Forgotten Ones ('The Challenger' drabble)

So Malin. Lately, he's gotten some interest around him, and to explore how he began his somewhat unlikely involvement in the story, I wrote a drabble about him. I like it fairly well. It's basically unedited so meh. Also this is a one-off scene. It's not a book, it's probably not going to be added to. It just is. 
I might post more of these one-off scenes here if I write another I like enough, though it may not be related to this one at all. In that case I'll probably rename this topic 'Sayna's Random Drabbles' or something. Just little micro-stories from the Saynaverse that aren't long enough to be their own short stories or novellas. Cause there are some really fun pieces like this that are backstory or side story scenes but they don't really fit into the narrative of the main books and can't stand alone. But they fill in some small puzzle pieces and show things that were merely mentioned. 
Here we go.
Feels incoming.
== Forgotten Ones ==
I’m sorry kit.
Sayna slowly, methodically wiped the blood from her sword. 
I wasn’t fast enough.
She sheathed her glowing blade, plunging the forest into the night’s darkness, lit only by the stars and moon. Bodies lay around her, the slavers she had slain, and the captives that had resisted them before she arrived. In the silence after her sword had slid into its sheath, she could hear the soft whimpering of the sole survivor. 
Sayna took a deep breath, before turning to the kit. He was a mouse, and he couldn’t have been over four. The blood of his own family stained him so badly, Sayna wasn’t sure what he really looked like.
He’d doubled over in a miserable heap, shaking from head to tail tip. 
Sayna sighed, and knelt in front of him. “Hey kit. What’s your name?”
She needed to keep him occupied, even if the questions were pointless. She’d drop him off at an orphanage and probably never see him again, just like the countless other parentless kits she’d found over the ages. But for now, he was her problem. And he needed something to think about besides the horror he’d just witnessed. 
The kit slowly lifted his head, staring up at her with pale green eyes. They were dull eyes, almost glazed over. Not good.
“What’s your name, kit?” Sayna tried again, gentler this time.
He just stared blankly. Sayna carefully touched the top of his head, paw squishing in his blood soaked hair. “Hey kit, listen. I’m going to take you somewhere safe, alright? Can you walk?”
There was no reaction, and Sayna didn’t figure there would be. She reached down, picking up his trembling little body and pulling him close. He stiffened momentarily, then completely relaxed in her arms. 
Sayna stood, cradling him against her armored chest. She had no way of telling if he was wounded or not. “Alright kit, here’s the plan.”
Sayna began walking away from the carnage-filled clearing, bodies torn and burnt by her unstoppable sword. “I have a camp not far from here, and I’ll take you back there. We’ll get you cleaned up and in the morning, maybe you’ll tell me your name.”
The kit didn’t respond. He just stared blankly up at her, or perhaps the night sky beyond. 
She’d seen it thousands of times before. This was a never ending cycle. A kit’s family torn from them, her arriving too late to do more than take vengeance. Caring for the traumatized survivors until she could leave them on the doorstep of someone kind enough to take them, someone willing to deal with the broken mind of one so young. Over and over, time and again.
Sayna felt weariness settle in her bones. Sometimes, she saved the families too. Often she failed. She was one creature. Just one standing up against the darkness while the residents of the larger cities turned a blind eye to what really went on in the wilder places. 
They’ve never cared. Sayna thought bitterly. It was always this way. Generation after generation benefited from her unending vigil, yet none offered her any help. 
She stalked through the woods, holding yet another victim of Mossflower’s apathy and Southsward’s greed. This kit was worse than some. His vacant, glazed over stare and panting, frantic breaths did not bode well for his chances of living to see the dawn.
I’ll do my best for you.
Sayna patted his hair, slick with blood. Hopefully it wasn’t his.
Poor little one that the world forgot.
After several more minutes of walking, Sayna pushed through the underbrush into a clearing rimmed with crumbling stone walls. Once, it had been a castle courtyard. Now trees grew throughout it, and vines twisted up the crumbling keep. Sayna walked into what still stood of this tiny castle’s interior, gutted by the elements of countless centuries. 
Her horse snorted, halter jingling. 
“Hey Firemaiden.” Sayna said in passing, though her trusty mare was not a sentiant horse. Still, it was someone to talk to, even if her mount could not rightly respond. 
She carried the kit to her palette by a blackened, cold fire pit. Sayna gently laid him down on her bedroll, and worked on starting the fire again. She had it going in minutes, and added a few logs for extra light.
She grabbed her spare tunic and cut it into a manageable size for a wash cloth and got her pail of drinking water. The kit was still shaking, and Sayna talked to him while she cleaned blood out of his hair and face. “You’re safe now, ok? All the bad creatures are gone.”
He didn’t resist her touch, but he didn’t respond either. Sayna washed out the bloody scrap of her tunic, and went back to cleaning. Her heart caught in her chest when the color of the kit’s fur became clear in the firelight.
It was gold, the purest golden fur Sayna had seen in awhile, outside of looking in a mirror. His hair was tinged with brown at the tips, and he had a faint smattering of dark freckles on his nose.
“By Ignasa’s tears.” Sayna breathed. “A Luke.”
There was no denying which ancient family this kit must belong to. His clothes were rags now, stained with blood and grime. Sayna undressed him, tossing the filthy garments in the fire. She checked for any deep wounds, but he seemed unharmed outside of scrapes and what must be happening in his mind.
She tucked him into her bedroll, and left to get clean water from the nearby stream. When she returned, the Luke kit was just as she’d left him. Sayna got him to drink a little water, though most dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
He was still a dirty, red-stained mess, but Sayna left him to rest. If he lived to the dawn, she’d properly bathe him in the stream. If he didn’t, well, there was no point in getting him spotless anyway.
Sayna leaned against a crumbling pillar nearby, watching the kit’s restless sleep. Sleep would not come for her, and honestly, she’d slept last night. She would have liked to have kept hunting until daybreak, but now there was the matter of this kit. Her claws itched to do something. She noted the ruined tunic, the part that she hadn’t used as a washrag. Absently, she picked it up. She begin cutting it into smaller pieces. She pulled her sewing kit from the satchel sitting at the end of her bedroll.
Why waste the time? The cynical numbness of her mind asked. He’s weak. He’ll be dead in a few hours.
She glanced at the kit, noting his rapid little breaths. Her logic was probably true.
Still, she began sewing the pieces of tunic together. As she worked, she found herself praying. 
“Ignasa, my guiding light, watch over me.”
Her stitches bound a little sleeve together. “Show me which path you wish me to walk. Give me your blessing when my strength fails. Guide me in this matter.”
She sewed the sleeve to a small tunic. “I do not pretend to know the future, but I beg you to give this one a second chance at life, if it is in your will. To most he would already be dead. But you bring the dead back to life.”
She smirked a tiny bit as she sewed the other sleeve on. “I know that well.”
Sayna held up her finished work, a simple kit’s tunic. “Give me your wisdom that I may know what to do.”
She could feel Ignasa’s presence swirling around her as she folded the small garment, and looked to the kit. His breathing was still so rapid. After a moment, she crawled to his side and picked up his clammy paw. “Little Luke, would you like to hear a song? A lullaby of olden times.”
He didn’t respond, and she didn’t expect it. 
But she sang anyway, the words and tune of a lullaby forgotten by the world. She sang to a forgotten, dying kit, in the ruin of a forgotten, dying castle. She belonged here, among the forgotten, for she shared their lot.
I care to remember.
And she did remember, everything. While she sang she was far away, a thousand years ago. While she sang she held her own son’s paw, trying to comfort him after the first time he had awakened the family curse and slain other creatures. Just like this kit, he had been gripped by shock for many hours. While she sang, she was surrounded by those long gone.
Her song ended, as all songs must. 
The past faded, and she again sat in the light of her campfire, holding a broken kit’s clammy paw. Sayna looked down at him, and felt relief wash over her. The kit’s breaths had slowed and a quick check showed his heart had slowed too. His face was far more peaceful now.
“Thank you, Ignasa.” Sayna breathed out. Then she began singing again, the calmest songs she could think of.
And again, she let today fade into long, long ago.
><><
Sayna woke to a tiny paw tugging at her gauntleted arm. She blinked, realizing she must have fallen asleep at some point. Amazingly, the kit was looking up at her, surprising clarity in his green eyes. He still lay in her bedroll, but his vacant stare of horror was gone.
Carefully, she brushed the flop of gold and brown hair from his face. “Hey little one. You had me worried last night. It’s good to see you awake.”
He said nothing, just kept staring at her. Sayna offered him her best smile. “I’ve got some new clothes for you. Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can have breakfast. Does that sound alright?”
He slowly sat up, looking around. The kit seemed confused. Finally, he looked up at her again. “You aren’t my daddy. But you look like him.”
His words slurred together in the youthful way all kit’s tended to, especially ones this young. Still, Sayna could understand him, another good sign that he was recovering from his shock. 
“Were you the one who sang?”
Sayna blinked down at the kit with bloodstained fur the hue of spun gold. He remembered that? But she simply nodded. “I did sing. You were very sick last night, I was hoping to make you feel better and sleep. It seems to have worked.”
He kept staring. At last he asked, “Are you a knight? You look like a knight.”
“I suppose I am a knight.” Sayna sighed, reaching down and picking him up. “Let’s get you a bath.”
He didn’t protest as she gathered her tunic washrag and some soap from her satchel. As she carried him past Firemaiden, he reached out, saying, “Horsie.”
“Yes, you can pet the horsie later if you’re good.” Sayna said, absently.
She carried him down to the nearby stream, one of the Moss’s southern branches, and waded into the shallows. The kit didn’t resist as she scrubbed his fur with soap, and the water around him turned pink. He even splashed a little in the bubbles. 
Perhaps he did not remember the details of last night. That was for the best. Often, from what she had seen, minds had a way of forgetting their deepest traumas. Perhaps this kit could live a normal life after all. Perhaps he would not die young and shattered, ending his own existence in the world too soon from the nightmares in his past. Perhaps he would never remember.
Perhaps he would be happy. 
She scrubbed off each of his arms, finally reaching his right paw. As she began scrubbing it, she froze. Though the fur was sodden, it almost looked like… no. No, it couldn’t be.
“Are you ok, knight lady?” The kit asked.
Sayna realized she’d been frozen in place, staring at the impossible. 
“Um. Yeah kit. Let’s… go have breakfast.”
She pulled him out of the water, his sodden fur plastered against his frame and making him seem even smaller. She walked back into the old castle ruin… what had its name been in ages past? Theas-Lidir? The kit looked up as she slipped through a gaping hole in the wall. 
“Castle?”
Sayna nodded, still distracted. This kit. His paw. The fur on his right one swirled unnaturally, almost forming a picture. “Uh, yeah. This is a castle. Or, well… it was once.”
She dried him off with her blanket, then hung it over a shattered pillar to dry. Finally, she pulled the little tunic she’d stitched together the night before over his head. Honestly, it was too big. She’d not really bothered with measurements, since she’d really believed she’d be burying him this morning. Still, she found a worn leather string in her satchel, one that had held her arm-braces together for years, but finally snapped. She’d forgotten it long past, left coiled in the bottom of her bag. Sayna tied a piece around the kit’s thin waist for a belt.
 
“Kit, did they feed you at all?”
He was scrawny, even bony. He solemnly said, “Harvest was bad. That’s what daddy said. We have to share the food.”
Oh.
“Well, you’re with me now.” Sayna said, standing, satisfied the kit was dressed well enough. “Come on, let’s have something for breakfast. I’m hungry, how about you?”
“I’m always hungry.” The kit said matter-of-factly.
Yes, Sayna didn’t doubt that. He looked it. She got him some bread from her store of food, and he stared at the large portion she gave him. Sayna raised an eyebrow. “Well, go on. Eat up.”
She pulled two apples from her food sack, and sat down next to the kit before beginning to slice them with her dagger. The kit turned his green stare to her. “But… if we eat it all now…”
He looked like he was thinking hard. “Then we’ll be hungry later.”
“Nah kit.” Sayna munched on some apple. “We’ll be fine.”
He nibbled on his bread, before his bird-like pecks became massive, scarfing bites. The bread vanished quickly, after that. Sayna gave him a slice of apple, and asked, “So kit. You still need to tell me your name.”
He munched on the apple, licking his paws like it was a great treat. For him, maybe it was. Once his mouth was finally empty, he said, “Malin.”
Malin. In the old tongue, that meant ‘little warrior.’ Well, he’s a fighter, isn’t he? He survived last night.
“Well Malin, I’m Sayna.” She held out another chunk of apple, which he snapped up. “How would you like to have nice food all the time?”
He smiled at this, face still full of apple. “I’d like that.”
Sayna smiled back. “Good. I’ll take you somewhere with nice creatures who will make sure you don’t have to go hungry anymore.”
“Can Ruben come too?”
Sayna raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Ruben?”
Malin finished his apple, saying, “My brother. And my brother Finn, and my sister Ciara, and daddy, and mommy. Can they all come?”
Sayna looked away. Ignasa above, how many Lukes could those slavers kill in one night?
She took a deep breath, trying to find a way to tell this kit his entire family was dead. “Look, Malin. Your family, they… well they…”
She was bad at this. Finally, she decided some lie wouldn’t make it better. “I’m sorry. Your family… aren’t coming back. They still love you very much, I know they do. But they can’t be here right now. That’s why we’ll find you a new place to live.”
Malin’s smile vanished. He gazed up at her with great solemnness, no tears, no hysteria. Just a graveness beyond his years that bordered on understanding. He sidled up to her, leaning his little head against her armored side. “Is it like when grandpa got sick? He wouldn’t wake up.”
Sayna patted his unruly hair. “Yeah... uh… something like that.”
“Mommy said he died.” Malin clarified. “Are they all died now?”
Sayna hated this part of rescuing kits. They were so oblivious to the truth, and if they weren’t, they were broken, unresponsive wrecks. At least Malin wasn’t one of those.
Ignasa above, I hope he can’t remember last night.
He didn’t seem to be able to. At last she nodded. “Yes. They are dead. And that means you need a new home.”
Malin blinked up at her with those big green eyes. “Can you be my new mommy, knight lady?”
“Ah…” Sayna said. Those sorts of requests didn’t come often. Most kits were rather afraid of her, but then, Malin wasn’t scuttling away and hiding like most. Sayna at last asked, “Why would you want me to be your mommy?”
“You’re nice.” Malin took the forgotten apple from her paw. “And you look like me.”
He was right, at least about the resemblance. But then, Luke genetics were strong, as strong as the curse that clung to the generations like a dark stain.
If he has Bloodwrath, he will need a teacher.
Sayna sighed, and rubbed a paw down her face. She couldn’t take him in. She didn’t have time to care for a kit this young. She lived in the depths of Mossflower, where the trees acted as though alive and some plants had a fondness for warm-blooded flesh. Her hall was the definition of haunted, for Ignasa’s sake!
But his eyes were so earnest. Green eyes, like Rose’s.
He is not Rose. He is not Tynek! He is a kit that needs a proper family, not an undead warrior for a guardian!
She didn’t have time for a kit. She couldn’t take one so young on her hunts, and she couldn’t leave him alone in her house. 
“Uh, kit, don’t you want a daddy? If you come with me… it’s just me.”
How was she even considering this?
Malin crawled onto her lap. “Don’t you have a family, knight lady?”
Something somewhere in the back of Sayna’s throat tightened. She took a moment, and then sadly said, “Not anymore. Once I did, a long time ago.”
“Are they dead too?” 
The level of understanding in Malin’s young voice was astonishing. He was a little mumbly at times, but this kit had already been through so much. Too much. Sayna nodded. “Yeah. They died a very, very long time ago. But I miss them. I still do.”
“Oh.” Said Malin. Then he gave her the best hug his short arms could manage. “That’s why you should be my mommy.”
His green eyes were so soulful, so wise beyond his years. So much like Rose’s. “We’re the same.”
The same. An orphan and a widow. Both alone, both lonely. Maybe he was right. She’d never taken an apprentice, never trusted another mortal enough to even try. Not after everything that had happened… her secrets were better off unshared.
And yet…
“Kit, show me your paw.”
He held out his left one. Sayna noticed he stuck his right one behind his back. She shook her head. “No, your other paw.”
Malin looked worried. “Um. I can’t.”
“Why not?” Sayna had a good guess, but she approached the kit on his own terms. She wanted his explanation. 
“I… um… it’s special. And sometimes… special things need to stay secret.”
Sayna had the feeling he was quoting something his parents had said. It only confirmed what she already knew. She sighed, and pulled the gloved off her own right paw. “Guess what?”
Malin blinked up at her. “What?”
Sayna smiled faintly. “I have a special paw too. I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”
Malin hesitated, keeping the paw in question firmly behind his back. “You first.”
Sayna shrugged, and held out her feather-marked paw. The lines swirled across it, clear and distinct even after so many years. Malin gaped. Then he held out his own little paw, more enthusiasm in his voice than she’d heard him use. “We are the same!”
Sayna had thought she was ready. But she wasn’t. Tears sprang into her eyes as she stared at the perfect little rose mark on his tiny paw. 
It was identical to Rose’s, Sayna was sure. Though a thousand years separated her from her sister, it had to be. This kit was marked, and with her sister’s mark too. 
Unity. He will unite.
He was special. He wasn’t wrong in that. Could she really leave him with the Kotirians, to be twisted and corrupted by their cursed apathy?
Then another thought came to her.
What if this is my successor?
Could it be? Would she finally be allowed to die for the last time and journey to the Lands Beyond as so many had before her?
“Knight lady?”
Malin’s little voice brought her back to reality. Sayna took a deep breath. “Let me think about it.”
She offered him a little smile. “Maybe I should be your mommy.”
His eyes shone. Sayna doubted he had any grasp of what he had lost. Perhaps that was for the best. 
Sayna stood. “Have a drink from the water pail. I’m going to pack up. Then we’ll see if you’ll fit in front of me on the horse.”
Malin stopped in his tracks. 
Sayna rolled up her bed, asking, “What?”
“We get to ride the horsie?”
“Why else would I have it?” Sayna asked incredulously, forgetting his apparent lack of understanding for a moment. She tied her bedroll up, adding, “Yes, we get to ride the horsie.”
Malin looked incredibly pleased with this prospect. As Sayna packed, she observed him. He was acting surprisingly normal. He didn’t have complete amnesia, but the terror in his face was gone completely, and the bloody horror he had witnessed seemed lost from his mind.
“Thank you, Ignasa.” Sayna silently prayed. “He doesn’t need to remember that right now.”
She tied her last pack to Firemaiden’s saddle, then motioned for Malin to come over. He came to her side, more nervous now. But she easily set him on the horse’s withers, grabbed the reins, and swung onto the mare’s back.
Sayna turned the horse, wrapping an arm around Malin as she clapped her legs against her mounts sides and they trotted from the castle ruin. 
This was not how her hunt was supposed to go.
Category:Sayna's Stories