Phoenix Maplewood No more need for the old empire

From an aerial point of view, Witch’s Marsh looked like a misshapen set of heart and lungs, though from Atreus’s perspective, it was just a dingy bog not worth his while. He crossed through it, all the while aware of where he was heading. He skirted around another wetland on its far side, veering toward the familiar stretch of maples.

He found a small stream and washed the swamp grime from his paws, then sat back and squinted in a westward direction. He swore he could see the top of Redtail Rise through the gaps in the treetops. Even after all this time, he felt anger throb in his heart.

He turned the other way and broke into an easy trot, happy to linger in this refuge for a little while—maybe even for the night—and then start making his way back toward Brecheliant in the morning.

They found Augur’s trail and followed it as far as it led them. There was no scent to follow beyond a certain point, yet Masque refused to accept Avicus’s disappearance without trying to locate her or at least some clue of her whereabouts. The tracker selected a direction at random and began scouring the wilderness, calling out for their mother until their throat grew hoarse and raw.

They had no choice but to fall silent and seek a cold drink to soothe it somewhere in the maple grove southeast of the rise. As they approached a stream, a familiar scent filled Masque’s nostrils. It did not belong to their mother and it took the Caru several beats to place it. When they did, their eyes squinted, then widened. They halted.

What was Atreus doing here? Their lips parted when a thought hit them, causing them to literally stagger. Did he have something to do with Avicus’s disappearance? Against their better instincts, Masquerade loped after his trail, prepared to confront him if it might mean getting some answers about their mother’s fate.

Out of nowhere, he heard footfalls thundering in his wake and he swiveled, hackles prickling. His eyes clapped on a face he could never forget. Something about the sight of Masque running at him with what looked like aggressive intent immediately triggered Atreus. The old loathing rose up inside him with surprising ferocity, prompting him to bare his teeth and let out a snarl.

If she didn’t immediately stand down, Atreus would not let history repeat itself. He would do what he had long ago vowed to do and throw himself at Masquerade with the intent to kill her, just like she deserved.

The instant they spotted him, he pivoted to face Masque with a mouthful of sharp teeth. They promptly dug their paws into the soft earth lining the bed of the stream, grinding to a halt. They stared at him, suddenly convinced his aggressive display indicated guilt, fear and horror mixing in their breast.

What have you done? Where is my mother? Masque demanded, trying to channel the missing Wealda in this moment, though a slight quaver in their voice gave them away.

His sneer began as confusion, though it quickly morphed into a sort of cold hatred. Something had happened to his Aunt Avicus? Well, good riddance.

Fuck your mother, he spat, all the vitriol of yore spilling out of him, and fuck you too.

Atreus could’ve left it at that, turning his back on his cousin, her missing mother and their whole plight. But just looking at her ugly face and hearing her shout unfounded accusations at him stoked the dormant rage.

Without thinking, he sprang at her. He wrestled her to the ground, where she flipped onto her back. Atreus ignored her hind legs kicking his pudgy gut as he pinned her to the ground and brought a paw to her throat with crushing force. His face descended a moment later, his fangs replacing his paw.

He saw red.

They should’ve expected the terrible things he spat at them, though it was the next thing Masque really didn’t see coming. He sprang at them so abruptly and with such violence that they were not able to dodge his attack. Although Masque was a seasoned fighter, he must have been too. Plus, he had the weight advantage.

When he forced Masque to the ground with startling ease, the Caru flipped to kick at his tender belly with their hind legs. They felt a gushing warmth against their flailing limbs but neither wolf slowed in their onslaught. Atreus’s bearlike paw came up to choke off Masquerade’s breath, his face descending soon after it.

They instinctively turned their head sideways to deflect, not that there was any escaping this fatal blow. They closed their eyes as the tips of Atreus’s teeth  pressed against their jugular… only to go slack and scrape harmlessly against the taut tendons in their neck as all of his weight suddenly collapsed on top of them.

They couldn’t comprehend what had happened for a moment. When it finally registered that Atreus had fallen unconscious on top of them, Masquerade pushed at his dead weight with all their might. They barely displaced him, though his upper half shifted off them and they were able to slither free the rest of the way in part because all the blood eased the way.

They found their feet and stood over him, blinking and gasping for breath. There was so much blood. Masque was absolutely covered in it. There was a horrible stench in the air too. They backpedaled away from Atreus’s body, their blood-soaked paw slipping and causing Masque to tumble hard onto their hip. They retched, their throat burning like they had swallowed knives.

For a moment or two, they sat there, breathing heavily despite the reek. Masque then heaved carefully onto all fours again and approached Atreus, a shaking paw coming out to push at his shoulder.

Tell me what you did to my mother, they rasped.

His vision went black an instant later as consciousness fled him, escaping by way of the deep wounds his cousin’s claws had slashed in his gut. Atreus went completely insensate.

Then he heard someone saying, “Tell me what you did to my mother,” from very far away. It took him a sluggish moment to register that it must be Masque. She was still alive and still flinging accusations at him.

Atreus opened his eyes on a groan. He glowered at Masquerade before looking down and realizing what she’d done to him. He wanted to maim her more than ever, though he was powerless now. Nearly a year later and she had finished the job.

With one last burst of adrenaline, Atreus obeyed some base instinct that compelled him to drag himself toward the stream. He left a smear of blood behind him as he thrashed into the water, intent to leave this world the same way he had come into it: covered in blood and fluids, his inner bruin implacable.

He moved. Masquerade leaped away, nearly slipping and falling again. Caked with blood, every fur on their body nevertheless raised as Atreus let out an ursine groan and dragged himself toward the stream. Their jaw hung open, their eyes fixing on the trail of blood and viscera pouring out of him.

And then he tumbled into the water and began to drift. Belatedly, the Caru realized he was going to take any answers to his watery grave. They jumped in after him, trying to bite at any part of Atreus’s bobbing body they could reach. But he was too heavy. They had no choice but to let go and watch as he floated downstream a ways and then sank out of sight.

Masque stood in the shallows for a long time, trying to process what had happened. They waded out onto the bank and saw that the blood had washed away. There was still a great smear of it leading up to the water’s edge, the fetid smell still lingering.

They walked back upstream to get away from the scene, only to pause and linger for another indeterminable amount of time. In the end, Masquerade still had no answers regarding Avicus and so they did the only thing that made sense to them: they resumed their search.