life she protected, for she had given him the memory of the location, and had put her faith in his compassion. He scoffed, as if he had compassion. Why should he have cultured such a thing, when he had no use for it? Shaking his head to rid himself of these thoughts, he unfolded his body from its position, stretching out the kinks in his muscles from the awkward stance, leaving the woman's physical husk to the work of nature. For why did he care?

It had been two days. Two days since that night, he knew. The sunlight drowned his senses, the scent of dried prairie grass permeating his nose, the sunlight burning vibrantly against his eyelids. His skin still tingled occasionally, and his eyes blurred, when the memory came over him. It still came, every now and then, when his guard was down. Not in the same severity as before, but still, it was vivid enough to make him want it to end. And ever-present in the back of his head was that cave; that same, damned cave, still visible in his mind's eye. And the worst part was that he couldn't forget. Oh, he had tried. He attempted to lose his conscious to his inner beast and had killed some weak roaming yokai, but to no avail. He had run himself almost to the point of exhaustion, trying to lose consciousness. That had been a rather bad idea. He inwardly grimaced, recalling that. The dreams had taken him again when he did that, instead of the warm, comforting blanket of unawareness.

He was now standing on a cliff, with as much distance as he had been able to put between that human girl's resting spot and himself as possible. He had returned once, the night before, trying to rid himself of the dreams by reassuring himself that she was dead and gone, but her presence still lingered strongly. The wind of the night had been blowing through the trees, and it sounded oddly familiar. 'Please... please...' it called to him like the begging of a tortured soul. At the sound, he had unknowingly clenched his hand, drawing blood. He had not noticed until the thick, sickly sweet odor reached his nose. Forcing his muscles to relax, he watched in detachment as the wound healed over, no sign of the blood left behind. And with that he had taken his leave yet again, not realizing that the stain of his blood now accompanied that of the woman on the ground.

A low, feral growl of pent up frustration and anger was unwillingly released from him, and rang through the air like the oncoming threat of a storm, thick with electricity looking for something to fry. He had had enough of these memories! He'd had a great amount of time to ponder the occurrences of that night, and had decided several things. One being, that that woman would pay, and pay dearly when he found her in the realms of death, he decided. He would be able to recognize her right away, for spirits are unrecognizable other than by scent; and oh, her scent was now a close companion in his waking moments. It had haunted his thoughts, and wandered at will through every fiber of his being since he had returned to the place of her death. It badgered him now, a constant reminder of the woman and that cave. He would rend her soul for making him experience this unending torture. The reason, he had told himself, for going back again, was to memorize her scent. He regretted it now. But strangely, it did not remind him of the scent of other humans. Strange, again, as was said. For it was a soothing smell, underneath the lingering tones of blood, fear, and earth. She did not smell of death as most humans do, in their mortal bodies. The decay of time was not something he had ever experienced, and so he found the scent of death rather offensive. But this girl... she smelled of the wide open lands – much like his own – and the crisp cleanliness of the pine needles in the northern forests. She was of nature, judging by her scent. But underneath even that, was purity, like none other he had ever seen. Oh yes, she was powerful, this girl. Even in her dying moments she had been able to send him deep into her thoughts and memories. He had sorted through her scent a thousand times, and a thousand times again since that moment, and had come to several conclusions. A purity and an innocence were part of her core being. And also, most baffling of all, was love. Love for the entire planet, and everything on it. Perhaps that was why she had not been afraid of him. At first he had believed that she had been unaware of his presence, but when he had discovered the miko in her blood, he was forced to reconsider. His aura was not something to be scoffed at, by any one, and this priestess was no exception. She must have known.

But then why would she grab him, and cast him into her spell, knowing that it would bring a faster death? And when she could have easily healed herself with that power instead. Her body was broken, yes, but why throw away her life so carelessly?

As his mind roved over these thoughts, the image of the cave, and the bundle, presented itself to him once again. Rage flooded him once more, and was taken out on a neighboring tree... well, several trees. And then he paused.

What if this cave was the answer?

And here he was again, being compelled by a filthy human, he thought in disgust. There was already some sort of revolting cave-slime on his sleeve. Thoroughly disgusted with himself for succumbing to the urge to visit the cave, he trekked on. 'Oh, that random piece of rock looks familiar', he though sarcastically. Ha. Not.

It was when he was pausing to brush a cobweb off of his arm while trying to maintain what was left of his dignity that he heard it: voices. A low rumble, and a sharp yelp, closely followed by coarse laughter. His instincts told him that he should hurry – they told him that the owners of these voices were a threat to his mission. Mission? Since when had it become a mission? Another growl built up in his chest, but he shoved it back down as he approached the voices.

"Well, 'Cap? We there yet?"

"You, dunder'ead! We'll be there when we find the little brat."

The shuffling of feet continued as he watched the men grow closer. There were six or seven of them, all poorly clothed, dirty, and stinking of pigs and the cheap beer that the poor drank. They were unshaved and carried battered swords in their hands; they moved with unease and occasionally glanced at their weapons, as if they were wary of the swords themselves. Untrained, unarmed (almost), and unaware. Perfect.

He readied himself to attack, but was stopped by a more urgent flash of the bundle through his mind. Annoyed, he quickly turned on his heel and made his way deeper into the darkness.

When he found it, he inhaled deeply, to double check on the identity of the bundle. It smelled faintly of the woman, and... something else? Brusquely, he picked it up – and nearly dropped it when it moved at his touch. Catching it just in time, he pulled back a rough flap of the make-shift blanket. A child. A rosy-cheeked girl-child stared into his golden orbs, as he stared back into her sapphire ones. A smile adorned her tiny, dimpled cheeks as she looked up at him. And strangely enough, he found himself smiling involuntarily back. His delicate nostrils once again took in her scent – it was much like her mother's. But the child's was more of the forest, and the sharp ring of a waterfall. Very little of the open plains had leaked into the child's scent, but then again, she was young, and obviously had not been around the sun-soaked grasses and grazers that lived there, nor the moon-kissed dew enough for him to recognize the scent on her. Underneath the basic smells, there was that same power – it resounded in his head, and the images of the cave receded from his thoughts. And he felt contentment from the power, as if the woman was now able to rest. He had found her child, but he sure wasn't going to care for it. It was far beneath him. He would just leave it... yes, out in the forest, or if he was feeling nice, by a village, for the pup's own kind to raise. Holding the child close to his chest, he discarded her filthy blanket on the floor of the cave. She could not see in the darkness, but he could. And he used his abilities to rush out of the cave, passing the men he had seen earlier. His speed left them stunned, and wondering what had brushed passed them in the blackness. He smirked.

When he emerged from the encroaching confines of the earth, the sun was fast fading over the mountains to the north. The blood red streaks of light intermittently broke the deep orange that filled the depths of the sky, partially masking the hazy yellow glow that hung just above the horizon like thin gauze. Its residual light provided a backdrop for the twenty or so men waiting outside for their companion's return. Their rough leather jerkins caught the fading light, and made the tanned hides look a deep magenta. The heavy shadows masked their faces, hiding their features which made them seem somewhat unreal. They were waiting. His eyes re-adjusted to the light, and upon spotting them, the immortal mentally cursed himself. This... this was not a good thing. Normally, he would not have hesitated slaughtering them all for their offensive presence and stench. But there was the child to consider; the pure, innocent child now asleep in his arms. A growing feeling of protectiveness rose inside of him. The men were hunting the babe. Well, too bad for them; they couldn't have her. He had two choices, and a decision had to be made quickly, for the men had spotted his silver-haired figure, and were approaching cautiously, but quickly across the sun-bleached grass. A primal growl was torn from his chest as he felt the child stir against him fitfully in her slumber. The men stopped, and backed down minutely, fearing his wrath, but also the fate that awaited them if they did not retrieve the child.

There was crimson red bleeding slowly into the golden pigments of his eyes, for all to see now. Basically, it was a warning. In nature, animals with bright colors were typically poisonous, this the men knew. And if the silver-haired man standing in front of them was human, then they were gods. Their leader saw the child – their goal. He knew his master desired the child dead at all costs, but who was he to question the yokai currently holding her. Silently, he bowed his head in submission, and the man walked by him, with all the royal disdain of a lion, still holding the child protectively against his chest.

The human was smart, and let him pass. As soon as he was out of the humans' line of sight, and back into the forest, he took off. The familiar scents and sounds were soothing to his frazzled nerves. He was not meant for caves, nor were caves meant for him. Oh, it was good to be out in the open air again. In his own subtle way of expressing joy, he jumped high into the air, feeling the wind rush against his body, and took pleasure in the squeal of delight that came from the child tightly held in his arms. Still holding her securely against him, he let loose his energy, and a swirling light engulfed him.

A passing bird saw a silver-haired man floating in the air one moment, but the next it was scared out of its wits by the gargantuan silver dog that took up the sky.

The child nestled against his fur, soaking up the warmth of his body into her tiny one. For some unexplainable reason, he no longer wanted to leave this human to die. He felt her hands curl around his silver-white pelt, cuddling against him, and her squeaks of delight at the trees and lands below them. As he thought of her with a human family, something gripped his heart. He just couldn't bear the thought. The child was so lively, so helplessly in love with life as ones as young as she always are. But there was something deeper behind her love, something that embraced the very meaning of life. And it touched him. He didn't want to be touched... but it had happened. The presence of one of the very creatures he so hated, was now soothing. And he wanted to protect it. Disgusting. But he couldn't help that now could he? Hadn't his little excursion with the priestess shown him that already? Sighing to himself, he pulled his aura back in, and reverted to his humanoid form, enjoying the rush he felt every time he transformed. He never got tired of it. Falling through the sky, he landed much as he had the night when he had met the woman. The woman who led him to this child, now under his protection. Landing softly upon the earth, he savored the freedom of the night. The night was life, for him; life truly started after the sun left the sky. But no matter how much he longed to give in to his instincts, there was the tiny little girl, asleep yet again, to think of now. Angry at himself for accepting this task, yet at the same time, overjoyed, he hopped into a tree, and held the child in his arms. As the moon rose slowly in the sky, he fell asleep watching the rise and fall of her tiny chest, still aware of all that was happening around him and on guard in case anything threatened his new charge. His little one.