Hello, again. I apologize for the lack of length to these chapters. I don't have a lot of time to write, so I will do short chapters to try and get in the groove of this particular writing style until I feel confident enough to pound out larger chapters. Hope you enjoy.

The fire crackled and popped as ember illuminated the chill night air. The wisps of smoke had rose into the blackened sky, fading into the darkness with sparkling whites high above the oak and cedar trees.

Silas had sat upon the ground, staring almost blankly into the small flames, feeding it to keep the light alive. It was the only defense of keeping the wolves and wild boar away. He had worked hard in starting the fire, the leaves and kindle too damp from the earlier mist. Until he had scrounged for drier material and some hay for Brago and struck it with flint rock. Starting a fire was hard. Keeping it alive was harder. The nights of the Bavarian Forest could be cold and harsh. A fire could mean the difference between life and death.

The group had been forced to reroute. Now they were taking paths less traveled, rugged and dangerous. Their chances of finding a village had now greatly decreased, as well as their chances of survival.

Anaya and Berend rest on the opposite side, feeding upon acorns they had found and roasted in the flames. The woman had shivered, hesitant to eat for the boy's sake, Berend more concerned about a full belly than the chill of the night air.

Solona sit off to the side, picking at the scabbed callouses of her feet. It was only after Silas had pushed her out of harm's way and fled from the black dragon did he realize she had no shoes. Her feet were encrusted with dirt and dried blood, toenails overgrown, as were her fingernails. It made Silas cringe.

And above all the things she could be doing right now, the girl was knitting. Knitting. With a ball of yarn dyed a crimson hue and a needle and thread, hands at work.

"So...where are you from? Originally, not from the forest. Or are you a witch?" Berend questioned, cracking an acorn with his molars as a loud pop was heard. Solona did not look up from her project, but the sudden pop had drawn the knight out of his ravine.

"Berend, do not be a glutton. The others need to eat as well." The man grumbled, averting his eyes from the light of the fire.

"I need to eat, too!" Berend blurted, face flushing in rage, ears turning red.

"Yes, and some need it far more than a young boy. You have eaten enough. Ration it." Silas hissed softly, venom under a state of calm.

"I don't have to listen to you! You aren't Uncle! You can't stop me from eating when I'm hungry!" The boy challenged, Anaya clearing her throat in an attempt to defuse the situation.

"Berend, we are all hungry, just-"

"I am the head of this family, damn you! You shall show me the same respect you showed Father, and you shall not forget your place, boy." The knight growled, fists clenching and unclenching in withheld rage.

"To Hell with you! You ain't nothin' to me!" Berend shrieked in rage, taking a handful of the roasted nuts and hurling them towards the man, several acorns bouncing off the young man and landing within the fire. Others had become lost within the darkness of the night.

The Page had no time to react as the man had rose to his feet, reaching the boy's position in two strides, Silas towering over the boy.

"Get up." Silas ordered, tongue thick with venom as he grasped Berend's arm, forcing the boy to his feet, "Get up, damn you!"

"Silas..." Anaya spoke, "Silas, stop."

"You think you are a man? You think you are a man?" The knight questioned, roughly pushing Berend with a hand so hard his younger kin had almost fallen backwards, whimpering, "Come on then, boy. Show me how to be a real man."

The ex Duchess slowly rose to her feet, voice urgent and dominant, though to not avail, for her voice fell upon deaf ears, "Silas. Silas, do not dare harm that boy. Silas Adler!"

Berend continued to whimper like a frightened pup as another rough push had slammed his back against the tree Brago was tied to, the stallion snorting, ears flickering. The older man approached, hand rising to strike the boy, but found that he could not bring his hand down to deliver the blow, as if his veins were frozen.

The brunette woman had moved towards them as fast as her bulging stomach would allow, wrapping an arm around the frightened boy's shoulders, pulling him closer to her form, "That is enough, the both of you! And you-acting in such a way towards a mere boy! What has gotten into you, Silas? I understand our condition, but that gives you no right to harass a child! I do not even recognize you!" The woman hissed, leading the boy away towards the dying fire, Berend shaking with silent tears cascading down his cheeks, trails lit by fading flame.

Silas felt his arm flood with warm as they left, limb his own once more. He had stood, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet, shamed and embarrassed. After several minutes of collecting himself, the young man had returned back to his spot, working on reviving the dying fire. Berend had buried himself in Anaya's chest, the woman scowling at her childhood friend. Solona was still knitting, as if completely oblivious to the episode that had occurred and had thickened the air to near suffocation.

"I'm from Tours." The Wilder spoke, as if the events that had perspired mere seconds ago did not happen. Her fingers were still working, graceful and fluid.

Though Silas had realized something had stood out from the pale skin upon her feminine hands. A thin crimson sliver of blood had run down her hand, flesh pierced by a needle.

Silas is a dick, isn't he? Well...Berend is too, I guess. Since i am lazy, Solona is an OC I originally had in the Dragon Age universe. She is featured in Stories in the Ink, though this version will naturally be different than her Dragon Age counterpart. So if you are interested in getting to know her character a bit more, feel free to read Stories.

I have also been thinking about writing a story about Zaphire(for a long, long while). He is in a one shot called Promise. The difference this has compared to other stories? Zaphire is a mentally challenged dragon with physical disabilities. I strongly think the poor boy needs a voice, and I want to give him one. Problem is, I still need to think. In Promise, I remember the Guardians blocked his element, believing him to be a danger to himself and others due to his handicap, and also refused to teach him how to fly. I am thinking that the story would simply focus around Zaphire's struggles in fitting in with the normal dragon populace, as well as trying to overcome his own weaknesses, speak through his art, find his father and fully honor his mother, ect, ect. I'm still thinking on the whole plot and shit.

But part of the reason I want to write this is because I have been writing so much for Stories in the Ink, which (kind of) focuses upon the slowly building friendship/relationship of Solona(OC) and Cole, a spirit/demon/no-one-knows-what-he-really-is turned boy from Dragon Age: Inquisition and the novel Asunder. Cole's thought and speech echoes a young man who has autism(or in Cole's case, neurotypical). Unable to properly communicate or express his feelings to certain extents. So, because I have been writing for Stories at such an extent, I have developed a pretty good grasp(I think) on Cole's thought and speech when in first person, that might come in handy when writing for Zaphire. Not that Zaphire's story will be in first person, I don't think. Cause Zaphire can't speak. Hmmm...I need to think on this more. If anyone has an opinion/idea feel free to message me or whatever.

Enough ranting!

Thank you for reading and supporting!