Lone Wolf

Chapter 2: Storybrooke

Long ago, in a faraway land...

The large pond was calm and quiet. About half of the pond was frozen over, the ice thick enough to walk on in most places; the water of the other half was still, with only the occasional ripple disturbing the mirror-like image of the moonlit sky overhead.

Then, quite abruptly, the surface of the water burst upwards with a loud splash, as a pair of hands broke the surface, grasping the edge of the ice. They were followed quickly by two muscular arms, and then by a head and shoulders.

Gasping and coughing up water, a young man hauled himself out onto the ice, crawling painfully across the frozen surface until he was out of the water. Shaking, he scrambled across the ice and onto the cold, sandy shore at the edge of the pond.

The young man collapsed once he had reached the soft sand, rolling onto his back. His face was lean and sculpted, with prominent cheekbones and full lips. His eyes were an unusually bright blue, and his spiked-up hair was a shade of blonde so pale that it was almost pure white.

Coughing weakly, the boy stared up at the sky, his breathing rasping and shallow. He blinked repeatedly, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

Where... where am I? he thought.

Rolling onto his side, he looked around, examining the area in which he found himself. Again, there was nothing to be seen. Only the pond, shining in the silver moonlight; the dark trees all around; and the moon, hanging in the sky overhead.

The young man picked himself up, managing to rise to his hands and knees. He discovered, to his surprise, that, although he was soaked to the bone, and there was snow and ice all around him, he was not nearly as cold as he would have expected. In fact, it felt as if he wasn't cold at all.

And, also to his surprise, he didn't have the faintest idea how he had gotten there.

He frowned in confusion. How... how did I get here? The last thing I remember is...

After a long moment, his eyes widened in shock.

He couldn't remember anything. The first memory he could find was of waking up at the bottom of the pond a couple of minutes ago. Before that, there was nothing; only darkness, and cold.

He couldn't remember anything about himself. He couldn't remember his name, his age, where he was from, whether he had a family... nothing.

"Who am I?" he whispered, his voice rasping from coughing up icy water. "What... what's my name?"

Whatever had happened to him, he reasoned, he couldn't stay here; he'd freeze to death. His best chance was to start walking, and see if he could find a house somewhere that could give him food and warm clothes.

He managed to gain his feet, with great effort, and then started walking away, heading off into the forest. As he walked, though, one of his feet bumped against something.

Looking down, he was surprised to see a large tree branch lying on the sand, at his feet. The branch appeared to have been crafted into a staff of some kind, about five feet long with an intricate curve at one end.

"Might be useful," he muttered to himself, reaching down and picking up the staff. Leaning on it as if it were a cane, he limped off into the forest, his balance becoming surer with each step.

On the one hand, he had no idea who he was, where he was, and where he had come from. He didn't know where he was going, or why he had awoken at the bottom of a frozen pond to begin with.