Aran bolted upright. He heaved heavily as he roved about. He was amidst an alley, his back up against a wall. He looked down at his hands. They were cold. As a matter of fact, his surroundings were cold. Cold and dark. The sun had radically fallen, and there was very little light in the alley.
He stood. "Yet again," he said, "I wake up disoriented."
The night winds whistled, moving in the direction of the cloudy mist. Standing, Aran leaned against a wall, looking straight up at the sky. So much had happened. He closed his eyes shut. There was a pain behind these eyes, and he felt like it took longer than usual for his body to move as per his brain's command.
He sighed. "One long day and it still hasn't ended."
He then kicked off the wall, and departed the alley with his hands jammed in his pockets and his back slightly hunched. From the time he'd left the alley, he realized that he was able to see again. There was more light now. It came from the sky overhead.
This light emanated from strange glowing waves amongst the stars. These waves moved in the motion of his heart. Pulsing. After every throb, the lights brightened. After which, they'd wade. Then, there would be a throb again.
Aran parted his lips as he looked up at them in slight awe. They were reminiscent of the Northern-Lights to him but he was quite certain these didn't exist in this world, or at least, weren't called the same thing.
Aran hunched more as he wandered through the night.
"Do not do that!" A voice erupted in his head.
He jumped, wincing. It was that voice again. Luckily, this time he knew not to look for it.
"Scared the living lights out of me," he said.
"Good," the voice sounded. "Next time, I'll try scaring your soul out of your body. A body that rightfully belongs to me."
"Now I'm hearing voices in my head," Aran drawled, "just great."
"Keep your tone down," the voice said, "or better yet, relinquish control of the body to me."
"Relinquish control?" Aran grimaced. "How the heck am I suppose to do that? And why would I?"
"So that we both wound up surviving the night."
"Surviving?"
"Were you at all listening to the conversations I had when I was in control?"
"Nope," Aran said. "I don't even know what's going on right now. The last thing I remember before waking up here is that river."
"Good," the voice said with slight relief in its tone.
"What do you mean 'good'? I'm outright confused right now. I don't know left from right."
"Would you allow me offer my hardhearted succor?"
"Try me."
"I'll get to the gist of things and keep it short as best I could. Basically we were being hunted by two men, one of which I was fortunate to meet about ten minutes ago… before you unbiddenly took control."
"Hunted?"
"Precisely."
"Dammit."
"If you remain calm and offer your very own succor, I should be able to get us out of this predicament."
"So …" Aran placed a hand upon his chin, "we're being hunted. Is this even legal? And why the fuck me of all people!"
"It's not you …. it's me. It's my body they want."
"Chandrelle did say this body meant trouble," he sighed. "And, excuse me, did you just say ... 'my body'?"
"Just so your humanly hardheadedness comes to comprehend," the voice said, "before this morning, I was the lone owner of this body. It was rightfully mine alone before it was stolen from me unjustly."
"Geez, too bad."
"I'll retrieve it soon."
"No offense, man, but I don't want that happening. You heard the woman—she said my body's dead."
"Your problem. Now, stop slouching! You'll ruin my posture!"
Aran straightened his back. "Alright, alright!"
"Lower your tone, human! I can shout all I want because I won't be heard. The same doesn't apply to you. Again, powerful men are searching for us."
Aran stopped. "On that note … maybe I should stop moving. Y'know, to avoid running into them."
"Yes, you should. Before you took control, I was about two hundred meters away from them. It's quite good to know you have a piece of brain in there."
Aran scoffed. "I'm technically using your brain though …"
"The hunters wouldn't have a hard time telling us apart from other souls when we're motion. Right now, every human in this hamlet slumbers."
"That means we'd be found should we stay here," Aran said. "What do we do?"
"We must find a horse and leave," the voice answered. "The staples should be near."
"Before I do that …." Aran trailed off, "tell me who you are. You've been etched behind my mind as 'the voice' for quite some time now."
"That's classified."
"C'mon, just give me a damn name. I'm trying to be nice here."
"You've been all but nice. Yel, you, the white-cloaked witch—all of you human beings. I will no longer tolerate this injustice."
Aran sighed. "You've had your share of madness too, huh?"
Silence. Aran heard not a word more from the voice. And so, he continued through the misty hamlet. After some wandering—down a curling path, past unlit houses—he stumbled across the staples. The horses were all asleep soundly.
Aran mantled up a locked trapdoor and dropped down into the staples quietly. He moved through the hay on the ground, and stopped next to a black horse. He chose this one since it was already well equipped.
The horse was equipped with a leather saddle, safety-stirrups and robust horse-shoes. All these things and Aran still dithered.
"Have you ever been on a horse before?" The voice in his head returned.
Aran frowned as he peered at stirrup. "Not a single time."
"I take it that you live under a rock. Mounting a horse is overly simple. Firstly, can you see that stair-like thing hanging?"
Aran looked at the stirrup. "I know what it is."
"Well, just use it to get atop the horse."
"We have a slight problem," Aran said, looking to his right. "The door's locked. How would the horse get through?"
"The horse should be able to leap over it."
"You do know how much these things weigh, right?"
"Yes, I'm aware."
"If I fail this stunt, your body might just be done for."
"Urgg … fine. We'll find another way. The owner of these horses should be near. Since you can't break through the door with your sith, look for his house, break in, and find the keys."
"What if the owner has his front door locked too?"
"Are you capable of doing anything right!"
"A lot," Aran folded his arms. "I'm undefeated in chess, I'm the fastest reader I know and I'm pretty good at telling lies."
"That's it!" The voice snapped.
Aran's eyes rolled up in his head. His body froze. His head raised as high as his neck allowed it to. And finally, a force slammed into his body.
Heaving, he looked down at his hands. "It worked," he smirked, "I managed to sabotage the body."
He then turned toward the trapdoor. Retaining the smirk, he thrust his hand forward. Sith burnt. A force slammed into the trapdoor, and ruptured right through it. Wood splinters pitched about.
The horse neighed in panic, raising to its hind legs. Aran leaped into the air and fell atop the horse's back, grasping at the chord-like black reins with his hands. He then whipped the horse. The horse galloped forward.
As the horses trotted, Aran's eyes began to roll up in his head. He leaned right and continued to lean while atop the horse. In the nick of time—before falling off—Aran straightened out, and steadied.
He then realized he was mounted. He gasped as the horse galloped, trying his best to remain steadied. He veered left and right constantly. His behind slipped along the saddle a multitude of times.
"I don't know how to ride this thing!" He snapped.
"Then why did you take control again, fool!"
"I didn't!" He quickly steadied again.
"You humans just always find ways to lie."
The horse neighed as Aran accidentally tugged at the reins, yanking it to the left in his attempt to steady himself on the saddle again.
"The reins are there to steer the horse, not pull on!"
"You're not helping here, voice!" The horse went straight toward a house.
"Pull away!"
Aran yanked the reins to the left. The horse darted left, missing the house only by a couple of inches. The horse was going straight toward a strange pole. Aran yanked the reins to the left again.
"It is unable to see a thing. Ulfons have better sight than any animal. So you'll have to guide it through the darkness.
The horse neighed in agony.
"I think I'm doing it!" Aran perked up, pulling the reins to the right this time.
"Yes, but keep pulling the reins like that and you'd snap the poor thing's neck."
"Softer? I can do softer." The horse continued to trot.
"We're going to Aradona. Head due north and, for the love of the gods, slow down a bit!"
"How do I do that?"
"Pull backward instead. Notice I said 'pull' and not yank."
The horse squealed as Aran tugged at the reins, almost snapping its neck.
"Oops. That's gotta hurt."
"You fool. I've seen enough … I'm taking control."
Aran felt an invisible force slam into his body. A burning sensation. Then, a freezing one. Finally, he heaved, quickly steadying on the horse.
"Wait," Aran said, "I'm still … me."
He continued steering the horse. He discreetly pulled the reins backward and the horse slowed its pace. Finally, he steered it north.
"Hey, voice-guy, you said head north, yeah?"
He heard no response. He simply shrugged. "I'll take that as a silent yes."