The suspicion grew, and finally, on day nine, Orston passed a high hill and then ran straight towards the Wolfswood. Passing a few trees, he hid behind a strong-looking one and kept an eye on the road. The rider took his time. But it was much faster than his usual speed. When it arrived, Orston noted the rider had no sigil belonging to any house. The man's face looked cruel and impatient.
Just as most northmen did, the rider wore a wool cloak over a mail shirt and a padded gambeson. He was clearly looking around. Trying to find him. It was confirmed now.
The rider stopped after a minute, staring at the ground, and turned his horse to the side.
Footsteps! Fuck!
Orston tightened the grip on his axe and waited for the man to come near him patiently. Whatever the man wanted from him, Orston would not travel back without meeting Lord Stark first. The rider moved in his direction. Orston pulled his head back, relying only on the sounds.
"Come out now, kid! I won't harm you." The rider cried, "It will be over in a moment, I promise you. You just need to stay there and take it."
Orston said nothing and waited. After a moment, the sound of the hooves paused. He waited for several minutes before daring to take a look.
But the moment he did so, an arrow came piercing the air and buried right in the tree, inches from where his head was. His reflexes saved him for the moment, but his position was revealed. Why the fuck does he want to kill me!?
The man was walking ever so slowly towards him. Orston could hear the faint footsteps.
"Lord Stark knows I am coming; you won't get away with this!" Orston said loudly.
A sound of mocking laughter filled the forest. "Lord Stark has no time to go looking for small beggars. Even one as pretty as you."
That was a weird line to say.
But Orston emptied his mind and focused on the sound of the footsteps approaching. The grip on the axe was so tight it throbbed slightly. Probably not the most efficient of ways to hold it.
From the side of his eyes, Orston caught a flap of fur and put all he had in the swing on the right side of the tree. But it hit nothing. In the next second, he felt hands choking him. What a weird way to kill him.
But Orston's eyes widened in shock when the large man pushed his face against the tree with one hand, and his other hand started exploring his backside. For a moment, he thought the stranger was looking for money, but he was proven right. The worst was right. The man was after.. him.
Orston struggled frantically. His large size was indeed making it hard for the man to keep hold, but he was only ten years old. Bigger than his peers, he was still a kid. The man was large and powerful.
Orston felt the man struggling with his clothes and fondling things. The disgust in his mind was beyond words. The axe had slipped from his hands by the man's forceful, sudden attack. Fortunately or unfortunately, the man tried to turn him around, and Orston grabbed the chance to throw the bark his hands had torn off the tree.
The man shouted, closing his eyes, still holding his arm and neck just as strong. But the moment of distraction was enough for Orston to knee the motherfucker in his balls. The man's cries echoed loudly in the whole forest.
Free of the hold, Orston grabbed his axe and attacked straight at the man's neck, but his arm came in between, and blood sprayed from his biceps onto his face, forcing Orston to close his eyes for a moment. Still, he did not lighten his grip on the axe and swung it again and again blindly.
He felt a sting on his left cheek as something hard hit him. Only a second later, Orston realized he had been punched. He lost his balance and fell down, hitting his head on the tree trunk. The fall and hit shook his head from deep within.
The man was trying to free something from his belt. Orston saw through the shaking vision. Before he could succeed, Orston grabbed the stone that his hand felt while falling down and slammed it into the head of the stranger. It was a staggering blow. His arm had found some hidden strength from within that even he didn't know about.
Orston took advantage of the success and grabbed his axe, half-standing. But suddenly, a piercing, pulsating hot pain radiated in his body, originating from his side. He looked down. It was wet with blood.
Knife.
The man released him. Orston staggered on weak legs while turning back with disbelief on his face.
The man smiled with his crooked, yellow teeth. It looked pure evil.
RAGE!
Orston heard a voice deep within him as he fell on one knee.
RAGE!RAGE!RAGE!
It said.
Orston looked up at the towering man and gritted his teeth. Rage indeed. If I die, so be it, but this pedo will not live!
"RAGE!!" he shouted.
Suddenly, Orston felt a warm strength coursing through his veins. He had no idea how, but it felt right. It felt like justice. He pushed his knee against the ground and almost jumped up. His arms were giving everything they had into the tightly clenched axe. The force behind the swing was greater than he thought possible by any eleven-year-old.
The axe connected, and this time, no hand came in between. Blood sprayed everywhere as Orston fell atop the headless stranger. His vision blurred beyond control. The moment had passed and had left him with nothing but a weakness of ages.
Both stumbled on the ground. Only Orston was still breathing when he passed out. Still bleeding and hard of breath, but breath of life it was. I won.
With a smile on his face, Orston accepted the darkness.