Daylight [open]

[Fang]

The sunlight drapped through the trees, in little patches it laid on the ground. In a nearby tree Fang laid, he had seem to be sleeping in trees a lot when there had to be abandoned homes where he could stay and fix up, but so far he had been sleeping in trees. He knew that soon he would have to find a house, the weather was getting colder and winter was coming. He jumped down from the high branches of the trees and onto the wet moss covered ground. In a swamp the ground was often moist and soft like this, a good place for anyone who attacked him to slip and he could escape. For now he wasn't to fight, he had injured his hand grabbing the wrong side of the knife.

Then he had no choice, he was frozen to a tree thanks to that guy that just had to follow him. Luckily he had killed one of his enemies that day, giving him a better chance at living. His aching body had healed over the three or four days he had been here, he honestly wasn't sure. This wasn't the best time to be here when winter is coming, he figured that was why they picked now to ditch him here. There was a chance of him dieing of exsposure, not even from getting his head chopped off. If he died of exsposure it would be slow, and it would be better if he died fast, a quick death wouldn't be as bad at least. He let out a sigh as he began to walk, there was so much to think about.

Fang was constantly moving through the wilderness, he knew he would have to find an abandoned place to ditch his weapon in, he couldn't walk into the town with a sword. He wasn't dum, he would be arrested and soon killed knowing them who wanted him dead. I can tell they think I am half monster, if I am I don't even know and my loyalty was to remain to them even, I didn't know my parents, so how do I even know. Fang thought as he continued on his way. He could feel the heat of the sun beat down on him, thre weren't many trees that could grow in the swamp so there wasn't as much cover as the other places he had been so far.

He knew he could die of a different kind of exsposure, one that gave his enemies a free aimed shot that should be very simple to do. He looked around, not paranoid, but knew he couldn't risk getting injured, his hand still stung, he was careless then, he should have put himself near the tree instead of grabbing it. Now he may bare a new scar from his carelessness then. He put his left hand into a tighter fist with frustration, only making his wound sting more until he had let go. he knew that he had to try and survive, he couldn't die so easily now, he knew he had the skills, he could fight and he knew that he had a good chance of making his hunting skills better.

He could caught animals beofre, but he knew that he also had to be careful of what he was doing, he couldn't do and not think about what he had done. He also needed a better pair of closed, his were ripped and near the end of his jeans they were in tathers from walking through brambles and other kinds of brush. There were even a few burs of his clothes, he would have to get cleaned up, find something if he was to go into town. He firgured they would think he was a monster and be afriad when he was completely human, he was a monster hunter though. Problem was is that he didn't just want to ditch his sword in a bush for later retrival. Someone could find it and take it.

[Shiina Mashiro]

She wondered. No, not lost. Not stupid. Just wandered.
She had no reason to be here, no real legitimate act of courageous bravery to run into the forest with nothing more than her clothes and a name. No, she was just three to be there.
Sometimes, the artistic mind just acted like that, running away from the cars, the photos, the contests. Sometimes, you just had to get out. Breath the air and take a nice break.
Her deadline had passed, she failed to bring her ideas into reality and now, she had no sponsor for her stories. Her paintings were no problem, sell them, but she had no real interest in them.
Her arms swing by her side, her legs taking larger steps as she just wandered. She whistled a bright tune, even if she had very little to be bright about. Losing a sponsor was like a blow to the chest, it would not her breath away, but eventually, she'd get back up.
Mashiro, a European artist with a past of very little. She had long golden hairs with eyes of rubies and amber. She had curves, but she never really cared. She wasn't one of those kids who cared so much, quite the opposite. She just didn't care. She made rarely a friend. She held a new notebook in her hand. She had continued her previous story of the great swordsman, but she was running out of ideas.
The swamp was muddy, obviously. but it wasn't as humid as she had expected; probably because of the decreasing temperatures. If any human stayed out in this weather much long, they'd die of either frostbite, or hypothermia. Both obviously resulting in a slow and painful death.
Light was nary in this damp little nest. Clouds overhead were grey with the white promise of snow. Maybe even a bombshell of flurry.

Shiina continued through the small woven path of imaginary dirt paths and roads.
But, she stopped, something caught her eyes and she had to look. It came from a tree. It was a blinding light from that of a beam of rare sunlight bouncing off of something with shine. Stumbling closer, she stopped herself with an outstretched hand to catch onto a large oak. It's arms were dying, tears of leaves showing it's forlorn recognition of the oncoming winter. She gave a small smile and leaned against the tree, sliding against her back until she sat at it's base. Her eyes slowly drifted across the swampy place. Then, she saw it, it was small but noticeable. It was a boy, about her age. He seemed lost in thought, hiding. She looked back at the tree, the small remains of a canopy showing what she did not expect. Then she noticed the blood. It ran down the bark like condensation and fog, scarlet drops of red that oozed through the ridges of the tree. Looking back to the boy, she noticed his hand, it was a wound. Not too bad if treated correctly, but would surely cause problems if left at current condition.
Mashiro debated on what to do. she most definitely wanted to call out, to help, but just by the mood he gave off. It was going to be a hard war if she was going to help. Then again, did she want to help? She'd just be a burden if she said the wrong things. People had sore spots, push them right and you make enemies.
So she waved. Slowly, she stood up and gave a wave to get his attention. f he ran off, he was a walking dead man, no doubt. It'd be suicide to just go off. By the smell of infection, he wouldn't get far.

[I'm sorry if this post is a bit of topic. I'm sort of being lazy/tired]