The only noises were the crackling fire and the whispers of the all-but nonexistent breeze through the tree leaves. The crickets and other night sounds had fallen silent. Taygrim Maurok, known simply as Grim to those few who knew him, looked about with his eyes only, keeping his head still. He set the kriss he’d been sharpening down on his crossed legs, next to the small piece of parchment he had with him at all times. He caught the split-second glint of firelight off of steel, estimated the intruder to be about thirty feet to his right, then lifted his blade and began sharpening it again. He saw another flash of light, closer this time and called out.
“Think carefully of what you are doing, friend. Turn around and you may find easier prey tonight.”
The silence returned, as if the would-be assailant was trying to decide whether Grim was bluffing. Grim sighed, already knowing how this was going to turn out; he’d already lived though the same scenario countless times.
A moment later, the attacker leapt from the foliage. Grim dove forward, rolling to the other side of the campfire, the flipped up onto his feet. He spun around, facing his opponent. The bandit was of average height and weight, wearing leather armor and wielding a short sword. He shifted weight from one foot to the other, obviously nervous.
“Give me all your valuables!” The man demanded. He waved his short sword toward Grim. “I can always just take them with you lying on the ground if you want!”
“I already told you that you should go away. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will defend myself if you press this. You have one more chance. Turn around and walk away.” Grim spoke in a low voice, desperately wishing the bandit would listen to him and just leave, though he knew it wasn’t going to happen. As he spoke he moved his right arm out to the side as his left hand slipped the scroll piece back into his belt pouch. He slowly closed his fingers as the darkness of the night began to shift and bend in his grasp. A kriss coalesced in his hand, blacker than pitch, a seeming duplicate of the one he'd been sharpening, now laying beside the other side of the fire.
The thief dove toward Grim, sword whistling through the air. Grim stepped to the side, deflecting the stroke with the flat of the shadow-kriss. He quickly pulled the weapon down, slicing along the criminal's chest. The man shrieked in surprise, anger and pain. He saw in Grim's eyes no fear, no worry, only a deep sorrow, and his own stupidity. His eyes flashed with the realization that this "prey" may not have been as helpless as he appeared. He held his free hand to his chest, feeling the blood run out, then took one more look at Grim and his shadow-weapon and fled into the night, dropping his sword.
As the man stumbled through the underbrush, Grim only shook his head, a frown on his lips. He opened his hand, the shadow-blade dissolving back into the darkness. The same story. He'd lived it for the better portion of the last decade. He absentmindedly rubbed the tattoo on his wrist, the mark that resembled a deep blue eye pierced by a black dagger. The Shadow-Kin had accepted him not quite nine years ago, and he would never change that, though sometimes his solitary life became rather lonely.
Grim layed down near his fire as the flames died down. He all but disappeared as he rolled over, pulling a blanket of shadow over his body. He slept soundly, though when he awoke after about eight hours of sleep, he still felt tired, an oddity he'd been experiencing for the last several months. He rose and kicked the last few embers out, then ran his hand through his long, loose black hair. The grey streak from his right temple had a stick tangled into it, which he gently pulled out and tossed aside. He made sure his parchment piece and kriss were in his belt, then began heading toward the forest edge.
An hour or so later, after picking some mushrooms for breakfast and eating them as he walked, he suddenly heard a noise, as of someone else walking through the forest. He quickly slipped to the side, pressing his back up against the trunk of a large tree, standing in its shadow.
He watched as a girl slowly went by, moving her head oddly. Grim's brow furrowed as he thought. Perhaps her sight was impaired. Then he noticed her hair, it was pure white. This was the girl he had been told of, the other Keeper! His heart began to quicken with excitement. He moved his hand into the black of the tree's shadow, creating a kriss of darkness, as he had the night before. As the girl walked past his tree, Grim leapt out, slamming her into another tree and holding the shadow to her throat, allowing it to press, but not cut. A warning to stay still.
