#he is a woodland spooked into the forest clearing i have barely seen him

[ratatatastic]

BOBBY SIGN OF LIFE SWEETHEART ITS BEEN SO LONG

[kosmosian-quills]

Hunted

A scene I was very excited to finally finish! It took me longer than I would have liked. Work commitments and other personal stuff really ate away at my free time. But! Here is the next real story piece!

A few things to warn you about: there’s blood, a neck injury, and a sort of violent death? So if you’re squicky about that please be aware!

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

POV: Anjelika

Just a quick glossary of a few Polish words featured here:

Wstęp wzbroniony - no tresspassing.

Dziadziu - an affectionate term for “grandfather”.

Zkwiatami - a name of a town I invented (lit. “with the flowers”).

The rain is mercilessly pounding against me, cold and bitter and hard as it soaks me completely, chilling me to my core in the night-time wind that gushes through the trees here. It’s cold, so very cold.

But I can’t stop running.

I can barely see 10 feet in front of me, and that makes every single tree root a potentially fatal hazard. My feet are screaming in the shoes I’m wearing, simple black pumps that are absolutely not designed for sprinting through dense woodland after sunset. It’s very dark, in combination with the clouds that block the moon completely from view, as well as the night sky a deep black above and beyond those same clouds. I have no point of reference for where I am even going, I barely even know where I am.

My feet are in control, taking me anywhere, trying to get me away from there.

My lungs are on fire, and my breathing is deep and ragged from my constant and current exertion. I can’t seem to run fast enough, and I feel my heart beating furiously in my chest. My legs feel heavier and heavier with every step I force myself to take in such quick succession.

The man behind me is getting closer. I can hear him.

My feet crunched the leaves and twigs on the forest floor, all damp with the pouring rain yet still barely audible above the rumble of thunder in the distance.

I daren’t look back, it would only slow me down. My only chance is to outrun him. I can’t stop, I won’t stop, I need to keep going!

I can hear him yelling through the environmental chaos at me, but I can’t make out a single word that he’s shouting at me. I don’t want him to get any closer for me to find out. He knows, he knows who I am. He knows, and he wants to take advantage of that. He wants to take me away, send me back, but I don’t want to!

The woodland thinned out a little as I sprinted straight, not noticing the dip in the ground until it was too late. I hadn’t expected the drop – it wasn’t much of a drop – but it was enough to cause me to cry out in surprise. I ended up with my foot submerged in a shallow stream, and I felt my ankle land awkwardly against a rock. Shock from the cold and a sharp pain coursed through me, but it did not stop me. Not because I wanted to, because I needed to.

I was out of the stream within another step yet the momentary hesitation had slowed me down, and that was a few golden seconds that I could not afford to waste. I hated the feeling of my wet feet, I’ll get ill if I don’t – no. Not important. I’ll die, let alone get ill, if he catches me!

Splashes behind me barely a second later told me that he was right there, having just crossed the stream too. I can’t even process what the environment directly in front of me is like because all I can think about is how close he is now. I had not gone far, and I was struggling to breathe now. No amount of casual training with Anja had prepared me for this, and the already waning power of my adrenaline has only gotten me so far.

Not far enough.

I was still fighting to stay ahead of the man, but when I felt a brutal hand pull at the back of my shirt, and I screamed.

“I’ve got you now, you little –!“ I can hear him growl into my ear, something sharp at my side, and the way his voice sent a shiver through me in combination with the bitter air was almost unbearable.

His violent attempt to pull me to a halt, and my own attempt at keeping running, was thwarted by me losing my footing completely. I somehow escaped his grip – at the expense of tumbling down the hill completely out of control.

He seemed to fall immediately after me, but I couldn’t tell. I had screwed my eyes shut, trying to fight back the dizziness from the beating my body was taking. Hitting every single rock and branch. Thankfully no trees.

It’s a brief stumble, but still enough to wind me once the slope levels off.

As I finally roll to a stop at the bottom, well and truly battered by the fall, covered in dirt and soaked with rain, I expect to hear my pursuer recover faster than I and grab me, to try and take me away.

But it doesn’t happen.

I look around for him, and he’s some five feet away from me, behind me, shaking and convulsing, lying on his back staring up at the sky, not knowing or caring that I’m even here. There’s an awful gurgling sound and it takes me a few moments to realise what it is.

As I get up to my feet and step closer, looking over him, I can see clearly what is causing the awful sound.

The man is clutching at his throat, eyes wide with panic and coughing up blood so fast I’m surprised he hasn’t choked. I see the blade embedded in his throat, deep and deadly.

I can feel the colour drain from my face, and my vision dims with a fuzzy feeling, like I’m going to pass out. My legs give in beneath me and I collapse to my knees clutching my stomach. My insides churn and twist and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I can’t look away, somehow. Watching him bleed out in front of me, those awful sounds as he tries to breathe, to speak – something.

The man’s convulsions suddenly stop, and he stills, the blood from that gaping wound spreading onto the ground where he lay, unmoving, lifeless.

Dead.

I can’t hold it back anymore, and I retch up what little I had eaten earlier. My hands are shaking so hard that I grip onto the grass to try and stop them trembling, but even then I can’t.

My throat hurts with my wrecked sobs that I manage to choke up after spitting up all the bile. It hurts, and even breathing hurts here.

I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe it.

I killed a man.

What did I -? Why -?

I didn’t mean to do it, but… I didn’t know he had a knife! I didn’t know he would – I didn’t know he would fall like that, that he would –

The crack of lightning that strikes, and the deep rumble of thunder jolts me back to my senses, clearing my thoughts enough to realise I am still in a lot of trouble.

I stumble backwards, trying to get to my feet without looking at the man’s fresh corpse before I throw up again.

I’m lost, I don’t know where I am, I don’t even know where I can go to from here, but I have to keep going.

I have to.

--- 

I don’t stop for breath until I reach a clearing. The rain is still hammering down, but at least the thunder and lightning has ceased. There’s a huge umbrella of trees above me, granting me a very small shelter. It had leaks and wasn’t very sturdy. But it was enough for now.

I fought to still my trembling hands by folding my arms and keeping them firmly beneath them. I wasn’t even sure now if I was shaking so hard because of the cold, or what I just did.

The sound of that man dying in agony, coughing, spluttering, choking on his own blood. It's louder than the rain, and it's all I can hear.

The cold is brutal and even the breeze is merciless. I'm soaked to the skin, and even if I don't get caught now, I'll probably get pneumonia faster than I can sneeze.

I spin around on the spot slowly as I run my hands up and down my upper arms, trying to get warm, at least a little. My eyes dart around between all of the trees and shrubbery, trying to see if there is another following me. Somewhere in the distance I see something move, so fast I barely saw it, but it disappeared from view faster than I registered it.

My heart skipped a beat. There was someone else, I'm sure of it. I clenched my fists in my stance, trying to keep my breathing steady. Get ready to run. Where? I don't know.

The equally sudden movements from the same place emerged again, and it darted off in the opposite direction. A doe, I think. I probably spooked it.

But it means I am a little bit safer.

A soft crash and a strange squeal caused me to gasp in surprise and I turned sharply around to my right. A squirrel, it looks like, had fallen from the tree and hit a wooden sign, nailed to a post in the ground, on its way down, before dashing off up another tree.

But there was something about the sign... I don't know what, but it seems familiar. It simply read "WSTĘP WZBRONIONY", no trespassing. It's painted red and black and made of wood, most definitely not one that's mass produced in any way. The paint is worn away in many places, and it's even missing the bottom right corner.

Curiously, I step forward to get a closer look, and run my fingers over the brittle birch. I've seen this before, there's an indentation on one of the letters. On the letter "Y" at the end, it's crooked. Part of the paint that remains is oddly shaped.

I know this sign, I've seen it, because I was with Dziadziu when he painted it.

Of course it is. This sign is so old now, probably at least 13 years old, and nature had taken its toll on it.

My heart flutters as I reel in the memories. That means one thing.

His cottage is somewhere around here. Dziadziu.

That means shelter, warmth. Of course it is. We had stopped in Zkwiatami before...

No, stop it. I have to keep going. Have to stay safe.

I’m not totally familiar with the woods that surrounded his land, but I’m almost positive that the sign would lead me closer to it. If I just keep going in this direction, I should reach it eventually… or at least, I’ll reach something.

Now fuelled by the sheer prospect of being able to get warm and dry at last, I set off in the direction the sign was leading towards. The journey didn’t seem nearly as treacherous, nor hopeless. It seemed promising and welcome. I just need to get there.

The woods still seemed as nondescript and overgrown as the rest of it, nothing that signalled that any kind of house is nearby. But then again, Dziadziu has been dead for almost 5 years now. It’s mother’s house, and she never sold it or gave it away. It should be empty, and that means it’s safe. At least for now. No one will have come on down here, or at least, no one should have come down here.

In the darkness I nearly miss it, I nearly go straight past it.

A fence that does not fit the rest of the forest. It’s a stone fence, just barely visible in my peripheral vision, and yet it’s the most welcome thing I’ve seen so far. I waste no time in making my way there, rushing over and feeling the rush of euphoria that everything is as I remember it.

The uniform yet haphazard cobbles all encasing the moderate space of land that made up the small farm, the expanse of greenery, of overgrown weeds, flowers and ivy. The old greenhouse and shed over in the far corner, the stone path that weaves among the various parts of the garden, the fruit trees that line the wall still tall and proud, with a few still bearing fruit. The water barrels that are connected to the drainpipes on the cottage and the greenhouse, overflowing clearly from the amount of rain that will have fallen since they were last used. There are no tools laying around, like I remember. They were probably locked up in the shed, if not been taken by someone who will be alive to use said tools.

The cottage seems untouched and unused, the silhouette still visible as I recall everything about it. The wooden shutters over every window, the thatched roof with the wood burning stove, littered with leaves from every nearby tree. The flower boxes that lined the outside of the cottage were devoid of colour but full of weeds, out of control and not particularly appealing. I remember watering those when they were real flowers. There’s still a plant pot just outside the door, and I hope I can get in somehow. If necessary, I can always break a window. I’d rather not, but I can.

Before I even climb the wall, I spot the larger tree not far from where I stand, in the open area just outside the perimeter, that still has that rope swing there. The simple wooden plank tied to a sturdy branch by a thick rope. Still and unmoving, the rope slightly worn, probably from its use and the time that had passed since it was last used. When was the last time I used it, I wonder? When I was around 10? 11? 12? I don’t know, I can’t remember. It’s been too long, yet I remember the feeling that came from Dziadziu pushing me on that swing. It is so nice to think about, his gentle pushes, my laughter as I flew through the air on that seat. I probably sat on it much later on, when I visited him, even as they grew more infrequent because I was growing up faster than I would like. I’m sure he thought the same thing.

The wall is not too high, just barely above my chest, but I clambered over the stones with some difficulty thanks to the pouring rain, but managed to plant my feet in to the familiar ground.

I raced over, looking in every window, hoping for a sign that there was no one in there. I don’t think there is, I doubt anyone would want to come to a derelict cottage anyway. I don’t know how many people from around here would know whose house this technically belongs to – the Queen no less – and I wonder if they would even try to break in knowing that very fact.

I trip over my own feet as I cross the garden. Was it though? I thought I tripped on something. But no matter, I wasn’t injured any more than I already am. I just need to get inside.

Finally at the door, I try the handle, and it doesn’t budge. It’s rusty, of course, but there’s nothing I can do to stop that. It is an old house after all. I doubt there would be any keys here, not when mother would have all of them. It seems very counterproductive.

Frustrated and desperate, I look around for another way in. There has to be one. The front door maybe? But that may be just as locked as this one.

I rush around and find it just as locked, and I am not willing to try and break down a door. I don’t have that kind of strength here.

I catch sight of the windows to the living room just to the left of the door. They are two separate windows, but I have to do a double take. I can see that one of the windows is slightly open. It’s barely noticeable, and I don’t even want to ask why because I’m so grateful. The hinge is at the top, but from what I remember, it should be possible to climb inside. I think it opens wide enough for that, and all I want is to be in there. I can’t see the inside of the living room, the blinds are drawn.

I’m not surprised, of course. I try slipping my fingers in the gap at the bottom, and it’s stuck. With a little bit of persistence, I manage to open the window properly, and I can barely contain my excitement.

I prop the window open with my arm as far as it will go, and stand on the flower box at my feet. This may be difficult, but I’m halfway there. I don’t stop though, I’m so close.

Within a minute of determined trying and almost undignified movements, I was finally inside.

I had emerged through the blinds, and slammed the window shut behind me, finally at peace with the sound of silence. The rain outside was so far away from me now. I felt myself shudder as I simply kneel there on the ground, trying to get warm, finally out of the storm outside.

I’m so focussed on my attempts at warming myself up that I don’t notice the feeling of something cold, hard and round pressed against the back of my neck.

“Hands on your head. Now.”

[royal-babey]

Lily

I wrote angst and it hurts like hell and oh god I cried whilst writing it.

Featuring my OC’s Nico and Dima Mahariel, and their father Revas Mahariel.

TW’s for blood, death, slavery, and just a shitton of angst.

-

In the forests of Antiva, walked three Dalish Elves.

Keeper of Clan Mahariel, Revas Mahariel, accompanied his young twin sons into the wild woodlands to show them the foundations of survival. This was something the family did often, at least twice a week if possible, and it was valuable time together for them. Revas’s Keeper duties often kept him busy, and sometimes unable to spend time with his sons at all.

He had a son walking on either side of him, both clutching his significantly larger hands tightly. Dmitri Mahariel chatted away happily to his Father, rambling on about anything that caught his interest or something exciting that had happened to him earlier that week. His younger brother, Nikolai Mahariel, was quite happy to walk in silence, allowing his brother to do the talking for the both of them.

Revas couldn’t be happier. Of course if his ex-wife could be here, that would make things even better. Revas regularly mourned the fact that the twins would not grow up without a motherly influence in their lives, but they seemed to be doing just fine.

‘’-and then and then!!! Nini made a scary face and said ‘You pee the bed Daerian.’ Daerian went running crying back to his Mamae and I got my stick sword back!!!’’

Revas was snapped out of his thoughts as Dima’s excitable voice raised in pitch as he told his Father his story, and there was a very indignant ‘Dima!’ from Nico as Revas let out a chuckle in amusement. He then looked down to his left to see a very sheepish Nico kicking a small rock across the grassy forest floor.

‘’Is that true, da’fen?’’

Nico just shrugged as a response, then muttered ‘’He was being mean…’’

Revas couldn’t argue with that.

Every now and then, the elder Elf would stop beside a bush, either with oddly coloured berries or flowers, and attempt to tell the twins the properties of them. It was important they knew these things in case of emergencies. They were useful after all.

The twins genuinely did try their best to pay attention, but it was a struggle. And by the time they were an hour and a bit into their fathers lessons, they had all but given up on trying to listen.

Revas could see this, and figured he should give the twins something to enjoy instead. He sat them down on the abnormally gigantic roots of an ancient oak tree, that spiralled and gnarled in on itself both above and below the ground, and shielded them from the hot sun with its tall branches and large leaves. After he had gotten their attention, he held up a clenched fist, and smiled.

‘’Watch this, boys.’’

The boys watched in wonder as their Father’s fist glowed green, and gasped quietly when he opened it to reveal two stark white flowers where there had been nothing before. The twins recognised them to be lilies, and Dima bounced on the spot excitedly where as Nico was still staring, though he did have a small smile on his lips.

Revas reached forward, braiding the lilies into the boys long black hair one by one. They reached up to gently feel them at the same time, before lunging forward to hug their Father.

‘’That was so cool, Baban!!!’’

‘’Thank you, Baban…’’

Revas just grinned and hugged his boys back, laughing quietly to himself at their reactions. He loved making them smile.

And with a lily, he hoped to pass on their mother’s love. For that was her name, after all…

They were a happy family despite everything. A close knit and loving family.

Though like Revas had described to the twins once before, when a beloved Clan Halla passed away, the Creators often liked to pick the most beautiful things from this earth that they belovedly created.

Revas could not help the twitching of his pointed ears as he picked up on an abnormal sound coming from the east. They were outside of Clan hunting territory, so no one should be here…

That’s when he heard it. The sound of men laughing uproariously. They were no voices the Keeper recognised, and he froze to the spot, arms tensing around his children.

Humans. Human hunters had come to these woods.

Revas knew how much danger they were in instantly, and leapt to his feet. He easily picked up the twins, one in each arm, and took off running deeper into the forest. He knew these woods well, expertly avoiding upturned routes or particularly sharp rocks, taking almost completely hidden turns, getting past the more dangerous wildlife without getting so much as a second glance.

Nico and Dima were terrified, but knew to be quiet when their Father seemed to sense danger. They had not heard the humans, therefore having no idea what was wrong.

The Shemlen had heard Revas taking off though, footfalls much too heavy in his panic to get his children to safety to attempt stealth. They assumed he was a deer, having been spooked by their loudness. Revas could hear the beating of the horses hooves getting closer, and realised even if he were to make it back to the Clan in time, he would surely doom them.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

Sliding to a stop in front of a particularly large bush, he kneeled down, and placed his children behind it. He signaled for them to be quiet, and they agreed without question, nodding their heads to show they understood.

Revas knew that what he was about to do...May not turn out how he hoped.

So he hugged them both tightly, and whilst pulling away, slipped his necklace off over his head. It was made of shedded Halla antler, with intricate Elven symbols and words carved into it. He handed it to Dima, his lips trembling despite his trying to keep everything under control. He gripped Dima’s shoulders tightly, tight enough to make him wince involuntarily, and spoke in a panicked but hushed tone to his son, who had, as well as his brother, barely seen their tenth summer.

‘’I need you to promise me, Dima...Promise that no matter what, you will protect your brother. You will protect the clan. You will grow strong, and always protect those you love. Do you understand? Be strong.’’

Dima didn’t hesitate in answering, whispering a very determined ‘’Of course I promise Baban.’’ But also; ‘’What’s wrong though? You’re coming back, right?’’

Revas let out a shuddered breath, and gave his sons the best smile he could muster.

‘’Ar lath ma, ma len. I love you both so much...Be strong.’’

Before they could even question, Revas was taking off running into the clearing not far from them. Where the twins could see what was going on...Revas forced himself to stand his ground despite his fear as the humans approached, pulling his staff from his back and gripping it tightly as they pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted.

One human, with pale skin and a bald head, paired with a horribly patchy beard, was the first to approach Revas. Behind him were two more humans, dressed head to toe in armour. Revas couldn’t see their faces, though he could feel their stares.

He forced himself to greet the men in perfect trade with a smile, as wary as it may look, and a short bow.

‘’Greetings, outsiders.’’

He didn’t even get a greeting back, instead, the man in front of him just snarled, looking him up and down.

‘’Lookie here, boys. A knife ear, right here. Looks like we may not need to look for their damned camp so hard after all.’’

Revas tensed, knowing instantly who these men must be. Slavers, probably for the black market in the main city of Antiva. He reached back with his free hand to scratch nervously at his ear lobe, needing something to do as he answer, even if he wasn’t exactly asked a question.

‘’I-I beg your pardon? You can’t-’’

Revas was cut off by a sharp sword pointing directly at his neck, causing him to go stock still, too afraid to even breathe.

The man growled, pressing the blade against Revas’s neck. Enough to draw blood, for the moment, and make the Elf hiss slightly in pain.

‘’Shut your mouth, knife ear. Now listen closely. We know it isn’t just you here. We saw a stuffed toy on the ground. And you were quite happy to run just a moment ago...Who are you protecting? Your knife eared kid? Kids? Oh, the Crows would pay a pretty sum for some young Elves to train up.’’

Revas felt sick to his stomach. He wasn’t about to negotiate with some slavers, just so they could go hunt some other people.

So that left him one choice.

Carefully, he took a step back, and twirled his staff in hand.

‘’I’m not telling you anything, Shemlen!’’

He inhaled, ready to shout a spell, one powerful enough to knock them down and give him

time to run with the boys-

When instead it turned into a breathless gasp of pain, and he looked down to see a sword running right through his gut.

From behind the bush, there was a whimper, the leaves rustling as Nico attempts to get up to run to his Father. He’s stopped by Dima however, who yanks him down by the back of his shirt, and straddles him to keep him from trying again. Nico tries to yell for Revas, but Dima covers his younger brothers mouth and despite the tears forming in his own eyes as Nico writhes and struggles, whispers harshly for him to quit it.

Nico doesn’t see what Dima sees. Doesn’t see as the men kick Revas down onto his back. Doesn’t witness them sneering and taunting Revas as he bleeds out, amethyst eyes formerly shining with life beginning to go dull as he stares up at the sky. His lips barely moving as he words a silent prayer to Falon’din to guide his soul to the Beyond, the Creator who’s Vallaslin he has proudly worn since seventeen years of age.

He doesn’t see as Revas’s throat is slit easily by a spear tossed to the man who had also stabbed him, then thrust through the Keepers exposed chest.

Eventually, the humans get sick of mutilating the now dead Elf’s form. The murderer declaring Revas must have left the twins at the great oak tree and had instead tried to lure them away and distract them.

They mount their horses, and ride off. As soon as their horses beating hooves can no longer be heard, Dima and Nico get up, running over to their father’s unmoving form. He couldn’t be dead. Surely he was just badly injured, would still be breathing.

But there’s blood. Too much blood for any mortal man to surely survive. His dark skin is now an ashen colour, and his eyes are glazed over and lifeless. His expression is slack, and his chest…

It certainly isn’t moving.

Dima stands staring, completely frozen. He can’t tear his eyes off of their Fathers, their Babans, corpse. Nico however, collapses to his knees.

And he screams. A scream so heart wrenching it scares off any animals in the immediate vicinity. A scream filled with such unimaginable grief and fear and anger that it doesn’t sound human at all.

Dima can only drop down beside him, tears rolling silently down his cheeks as he reaches for Revas’s hand. Earlier it was warm, warm as Dima clung to it, warm as he pulled his Father behind him and swung and laughed and...Warm as Dima thought about how much he trusted that warmth to always be there...But now it was cold, and Dima could feel the remnants of Revas’s body heat slowly fading away.

‘’Papa…’’

He could barely mutter it. Beside him, Nico had begun to sob, clothing beginning to turn red with their Father’s blood soaking into it. He rested his head on Revas’s chest, hair mostly obscuring his face from his elder twins view.

And from his hair fell the lily Revas had left in it just twenty minutes ago. It landed in the puddle of blood just beside Revas’s body, and Dima could have sworn he heard his Father whispering the word- No. The name, Lily, in the small breeze that blew past them all.

Dima could only pull Nico to him, trying to find some comfort in his brothers still warm body despite the chilling aura that had settled in the area.

They only had each other now, meaning Dima was determined more than ever before now to keep his promise to their Father.

He would protect Nico with his life.