I began the fire.

Red. Fiery. Eating log after log I knew this fire was unrepentant. Just like my rage. How many more blood would I eat to suffice it. Definitely not enough...not till Dakor.

My clash with Dakor had only succeeded in a thing -- bringing back afresh the memories that would never return without its rage, and yet alarming the maniac, that I was out for him...even though I knew he always knew that fact.

I couldn't quite tell which was more painful; that I had lost Dakor, or that I wasn't sure if I would even find him again.

For all I could tell, my appearance only told him I was wildly at him. And seeing how close I had made him come to his inexistence, and yet being the crafty man he was, he would most certainly remain in the shadows for a while. So verily, their was no telling when next I was sure to set eye on the maniac again.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months...still, I held up my sacred objective as a priest to his temple and kept searching for Dakor.
Most times, when it seemed like I was getting close on him, he vanished - trails of him returning to the wind...and I, forced to pick up from the start again.

The only consoling fact to my miserable endeavour was that men like Dakor could hardly stay silent for a long while. In the end they were men able to thunder troubles across the Realm.

And just as I had speculated, like a seer things unfolded this way.

For several months Dakor became at large --he and his gang -- toughened and refreshed in number. They continued looting, plundering, and forcing youths of villages and towns around Kedrone to join their rank, until the name 'Dakor' came to mean terror...a name mentioned only in the whispers of men.

As usual Kedrone still wanted him for the murder of Keiya, and his many other atrocities. But I wanted the man before anyone could have him. I needed to bind him myself, pour out my anger on him, then satisfy my conscience of haven sought vengeance.

Again I had gotten lead on him first!

From discrete insight I knew now he was camped somewhere in a place called Gooldon, haven crossed the Majeeter Trails, in the wilderness of mountains and trees with his men.

It was a strategic hideout to plant a fort -- difficult to penetrate and easy to establish a snare and capitalize on the attackers that would descend down the valley.

This was the closest I had gotten to the serpent in months. This was as sacred as any other thing I had pursued earnestly. I couldn't blow this one off, regardless of the danger that lay therein.

So like every other man compelled by vengeance, I trailed Dakor to that wilderness -- Gooldon. 

The wilderness was cold, dangerous and severe. It was no place where any man would hope to be. But I was not just any man. I was a man purely driven now by rage and a longing for vengeance.

Rage. My father had told me once, that it was my weapon. Time with Keiya had spoken differently. Beside her, that anger wad fading -- that hardness and brood. I'd loved her even more for who she had made me become.

Alas, the demon Dakor had condemned my love to the worst form of death ever, and in so doing seized my peace and rekindled that rage.
And now this same rage I felt could not be satisfied with spilling just a man's blood.

I prowled the mountains with caution, till I perceived now a camp due North.
This could be Dakor!

My resolve was made. I pressed on. Sometime around sunset, I made a camp against the night.

Night was more horrifying than the day. The brutal creatures of the woods were most active at those hours. Amid the severe weather they were most pronounced. But what was the fear of mere creeping creatures, when I was yet to face my greatest life mission amid a company of hostiles.

I set down my pack -- it contained some of my worldly possessions. They had all fit snugly into a saddle bag. Few changes of clothing, a flint and steel, horse tack, cooking pot, a hide blanket, a lengthy rope, water skin bag, and another filled with ale, a loaf of bread, roasted meat enough to last two days.

Very few stuffs. Interesting. There was no need for hunting or striving for my belly.

I took stock of the rest auxiliary possessions as I unsaddled my beast and prepared my camp. A bow, a quiver with few sticks, and Dakor's fallen rifle.

I gathered few sticks and kindlers, and by the flint, ignited a fire. Fire was due for the night. It kept one warm and chased the stubborn beast prowling in the darkened scrubs.

I took out a pound of meat and began warming it in the fire. It was a days kill and needed a bit of heat. While I prepared what food to satisfy my body, I was deficient in what to satisfy my mind.

By Keiya's demise, my mind torment had only ensued. Each night it was harder. The memory of her eyes on her passing stabbed me. Calm and afraid. She was void of knowledge of what existence be hers after her sojourn from this world.

Was there truly an afterlife as had been promised since we were children?
What if there was nothing -- no existence, no life, just emptiness? She would be scared. Aye, she would panic. She would need someone to lean into...and I wouldn't be there for her.

I fell most times into such pensive moods and inner debate. I breathed softly trying to banish them all out. It only came stronger.

  I should have been by her side. But even if I had stood with her that day, Dakor was set on his goal -- to tear us apart. That maniac.

The thought of the man brought an un-taming anger. Dakor was the true representation of the word 'curse'. His name tormented me in my dreams and in reality. His vicious smirk, as he made his escape unjustly.

Where was the heavens when this injustice prevailed? Dakor needed to die!

With a growl that reflected my inner torture, I threw away the chunk of bread in hand. I sprung from where I sat. My temper was growing uncontrollably. My eyes held fire. In that darkness, I was almost same as a wild beast. I kicked away the sizzling meat standing upon the fire. With both hands on my head, I wept.

Why did the innocent have to suffer? Why did Keiya had to suffer...and my unborn child, why? I was no righteous man...why had the fate not fallen on me? Why do the wicked always have to win?

I wept, slumping to my knees. My head casted down, it allowed tears roll down as a spring. I dug my hands in the soil, scratching the earth with my fingers. My lucid self was cautioning that I put myself together. But no, I wanted to shout, and pour out this anger.

My fist came upon something in my display. It was a long stick. This should do.
I picked it up...it was due. Rising from the soil, I swung it back and forth, breaking a piece here and there. It angered me, the pain I was feeling tightened around my ribs. I felt the throb pounding hard on me. Each events slamming into me. My mind reminding me and taunting me, that I was as well responsible for her death -- my beloved.

The stick flung as far as I could toss it. The sound of it shattering made me feel a little better. But not nearly enough, I wanted to kill...no I just wanted to be heard.

The swirling of the piece slowly came to an end. Sadness crept in as I dropped to my knees and just screamed. The brownish black dirt filling under my finger nails, as I racked them across over and over again. My hair draped over my shoulders, creating a veil. Tears rolled from my chin down my beards.

Breath, relax, calm down.
My rational self was still cautioning me. I could be alarming anyone in this part of the wilderness.

Cracking made me realize suddenly I wasn't alone alas. A wind of fright struck -- the kind of fear of the unknown.
Someone had heard my pitiful wails. Someone was with me in this grounds. It would be their doom if they came with ill intent, mistaking me to be weak, because of my moment of self reflection.

But I had to be cautious, it could be a man, or a company. What if I was struck down in this woods!

The world wouldn't hear the end of it... Dorack, son of Dun, champion of the Mountain Plains, Victor of the Vicious game, Breaker of siege...struck in the woods by a novice seeking cheap glory. It would be a glorious brag by the fool -- perhaps with his company.

Raising my head, I realized then that this creature wasn't going to tell anyone about me. The rich brown grizzly bear with blood eyes was watching. It pronounced its presence with domineering strides.

Aye, not the foe I anticipated!