The Fifth

He padded across the winding path. The wide open space of the rolling, desolate landscape pressed against his body like a deafening vacuum. Muted winds from his left swoosh in peculiar fashion, in time to his rough, scraping footsteps. On top of a hill, he could just make out Ardant - with its city lights clustering around a dark manor, whose impeccably furnished exterior intentionally conveyed mystery and power; the radiating streets like spokes on a wheel suddenly, as if in jest, disappear to the far beyond - strategically cropped between massive, patched hills.

He made his way slowly down the brushed asphalt, carving the dull, descending fog with his carbon self. He met no one, saw no one. Shadows cast by the silent glow of the moonlight accompanied Carmine along his travel. Demon shapes occasionally crossed the tight, winding path.

He took a sharp left, turning headwind towards a forested area. He wasn't heading for Ardant, no. Not after hearing news about some foreign four-legged creatures swashbuckling around creating irreversible devastation. If, that did happen.

...

Sunrise wasn't faraway. He knew he only had a few hours of darkness - a much needed cover - before he reaches the valley. He was to meet Vinazzo somewhere ten folds above the valley floor.

Meanwhile, Vinazzo has been waiting for 4 dials and 3 quarters for Carmine on a depression left by what could only be a gigantic, purple boulder - owing to the sharp broken purple pieces left in it - a few steps away from the path. Several massive trunks blocked his hiding place from view. He knew a few moments from now, Carmine would arrive. Gifted with a sharp sense of his immediate world, Vinazzo felt the presence of Carmine a few hills beyond. "It can only be described as a tugging of your senses," Vinazzo explained when asked about his capacity. He has a curious case, he does. It's something nobody in his village could understand, but their presiding elder grasped his ability and made him an eye out for enemies of the village. Vinazzo had no ilk then when his ability was known. He was merely 17 stooks old. That is 3 years in our measure.

Carmine shuffled the last few folds of earth, dragging around his limp left leg. Fatigue didn't escape him.

...