Hello! A beginning of a new story! Hooray! Yes, I am afraid is it yet another one based on a cbbc gameshow but they lend themselves so well to storytelling! I would liek to stress that i've been asked to put this one up-I wrote it years ago. As in, when Raven the first series had just been broadcast-most of the stuff I came up with here was long before the second series aired, let alone any spin offs (of which I haven't seen!) So yes, this is a very old fic, my first one ever written in full and follows series one cannon as a start point and everything else I just made up!
A warning with this fic-the chapters vary massively in length-it just depends where I figured there were natural pauses-hence why this one is so very short-Sorry!
Hope it's not too awful, let me know what you think!
The Warrior's PathChapter 1
I am Kayra, my kin are the Forest People; ours is the tribe of Oak and Yew. My people are dwindling, our numbers lost. A whisper of malice poisons our leaves; black in the earth withers our roots.
From our treetops, the sky today was strange. Dark was the gloom slashed at, driven back, by radiance of gold. The wind caught the boughs, a changing breath. Deep in my heart, I knew.
The Call had pulled my soul, singing its desperate song. My pack full, heart set; my feet were answering in sprinting strides.
Although my heart was beating with pride, my soul filled with sadness as I ran through the thickets and clearings and even as I leapt the mossy stumps, there was an unnatural quiet, silent gloom. It hung in the shadows of the trees waiting to slither further into my home. Gone was the peace and harmony that wafted through the glades and gone the morning light; its power and warmth left only the cold harsh light of sombre day. The place was no longer my home, but the realm of another, dark and ancient, a sinister terror.
On I ran till the sun could climb no higher, the woodland fading, leaving only saplings and bracken to adorn my path. I reached the river plain, swiftly but froze, the sight unbelievable to my waking mind. It was as though the wind caught the thoughts from my head spiriting them away whispering back only fragments to my ears.
"It's gone, our castle, ruined, the capital of our land destroyed."
I could only stand and stare at the desolation before me, my eyes drinking in the scene. Then a thought struck me, 'What about the people? There must be some survivors!' Surely everyone else from Fell Glen would have scattered to the six winds so on I ran wild, grass whipping my ankles as I sped. My feet slipped on shiny pebbles as the water rose to claim my legs: though cold and wet I forced myself upto the bank clinging to rotten roots. I moved as fast as I could, searching for the castle remnants.
Reluctantly, I began to slow as I approached the gateway stumps; my feet deafened me on empty clatter from the age worn stones. Too awed by the hollow halls to call out for survivors I stumbled on to the main courtyard. There, standing tall amidst the chaos of rubble was a strange man. Cautiously I stepped closer. Clad in a thick tunic of deep loch blue protected with a battered, black leather waistcoat, his trousers rough black, and shabby, well-worn boots. I felt a flicker of recognition and moved closer still. His hair black as night, seemed as feathers, strong, shining smooth on top, short and downy to the sides, plaited braids woven from his locks reached to his shoulders, fixed with feathers and when the wind caught his cloak, it sounded as wings rustling through the leaves.
It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. He was a figure from legend, stories, told over ages to children of my tribe, to me. But it was…it was Raven!