Ravensblood Forest walking with giants

There exists a place where you stand at the base of the tree and no matter how much you try, you can never see the top.

Abuelita once spoke of trees that kissed the sky, who had witnessed the cycles of life multiple times in their one lifetime. She never had the chance to see such magnificent beings before the illness took her. She was the only one to ever understand Mictec and losing her at such a young age, Mictec felt like she had lost her tether to the earth.

There was a strange sense of peace she felt as her gaze rested on the forest floor, admiring the small scattering of cones when she felt the soft dribble of red sap fall on her face. Taken aback, she quickly went to rub it off only to find it smearing over the white portion of her fur to turn red.

Sighing heavily, she muttered to herself, "It could have fallen anywhere else on me and I would been fine with that, but of course, I bear my curse and now looks like I'm bleeding...qué puta suerte."

As she aggressively worked to rub the sap off her face, she was unaware of the eyes staring at her from the shadows.

The shadows of twin mountains bathed the forest in darkness. One could come here at the peak of sunhigh and still find themselves amidst the gloom. 

He supposed that's what had drawn him here in the first place. Perhaps, that's why she too was here.

Like a phantom, he observed her every move, unseen to her eyes from his place in the murk. He watched as the trees bled crimson onto the only part of her untouched from darkness. He gazed to her lips as she mumbled something about a curse until her speech trailed off to a language he couldn't quite decipher, until her attempts to rid herself of the forest's bloodmark began to irk him.

"Ye alright there missy?" Emerging from the bushes, a sympathetic smile plastered on his face. "Stood in the wrong place at the wrong time, ay? Happens to the best of us." As if the trees were listening, a fat drop of saccharine sap landed on the bridge of his nose, which he lapped up quickly with his tongue.

At the sound of the foreign voice she froze, slowly letting her paw fall to the ground. Much of the sap now smeared across her white patch of fur, causing her to keep her left eye closed. Defeated, Mictec turned around, still keeping her with about her as the unfamiliar beholder of the voice spoke.

"Timing was never my forte. Or rather, bad luck tends to follow my every step," she spoke tentively unsure if they were friend or foe given that many encounters proved the latter.

"I come from a place where trees like these cannot grow. So to have found them here I have yet to understand what the significance of finding them now at my lowest point."

As her body stiffened, the phantom let his own muscles relax. Stretching out his back legs in an attempt to ease the tension in the air, he kept his distance so to not startle her further. There was an air of sinister beauty as she turned to face him fully; Murk found himself averting his gaze to the pine cones below.

"Sounds like ye got a bad case of the blues." He suspected the unfortunately timed sap drop had been the final straw. Though he did not press for details, her gloom stirred something introspective within him.

"When ye look from a distance, they're a bit creepy ay," he lifted a paw to touch the trunk of a nearby tree. It came away red and sticky. Licking his lips, the thick taste of sap still clung to his mouth. "But when ye get up close, ye realise there's a natural sweetness to it. It's all about yer perspective."

Curiosity stirred within her that her nose twitched when he dared to hold her gaze for a split second. She herself looked down, pawing at a pine cone until a small flake the size of a speck of oatmeal fell out. "My abuela was a curandera, a healer, and had a vested interest in plants and spirituality. She probably would have agreed with you."

Mictec allowed for her body to relax to the point that she let her hind legs kneel her into a seated position. "These trees are something though. In order for one to start to grow, it must be burned. Perhaps that's why I have such an attachment to them." Reflectively, she wondered if her grandmother's death was her own detachment to start her own journey of growth.

Shrugging off the thought to be analyzed at a later time, she returned her gaze to the other. "Pleasantries are not something that comes naturally to me, but my name is Mictēcacihuātl, Mictec for short."

His attempts to cheer her mood were met with dismissal, but Murk was not dissuaded by her attitude. In fact, her misery intrigued him greatly. "A healer, ye say?" Curiosity at her use of the past tense begged the question: "What happened to her?" Was she a doctor too? With her attitude, he wouldn't be surprised. 

While she reclined, Murk remained on his feet. "A grisly tale of self-sacrifice," he grinned, "burning the old to make space for the new." It was a tale as old of time along coasts like these. Where giants grew there followed a trail of destruction. He supposed the same could be said about his folks back home; when one became too weak, well, "If me ma taught me anything, it's to never get too attached."

Satisfied with his words of wisdom, his tail began to stir between his hocks as she finally gave him a name. "Mictecawhatsit? Never heard a language like yers before." Nevertheless, Murk decided he liked the way it sounded. "Call me Murk."

Mictec offered him a half smile for his efforts. Another drop of sap fell, this time to the right of her. As she picked her paw, she quickly wiped at her face which allowed for her to regain vision from her left eye. "Some type of illness took her. Many thought that I would follow in her steps but I could never. I was born for the hunt, not to heal."

Sighing, Mictec felt her fur bristle softly from the slight breeze and with it the strong, intoxicating scent of pine. "She was always one to sacrifice herself for others, always going on about the circle of life, that was why she chose my name."

A soft chuckled surprised her at his attempt to say her name. "It's from an ancient tongue, belonging to the goddess of the underworld. I will say though yours is interesting as well."

Her smile was returned with an eye crinkle of his own, pleased to see she was growing accustomed to the forest. "Between ye and me," his expression softened, "I ain't cut out to be a healer either." He left it unsaid that most of Dreadmurk's doctors had been... recruited against their will, so to say.

At her exhale, Murk sidled closer and settled on his haunches nearby as the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. It was less the death of her abuela, and more the pawprints she now had to fill that weighed on her heavily. "Ay well, she was right about that. Life is short and nature claims us all eventually." Like the trees in this forest, her abuela had left Mictec room to grow. "So ye gotta live life yer way, not the way she would want ye to." 

The thump thump of his tail echoed her laughter. "Nay, not nearly as interesting as yers, Mic." Perhaps she would stay and teach him her godspeak; Murk let the thought ruminate for now.

For Mictec, she was surprised by how nice it felt to be in another's presence who were not quick to cower away. Still, she always played her cards close to her chest which reached most emotion so that only small glimpses of any reaction other than neutrality were most that anyone would receive. She felt her own tail begun to curl around herself, her body still adjusting to the cooler temperatures of the coast. After having spent only a couple of nights near it, prior to finding the sequoias, she throughly enjoyed watching the fog from the ocean creep in and coat the coast in its moist embrace.

"Perhaps. Names carry much significance in my culture. They once belonged to great warriors or gods and held grand stories that were meant to be our guides in life. Some would say they would receive visions from their namesake who would offer advice when needed."

She felt her eyes rolling at the thought, "I never believed that part, she never came to me in my time of need."

Mictec readjusted, regaining her composure. "Besides, my people have strayed way to far from our ways. They are too meek, they do not embrace the more gruesome aspects of our ancestors and choose to live in ignorance."

As if she had read his mind, Mictec began to expand on the culture she hailed from. It was fascinating, if not a little ridiculous, to expect a kid to live up to their godly namesake.

Despite her subtlety, her eye roll did not go unnoticed, and Murk flashed her a wry smile. "Wish I were born in a place like yers. I swear, when me ma named me, she plucked a name straight outta her imagination. No thought to it." Whether that were true or not, he had never cared to ask.

"But this thing about visions... I'd have to agree with ye there. Never believed the crooks that claimed they saw things - especially if they were fresh off the sea." Saltwater had a tendency to alter the mind. "Nor anyone for that matter. Always seemed too good to be true."

As she talked, his tongue flashed pink as he rid the last specks of sap from his teeth. "Gruesome? Colour me intrigued," he welcomed her to elaborated if she wished.

The part of her that terrified her birth pack was her admiration of blood. What they failed to understand was that blood was not the source rather how thin the line between life and death could be crossed so easily. Why else when committing atrocities would she stop to watch as life drained from her prey or victim, trying to watch for the moment the soul left the body, that spilt second of purgatory.

So when she spoke this time, it was as if the shadows of the forest begun to draw to her, her coat bristling not from the breeze but in admiration as her brilliant marigold eyes lit up like a fire in the void, "Sacrifice through blood."

Her tone seemed to capture the ethereal aura that her abuela carried whenever she spoke of spiritual matters, "In the before times blood was said to be the ultimate tribute to the gods, that to give would be to show pure devotion in exchange for power. We were a strong pack and in order to maintain strength at the beginning of the winter solstice, the warriors were set to spar and the one with the most losses..." She trailed off, a sly grin crossing her face for in her spars, she had held the most wins.

"There was a volcano with a trail our pack would walk following behind el sacrificio and when we reached the top, el sacrificio would give himself back to earth through fire."

While some would balk at what Mictec spoke of next, instead the cogs in Murk's mind began to turn. 

He was not well-versed in spirituality, nor did he know much of the gods, but what captured him most about the woman was her intensity. Sacrifice. While their methods differed, the idea of giving yourself up for the good of your people made him shiver pleasantly. It was the ultimate celebration of one's life.

Though, he supposed, it served a secondary purpose to weed out the weak among the fighters. Instead of tooth and nail, it was earthen fire that claimed Mictec's el sacrificio.

"A most honourable death," he praised, seeking the flame of her gaze. The seeds of a new life here in these woods began to plant itself deep into Murk's mind.

Mictec let out a mixture of a sigh and scoff, her gaze upon him, but also elsewhere.

"But my people are weak now. They would still make the trek up the volcano but only to ask for mercy from the elements as they with offering from a hunt. Waste of food, and now too many mouths to feed. Sacrifice with blood was now sacrifice with bloodline."

A haunting tale but one that would serve as the next chapter of her dying pack. Perhaps her exile marked the climax of the story as she traversed far away lands, unspooling her threads and weaving anew.

"So that is one portion of the story that brings me here."

Nox snorted at her criticism. It sounded like Mictec's people now followed their gods in blind faith. He could sympathise with her; food was a precious resource. "And still they follow like blind sheep," he rose to his feet, front limbs stretching out the stiffness that had begun to form in his back. "Don't blame ye for leaving. They sound like a right bunch."

He had let the woman take the reigns of their conversation for now, loath to end it and see her vanish into the night. But the cold was drawing in, the first signs of frost beginning to decorate the pine cones in lace white. "Speaking of food, how about we hunt and find a more... sheltered place to rest." Tail plumed as his offer hung in the air between them. A wolf with a taste for blood, well, it was safe to say she would make a scarily invaluable asset.

"Y'know," he added, "I was surprised to see ye here. These woods aren't for everyone." A question left unspoken; what was the rest of her story?

Mictec gave a curt nod as she slowly lifted herself into a satisfying stretch, her limbs and joints making soft popping sounds into realignment followed by a shake to remove any dirt that clung to her obsidian pelt. In her mind, she gave herself a sadistic chuckle at the mention of sheep, how he didn't know that sheep had been the catalyst for what had followed. A story for another time seeing that her own fate had was now a cautionary tale for the pups of her pack.

"Perhaps it is the perfect place for me then."

As he spoke, Mictec lifted her head trying to catch a whiff of a scent, her eyes closing slightly in search of prey. Many strange scents seemed to float around her, make her slightly uneased as to what may have been prey or a threat. That was until she locked in on one, a doe.

"Can you smell it?" She asked, gauging to see how well his own instincts were.