Background:

So I tried to cowrite with someone a while ago. Didn't go so well. We didn't actually get far into the story. Here's a chapter I wrote.

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A Chapter For a Story That Will Never Be Finished

The air of the valley smelt very strongly of decay. Even the strongest of gusts could do little to rid the place of the horrid stench. This stink wafted up from a layer of rotting bodies that carpeted the valley floor. Though the fetor of decay was the strongest odor present, there was also other malodors there too. Prevalent throughout the valley also was the smell of burnt hair and brimstone. These scents drifted up from the bodies of both the monstrous and human alike. The stink from these combined odors was enough to drive off most visitors to the sun-scorched land, except for flocks of vultures and a single feminine figure.

That sole figured wandered amongst the bodies, occasionally stopping to rifle through the belongings of some fallen soldier. She seemed not to be bothered by the grisly sight of the carrion nor the offending scent of death. In fact nothing seemed to distract her from her task, not even the heat of the sun as it beat down upon her dark skin. Those glowing blue eyes of hers were fixed firmly on the bodies and, more importantly, their stuff.

To the victors go the spoils, thought the woman, and it seems like I’m the victor, considering that I’m still living and they aren’t.

She chuckled to herself as she kneeled down next to an especially mangled body. Bits of it were just about everywhere in the vicinity. Luckily for her, this soldier’s pack was almost undamaged, if one ignored the blood stains and scorched edges. Throwing open the pack, she unceremoniously dumped the unharmed contents on the ground. She sifted through the fallen warrior’s belongings, snatching up anything that looked like it would fetch a nice price on the market. It did not take her long to finish rifling through the pack. Soon she rose from the ground and began to wander around the battlefield once more, keeping a careful eye out for anything remotely valuable.

As one might imagine, searching the cadavers of a battlefield was quite a time consuming task. Thus the sun had long sunk below the rim of the valley before this scavenger finally decided to turn towards her home.

Through the silent hills and darkened fields she wandered back towards her hamlet. Unfortunately for her, the walk was very long, for she had far to go. However, it seemed she enjoyed these moments of peace and quiet. This gave her ample time to reflect upon her day before she was required to return to the dreary existence of everyday life. Once she grew tired of such thoughts, her mind would turn to greater things. This scavenger would dream of great beasts to hunt, quests to embark upon, of the world outside this great valley. She yearned to be more than just a villager. A great hero, she wished to be. One that would be remembered through the passage of time. But how exactly would a lowly hunter and scavenger rise up through the ranks of the world enough to be remembered? This she pondered as she neared her home.

The succulent smell of dinner greeted the scavenger as she pulled open the heavy wooden door of her cottage. She inhaled the scent deeply, then ventured further inside her humble abode. The woman’s heavy pack was discarded in some corner while she headed off to tend to the bubbling stew.

Not the best, but not bad, she thought with a small smile as tasted it, but it’s missing something…

Ladle in hand, this woman wandered over to the cabinet that concealed her rather extensive herb collection. Just as she’d rifled through the packs of the dead soldiers only hours before, not she rummaged through her cabinet with complete disregard for neatness.

“You’re going to need a lot more that that if you’re trying to make that slop taste good.” Spoke a masculine voice.

The woman wheeled around, ladle raised dangerously over her head in preparation to attack. Her eyes, which were searching for the owner of the voice, landed on a man sitting at the hearth.