The days of old
He was walking down some street, in some town.
Thinking of the past again. He turned around a corner, not thinking about where he was going. Looking at his shoes he tried to remember where he had bought them, by now they were worn-out and dirty, but they had once been new.
They had come from world that is no more, just like himself. Made by a man who was long dead. It saddened him. Not that he acually new who had made his shoes, but to think that even things as trivial as his shoes were now a rarity made him think of all the things he has lost. Of all the friends he has lost.
Then he heard it. Footsteps. Somewhere behind him. Something within him, something that was old very old and incredibly strong, moved inside him. It urged him to turn around and slay whoever dared to break his train of thoughts. It took a lot of willpower for him to surpress that impulse.
Instead he just kept walking. "Just someone on their way home, minding their own buissnes", he though. But the feeling wouldn't go away, something was off. Something was here that was not supposed to.
He looked around, inspecting his surroundings. He saw every crack in the brickstone wall to his right. He saw all the traces that he raindrops had left on the walls on the house a few blocks ahead of him. He saw the hairs of a cat, a long haired one, on the window a car. But everything was okay. „It's just my imagination“, he told himself, knowing that he could never convince what lured inside him.
He kept walking down the street. He was just about to turn around the corner when he realized what it been that had made him feel so funny.
Within a hearthbeat he turned around and dashed towards the person walking behind him. Not even a second later he stood behind them. But... there was noone. The street was empty. It was only him.
He closed his eyes and listened. He could hear hearthbeats. Many of them, coming from the buildings around him. He heard a cat, somewhere to his right. He could hear an old clock ticking, a few miliseconds off, in a high building somewhere next to the cat. But nothing unusual.
So he shut down his sense of hearing as well. Breathing in the cold night air. Yet there still was nothing. Nothing that one wouldn't expect on a street such at this, alteast.
But suddenly he felt something. It was more of a hint than an acual feeling, but it was enough for Malembro. He sprinted towards it. It only took him a few moments to cross the three blocks that stood between him and his target. He moved faster than any eyes could possibly see. Even his own eyes, trained over the years, could only see blurry shades. So he closed them. He felt with senses way deeper than those of seeing or hearing. And there it was...
Ps: Some, who have followed the journey of a great ka-tet might notice that my character is loosely based on a certain gunslinger from a world which has since moved on