Letting the Rain Fall
By Icy Brian
A brisk breeze blew through the leaves of the forest. Kinnison remained perched in the treetops, unmoving. He watched as the animals fled to the safety of their dens. Shiro lay in the brush across a clearing, obediently waiting for his master to tell him it was time to move. The dog received no such order, and let out a small whimper as it laid its head upon the ground, sensing the storm which was approaching. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds, which stirred as though they were caught up in a great dance. Fierce winds began to blow as the sky darkened and a storm loomed in the distance. But still Kinnison did not stir.
Instead he remained in his perch, a living gargoyle overlooking the forest. His forest. It was all he had, really. He had lived there with Shiro for years, sleeping in makeshift lean-to's, tents, or whatever else he could fashion. It wasn't the most glamorous lifestyle, but he was comfortable nonetheless. The days passed quickly. They were mostly the same, anyways, so he was glad that they didn't linger.
The only days which differed were the days when he came across poachers in his forest. Granted, he was a hunter himself, but he hunted for food. Those who took pleasure in the killing of animals sickened him. Kinnison always aimed to teach them a lesson, and he did so with his bow. He never shot to kill the poachers; he'd just put an arrow through their hand or thigh. Most of the time that was enough to keep them out of the forest. Kinnison had little patience for those who returned, but he found them to be the most fun. In fact, it was some of the only fun he ever had. He would follow any returning poachers home, where he would hunt them in their sleep. Kinnison found it amusing how many people still believed the old wives' tales about vengeful forest spirits, and he used that to his advantage. All it took was some hallucinogenic berries in the poachers' wine, and he was free to screw with their minds as much as he liked. In the end, most of them were begging for forgiveness from the forest spirits. To Kinnison, there was just nothing like a good haunting.
There was a time when Kinnison thought he had found some real joy in his otherwise uneventful life. Towards the beginning of the Dunan Unification War he joined up with Viktor's mercenaries. He had agreed at the time because he knew it was his best way to protect the forest he looked over from the Highland Army. In time, though, the forest became his secondary reason for fighting. He had found something else to fight for. Or at least, he thought he had.
Up until then, Kinnison had never had anyone but himself. Shiro was the closest he had ever had to a friend, but that was different. The dog was less of a friend and more of a companion. Upon joining the Allied Forces, Kinnison made actual friends for the first time in his life. It was a very different feeling for him. He had grown accustomed to being alone, and the sudden change came as a bit of a shock to him. And yet, as a member of the army, he was accepted as a friend and ally. A day would scarcely pass when he wouldn't sit down and have a good laugh with a group of his new friends.
There was Sheena, the boy who tried and failed to be a womanizer. Kinnison enjoyed listening to his fabricated stories about winning women over with his charms, knowing that the boy was an utter failure in that area. He would often spend his evenings with Sid and Annallee, laughing and joking by the fire. He also rather enjoyed his conversations with Hix and Tengaar. They were great fun to be around, and were always there with a kind word.
And then there was Ayda... He didn't know what it was about her, but she fascinated him. Maybe it was her kindness. Maybe it was her shared affection for nature. Maybe it was her beauty. He wasn't really sure. All he knew was that when he was around her, he could forget about the war and just be content. They would talk into the late hours of the night, and Kinnison thought he had finally made a real connection. He thought that his life was finally starting to turn around.
But then the war ended. And with it, reality hit him like a slap across the face. Before he knew what was happening, he was alone again. His so-called friends had abandoned him. With the war over, everyone had gone their separate ways. After a few weeks, Kinnison decided to travel for a bit to see them. But when he arrived in their towns, he was treated as a stranger. His "friends" had scarcely a word of welcome for him, much less any want or need of his company. Even Ayda didn't seem to care to see him. When he arrived in the forests surrounding Greenhill to see her, she showed no enthusiasm towards his arrival. In fact, she seemed rather vexed as to why he would even bother to visit her. Feeling like more of a burden than anything else, Kinnison left rather quickly and returned to his home in the Ryube forest. He saw now what had eluded him during the war. They didn't really care about him. He was just another bow to them; one more warrior to aid in the fight.
And so there he sat, perched in the treetops. The rain was beginning to fall lightly upon his face. Below him, Shiro started to stir impatiently, not particularly wanting to remain in the rain. As the rain came down harder, Shiro crawled inside a hollow log to escape the storm. The usual sounds of the forest were gone now, making way for the quiet rush of the wind and the soft patter of raindrops on leaves. Despite the increasingly strong pounding of the rain, Kinnison didn't move, nor did he have any intentions of doing so. This was his life. This was what he had to look forward to for the rest of his days. A lifetime of loneliness.
Any tears that Kinnison may have shed that night fell to the ground with the rain, unnoticed, just like him.
Completed January 18th, 2002