The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, I knew something was amiss. I seemed too quiet. There were no birds singing as there had been the day before, and it seemed that even the breeze was gone. I got up slowly, being careful not to move my splinted arm. The small house was completely empty and the fire had gone out in the fireplace.
“Hunter?” I called. No answer; only silence a barely audible rustling coming from outside. I opened the door and looked around. I knew that Hunter had set up his cot on the far side of the house, so I started around. As I rounded the second corner, what I saw froze me in my tracks.
There was Hunter on his cot, eyes wide, face as pale as death. Standing over him was a tall figure in a purple hooded cloak. I couldn’t see the stranger’s face; it was deep in the hood, but a ghostly hand extended from inside the cloak to Hunter’s chest. The finger tips placed directly on his heart as if trying to reach in and tear it out. Even as I watched, the color seemed to drain from his skin. My heart pounded in my throat as I slowly bent down to pick up a sturdy stick that was lying on the ground. I crept forward and raised my make-shift weapon to strike, and a chilling laugh filled the clearing.
“You think you can defeat me with a mere twig?” The voice sent chills up and down my spine. Another grey hand immerged from inside the cloak and pulled down the hood in one graceful motion. Suddenly, it seemed as if all of the colors on the clearing faded to grey. The man seemed almost angelic with his white blond hair and grey eyes so light that they almost seemed like nothing but coal black pupils in the midst of drops of white light.
He grinned at me revealing perfect white teeth. The hairs on my arms stood on end as he spoke again. “In a moment, your friend will be dead, and then your turn will come.”
His voice flowed like melted butter. I gulped, trying to get past the lump in my throat. My heart pounded faster. Hunter’s eyes met mine, pleading for help. Suddenly brave, I tightened my grip on my stick, a look of pure defiance forming on my face. I stepped forward bravely, raising my weapon again. “Let him go.” I said, “Take your hand off of him.”
He raised a perfectly shaped white eyebrow.
“Foolish girl.” He said, sneering. Suddenly Hunter convulsed and his eyes rolled back into his head. The man looked at him, and I leapt toward him with a sudden rush of energy. There was a thud as my stick collided with his head. He staggered back, stunned. His grey eyes turned cold, and I knew that I had made a foolish mistake. But there was no way I was going to let another person die because of my cowardice.
My wrist felt like it was on fire as I straightened up again, ready to face this pale specter, even if it meant death.
“You really are a foolish girl.” He said coldly. I clear liquid oozed from a wound on the side of his head. Confused, I glanced at my stick and saw the same liquid covering the spot where the wood had met his skull. Could this be his blood?
I looked at Hunter again. He seemed to be breathing, and some color had returned to his cheeks, although his hair and beard had turned slate grey.
“Who are you?” I asked nervously. “Why are you hurting him?”
The man bared his teeth. “We have to eat too.” He said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hunter raise himself slowly from the cot, and pull a black bladed dagger from his belt. The man didn’t seem to notice, all of his attention focused on me.
“You’re a Color-Snatcher, aren’t you?” I asked, trying to distract him.
He sneered again. “The name hardly does justice.”
He took a sudden step towards me, and with a bellow, Hunter tackled him, pushing him to the ground. I stared in shock as he rose slowly, leaving his dagger in the Snatcher’s chest.
Hunter suddenly fell to his knees, clutching his chest and breathing hard. Dropping my stick, I rushed forward to help him.
“Are you alright?” I asked frantically.
“Just give me a moment.” He said between deep, labored breaths. Then he motioned for me to help him to his feet.
“That’s twice now you’ve saved my life.” I said as we made our way into the house.
“I think you saved me that time.” He said. “If you had given him another moment, he would have sucked me dry.”
He sat on the bed and I got him a mug of water. His color was certainly returning, except for his hair, and even more startling was his eyes. They were no longer the beautiful bright blue that they had been, but instead they had faded to pale grey.
“He took your color.” I whispered, barely able to speak past the lump in my throat.
“Yes,” He replied. “That was a Color-Snatcher. It is very uncommon for them to cross the bridge, but not unheard of. I believe that fellow was from the Amethyst Realm, probably came out of the mountains down on the border of Ebony.”
“What was that knife you used?” I asked as he gulped his water.
“That is an Obsidian Blade.” He explained. “There are only five in existence. That one is the only one not currently in the Ivory vault. The King believes that they were forged in Ebony as a way of keeping the Color-Snatchers in line. Though it’s not the only way, it’s one of the very few things that can actually kill a Snatcher.”
I sat on the chair and absentmindedly rubbed my arm through the splint as I thought about what I had just learned.
“How is that feeling?” He asked.
“Fine.” I said. “I mean, I kind of had to use it when I hit the Color-Snatcher, so it hurts but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
He nodded, relaxing slightly.
“I suppose this will postpone my leaving for a while.” I said.
He looked confused. “Why? No, not at all. In fact, I think it would be wise to leave sooner than later. Snatchers can sense when one of their own goes down. They are incredibly loyal to their kind. And Snatcher within two hundred miles will converge directly on this spot. We need to get you away from here as soon as possible.”
“Won’t you need help if they come?” I asked.
“I’ve dealt with much bigger problems than a couple of Snatchers.” He said confidently. “No, it’s settled. Give me an hour to prepare, and then we’re going right to the bridge.”
I started to argue as he rose from the bed, but he held up a hand to silence me.
“We’re going.”
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