The air was warm, unusually so for a spring day in the valley. Leaves and dust spun through the air in intricate circles of gold and green, stroking the ground ever so slightly, like fingertips, before whipping off into the shadows of the wood. Despite the warmth of the day, very little moved. The few birds who chirped did so at a distance from the crumbling pathway, and Tristen Hart hadn't seen one deer or rabbit since waking that morning, little more than a few hours ago.
Perhaps it was the almost stagnant air that kept them hiding in the cool shade beneath the tall, green boughs, relief brought to them only when the occasional breeze whirled through. Or, on a much darker note, perhaps they hid because men were near, and not the kind type, at that. Of course, Tristen couldn't know that if he had chosen to turn left on the fork in the road he'd come across a quarter of an hour before he wouldn't have even made it to the river. It was pure luck and a sense of adventure that had him turning right, down the road less traveled with its cracked and dusty path and weed covered edges.
For the moment, the loudest noise around was that of the impact Tristen's horse made every time her hooves hit the earth. She moved slowly, but with a sense of purpose, while her idiot of a rider began to doze off on her back. With such warmth and motionless air he was having the greatest of troubles staying awake. His amber eyes were unfocused and half hidden by blonde lashes while his hands rested limply against the saddle, reigns looped carelessly around his knuckles. Celty, Tristen's dappled ride, snorted and shook her head as a fly flew too close to her nose. The slight movement shifted her rider just so, and he slipped sideways fast enough to jar him into consciousness.
"Celty!" he nearly shrieked, righting himself in the saddle and swallowing dryly. He was lucky to have been woken; these parts of the forest were known for bandits and other such hoodlums. Tristen wasn't in the mood for dying, not today.
Groaning, he shifted in his seat; he was getting rather saddle sore. It was almost time for an early lunch break. Not that Tristen had much food left seeing as he had been an idiot in the last town he'd passed through and had gambled half of his rations away. The fact of the matter was, Tristen was verging on dead broke, and was living off of the land half of the time. Times like these were the only times when he was glad of his previous living as a hunter, the bow came in handy when food was scarce.
It had only been two years since he left home without letting his family know, but he'd already been reduced to a gambling, low-life wanderer without a home to call his own. Granted, he had made various contacts and friends since the beginning, and was always able to find lodging in towns for cheap, but it was the food and money that he had problems with. For example, he was always taking the most ridiculous of jobs every time he took a break from his travels. At one point, he had even been an actor in an illegal road-show, though what had happened to end that one was a mystery (he barely remembered anything of his last evening performing due to a rather ugly head wound he had received from a grumpy law enforcer). Now, Tristen found himself being a little more careful with the odd jobs he took, but they were never as high paying as he wished.
Tristen sighed and shook his head, ridding his mind of nostalgic thoughts of the "good old days" and focusing on his present situation. He just had to make it to a safe place for nightfall, preferably somewhere he could set a trap for a rabbit. Easy, right?
Those thoughts didn't last very long after they had started, however, and he soon found himself daydreaming of becoming a hero, endowed with courage and impressive swordsmanship, cheered on by beautiful women wherever he went. If only he had been born into a better life, one without a neglectful mother or a drunkard of a father. Maybe, thought Tristen maybe one day I'll be a hero. Part of him crowed with laughter, telling him that he was never going anywhere in life, and with a heavy sigh Tristen was once again clearing his mind of anything but the necessary tasks.
The wind picked up slightly once again, blowing grit into his eyes and a breeze down his back. "C'mon, Celty," he muttered, patting her on the neck, "let's just make it a little further." She whickered softly at his touch and picked up the pace, rounding the next bend with the intent of moving onwards. Moments later, she stopped, and Tristen stared with relief at the cool, glistening water of the deep forest waters. He hopped off of the horse's back and collapsed to his knees, cupping his hands under the water that made his fingers tingle with the cold. He was just taking a refreshing sip when something caught his eye and he started choking on the little that had made it into his mouth.
There, floating down the river with her eyes closed and a serene expression on her face was an unconscious (or possibly dead) woman.
"Oh my gods... Would you look at that?" Tristen felt a moment of indecision as he watched her begin to approach the level where he and Celty stood. Either he could jump in and save her, but end up with an extra passenger, or he could let her go on floating down the fast moving forest stream. Barely a few seconds later, he had made his decision and stripped off his coat to reveal a white blouse underneath; moving fast, he tossed the coat onto Celty's back and prayed that she stayed by the shore.
With a swear that would have made a lady swoon, he was splashing a few feet in. The water was much deeper than anticipated and he had to swim the rest of the way to grab onto the woman's arm. Tristen tugged her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist before he kicked his booted feet to get to shore. Some water got splashed into his throat and he coughed until he finally reached a point where he could stand and hold the woman at the same time.
Not a minute later he was laying her down on the grass on the side of the road. Holding his knife up to her nose, he checked for breathe and was relieved to see a faint misting on the mirror-like surface. So, the beautiful woman lived. With an uncertain expression, he was turning her head to the side in the hopes that any water in her lungs would flow out. When some did, he tilted her body further. Her breathing was stronger, now, and Tristen let himself relax a little. "Hey, ma'am, wake up!" he wasn't entirely sure of what to do now, but he figured that since she was breathing almost normally now she should be fine. A moment of clarity had him grabbing his jacket off of Celty's back and draping it over her upper body, and he shook her shoulder in the hopes that she would wake. He shivered slightly, his thin blouse soaking and more than a little see through. "My lady?" he questioned once again, kneeling over her with his wet hair dripping.
