Ravensblood Forest journey before destination

@Aurëwenn

The wood was bleeding.
 
Guildenstern passed beneath the boughs and trunks of outstretched sequoia trees. Stone structures jutted up on either side of the forest, casting a shroud of darkness on an already dim setting. As ominous as it was, it did not seem to deter the pallid knight from entering. The large brute drew his crown upward to taste the scent of the place. Then, he entered the wild wood. While he stood tall and formidable, his posture seemed to shift beneath the outstretched branches of the trees. The proud voyager had shifted from a ghostly titan to a pale cat of the jungle. The length of his limbs allowed for him to take a swift saunter until he had delved deep into the turf.
 
Once inside, Guildenstern noted that the weald carried its own aroma. He could not discern whether this came from the red sap that coated the cracks of the trees, or if it had something to do with a pack that had recently vacated the area. The knight knew that it was not claimed in that moment. He would not have delved so deeply if he believed there to be settlers. Still new to the land, the mercenary was not eager to test his mettle against the natives until he had familiarized himself with the layout of the wilds.
 
The sound of trickling water splayed his ears. Guildenstern turned toward it and roamed until he could see the creek that ran toward the ocean. The knight stopped and bent his head to drink from the pool. It was cool and crisp against his dry mouth. It would have been wise for him to have stopped some ways back, but he had not listened to the sound of what his body needed. The desire to stray across the stretch of wilderness had never been stronger in him. It was the first time that the pallid creature had found himself lacking any thoughts of his previous homes. The frigid northern tundra did little to compare to the wonders of the Teekon Wilds.

Erëa.
An untapped specter streaked through her chosen practice; with every reach of her paws, the power within her coiled, taut, tauter;

Atta.
Her paws twisted beneath her to swing her alabaster body mid-rush, scythelike;

Neldë.
Facing the way she’d come — for all but a heartbeat — her hinds struck out into evening mightily, sure to ward even the boldest away; she was sure;

Cantëa.
The form of her half-reared figure crescented leftwise, where she let the weight of the world have her plummet, twisting her breast towards her imagined adversary.

Lempë.
With a surge, a sylvan shriek, the herbalist scored her claws and fangs down the would-be’s face, seeking to render nose or eye or ear and taste the forsaken flesh on her tongue.

Enquë.
Hide disheveled in a bloodletting disarray, Aurëwen pirouetted, sighted the voyager, and loosed a remarkable snarl — dribbling spittle — at he who lingered there. In the lull that followed, her feathered tail continued to whip-crack, to split silence.

Wasn’t she fearsome?

The eve following the treachery of whoever’d left her  (and the remainder of her family)  bereft of a son now found Aure doing what she tried to do best: adapting to this horrendous change, and trying to brush up on her inglorious skillset. With Verx just about bedridden and Isi skulking the shadows, there was no one to aid in her instruction of what she tried to execute: a ‘simple’ back-kick.

...Why wasn’t he leaving?

The sound of her clashing teeth was like a whip against the air. The pale knight turned to her sharply, ears erect, and regarded her with a curious glint in the pale color of his eyes. There was not a reflection of fear upon his face because he was unafraid of her. Guildenstern had learned many things in his life; the idea of allowing fear to rule him, or bind him, was positively foolish. The rate at which she approached him was enough to warrant a modicum of concern. If he were to remain for even a second longer, her aim would be true, and she would surely slam against him. The thought had passed through his mind far too late, for when the specter of a woman burst toward him, it was with feverish intent to do harm. The lightness of her steps was a marvel in itself. The knight did not remain for long to watch her dance madly his way.
 
Like a pale looming reaper, he dove in a swinging motion. It was a move that allowed him to circle his body and keep her in his line of sight. Were it not for the scars that marred her figure and the slimness of her frame, she could have been a sibling to him. This thought brought Rosencrantz to his mind – flashing in and then fading out again without any real purpose. Something about her seemed to be completely overtaken with grief. Guildenstern wondered how heavy it was for her to carry, and if it had caused the lunacy to take hold of her vision. What was it that plagued this marred banshee? The question would likely never be asked of her, but it rang through his skull like a blasted bell from a tower.
 
“I do not fear you, woman. Settle your spirits before I force you back.”
 
The words were direct and rough sounding from the beast’s throat. The baritone struck the air and seemed to linger there. It was as though the echoes of a distant thunder existed behind the intense features of his face. Guildenstern did not wish to frighten his woman away, but he was not interested in having her draw any closer to him. There were too many questions that had not yet been answered. The knight would not risk any harm to himself without a just cause. A sickness in her mind did not seem to be an appropriate use of his talents. Aside from this, the pale mercenary had oftentimes found himself caught off guard by those who fought with raw anger, and those who did not seem to have anything left to lose.

“Nor I, you,” the moonspear hissed, sorrow and fury further riddling her shorn face. “Find me my child, cast his thieves asunder, and then perhaps my spirits may settle.” Each word spat was a lunar shard, singing high and bright along the crescents of grief-ridden fangs. Her tail prolonged its reign above boney hips, presiding over the terse, uncertain scene.

But then, in her refracted mind,  “Or, you are of them, and you seek to lure my daughter from us, too?” With this readied assumption she advanced only one step — brazenly testing the gall of the ivory mountain before her — for all her worth seeming nothing more than an icicle in comparison.  (A rather wrathful one, that).

Once she regarded him in the way that only a mother could, Guildenstern understood. This transition of thoughts did not reflect on his stoic features. The pallid beast of the north drew his head up and nodded softly. She had lost a child and she was fearful that she would lose another. Though, the way that she had forced her words on him had made it seem as though she had not lost her kin to death, but by the hands of another creature in the wilds. This was a terrible plague that he would never know the pain of. To a creature such as Guildenstern, the idea that life was impermanent was the only thing that truly made sense. Children and elders alike; they all roamed to the same dismal destination.
 
But, it seemed as though this woman might have had a job for him.
 
For a creature like Guildenstern, the idea of work was all that pushed him forward. He was a mercenary at heart. The pale beast had learned well the talents that he possessed, and there was nothing that could prevent him from completing the tasks that were assigned… if the reward was great enough. For, as much as he was a servant of the realm, he was also a terribly selfish brute. Fate had found a way to lure him toward good fortunes in the past. The looming northerner did not anticipate that he would find himself without the toil of what others could not accomplish. If this mad woman was searching for her kin, there was a chance that he could find them.
 
A cold blink fluttered the lids of his eyes. The soft silver of his foggy gaze lingered on her features for a moment before he shrugged in a disinterested manner. “I want nothing to do with your whelps,” Guildenstern informed her in a rough baritone that seemed to hitch against the back of his throat. If that was what had caused her to approach him in such a feverish frenzy, the knight wished to dispel any concern she had. Life was hard enough for a voyager. It would not have been wise for him to have collected young pups along his way. They would not have lasted long beneath the grueling miles of travel that he had endured. It was almost shocking that even he had emerged on the other side.
 
“I could find your pup for you. I have been hired for far more dangerous missions,” the towering brute then offered. There was a curious glint to his pale vision at the mention of it.

It was only when the colossus before her uttered ‘I could find your pup for you’ that the frosted countenance began to thaw with consideration — and then went frigid as a possessive sort of lunacy shone through her. This male offered to find her son, when her beloved trikova was already upturning this damned forest as it was? When she’d already sent her champion to Kaistleoki with their plight, and who was to say they’d even acquiesce? “You w-would—?”

Her breath shuttered and then came light, pattering through her breast and down down down to stifle in her lungs because I lost him I lost him I lost my son the life I made and gave this world to this world I lost lost lost can’t find I lost I lost him I lost and don't I can’t I and she couldn’t think couldn’t breathe as she went all aquiver, staggering in place as her ribs heaved heaved heaved trying to escape her, escape the tears searing and salt down her once-lovely face never again—

For the first time since the late spring, Aurëwen saw stars crowd in both of her eyes, crept in with a smothering gloam she felt take roost within every minute fracture of her being and should’ve never left no mother stupid mother can’t mother I can’t no I lost I lost my love my life child mate daughter father brother incantnsn my fault my fault my fault fault fault fault my-my faultkt mine—

And then she was stumbling, crumpling to elbows knees paws belly as the will to crawl from this rattling of her was seized, as she was by a seizure she’d naught felt in seasons and seasons. If she were able to think, she’d might’ve thought she was drowning beneath the dark waters maybe I am—

There it was; that flash of realization that seemed to wash over her features like a tidal wave. Guildenstern had seen it before. It was almost indescribable how a fraction of hope could shift the mind. It was always fleeting – there and gone in another wave of drowning guilt and fear. That was the way of those who had carried their own pups and raised them. It was the raging internal fire of a parent who had found themselves without their child, perhaps due to their own misconduct. The feral beast did not believe he could ever wish such a burden upon himself. Though it was tempting to further the bloodline of the Mortensen wolves, Guildenstern was not certain that he even felt a tie to his name.
 
In moments, her expression contorted to one that he had expected. Something inside of her was spiking her heartrate and spurring the thoughts that had forced her to all but fall apart in front of him. While Guildenstern could not relate with the flood of anxiety and fear that had flooded through the pale woman’s body, he had seen it before. The pale beast stood rigidly, eyeing the woman with a placid expression. The woman’s question still hung in the air, unanswered. The knight had wanted to wait until he could see the light of sanity return to her vision before he attempted to make terms with her. There was no doubt that he could track her pup, but he wanted to know what she would do in return. It was no small feat, after all.
 
“I can,” stated plainly to her.
 
The gruff man drew his crown up and turned his muzzle to the soft breeze that passed from behind him. There was a promise of a storm upon it. It would mean that the likelihood of catching a scent from her whelp would be incredibly slim. Still, it did not seem to phase him or hurry him in any way. Guildenstern turned back to her with a thoughtful frown. The pale glint of his eyes traced over the scars in her face. “Tell me about the pup and where it was you had last seen it, and then we will discuss the terms of how you will repay me, should I succeed in finding it.” That was business, and it was what he knew well. The woman may have found herself in a fit of hysterics, but the more information that she could provide, the better the odds.