Blackfeather Woods the haunting

I have no idea why I wrote this.

Titmouse had been the one to take Maegi from her girlhood in to the next stage; she was a woman now, and would be growing heavy with their children. It was something he had wanted, once. To know her so deeply, so intimately, had been a fantasy of his. To think of their cubs growing among the black spires of the wood was, at one time, everything he'd ever dreamed. A family that would love and care for him more than any Redhawk ever did, built on a foundation of deep respect and love — but it was different now.

The boy had waited in the copse where Maegi left him; he had been dazed, feeling strangely empty once he had done the task of bedding her. Maybe he slept. Maybe he had lain there for an hour or so, staring at the swirling darkness. Maybe he even cried a little. But the moment was behind him now — he had eventually risen like the specter that he was and drifted to the Web, finding the smell of the dead air inside, and the chill of the deepening dark, to be preferable to the memory of Maegi beneath him. He couldn't shake the images of her pale body reacting to his flesh pressed up against her — and so he sought out something to help him clear his mind.

Deep within the Web, in one of the smaller corridors he had found, Titmouse had made a discovery. It wasn't a grand new thing to find plants growing across the walls, luminous or otherwise, but this particular species of mushroom was something new to him. He hadn't seen it anywhere else in the tunnels but sought it out now, curious of its effects. The stems were thin and carried drooping caps on high, and the cluster that he found grew as tall as his chin. He sought them out in silence. Plucking one, two caps. Chewing their soft and pliant flesh — then, drifting, he began to roam in the dark.

It was not long before they took effect; they were not as potent as he'd have liked, but softened his mind in the way that a good dose of poppy might. When Titmouse passed through a shaft of light breaking through the stony wall, it was unnaturally sharp. He winced away from it as if burned, but even as he did so, he heard — a shriek; like a gale slowly building, the frequency so high and sharp that at first he couldn't make sense of it. As it grew louder inside his head, it took on a hawkish quality — and so too did the shaft of light, morphing in to a set of talons, wings - spread, a pair of faces merged as one — mutated, three-eyed, each blazing with fire.

As the image came to him he felt terror, so he ran.

---

When he stopped he was breathing harder than ever, gasping for air as if he were drowing in the shadows. His eyes were open and struggling to conceal the immense panic of his thundering heart; Titmouse realized then, he wasn't in the caves. He wasn't anywhere he recognized or had been before, although the calling of the ravens overhead told him he was still home. He turned on the spot in haste, trying to fix his one good eye on anything familiar, and saw a figure among the trees; no, it was the trees. A canid face wrought of bark emerged and contorted before him, reaching with branching limbs as it advanced among the ferns. It wasn't fully formed, he thought. The legs jut out at odd angles, and there were many of them. The face sneered and cracked as if struck, and as the bark split in to two, fell away, he thought he could see fur writhing inside of it.

He couldn't scream no matter how much he felt the urge, and staggered backwards against the encroaching forest. It felt as if the trees were pulling in around him like a net. There were spires behind him that weren't there before; and still, the creature coming for him — calling to him, but the words bled in to shrieks he could not decipher. Growing deafening, filling him with so much dread he wished he could look away but — but —

---

When Titmouse came-to, he was deep within the blackwood; around him there were crows and ravens alike scattered in a bloom around him, his pale body the center-piece. Their feathers lay plucked and cast aside, and the birds themselves were almost not recognizable — but their heads were intact, and each pointed inward towards him. As he woke in the center of this monstrous ring of destruction he felt thirsty, and licked his lips, only to taste blood upon them.

the Raven was not long in coming, for he felt the deaths as if a ripple across the wood, and now he stood at its edge. he was still a long time, and one could have thought him dead as the birds, save for the minimal rise and fall of his chest, the stiffness of his posture. something grew within the man, something old and for a long time not felt, something that began as a faint glow to a long-dead ember and began setting fires to all that lay beside it. 

for a long, terrible moment he was unmoving. like the grating of claws on stone, the guttural growl crawled up his throat and out betwixt his fangs. his head lowered and focused for the first time on the boy, and the growl did not stop. he had violated the sanctity of the wood. his wood. the air around them was dead and still and heavy, and Abraxas gave the sinner one chance to stand before he moved, and when he did, it would be viper-like lunge for his remaining eye.

It reminded her of the strange arrangements of objects that Euron would assemble, whether it was pebbles or feathers or fragments of bone. This was much more macabre. Maegi stared from a distance for a long few moments, horror churning in her stomach. The scent of fresh blood was nauseating and—

She bent her head and vomited the remains of her last meal, gagging and spitting. The world felt as if it were spinning too fast, much too fast. The air was heavy.

Her eyes snapped up just in time to catch Abraxas charging toward Mou, and then she was moving, quickly as she could, hoping to stop the shadow before more carnage ensued. Stop! she cried out, trying to slip between the two of them in time. She'd bear the brunt of whatever came next; she just knew that her best friend, her beloved, could not be harmed.

Abraxas, stop! she snapped, flashing her gaze toward him—if there was time.

He managed to stand, eventually. When he did he couldn't raise his head without his neck muscles protesting, as if he'd been laying there for quite a while and gone stiff — dead. The smell of death was ripe around him but it was stronger as he moved, and with a glance Titmouse saw the dulled red of blood running down his chest; the instant revulsion he felt was carried away swiftly when the snarling of an approaching aggressor caught in his ears, startling him. He raised his head to shoulder-level in time to see the angular shape of Abraxas lunging from the trees for him.

Abraxas, stop! — Maegi? What was she doing here?

She was beside him, moving on an intercepting route between the two wolves. Titmouse wasn't sure what to do at first but, in that split-second as he recognized his beloved, he remembered what they'd done together; the lives she carried. His reaction was quick and brutal, as he threw his shoulder against her to drive her out of the way. If Abraxas was coming for him, let him come — but Maegi was living for more than herself now. She couldn't put herself at such a risk.

There was no time to argue in the chaos — as soon as he felt Maegi faltering from his blow, something slammed in to him and he was brought right back to the bloodied earth.

he had no qualms with Maegi, and thus for a moment he and Titmouse were united in their attempt to leave her out of harm's way. her shout was ultimately what had him hesitate, barely, when Titmouse fell back onto the sacrilegious earth with a dull thud. anger burned and grew hot under his skin. it had been a long, long while since he'd last allowed himself to feel this depth of emotion, and yet his actions were still controlled and careful. he was quick to hover his jaws above the man's throat, and another grating growl demanded they be still. "sinner."  to the man, his actions were easy, logical. 

should they let him speak, he would. "there is a price."  sinner. violater. his voice was stone on sandpaper, and yet the words were cold, firm. there was a chance for repentance, but this much twisted death would require a large one. and above all, his loyalties were to the wood, the ravens and crows, the bones of Blackfeather's lost.  he would take the man's eye, and be appeased. his breath was hot betwixt his fangs, and his gaze bore into the man's remaining eye, his prize. "how will you pay?" a chance, then. if he received no answer or one not to his satisfaction, his goal would be his prize, the wood's price. if he did - Abraxas would take the payment offered, and perhaps then the wood and the old gods tied deeply to this place would be appeased.

She was shoved aside, and fear was quickly supplanted by anger, the kind of fury that had overcome her when Redsang had once crossed the border. Maegi regained her footing in time to hear Abraxas's words, his gaze fixed on Mou's face. Her mouth broke wide in a snarl.

No, she said again, but this time, her voice was low and steely. She stared at the shadow, chin and and chest both thrust out. You will not punish him. Only Ramsay and I can do that—and we will find the right way.

Maegi cast a dark look at Titmouse, then turned back to Abraxas. I will handle this, Abraxas, she muttered. I will punish this sin against the woods. Now—go. He was forgiven for this, for she knew that he must feel very fervently about this place, having stayed for so long. But if he disobeyed her, or even turned teeth against her, he would find himself out of a home very quickly.

He bore his fangs at both figures as they moved around him, unable to focus his eye for the time being; a ghost and a shadow entwined, and he expected them to morph in to something diabolical. He heard the voices and they made sense to his brain, but their images did not — gradually, Titmouse could focus, but when he looked at Maegi he saw her in double; one side shifting away from the other, one clean and perfect and the other marred by her crooked grin.

Whether the shadow slipped away or not, Titmouse wasn't watching them. He blinked against the blurring of his vision and lightly shook his head, as if that would help. Maegi's dual-self did not clarify and the shaking only served to make him quite dizzy. The bulk of the hallucinations must have come to a close by now but he still felt ill; like he'd been chewing on grass, while his belly rolled and twisted with nausea. He licked his lips again and tasted the dried blood on them, wadded up a ball of it on his tongue and spat in to the grass — and the blob contained a chunk of feather.

Maegi— he murmured piteously as he gagged, but didn't manage much else.

his gaze shifted to the woman, and he considered. despite the slow burn of his anger, it was something entirely controlled, and thus logic reigned even now. to take retribution now would be swift and just, and yet the sinner was attached to the woman the raven's had chosen. and by extent, so had he; long before when he'd offered his gift. and while he knew the pressures felt by the wood's denizens, and how to exploit them, he preferred his place in its current state. 

and so the Raven recoiled, stalking back and regarding the woman. "we will judge." and until they had deemed payment acceptable, the wood would be wronged and thus cruel. his gaze moved to the ravens and the crows, and judged that here they would remain, as vivid scar against the fabric of the wood itself, until the nona made good on her word. with that, he turned heel and was gone. a moment later, a pair of atramentous birds followed suit, winging after the man.

We will judge. The words sent chills down her spine, and she tried to hold his gaze as steady as she could, watching him walk away. Only Mou's gagging could have drawn her stare from where the shadow disappeared; she wheeled, rushing up to her beloved with an expression of mixed concern and annoyance.

You've made yourself sick, she chided softly, staring down at the dark glob he'd hacked up. What had he taken? Was it even more serious than it appeared? Here, lay down. And tell me. . .what on earth happened?!

Now the annoyance was spinning into anger. Anger at Abraxas, for acting so rashly against a leader. And, yes, anger at Mou, for once again needlessly putting himself at risk. She wondered, selfishly, how long she would have to put her own neck on the line for him. How many more trials she would have to endure before he learned to lay low.

The shadow slunk away, unsatisfied. Perhaps he watched from somewhere imperceptible, waiting for Maegi to depart so that he could enact his judgement. Mou remained oblivious, focused as he was upon the strange feeling inside of him - the sensations of the past few hours having ebbed away and left him feeling empty. Cold. Cotton-mouthed and dehydrated.

—what on earth happened?! demanded his beloved; yet he could not look at her. Shame, guilt, the oppressive feeling of being used, there were so many things he could've been feeling — but Mou just wasn't feeling anything at all, except sick. He gaped at the dirt for a moment as the glob of spit he'd lobbed slowly sank in to the soil, darkening it. Then he was trembling a little, but doing his best to explain: Ate maa-chroon, for sleep. Sssaw --- He slurred and caught himself, struggling but trying his very best, curling against himself for comfort. Dream. Trees -- dark -- tryin' ta eat Mou. I run. I... but he was shaking his head; there wasn't much he could explain, but he certainly had no memory of this brutality or whatever ritual had been enacted with his body. It was a mistake and he knew it.

Maa-chroon. Mushroom? she asked, trying to clarify. She shook her head, heaving an incredibly weighty, weary sigh. God, Mou, why can't you just not eat plants when you don't know what they do? At least, she assumed the fungi was unfamiliar to him. Why else would he have ingested it in large enough quantities to hallucinate so badly, if he'd truly known its nature?

She was frustrated and scared, her chest tight and heart pounding against it. Moreover, she knew Ramsay wouldn't be happy with Mou getting into more trouble, especially after she'd told him all that had occurred with the Redhawks. The ice was already thin; it wouldn't take much to crack it.

Do you want some poppies to sleep? Maegi asked, trying to soften her barbed tongue. It worked only slightly; she still sounded quite cross. I can get you some, if you like. Only some, she added, narrowing her eyes at him.

He frowned but it looked more like a pout, except there was a sharpness to his one eye that he'd never had before. He looked at Maegi as she chided him and without the ability to stop himself he retorted, Don't want notting! He lurched to his full spindly height and swayed for a second, but didn't fall. How could she be so antagonistic about one thing and then offer him potent drugs in the next moment? It wasn't like he'd meant to live through all those nightmares — the mushrooms were supposed to make him sleep, and maybe they did, maybe they only locked his conscious mind away somewhere so that the daedra could infiltrate him. Maybe this was a complete and total accident; not his fault, no matter what he'd chosen to dose himself with.

Mou didn't know why he felt so antagonistic in that moment, but he couldn't hold back. The effects of the drug made him more emotional, his exhaustion leading to less self-control. He wasn't happy and it was obvious even without his petulance and slurred words. Mou didn't look at Maegi as he began to stalk off - but tripped over one of the bodies ringing where he'd been settled in the dirt, and with an airy hiss he kicked it aside, watched as a paltry offering of feathers erupted from the tiny mutilated body.

Lee-mee 'lone. He muttered as he went, his pale coat beginning to prickle all over.

She lurched back as if struck, eyes narrowing, the softness abruptly gone. Fine, whatever, Maegi snapped in response, moving away from him. The pique only lasted a second; she regretted it, knowing it would only make things worse, but by the time she went to apologize, he had already fired his parting shot and was walking away. Lee-mee 'lone.

Mou, wait— she called out, beginning to pad after him, and then she stopped. It didn't do any good; he clearly was in a strange, sour frame of mind. She looked down at the dead birds, feeling nauseous again. A ring of them, black and still.

Did you do this? she silently asked Peryite, her brow furrowing. Or was it one of your friends? Sithis? Mol—

No.

That name would not be uttered here.

Maegi moved in the opposite direction, looking for her brother.