Almost like a Fairytale

[Corporal Light]

Two hours prior

Ballad kept his arms crossed, rolling his glowing eyes towards the center of the tree as the man descended. He made no real movement to indicate he had seen him, though he did let out a sigh of relief as the man touched the ground. He waited until the man had left the field before turning his head to look at him. He saw the purple-eyed rider back on his horse, galloping away from his clearing.

"Good riddance..." Ballad muttered to himself, slipping his hat over his eyes. He backed up a bit into the tree, bending his legs as he dozed back into a slumber.

Present

Ballad snapped awake as a loud scream shook the forest, his hat preventing him from seeing what was going on. He lunged forward, grasping the branch he was laying upon in a desperate attempt to prevent his fall. Some leaves fell down from the limb as his foot skidded across it, fluttering down onto the ground. Ballad remained steadfast on his platform as he slid his hat above his eyes. It was still dark out, though there was some extra activity. Both in the air, and on the ground.

The air had become populated by birds, flying away from the loud noise echoing across the forest. A deer had passed through the entrance at some point, but had quickly dashed off through the grass. Ballad caught a glimpse of the animal as it leaped over the blades, exhaling a deep breath as he noticed the wick lines were untouched. He looked back towards the wood he was on, pondering what to do. Suddenly, what was at first a feeling of shock soon gave way to something else.

"That fucking- that's it." The gunsmith grumbled, twisting his waist so that he was hanging off like a monkey. He gazed down towards the ground, letting go before plummeting downwards like a rock tossed towards the ground. Unlike before, his feet struck true, landing firmly on the ground and crouching a bit to absorb the impact.

"Don't even care. Killing this bastard..." the gunner said as he stuffed his left hand into his coat, marching towards the entrance. He pulled out his revolver and thumbed back the hammer as he passed through the parted grass, his weapon raised to fire. The forest had grown silent again, with the echo finally subsiding. It was still rather dark outside, though this hardly inconvenienced the inventor. He held the weapon high, looking down towards the dirt as his eagle-like eyes caught a pair of tracks in the ground. He lowered himself down onto his knee, inspecting the footprints. They were large, roughly a few inches wide, and what appeared to be horseshoe marks where cloven hooves had pressed into.

Ballad remained silent as he followed the trail given to him, his finger clasped against the trigger of his revolver.

Two and a half hours later

Ballad slowly walked forward, his revolver hanging off of his finger by his side as he looked back down towards the ground. The tracks were still there. He had to have been close by that point. He brought his left hand up to his face, letting out a tired groan as he slid it back down, gripping his cheeks as his fingers traced by them. His eyes drooped every so often, and his stomach occasionally rumbled. His steps were becoming more of a zombie walk, rather than an alert soldier.

But he pressed on. He had a feeling he was close. It had gotten noticeably brighter since he had awoken again, as there were sun rays passing through the barrier of leaves up above. It gave off a faint, yellow glow across the forest, which made sight a whole lot easier. He had noticed that the dirt was mushier, as if a mist had come through during the night and sucked itself into the ground. The environment had gotten livelier as well, with birds calling to each other every few seconds as well as the rustling of something lurking in the bushes.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he found him. He had no idea how long it had taken him, but at that point he couldn't have cared less. The swordsman had found himself another field to call his own, only he wasn't really doing much with it. He was just rocking back and forth, his eyes wide open and bloodshot, easily noticeable with the open tent flap. A campfire had been placed a short distance away, only it was practically ash and not so much a fire.

The sharpshooter's eyes widened as they spotted the man, smiling behind his red scarf. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all... he thought to himself before moving forward, passing through a bush before advancing towards the tent, revolver cocked and ready.