Bearclaw Valley institutionalized

For awhile there was a will within Abel to make an escape. Granted, it was nothing more than wild fantasies. Ones where he’d gather strength from an inexplicable source, run faster than the winter winds, take out as many pursuers as he and his sister fled towards a beacon of freedom. Laurel would be there ready to embrace them.
It’s only a fantasy though. One far out of reach for someone in his state, both physically and mentally. This reality crushed him slowly as the weeks gone by. 
At this point his will had been entirely squashed. He lay in tumbleview day in and day out. His eyes were constantly raw from a seemingly never ending flow of tears. His screams could be heard at odd hours of the night as he is ripped from nightmares. They were all different in their own little ways, but they shared a constant. One glowing eye, a flaming orange, nearly red. Attached to the form of a beast. He’s always there. Always watching. 
He’s here now, lurking in the dark. Coming closer, closer. Closer to him. He’s running. Coming for him —


A series of screams wrenched their way out of Abel’s throat. He jerked upward, his eyes wildly searched through midnight’s darkness. There was nothing to be seen. It was only another nightmare.

Her prize was little more than a weeping skeleton. Day in and day out he wept and mourned for the life she'd ripped him away from. There was nothing satisfying about having a captive who did nothing but pine. She didn't have the wit to brainwash him, or play mental games with him, and it frustrated her. 

Occasionally, when she left to hunt or patrol, she hoped she might catch him trying to escape just so that she could drag him back and assert control. But she was disappointed every time; he was nothing more than a marionette whose strings had been cut. 

She didn't sleep directly beside him, but close enough still to stand guard over him. Her ears pricked when she heard a soft, scuffling sound, followed by gurgling screams, so guttural in nature she thought for sure someone had snuck past her to strangle him. 

She was snarling before she even scrambled to her feet and lunged through a dry bush to see him there- quiet now, startled, but unharmed. She skidded to a halt, and snapped her head this way and that to see whose throat she had to rip out for touching her captive. There was no one.

She blinked as her fierce gaze settled back on him. The fur along one side of his face was still flattened from how he'd been sleeping. This wasn't the first time she'd heard his screams- but she was never going to get used to it. There was nothing pretended about the terror in his voice when he cried out. Each and every time he screamed like someone whose life was about to end. 

He looked more lucid, now, than he had in some time. She fumed, but silently, and drew in a slow breath. "Nightmares again, Li'l Man?" She asked. "Yer never goin' get h'any taller if ye keep 'avin' them nightmares y'know," She stated, matter-of-fact, as she sat down. "Nightmares make ya short."

Just as his heart began to settle, it beat rapidly at the walls of his chest once more as he spotted someone within the dark. For a moment he believed it was the one-eyed man, his living nightmare, and he whimpered beneath his breath. But it was not him, but the woman who’d brought Abel into his clutches in the first place.
At the end of the day Abel held hatred for both the man and this woman. The hatred between them, however, differed. For the beast, fear was brought into the mix. It won over each time he came to torment him. He feared this woman too, but it was not enough to douse the anger that burned in his heart. Not until she snapped at him.
She’d yet to do so now. Only prodded him. So he glared up at her as he huddled on the earth.
Leave me alone, he murmured cooly.

He was at least willing to try and tell her off, though the attempt was weak at best. Maybe he was just moody because he wasn't getting good enough sleep- he wasn't the only one. She guarded him, and suffered from interrupted sleep every time his nightmares plagued him. 

"I'm no kiddin' ye," She continued, as though he'd invited the conversation to continue. "Why else d'ye t'enk I'm so short too?" She asked. "D'ye know what's worse, though? S'when the old hag comes te visit ye in yer sleep. Ever had that 'appen?" She asked, regarding him with a hint of a gleam in her lilac eyes.

Abel snorted beneath his breath I’m not short, he snapped back. Clearly a lie to anyone with a pair of eyes. He’d only blurted it out for the sake to argue, the one thing he had the freedom to do in that moment.
His frown deepened at the mention of an old hag. No, he murmured as he averted his gaze. You’re a liar. there’s no old hag. Just one eyed.. freaks. And- and… — he tried to come up with the greatest insult he could — … and lying little weirdos like you.

Like a caged bird he put up a weak protest. She chuckled. ”Nuvving wrong wit’ bein’ short, li’l man. Comes in kinda handy sometimes y’know,” She said. Being small helped her out-maneuver larger opponents. It also made her light on her feet, quiet. But she got the distinct feeling he wasn’t going to appreciate any of the things she had to say right now.

Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to stop talking, though.

”Ah, li’l man, quit yer whingin’. An’ he should be grateful to have just the li’l weirdo bein’ the one look in’ after ye, not any of the other nut jobs in this pack.” She said, and sighed. ”Well if’n ye don’ wanna hear about the hag- an’ I don’t blame ye, it’s not a story for everyone- how about the story of the green man?”

How could being short possibly be of use? His size did him no favors when this woman and her pack tore down rivenwood’s door. Maybe if he’d been big — like Mahler was — things would be different.
But he wasn’t a large, chiseled warrior. Just an overgrown pup with no hope of escape.
He sure as hell couldn’t escape Æsilfír’s endless chatter.
Abel put his paws over his head. That’s even more dumb than an old hag,, he groaned. He was already sick of this story too. Green man… men can’t be green. That’s stupid.

Some creatures simply weren’t happy unless they were miserable. Abel seemed to be one of those creatures, and by pulling his paws over his head he made it fairly clear he didn’t want to hear about something he didn’t believe in. 

”Ah g’wan, now yer just bein’ contrary for the sake of bein’ contrary. Wot, d’yer Mam never tell you stories when you were wee?” She asked. She paused. That might be a sore point. ”What kinda stories d’you like, then?” She asked, curious to see if he’d even cooperate with her enough to answer that question.

I — Abel wanted to say yes; his mother had told him stories, far better than whatever could come from the woman’s mouth. But as much as he wished to, he could not bring himself to lie.
And so he huffed, No… She never told him much of anything beyond orders.
I don’t know. He grumbled, exhausted and defeated by the woman’s endless badgering. Tell me about the green man I guess.

The kid looked disappointed, maybe a bit sour when Ash called out his mother’s negligence. She didn’t press the topic further, especially when he finally, albeit reluctantly, agreed to hear the story of the green man. 

”The legends of the Green Man come from long ago, from a time when flora an’ fauna lived in harmony, when all beasts could speak a common tongue, and there was peace. Before a time when killin’ was necessary to eat, when all animals grazed the green hillsides.” She said. 

”But legends had begun to grow of tyranny which had begun t’spread from the h’East. Great beasts that had begun to prey upon the meek. Rumours, they thought at first, until those rumours grew and the darkness spread. Famine crept in; the hills that were once green had begun to turn yellow.”

A brave young lad named Acer left his family and homelands to venture out and find out wot was causin’ the fear te spread. Along the way, he befriended a cheery li’l robin, named Flint, an’ together they travelled until they found a group of tired-look in’ travellers. 

An’ amongst them, was the Green Man. 

The Green Man had been mostly legend, as far as Acer knew. A creature neither flora nor fauna, covered in oak leaves, and the body shape of a mountain lion. Acer wasn’t exactly welcomed into the group- but he knew if anybeast had the answer to his question, the Green Man would.”

But the Green Man was a busy man. It was said the balance of all living things was maintained by the Green Man. And so, Acer demanded to know why nature had come to be so out of balance. 

“Who are you, te question me, when I hold the balance of all living things in my paw?” The Green Man boomed. Acer was frightened. Flint hid in the nearest tree. 
“….I do,” said Acer, nervously. The Green Man’s eyes narrows down on him. He was but a young wolf, not more’n a yearling. He laughed. 
“And a mere sapling such as yourself hard no faith in the judgements made by an immortal?” The Green Man boomed boastfully. He didn’t expect to be rebuked again so he settled back down, but no sooner had he done so than he heard the young wolf creep closer again.

[b]”We need to know why, sir, why the fields are dying. There is nothing left to eat. And why there are rumours that animals have begun….Eating each other. Surely you would not allow such a thing,”

The Green Man laughed.

“The truth, then, huh? Tell you what. If you can find my lair tomorrow and arrive exactly at two minutes past noon, I will give you a chance to uncover the truth for yourself. It lies East of the North Star, and South of the West river.”

And with that, the Green Man disappeared. With less than a day left to find the Green Man’s secret lair, Acer and Flint began to make the journey, doing their best to navigate with such vague instructions.”[/b] She said. She paused, to see if the child had settled in a bit more at all.