There are secrets in everything, in everyone. Some great, and some small, and all guarded closely. There were few now who remembered that life had ever been anything but this. Few who paid attention to the stories of the world as it had been. No one looked back further than the Destruction, when earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions had almost destroyed the living population of the planet and sent its established societies into a downward spiral from which they had never recovered.
When the earth had finally stopped its shaking and changing, what was left of humanity had picked itself up and, as humanity tended to do, had immediately picked a fight with itself. These conflicts raged as factions split off from the traditional gatherings of race and religion, until finally peace was declared only with an uneasy understanding that to continue as they were would be to annihilate themselves. Each faction, large or small, sought out land to call their own, built their own form of society to live within, and guarded their territory fiercely.
Most settled into peaceful co-habitation, men and women and children gathered together, trading with this tribe or that clan, visiting with other villages out of friendship. Others isolated themselves deep in almost inaccessible places known only to them, choosing to subsist on their own efforts, accepting help from no one. Most of these struggled and died out, but some survived, establishing themselves and becoming almost legendary by word of mouth.
One such was named by its neighbors as a tribe of Amazons, a society that allowed only women within its ranks, though men were made use of when there was a need. They resided within a place known as the Hidden Valley, zealously guarded against all intrusion. It was well known that any man who strayed into their territory was rarely seen alive again.
Not far from the Amazon tribe was a small village where men and women lived together in relative peace, raising families, farming, and doing their best to co-exist peacefully with the rest of the small neighboring clans and tribes that called this area home. In the past, they had mostly kept to themselves, but lately, they found themselves facing a new threat to their peaceful existence and had ventured outside the safety of their own borders in order to establish alliances with neighboring tribes and clans to defend themselves against this greater threat.
Although they were mostly peaceful, they had learned that sometimes they had to fight to defend their own way of life against those who would try to disrupt them. They had been at odds with the so-called Amazons for years, but so long as they left them alone, the villagers were happy to do the same. Still, every now and then, some of their men went missing and rarely returned. Those who did return told of a utopian society, secluded and controlled completely by women, but none had ever tried to return. Sometimes male children were found abandoned, and the villagers were happy to take them in, care for them, and raise them as their own.
One such survivor was a young man named Ethan, who knew nothing of his parentage, neither mother nor father. He'd been found abandoned as an infant and would have perished if he had not been taken in by the villagers and raised as one of their own.
As the years passed, he'd grown into tall, handsome young man with a thick head of dark brown hair and sharp-sighted brown eyes. He was a quiet, serious young man who had shown an early interest in learning how to defend the villagers that had treated him with such kindness. As such, he had joined the ranks of the small militia whose duty it was to defend the village against all enemies. It was on a day in early fall when he was out on patrol that would forever change his life and his place in the world as he knew it. There were four of them on patrol that day, each going in separate directions so that they could cover more ground. As it happened, he was on patrol near the river, which was the westernmost border that belonged to the villagers before the land turned wild and overgrown with trees and shrubs.
Few ventured past that border, and even fewer had ever entered those woods, which were rumored to be the home of vile, hideous creatures that liked to feast on the flesh of humans. To some, they were just stories created to scare small children and keep them from wandering into the woods and getting lost, but to those who'd seen the creatures that roamed the woods, they were far too real. Ethan had drawn the short straw and it fell to him today to take up patrol near the river across from those fell woods. It wasn't a task he was fond of, and yet, someone had to do it.
It was a task he took seriously, however. He had been one of those who'd seen firsthand what roamed those woods, though not up close. Vile, foul things - twisted and hideous to look upon. Perhaps they had once been human, but they were human no longer. It was because of these mutated monsters that alliances had been sought with neighboring villages, but so far, no one had answer the call. It was because of these vile creatures that Ethan was especially wary, but also knew how vitally important it was to keep the border safe and secure against any and all threats. He moved as stealthily as a cougar through the small thicket that edged the river, unaware of the eyes that were following his every move.
But stealth counted for nothing when an ambush had been laid. Without warning, the surface of the river heaved, and three monstrous shapes rose at speed from the dark water. Mutated, clawed, fangs sharp and too long for their mouths, they clambered from the water, snarling, eager for his flesh.
If he'd had time, he would have cursed his own stupidity at allowing himself to be ambushed, but he only had a moment to react, to fight back and defend himself against the abominations that wanted to see him dead. He had two choices - fight or run. He knew if he ran and they caught him, he'd be dead before he had a chance to fight back, and so he chose to fight. Several shots rang out, echoing through the surrounding territory, alerting anyone within range that something was amiss. Birds flapped away from the trees, startled by the unexpected ruckus.
Less than a mile down river, someone heard those shots, and accelerated into action, shouting for her companions to join her. Three women, heavily armed and frighteningly focused, crashed through the undergrowth, zeroing in on the fight ensuing on the bank of the river. Shots rang out from their weapons as they came in sight of the altercation, aimed for the mutations clawing at the man they had cornered.
By the time the women reached him, he had already taken down one of the vile creatures who'd fallen heavily in the brush, its blood soaking the ground. Taken by surprise and outnumbered as he was, a second had knocked the rifle from his hands, the shot going wild, before knocking him to the ground. Claws dug deep into his leg, tearing through cloth and flesh and drawing blood. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he fumbled for a knife at his hip, as the third shambled up to join the other.
When the earth had finally stopped its shaking and changing, what was left of humanity had picked itself up and, as humanity tended to do, had immediately picked a fight with itself. These conflicts raged as factions split off from the traditional gatherings of race and religion, until finally peace was declared only with an uneasy understanding that to continue as they were would be to annihilate themselves. Each faction, large or small, sought out land to call their own, built their own form of society to live within, and guarded their territory fiercely.
Most settled into peaceful co-habitation, men and women and children gathered together, trading with this tribe or that clan, visiting with other villages out of friendship. Others isolated themselves deep in almost inaccessible places known only to them, choosing to subsist on their own efforts, accepting help from no one. Most of these struggled and died out, but some survived, establishing themselves and becoming almost legendary by word of mouth.
One such was named by its neighbors as a tribe of Amazons, a society that allowed only women within its ranks, though men were made use of when there was a need. They resided within a place known as the Hidden Valley, zealously guarded against all intrusion. It was well known that any man who strayed into their territory was rarely seen alive again.
Not far from the Amazon tribe was a small village where men and women lived together in relative peace, raising families, farming, and doing their best to co-exist peacefully with the rest of the small neighboring clans and tribes that called this area home. In the past, they had mostly kept to themselves, but lately, they found themselves facing a new threat to their peaceful existence and had ventured outside the safety of their own borders in order to establish alliances with neighboring tribes and clans to defend themselves against this greater threat.
Although they were mostly peaceful, they had learned that sometimes they had to fight to defend their own way of life against those who would try to disrupt them. They had been at odds with the so-called Amazons for years, but so long as they left them alone, the villagers were happy to do the same. Still, every now and then, some of their men went missing and rarely returned. Those who did return told of a utopian society, secluded and controlled completely by women, but none had ever tried to return. Sometimes male children were found abandoned, and the villagers were happy to take them in, care for them, and raise them as their own.
One such survivor was a young man named Ethan, who knew nothing of his parentage, neither mother nor father. He'd been found abandoned as an infant and would have perished if he had not been taken in by the villagers and raised as one of their own.
As the years passed, he'd grown into tall, handsome young man with a thick head of dark brown hair and sharp-sighted brown eyes. He was a quiet, serious young man who had shown an early interest in learning how to defend the villagers that had treated him with such kindness. As such, he had joined the ranks of the small militia whose duty it was to defend the village against all enemies. It was on a day in early fall when he was out on patrol that would forever change his life and his place in the world as he knew it. There were four of them on patrol that day, each going in separate directions so that they could cover more ground. As it happened, he was on patrol near the river, which was the westernmost border that belonged to the villagers before the land turned wild and overgrown with trees and shrubs.
Few ventured past that border, and even fewer had ever entered those woods, which were rumored to be the home of vile, hideous creatures that liked to feast on the flesh of humans. To some, they were just stories created to scare small children and keep them from wandering into the woods and getting lost, but to those who'd seen the creatures that roamed the woods, they were far too real. Ethan had drawn the short straw and it fell to him today to take up patrol near the river across from those fell woods. It wasn't a task he was fond of, and yet, someone had to do it.
It was a task he took seriously, however. He had been one of those who'd seen firsthand what roamed those woods, though not up close. Vile, foul things - twisted and hideous to look upon. Perhaps they had once been human, but they were human no longer. It was because of these mutated monsters that alliances had been sought with neighboring villages, but so far, no one had answer the call. It was because of these vile creatures that Ethan was especially wary, but also knew how vitally important it was to keep the border safe and secure against any and all threats. He moved as stealthily as a cougar through the small thicket that edged the river, unaware of the eyes that were following his every move.
But stealth counted for nothing when an ambush had been laid. Without warning, the surface of the river heaved, and three monstrous shapes rose at speed from the dark water. Mutated, clawed, fangs sharp and too long for their mouths, they clambered from the water, snarling, eager for his flesh.
If he'd had time, he would have cursed his own stupidity at allowing himself to be ambushed, but he only had a moment to react, to fight back and defend himself against the abominations that wanted to see him dead. He had two choices - fight or run. He knew if he ran and they caught him, he'd be dead before he had a chance to fight back, and so he chose to fight. Several shots rang out, echoing through the surrounding territory, alerting anyone within range that something was amiss. Birds flapped away from the trees, startled by the unexpected ruckus.
Less than a mile down river, someone heard those shots, and accelerated into action, shouting for her companions to join her. Three women, heavily armed and frighteningly focused, crashed through the undergrowth, zeroing in on the fight ensuing on the bank of the river. Shots rang out from their weapons as they came in sight of the altercation, aimed for the mutations clawing at the man they had cornered.
By the time the women reached him, he had already taken down one of the vile creatures who'd fallen heavily in the brush, its blood soaking the ground. Taken by surprise and outnumbered as he was, a second had knocked the rifle from his hands, the shot going wild, before knocking him to the ground. Claws dug deep into his leg, tearing through cloth and flesh and drawing blood. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he fumbled for a knife at his hip, as the third shambled up to join the other.