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A small boy clung to a piece of cloth, his dirt-stained hands clawing their way through the surrounding rocks. This cave had been his only shelter, the silence his only friend, for far too long. The raid was over by now and the dust had all settled on the ruins of his old life. A weird feeling welled up into his throat as he mentally recalled everything he had known and loved his 'old' life.

The rocks around the entrance were not large, but it took a good amount of effort for a child to move them. They were almost gone soon nonetheless. As the last barrier gives way, the boys' arm hyper-extended out and he found himself stumbling into the daylight.

Any and all joy at the bright, open land surrounding him diminished quickly with the memory of why the light had been taken away in the first place. Every emotion he had was on overdrive. He had to get back. The boy ran at a considerable speed, his legs faltering and threatening to collapse at any second. All to see what he already knew he would. The general store building looked like bones with no meat on them. A couple places were scorched. By now, all the people who had once been here had moved on. The kid had been too afraid to come out earlier and had waited for the food and milk to be gone before he came out of his homemade shelter. That was a bad call it appeared.

Although everything in his mind was screaming in fear, he'd been told what to do in this particular event. His mother had explained to him a few times. 'Adrin, if there is ever a reason we have to leave, follow the forests edge until you can see the castle, then go towards the capital.' She had always said it in such an offhand way, he reminisced. To comfort him if he was too scared, no matter how brave he acted she could just tell when he was scared.

The boy, Adrin, wondered how the Gods had allowed this to happen, his village had done no wrong. He had even prayed every night recently just like he had been told to. No matter what the Gods had done to them thus far though, he still hoped they would guide him through this ordeal. Somehow.

Boys don't cry. That was Adrin's mantra as he trudged through the town. Everything that could be moved was gone. The raiders took most and the survivors had salvaged the remaining goods. The mud and rock foundations, the common stone blocks, wooden support beams, and various junk made up the scene. At least a third of the wood was burned. In it's prime, it had been a small village. It had been known for it's farms, and was a good place to trade. It had been humble and quaint, but the emptiness now made it daunting.

The mantra was being repeated in the boys head over and over in what was now a chant. He was so lost in his mind, that when he came to a fallen building, his left foot caught underneath a wooden beam. This caused him to fall face first on the ground. Nothing seemed to be broken or even injured, but face down in the dirt, he couldn't help it. He felt the tears well up.

His hand had opened in an vain attempt to catch himself. The same hand which had previously held the cloth. Adrin clenched the hand into a fist, noticing instantly something was missing. His head quickly moved up to see what was in front of him, though there had been a shake to it. By this point there was dirt all over his face, it coated his chest as well. The dirt had even gotten in his hair. He looked to be in a sorry state indeed. He was done trying to act like an adult, this was too much. With a broken spirit, his body lurched over the beam without actually getting up. A hand reached out wearily and slowly over the cloth, and with a thud down to earth grabbed the end and dragged it back to where he was now laying.

With the same defeated motion he had retrieved the cloth with, the boy brought it to his chest and just held it there. His lip quivered. His legs curled towards the cloth and his chest. He couldn't get all the way to the capital, even if he did, what happened then? Half the people he knew were dead. Despair was setting in faster than before. It was a common child's dream to be able to prove themselves through a trail by fire. Adrin used to be that way too, right up until the raid, when he ran. This wasn't fun anymore, he wasn't playing a game, and he wasn't winning. He really was just a kid, a kid too afraid to move anymore.

The sweat and tear soaked cloth in his hands was not something normally held by someone of his class. It was a beautiful red with royal indigo lace around it, it had to have been very regal when new. A small symbol of a horse sat at the bottom. The embroidered horse had a mane of fire, warning all those who came near to be afraid, and everyone had been afraid that day. Except Adrin, as memory served.

"Sir, sir, what's that?"

A smaller Adrin was in front of a nobleman, the only one in the street to not be hiding or behind locked doors. Unbeknownst to the young boy, the man in front of him had forged his legacy through the same color as the mini flag Adrin pointed to. A knight who had seen more battles then any other, advancing through classes one a day it seemed. He was in the front of a group, leading them as he always did, when the kid ran up to him. Doing his best to look down his nose the nobleman spoke as though Adrin's existence was a personal insult.

"Aren't you afraid of me? You should be."

He was met with a puzzled look. If the exchanged had ended there, Adrin may not have left with his life, he had broken more rules then he had years. When he spoke though, it was the nobleman's turn to be silenced.

"I guess, yeah. I don't want to be though, 'cause someday I will be you, then I got to not be afraid of anything."

Though the idea of the kid becoming him was laughable there was something about the way he said it. Confidence that could only come from someone with no doubts was laced into his words. That could be the reason for it, or it could have been that the nobleman's breakfast had been extra good, no one could ever tell what influences another persons moods.

"It's alright to be afraid boy, you will be plenty of times if you are me." He chuckled out the first part of his sentence. Before he finished up his words though, he stretched an arm to the tiny flag the boy had been questioning about before, and plucked it off it's perch in an extremely controlled motion. "This is my flag, the symbol of my deeds on this earth. Take it, then, and keep it until you can display your own."

The dirt in his mouth tasted bitter, his legs hurt after delayed bruising from his fall, and he was more afraid then he had ever been. He was Adrin though, he didn't even have an official last name. He had to earn that. Rolling onto his front, his free hand pushed up and his legs swayed but did not give as he stood. If he wanted to keep the flag so bad, he had to prove it to himself.

With dark eyes looking past the wreckage, without a shirt on his back, the brown haired, lanky, child known as Adrin decided that he would move onwards, even if it was only for a matter of hours before he had to collapse, he could do something, anything. If he really wanted to be called strong he had to, no, he would earn it. Flag in hand, he no longer moved with apathy, he marched.