No one alive today remembered what the world was like when it first came into being. Stories, handed down from generation to generation, soon changed over time in the telling. How do you make someone care about the color green and all it stands for when more life threating changes were happening in the world.

The sight of any color, other than shades of grey, brought fear to those happening to catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of their eye. Color meant not being able to blend into society. Color meant you were a danger to your loved ones. If any happened to see the rare trace of color they soon learned to keep it to themselves.

---

?1

---

Old stories, told near the warm fires at night, slowly changed to new stories on how to survive in this new world they found themselves in.

---

?1

---

On a typical morning, Roork woke up, went about his morning routine, then he headed off to work at the blacksmith shop. He was, by far, the best blacksmith in the area which meant he was always busy.

The people trusted Roork. They knew he had the immense skill to be able to get a job done right and on time. He was a soft-spoken man who enjoyed his solitude.

Today he had to finish one last horseshoe right away this morning for the town Mayor. The man was a pain to work with. Always in a rush. Making his job all the more dangerous. An injury, of any kind, was always at the forefront of anyone's mind living in this day and age. Having to hurry through a job didn't help matters.

Roork being too valuable a person to waste on the mere shoeing of a horse meant as soon as the shoe was done it would go on to an apprentice to finish the job.

Getting an early start meant the threat of hurrying would soon be gone from his day and Roork could go back to his easy ways in the silence that he craved.

---

?1

---

?2^{Image Source}

---

?1

---

A short time later the coals in the forge finally glowed the right shade of grey to Roork's trained eye. He started on the last shoe. Heating, pounding, heating, and pounding could be heard through the Village in the rhythmic tones coming from the blacksmith shop.

Roork went to make the last blow on the newly formed horseshoe. While beginning his last downward swing, from behind him, a bellowing voice spoke. Rork's aim ended up off just enough. He smashed his hand instead of the horseshoe.

He didn't even bother turning around to talk to the man behind him nor did the man say a word but stood in shock looking on. Having only seconds before all was too late, Roork quickly grabbed a few splints of wood along with cotton cloth an inch wide. He began straightening, slowly and carefully, each finger. Making sure the joints of the knuckles were aligned as straight as he could get them.

One would think he was a great man to suffer in silence the horrible injury he just received but, in truth, Roork could not feel a thing.

Not even bothering to look at the Mayor behind him, Roork wrapped his hand up in protective cloth and started the long journey down to the river to await nightfall.

---

?1

---

Skari's Story ~ Chapter 2, Part 5

---

?1

---

Holmfirth was the farthest town away from the river. Roork having been injured in the early morning had plenty of time to make the trek today to the river at a safe pace. Following the well worn smooth path, he skirted around the many small hamlets along the way. No one dared stop Roork. No one dared touch him. Too many people depended on his skill to interrupt him on the long walk to the river.

During the midday sun, Roork finally made it safely to the river. He took a seat near the edge of the bank and watch Skari dance. He was in awe of the grace of her dance. She showed no signs of fear as she twirled about the sharp rocks under her feet. He had never come across a living human that did not show some fear inside them.

Roork had never been to the river this early being the careful man that he was. He could not remember the last time he had to come to the river being as precise in all his movements as he was. For a man as large as Roork was it was a miracle he had lived as long as he did.

---

?1

---

?2

---

?1

---

Cradling his hand in his lap Roork leaned back against the boulder to take in all of Skari's glory while he waited for the setting sun. Skari, sending up sprays of cool mist from her dance, as the day was slowly coming to the end, was in the final stages of her dance.

Today the dance had taken Skari deeper into the colored world than ever before. The green and blues called to her soul. She started to cry as she felt the pull of the sun, knew her time in the world of color was almost over once again.

Tears streaming down her face she gave one last twirl sending water spraying father than ever before and right onto Roork just as he was lifting his arm carefully up off his lap. His face looked up as the river water, now mixed with Skari's tears, landed as tiny sparkling golden jewels all over his body. He froze, nestled back against the boulder, and waited.

A grey mist appeared to the left of Roork making him turn his head.

Pathos appeared as if made from the mist that now surrounded them both. In the rainbow of light Pathos's twisted horn thew off, Roork could now see his body was covered in the many colors he had only heard about from bedtime stories told while his grandparents were alive.

---