Someone To Blame: Part 4

         As the hours flew past, the trees become to become thicker. The wicked tree limbs that reached out for control of the canopy strangled what little light was left in the sky. Getting darker by the minute, Tywin decided it was best to make camp and decided on an uprooted tree about fifteen yards ahead. The ground was soft by the tree, and wouldn't be too uncomfortable for the night. He laid his pack down under the roots and went to find firewood.

         Unfortunately, being late fall whatever wood he could find was damp as the leaves that covered the ground trapped moisture, soaking everything. What little dry fuel there was, was barely enough to last till nightfall. Defeated and dejected, Tywin stumbled back to his camp only to find his pack gone. God damn it! I don't know how to scavenge for food. I'm a medicine man not a hunter. I can barely survive with the food that I managed to steal as I left. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? He fell to his knees, slammed his fist into the rough bark of the tree, and in his anger a tear fell from his cheek onto the already moist ground.

                         

         Nothing. Every time that Tywin thought he had found food his bloody fingers grasped at thin air. The search for nourishment had been unsuccessful to say the least. It had been a fortnight since his pack had gone missing, and his once solid frame had a ghostly appearance from starvation. "I have to find something” he thought. To curb the insatiable pain of his depleted stomach, Twyin took a handful of dirt and rocks, staring at the desperation that he had to resort to, and reluctantly put the earth in his mouth and swallowed. The dry soil stuck in his mouth leaving the dull taste of earth lingering as he managed to choke down the mouthful. Coughing up what remained in his mouth, Tywin said to himself, “I used to be a healer, respected for my talents.” Struggling to regain his upright position, Tywin fell back on his knees; his legs too weak to carry his skin and bones frame. “God damn it!” he screamed yelled at himself, “I can do this, I know I can.” Bracing himself on a nearby rock, pushing with what little force his shaking arms could manage, staggered up to a kneel. He grabbed a branch about two feet above his head and pulled with all his might. Groaning with the exertion of the feat, Tywin managed to get on his feet only to stumble back down, getting a mouthful of dirt similar to his last meal. Tywin spit out the dirt, and looked up. Eyes shining with the crazed desperation of a man closer to death than life, Tywin reached out and grabbed the same branch that had led to his previous fall. He jerked himself upwards, letting loose a primal scream from the pit of suffering that he had found himself. His eyes blurred as tears well up from the pain of the motion. His teeth clenched with the agony of sheer exhaustion. As his arms began to give out, he felt the familiar sensation of having the ground properly under his feet. Letting go of the branch, he flung himself towards the tree that had been his salvation from the ground. Tywin clung to the trunk of the tree as he tried to regain his balance. He cautiously let go of his only means of balance, attempting to find equilibrium on his two feet. Leaning too far to the left he stuck out his arm hoping to catch the tree to regain the fleeting balance he had once held. He only managed to catch the open air and took a tentative step to regain control. His foot came down with a dull thud, without thinking his other foot followed. Trying to force his starved body into cooperating with his intention. Again the dull thud of his foot echoed softly in the cover of the trees. This time, when the other foot followed he caught some semblance of the balance he had been seeking. Now moving his feet forward, Tywin managed to stagger a step in the direction of a clearing about ten feet ahead of him. “Left. Right. Left. Right.” Tywin reminded himself of the pattern that most take for granted. Haphazardly stumbling into the clearing, he noticed a shadowy figure on the other side of tree line. Clenching his teeth, Tywin forced himself to investigate.

         As Tywin neared the stranger, obviously a man from his build, a feeling of familiarity came over him that he couldn't shake. It was as if Tywin had met this person before.  Certain features stuck out to him; the way the man's deep auburn hair was braided into a unified form that twisted down onto his shoulder with only a single thick strand of hair falling over his right eye. His face was perfectly shaven, as if he was incapable of growing facial hair. The way he was standing on the balls of his feet as though he was always ready to flee. After a couple more steps he realized that what he thought was a strand of hair was actually a dark blue-black scar, appearing to be  freshly bruised, running from the middle of his forehead across his right eye down to his cheekbone. The scarred man!

         Animal instincts taking over he lashed out at the man clumsily, but he easily stepped out of the way, Tywin's back to his opponent. Expecting the scarred man to retaliate, he swung his back leg hoping to catch him off guard. The man simply brushed the kick aside, moved to the inside and stood face to face with Tywin. Already exhausted by starvation, the two attacks he had launched drained him of what little energy Tywin had left. In a last ditch effort to take down the man that had caused him so much agony, Tywin flung himself at his enemy hoping to take him to the ground. He punched off the ground with both legs getting airborne only to hit empty air and hit the ground with a thud. The world started to blur, darkness filled in his vision, and slowly the pain that riddled his body disappeared with his consciousness.