Drac looked up and saw a silhouette of a man in armor, standing next to a horse. A soldier, the man was a soldier. He slowly became aware of his surroundings, the frogs were croaking in a nearby pond out in the woods. The soldier panted heavily, looking down at something. There were three mangled figures on the ground.

   With a dull realization he recognized them as the 3 men who had beaten him. "Hey kid, are you conscious back there?" He tried to say yes in reply, but his voice wouldn't come. All he could force out was a low pitched groan. "It's good to know you're at east alive. I'll get you to safety. Don't worry about a thing. Just relaxe kid, I'll carry you, you're going to be fine." But even if the soldier wasn't going to carry him, he couldn't summon the strenght, or the will to walk. Darkness enclosed his mind, as he grasped desperately to stay awake, it was to no availe. He fell into the depths of madness.
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   Soft wool enclosed Drac, as he tossed and turned finding blissful comfort. He shot up, on both feet atop the bed. Immediately he became dizzy, almost falling back over, he decided to sit, realizing that he was in no danger. Drac was inside of a damp old cottage, thick curtains were drawn across all of the windows, only letting small cracks of light into the room, Shelves on the wall held strange objects cast over in cobwebs, and a dusty eleborate book-case sat in the corne. The embroidered polished wood held strange, unfamiliar characters.

   "So you're awake at last!" the old man's voice did indeed have an old ring to it, but also had a energetic and joyous tone set, almost as though the old man were an eight year-old with a new bycicle.  Drac jumped up again in alarm, ready to do whatever was necessary. "Now is that any way to thank the man who took you in under his wing, after you were saved in the woods from a couple of shop keeps? Sit down before you hurt yourself again."

   Pain suddenly lept over Drac as he realized he was indeed wounded. Drac had been so confused, and then startled, only moments before he hadn't noticed it, but from head to toe he was covered in gause, bruises and scratches. 

   The old man was in shape, and had a little brawn, but at the same time had wrinkly slack skin over his broad muscles. He had a light build, but was well muscled for his size, and especially for his age; althought you could hardly tell through his baggy clothes. And then something caught Drac's attention. Inside the pupil of the old man's eyes, three swirls in each one, connecting in the middle. They were pure white, and very small, but they were there. They dialated with the pupil whenever a candle started flickering and getting dimmer.

   The old man spontaneously threw his hands up in the air, scaring the wits out of Drac  With an exasperated look on his face he said, "And still! No thanks! The nerve of kids these days. It's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous, why if my mother caught me acting like this, she'd still be alive to this day just so she could deal out my punishment!" "Th-Thank you! Sorry sir!" Drac hurriedly replied. "Oh so you can speak? I was starting to wonder if those men had rendered you brain dead." A gleam came from behind the old man, as a soldier slipped past him. "So how are you holdin up there champ? You took quite a beating out there. I was happening by on my usual guard route, when I saw those three men. I don't know what someone like you could have done to make them so angry, you hardly look like you're past five years old, but we won't treat you like that. Not here." Drac looked absently at the ground.



   "I'm fine." He replied in an absent voice. The soldier looked down at him for a moment or two. "Where do your folks live? I can take you back home and catch them up on what happend, they must be worried sick, I'll let them know you're alright now." Drac didn't say anything, as he tried to remember the last time he ever even saw his parents, or what they looked like. As the old man looked at Drac, he felt a ping of sympathy. "I suppose you'll be living with me then. An orphanage isn't any place for a kid to grow up at." Drac was shocked. All he could do was look up at the old man, his eyes watering up, but he held it back, "You don't want me around. I'll just cause you harm, just give me my things and
I-" "Nonesense, I'll have you stay in this room, I insist. I am Lord Crewe Forthwind, Prophecy Keeper of Redwood. But I'd prefer if you'd just call me Crewe." 

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   The times Drac spent with Crewe, were his best. All his life sense as far back as he could remember, people feared him and his brute strength. And it was because he had such freakish abnormal strength. Over the months he came to realize that here, in this town, even as people began to discover his brute stength, towns people treated him as casually and with as much care as they do everyone else in day to day life.

   His very first night, he almost came to tears, from relief alone, that he had escaped the descrimination of others. He did an honest day of work, helping Crewe with his study of old books, keeping scrolls and volumes in order, and helping the towns people here and there; building a new shack, or finding Johnson's dog Scrappy. For the most part, Drac helped Crewe in his profession. Taking the scrolls and books and organizing them, figuring out what is what, and what goes where. In all this time working with Crewe, he learned a lot. Some books, Crewe didn't let Drac read or organize, They went into a restricted area, an area that Drac was not allowed to go. Crewe said that there are some things Drac just can't know.

  Drac began to dream. That soldier saved his life. Without that soldier, he would be dead, out in the woods, and no one would have cared. But because of him, he was now living a wonderful life. For a long time, he didn't know what he wanted to do in life. He just stumbled about aimlessly. But he knew now. He wanted to be a soldier. He wanted to use his strange strenght to protect those who could not protect themselves. He knew that his legend, his story, rested within the path of a warrior.