"Hillside" - New Story

{Note from the Author: It seems the fire of creation has stirred me once again to write a new storyline. For those that might care, there is a month-long writing contest similar to NanoWriMo going on at the writing website I frequent. Head over to LegendFire and see what's happening there. It's a small but dedicated community that wants to grow! Now, on with the story; a sort of "teaser-trailer" if you will.}

A small breeze wound its way through dying blades of grass and trunks of long hollowed trees. Past a small indent in the land, the breeze picked up speed, rushed up the hillside and violently (for a breeze) crashed into the aging hairs of an elderly man. Sitting at the apex with his eyes closed, he stirred restlessly and felt the wind pass through what remained of the hair on his hair, tickle his nose as it passed down his chin, and finally exited through wisps of what was once a full, brown beard. Spots dotted his face and arms, the only body parts exposed through his long, flowing robe. Slowly, in what seemed like an eternity, the man pulled back the center of the cape, revealing a strapped leather breastplate with strips of fine-spun cloth wrapped around his arms. A small smile flowed through his body and exited his lips. He had not visited this place in nearly a century. The years of self-imposed house arrest on his tribe had taken its toll on his mind, soul, and body.

He felt it before the wind gave it away. The Ij'ka had come. Steeling his nerves and forcing himself not to move too fast yet, he moved a spotted hand up toward his face. Touching the lower part of his forehead, nearly between his eyebrows, the man traced a line that went down the bridge of his nose. As he did this, a black tattoo appeared. Holding position for one brief moment, his eyes shot open, revealing no pupils.

As a force impacted the man like a thousand tidal waves, his body seemed to shift from reality. As if looking through opaque glass, he became a blur of color, shifting itself through and seemingly away from the impact. After a few short seconds the man became visible again, but his composure was completely lost. Breathing heavily and picking up a small cane from beside him, his body nearly doubled over from an attempt to stand up. Looking down the hill, the whites of his eyes became transfixed on what was before him.

"We never...should have tried to tame you..." he gasped from obvious exhaustion, looking from the bottom of the hill to the countryside. By Ithnacia, it was beautiful, "Gods curse you if you devour the world." And then the Ij'ka was on him again. Swirling like a violent storm, the man's body seemed to dematerialize, leaving no trace but the cane on the ground. The wind moved with it, sending transparent tendrils moving toward the sky. As the breeze came again, one word echoed across the landscape;

"When."