Cut Off

"Shit." Even her voice sounded different to her now. There was something harsh about it in her own head. "This is so bad," she added, gripping her hands together before moving them up and squeezing her wrists.

Ulrika had been unable to understand the language of this place for nearly three hours now. Confused and frustrated, based over terror, she had left her friends in the village. Even Bear had felt awkward to her, and that's where she had lost grip on her nerves. They were shattered and she was trying to not cry as she sat on a large boulder. The rock was half in a lake, which slapped against it in a steady rhythm. Its reliability helped Ulrika to ease her thoughts and try to go one step at a time.

A tear slid down her cheek, and before she could wipe it away, it fell and landed in the lake. She watched the tiny ripples spread out, breathing deep even as her lower lip trembled. How was she supposed to do anything if she couldn't understand what people were saying to her? Where was Bates? Ulrika paused, then squeezed her wrists and moved her hands up to her shoulders and hugged them. Was he okay?

She noticed larger ripples had come and crashed into her tear ripples, as if something large had just barely touched the surface of the water. Instinctively, she pulled her feet away from the water and scooted back on the rock. She had come to distrust almost every mundane occurrence that happened - first she had met a strange wooden spirit, the next time she had been nearly killed by a water lion who then decided that instead he would teach her to roar after she screamed at him, and she couldn't forget the raven lady who had nearly outed Bates but had apparently swiftly developed a soft spot for Ulrika and her platinum eyes.

A form slithered just under the surface of the water, breaching to expose copper scales that shimmered in the sun. Ulrika frowned, that was way too big to be a fish. Or at least any fish Ulrika knew of. Who knew what kind of 'monster fish' they had here? It was moving toward her swiftly, she could barely make out the outline of its tail. Rising to her feet, Ulrika moved away from the edge of the water just as a hand reached up over the rock - a human hand, with what looked like webbing strung between the fingers.

A man's head followed, with slicked back black hair with grey laced through it at the temples, and auburn eyes. His nose was perfectly straight and his cheeks were rough, the left had a scar ripping down it to his chin. He caught her gaze as he folded both his arms over the rock, exposing sharp fins that jutted out from his forearms, and scales speckled his skin the same copper color as his tail.

"Why such tears?" he asked with a husky voice, deep and gravely.

Ulrika started, she understood every word he said. This couldn't be real - she had to be hallucinating. Of all the creatures that she could understand without Bates near... it had to be a merman!

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Dierdre's Discovery

Sun. It's bright. It hurts my eyes at first but I love it. It makes me warm all over, all together. All of me, it feels like...

I do not know the word. I've never had one, so I forgot it. It's somewhere between the tanks of my family.

But! But that's not the best part. Cainus gave me a ball, and he said to eat it. It was red. It's blood was so sweet. The flesh was firm against my teeth and so it needed biting. It was biteable.

Then the things came. The looked like Papa but... but... their smiles were not cold, they were dark. The sun's light made their long teeth glitter and the sun was brighter because of the writhing dark in their smiles. My stomach trembled.

Cainus fought, and after he killed I fought too and it was easy. I felt good. But it was not fun. It hurt, they were angry like Papa was angry and I had to break them so the anger came out with their blood.

Then the Gisil came. He's bigger than Papa was, and when he smiles his eyes close and his cheeks have dents in them. He looks at me soft and likes to play with my horns and it's weird but okay. Then he picks me up and gives me what he calls a hug and I laugh and feel warm all over. He's like a Papa-Sun.

He has a Cainus too, but he is called Freykis and they know each other. Freykis can't see but he knows and the first thing he did was give me a bath with his tongue and I still don't know if I liked it or not. Clean is good. So it was worth it.

Freykis is worried like Cainus worries. Gisil tells me not to worry but his mouth and eyes and cheeks are sad when he looks at his bow and then at my claws.

Sad is not good. I won't make him sad.

So I do not worry.

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Gisil's Resolution

It's just a little kid.

No, seriously. Sure she's got some strange bits - like horns - but from what I'm looking at she's just a little girl with big diamond-like eyes. Actually, she looks a lot like her hunting-hound. So she's a Hunter. A Hunter with eyes that reflect the world she looks at.

That's good. By the way Freykis was reacting I thought I was coming after a Killer - I didn't think children could be Killers.

She's pretty cute though, except when she starts gnawing on my bracer. Still, if ever there was a kid who loved hugs, she's it. It takes Cainus grabbing her by the nape like a pup to get her to release. Not that I mind - being a Hunter is pretty lonely at times. Towns don't really get the difference between us and them. The girl would only freak them out even more, they wouldn't be able to distinguish her from a Killer.

I'll keep her with me. Freykis is still scenting something wrong, and if the girl is a Hunter then she'll be able to help. I can't say that reassures me much though - I can't swallow the idea of putting her against the Killers. She should be playing all day, until it's time for her mum to put her to bed.

What happened to her parents anyway? When I asked her she went very quiet and stared off into the middle distance, running mentally from the question until I changed the subject.

I guess now isn't really the best time for having kids anyway - not with whatever is coming. Freykis just insists we hunt more determinedly. The Killers' numbers have been growing out of control.

I guess Dierdre doesn't have a choice. Her play will have to be the Hunt.

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Gisil's Hunt

I'm a Hunter. I have a monster-hound who is blind. He's still the best, and he will be at my side until I die. I asked him once what he will do when I die – he was quiet for a long time.

We stay away from people because they aren't very comfortable with neither me nor Freykis. It's fine. I can't say I wouldn't act the same if the hound hadn't found me as a child.

There are monsters that will kill on sight. Some of them are human. They're called Killers, easy to remember huh? I was caught by a bunch of Killers, then Freykis appeared as if forming from the shadows themselves. I never understood why Freykis saved me, and he refuses to talk about it.

I guess he just liked my smell. When we sleep he stuffs his giant head under my cloak and groans whenever I move.

There's been something strange spreading through the forest and I know Freykis can feel it, but hasn't commented on it. Weird because other than particular personal questions, the hound is a critic of everything. I often have to grab one of his massive horns and yank his head to the side to quiet him down. Oddly enough the only thing he does not criticize are children. I think he has a fondness for them, or he just really wants pups.

Freykis stops, and lifts his head to the sky and inhales deeply through his nose. I watch a ripple travel through his fur as he shudders. A scar on my back aches. It is from Freykis stepping on me during my childhood rescue – his lethal claws had easily scraped into my soft flesh by mistake.

Just as I wonder what Freykis is scenting, he turns to me and shakes his head. The ache grows worse. I tell him my scar hurts, and he closes his eyes as if I just confirmed some inner dread. He tells me we have a new Hunt, and that we have to move fast.

Our actions will speak to either salvation, or the ruination of everything.

Freykis tells me that when I die he will sleep on my grave until I find him again.

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Dierdre's Ambition

I threw up.

It was red. I threw up Papa's blood. It tasted good at first but I do not want it anymore. It doesn't taste good coming out. My stomach hurts. Cainus says he worries.

About me? I do not understand.

I understand that Cainus was hungry. He was starving. Papa starved him to keep him weak said Cainus. So Cainus ate Papa. After I killed him. Then I threw up.

Tingles move all over my body and I don't like it – I rub my arms my legs. I brush the invisible dust away but still it tingles. I grip my horns and shake my head. Something is wrong.

Cainus stays in Papa's office with all the machines. He moves to the big metal doors that have never been opened. I follow. I hold his tail because I don't want to get lost.

Cainus says we have to get out. I ask why. He says there is nothing to hunt here, and I will starve. I will die. He won't. He will just go to sleep until someone finds him.

I am like him. I want to go to sleep until someone finds us. Cainus says he does not know how much like him I am. I am like him a lot. I tell him that. He rests his big head against my chest. He says he wants me to be just like him – exactly like him.

One time Papa yelled at me for playing with a lever I found. I pulled on it, and everything shook. Then I pushed on it, and everything shook again. It was fun. Papa screamed and knocked me away, then locked the room.

I tell Cainus. I cry at the end. Cainus licks my face.

We will get out.

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Claramond's Sight

I can feel it. Something is there. Something is coming.

It had been so quiet before, so I ignored it. It was a beat, a thrum. It pulsed through me far softer than a heartbeat – but cold. Why did I not pay attention?

It is not of the land – it is separate, but within. Sealed?

No. Trapped. I taste the suffering loneliness. The bitter tang turns metallic: blood. Echoing screams fade, and return as laughter. Red life decorates a child's lip, a child's fangs.

I struggle with the sensations. They are not mine, but they resound through me and I can't escape. There is an illness, it has been spreading across the land unseen and unheard and unfelt by everyone except the most willing to listen.

Hunters. Killers. They are the only ones that listen.

The priests, the scholars – fools.

The sun still shines. The fields still grow. The livestock are fat and the trade is good. All is well to them but not to me.

I am no killer – I am no hunter. I have sent some to their deaths, by my word – so by that there is blood on my hands that I cannot see. So I see the sickness – or is it that I am the sickness?

An image suddenly sharpens before my blind eyes. A dead human male, wearing a long, white coat. His throat is crushed, neck broken, the major blood line punctured. His attacker is shrouded in shadow, as if darkness itself is attempting to coddle the small figure – to protect it from my gaze.

I reach out, but a growl stops me. A warning. It is a sound I have not heard in centuries. What would such a creature – a monster – be doing there? What has that human male done? What did he bring upon us?

I blink and the image scatters. I see nothing. My heart pumps cold - pumps dread. We are too late.

A child will be our ruin.

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Even old souls can be little brats

"You little brat," screeched the pear shaped man in a rather effeminate way, "I need that!"

"You don't need," Mixxy answered, ducking under a curtain of ivy that hung in the door to the fort. Her tiny frame easily avoided the man's desperate snatches. "You want. It's different!"

"You don't understand," he wailed. His hands slammed into the ivy, stopping short - as if the ivy was a wall and not a curtain. He pounded his fists against the plants behind which Mixxy was taking refuge, the glowing white butterfly cupped safely in her hands. "What is this? This isn't fair! Come back out here."

"What a baby," she said to her insect friend, peeking carefully between the ropes of green.

"Mr. Trade!" The man had turned away, exposing more rips and tears in the quality material of his suit, and screamed into the darkness.  "Jack. I need help!"

"You cannot be serious," said a new, lower voice. It made Mixxy flinch and pull the butterfly closer to her chest protectively - it was a bad voice. "It is but a child."

"I can't reach her. She's gone into that shabby pile of sticks. It won't let me in."

"Go away or I'll get a bear to eat you, and your hat," Mixxy threatened, keeping herself out of view even as she tried to see who the other person was that the crazy suit-man was talking to. Jack's voice came from all directions, so even the nature-prone Mixxy couldn't locate where the owner was.

"Why you little--"

"Calm, calm," said Mr. Trade. The sound of crunching leaves reached Mixxy, but she couldn't see where they were being crushed. "It is quite simple, we flush her out."

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Never expect fantasy to leave a character frustrated.

Ulrika waved her hand violently toward Gisil to tell him not to follow. She knew it was the very first sword fighting lesson, but she still felt disheartened at the ease at which Gisil moved and struck when she struggled to even keep her weight properly distributed over her feet. It always takes time, Gisil had said, his voice stern but understanding. She understood that, and it make sense, yet she had still been hoping she had just an innate ability to kick ass.

If there was one thing she had to do when wound up tight, it was meaningless, steady repetition. Of anything. Blinking, Ulrika realized that she had stormed right out into the center of the fallow field, and let out a slow sigh. It would do. Kneeling into the dirt and decomposing plant matter, she started to dig. Her skin became stained with dark brown earth that had flecks of vibrant colors of purple and red, sometimes yellow. She couldn't tell if those were minerals or bits of plant, but what really surprised was pulling out a small, round object that seemed to be made entirely of wood.

After just a brief moment of sitting cupped in her palms, the object unwound tiny arm and leg like appendages and wobbled up to stand. Now it looked like a very round person, with all the weight down in the hips and a narrow chest. Its face was a leaf, with big, round eyes that reminded Ulrika of cat's eye marbles. It stared at her, then flapped its arms up and down and spun around delicately on one leg like a ballerina. It then squeaked several times in different tones, as if talking to her.

"Erm," she said, still confused on what it could possibly be. She reached down with her finger and held it out in front of the small wooden creature. "I'm Ulrika, hello?"

The creature grabbed onto her finger with both its little arms - which confused Ulrika even more because it didn't appear to have fingers - and shook it up and down exuberantly. Then it whistled and a small, purple flower bloomed on the top of its head. Ulrika figured this must be a good sign, the strange little thing seemed happy. Or it could be planning to eat her, but that seemed ridiculous.

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Unbound

"How are your senses?" Edwyn asked, keeping his tone gentle and low. The girl was rather jittery, and Alarik's boisterous speaking voice made her jump out of her skin.

"Everything is still so much," the girl gasped, her voice strained and unused to making pitch and emotion.

"Yes, well," Edwyn said. "We'll take it slow."

"Are you hungry?" Alarik asked, standing next to the bed where Edwyn and the girl sat. He leaned down, putting his face close to hers, and ignored Edwyn's chiding of personal space. "Anything you want, we have plenty of money, trust me."

"What's your name?" Edwyn said, waving Alarik away with a stern expression.

"Titania," she answered. She was wringing the hem of her tattered skirt in her hands, her eyes darting frantically between the two men who were much taller than she was.

"Ah I love that name!" Alarik blurted out. He clapped his hands - his smile was as wide as it was honest. Such a pretty girl with a pretty name was definitely something that could put the well intentioned man into a very good mood.

"Alarik," Edwyn said severely, puncturing several holes in the blonde's exuberance bucket with barely more than a look. "If you would please settle down and get us something to eat. You're rattling her more than those devices did."

"Spoil sport," Alarik spat petulantly, then shuffled off with a huff.

"I-" Titania sputtered, rubbing her stomach as if she had an ache. "I.. I mean it's okay, he's.. he's nice and I ap.. appreciate..." Her voice faded away when Edwyn lifted a hand in a gentle motion of requesting her to be at ease.

"I understand, however if he gets too excited he sometimes cannot control his own magic. He's been trained well, but having an element such as fire is very wild no matter how much control you have."

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Close on Mixxy

Mixxy was playing in her backyard when she heard the white butterfly scream. It had passed her earlier, when she had just started to dig in the garden to plant bulbs of bright yellow flowers that would balance the colors again. There was too much green. Mixxy had let it land on her hands, and asked it to play, but it had said it was in a hurry and had to leave. Someone was chasing it. She had been disappointed; the butterfly shimmered with a soft light and reminded her of a full moon in insect form.

So, she told the butterfly to go to the fort - the one that she and Antoine had built - it was safe there. The butterfly told her not to follow, it was too dangerous. Although Mixxy disagreed that something could be too dangerous for her, she did what the butterfly said - she didn't want to upset it more than it already was.

She knew it was the white butterfly that had screamed, she could feel it in the base of her spine. It felt just like when she went to get her hair cut and the nice hairdresser lady tilted her head back into the basin to wash her long, blond locks.

"Help! Help me please!" Mixxy heard. The sound bounced off the back wall of her house, and it seemed like it was coming in at her from all sides. The voice was barely a whisper, but it rang in Mixxy's ears and made her flinch and drop her digging tools to cover her ears with her hands.

"I'm coming, Butterfly!" she called back, cupping her hands around her mouth. Without hesitation, she ran away from her house and toward the back woods, pausing only to turn a small statue of a faerie around so that it was pointing into the forest. Antoine would know to come get her - he always knew, but she turned the faerie just in case.

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The Green Faerie

Ulrika ducked under the long branch that Gisil held aloft for her, and took a quick look around. It wasn't that she didn't believe her friend about "The Green Faerie," but where she was from that title referred to absinthe. A hallucinogenic liquor - illegal in her home country of America though, at least if it was distilled from wormwood with all its drug like properties intact. She was in a new, mystical land after all, but she just couldn't shake the train of thought.

The air inside the grove felt warm and wet against Ulrika's skin, nearly to the point of discomfort. It made her aware of each part of her body that was exposed to the air. It even smelled wet, but at least it was the kind of wet that came after a spring shower - earthy and soothing. In the center was a small pool of water that was an emerald color, with a tall, smooth stone covered in moss rising from the center. It was tucked between the curling roots of a great oak that stretched high out of sight.

"This place is strange," Ulrika said, catching sight of Bates settling onto a high branch to observe. That's all he seemed to do, was observe. He never really interfered with her decisions other than to devil's advocate her til she ignored him.

"So you can feel it in the air?" Gisil asked curiously. He didn't look as unsettled here. "I have never been here before, but I've been told only certain types of people can feel the presence of the faerie before she even exposes herself."

"So it's a real faerie?" Ulrika gazed into the green colored pool, frowning skeptically.

"Yes. Though if you can't sense her on your own terms, you can always drink from the pool to call her to you."

Ulrika blanched. So it was absinthe. This place had naturally occurring absinthe? She took a closer look at what she thought was an oak and wondered if instead it was a wormwood tree - but wormwood was a bush wasn't it? Did this place have wormwood trees instead?

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Will on the Weapon

Ulrika jerked her shoulder back, barely avoiding her opponent's strike. She was having trouble dealing with the reach of his weapon, a pole-arm, compared to her short sword. Gisil used a long sword when training her, but he had been focusing mostly on her footwork and having her use her lighter frame and flexibility to gain and advantage.

That was hard when the dick she was fighting had six-foot reach and could apparently use the entire weapon - blade and haft - as a dangerous implement. Ulrika had bruises on her ribs and over her gut under the heavy material of her tunic. It took all of her attention and whatever skill she had learned to not already by cut up and impaled by the sword-on-a-stick.

"You have surprised me," said Cristalf as he twirled his weapon around his body, "it's quite cute, actually, watching you flutter around my blade in a panic."

"Oh shut up, you pompous dick," Ulrika answered as she charged. She accepted the bash of the pole-arm's haft on her elbow as she struck out with her short sword. Already she knew she was too far away to connect, and that infuriated her. Why couldn't the damn blade just be longer? Even if it was the length of Gisil's longsword would be fine enough. "Damnit! BE A FUCKING LONGSWORD!" she thought bitterly.

The sound of metal sliding against metal filled the air, then it turned into a wet crunch, as if Ulrika had just sheathed her weapon into bag filled with meat. She stared, as did Cristalf, at where her weapon was impaling him in the shoulder. Red liquid was sliding down the black metal of her blade, sizzling before evaporating away. The short sword had grown to a hand and a half, a bastard sword, and before Ulrika's disbelieving eyes, it extended to the full, two-hand length of a longsword, protruding from Cristalf's shoulder.

"W-well," said the man. His tone was restrained, and he grunted as Ulrika wrenched her blade out of his body. "It seems you have won this bout. It was first blood after all, and I never managed to draw blood."

"How the hell are you so calm?" she blurted out. "You just got stabbed!"

"Merely a flesh wound, you did not hit anything important... now if you would be so gracious as to assist me to my horse, I have bandages and herbal salves that would be quite useful at the moment - for the both of us."

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