Here's one for those who have been thieved, and those who have found
themselves at the wrong end of a Quisalis blade.

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| The Gift |
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Something stirs to your right
A quiet rustling of leaves from the bush
Or is it from the trees above
Reaching out with brown green fingers to canopy your head?

The moon is low and dim
Hiding its light and casting shadows around
Shadows that bristle with menace
And stretch out to engulf you.

Your nerves begin to jitter
Your muscles rise and fall as waves of tension sweep through you
Your pupils dialate, attempting to soak up the white gold light
When SNAP! A twig behind you.

You turn and your heart starts beating
Faster, faster, the blood rushes to your face
Your breathing shallows; quick, tiny gulps of air
Supplying your muscles with anticipatory strength.

Times slows as your body awakens
Your vision becomes keener, noticing colors you didn't believe existed
Seeing every wrinkle of every leaf
Observing the nightlife observing you.

You can hear the wind as it snakes through the trees above you
Carrying upon it the sounds of the dark
The hiss of the bobcat, the gentle step of the fawn
Something calmly breathing.

Your mouth dries out, the tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth
And you can almost taste the moldy scent of the loam.
Every hair on your arms stand up erect
Detecting the wind, the pressure, the air.

All of this in the span of a few seconds
Your mind has shut down and you have become instinctual
The world is still
Waiting

Waiting, waiting
You look to the front as something calls your attention
Your body screams at you to run, DANGER! DANGER!
But you are frozen in place, like the doe staring down the wolf.

The shadow before you wavers; the bush?
No. It emerges, a dirk one hand, a steel-tipped whip in the other
There's a bow slung across his back, a snake-skin quiver on his side
A wry grin splayed across his face.

Before you can finish your gasp he's behind you
The feeling of cold, sharp steel pressed against your neck
The world bursts with life around you
Color, sound, movement, energy, LIFE.

You can feel his warm breath on your ear
"I could end your life in an instant
"No second thought would pass through my mind
"Just one twitch of my well-versed wrist."

The blade presses hard, a small drop of blood streams warmly down your
neck
"Tonight you have tasted death
"But the vitality you felt will stick with you forever
"You have experiance true, primal LIFE."

"Consider that my gift."

And with that he's gone, no sound, no warning.

-The Vagabond

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Mayan, in the year 384 AF.