Paths Beyond (Under Rewrite)

"I'm leaving now. Remember to head to the smokehouse at midday to get the rest of the meat." Grey slightly nudged the sleeping Tear, who merely grunted in response. He chuckled softly, placing the animal skin he was using on top of hers, layering her in a thick cocoon of pelts. Grabbing his bow and quiver, he jogged through the village.

In the dim light before dawn, the primitive village of roughly processed lumber and animal pelts seemed frozen in time, its stillness broken only by the faint crackle of cooling embers. The cold morning air carried the sharp, earthy scent of smoke mingled with the tang of damp wood and frost. As Grey reached the village center, the faint tendrils of smoke from various smokehouses became visible against the frosty backdrop. Keen's smokehouse wasn't far, and soon Grey spotted its rugged stone walls, adorned with delicate icy patterns formed by the morning frost. Thin spirals of smoke lazily curled upward, fading into the pale, pre-dawn sky, as if reluctant to leave the warmth below.

"Keen, you ready?" Grey shouted out.

"Yeah, give me a moment," came a hushed voice from inside.

Grey heard rustling from within and realized he was too early; no one else had arrived yet. Moments later, Keen emerged, his fit figure silhouetted by the glow of the embers inside. His untamed brown hair draped over his shoulders like messy foliage.

"By early I meant dawn Grey, not before," grumbled Keen, his breath visible in the frosty air.

Grey smiled, "We should leave soon, I came early so I could prepare. I don't want anyone else to see."

Keen sighed. "Alright, go inside, but keep quiet. My family's still sleeping. I'll grab my brother."

"What about Root and Fleet? Aren't they coming?" Grey asked, his tone uncertain. They would need as much manpower as they could get, even if they could only find one Hooded horn.

"Keen mimicked Brawl's gruff voice with mockery. "'So many going out would scare the animals away.' As if Brawl's lumbering frame could ever be stealthy." He snorted. "It's just us three. It'll probably take a long time to bring anything back, but we'll manage. I'll be back soon, so hurry up and do your thing."

With a nod, Grey tiptoed into the hut attached to the smokehouse. Warmth enveloped him, the air thick with the scent of animal fats and wood ash tickling Grey's nose. The faint glow of embers reflected off the walls, casting the interior in an orange hue that flickered like a living heartbeat. In the corner, two figures lay under fur blankets on a raised wooden bed—Keen's wife and daughter. Without disturbing them, moving quietly, Grey slipped through the curtain separating the home from the smoke hut and sat down in the warmth.

With an aptitude that came after years of dedicated practice, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting his mind empty. In this serene state, innumerable lights bloomed in his consciousness, shimmering like living constellations in every imaginable hue. Among the colors, a figure of light appeared—a pale red version of himself, featureless but radiant. Surrounding him were countless red specs, like drifting flour in the air. Ignoring them, he moved forward, his form trembling in the real world as beads of sweat formed on his brow.

But at last, here just in front of him existed two deep orange illuminations. His form was flickering, wavering as if about to be extinguished. He focused on the two lights, and with great effort reached out to them. His corporeal body flickered more and more with expended effort. With a roar, he finally reached one with the tip of his middle finger and just before his eyes opened, he got a glimpse of an unnatural, barely perceptible yellow light approaching from behind the two orange shapes.

The world around him was tinged with a red hue, but it was less distracting than his first experiences focusing his ability like this. He had connected with the orange, allowing them to become more vibrant in the real world. He could still see the other shades, but now, they would not stand out so much. Still, the faint memory of yellow light lingered, unsettling him. Before he could dwell much longer his thoughts were interrupted.