#I would like to just hike up into the mountains and become a hermit

[starz-n-stuff]

My soul is restless and I want to see the world that makes me feel so small

[campmurderparty]

ingrid & nora.

Ingrid’s legs were already growing tired. She thought she kept a steady exercise routine before, but ellipticals and spin bikes apparently worked out different muscles than needed for hiking. Sweat was already beginning to collect at her hairline and her cheeks reddened the more they walked. She didn’t have to worry about getting hurt, nora had all the training needed for an emergency, but she was trying her hardest not to become annoyed by the heat and physical exertion. It was just something she had to endure. The views would be worth it, seeing the happiness on nora’s face when they got through the weekend would make it all worth it. Again, she tried to convince herself to keep an open mind. She could end up loving caving. She could beg nora to take her out again once it was all over. 

The problem was that ingrid had never been a fan of the outdoors. Even walking through the forest, she didn’t marvel over the lush greenery or yearned for the glimpse of some wildlife; she thought about the bugs that were sure to find her skin, she thought about the bears or mountain lions—animals she wasn’t even sure were in that forest—coming to rip them apart. She even thought about some hermit that wouldn’t take too kindly to them walking by their cabin and would greet them with a shotgun, maybe worse. Nora hadn’t addressed her concerns yet, instead pulling her by the hand towards something. “Wait–” she didn’t get to finish saying, suddenly they stopped just before a canyon. Feeling nora’s arms around her waist, ingrid leaned back slightly and rested her neck against nora’s shoulder. Still a bit uneasy, she craved the comfort that her fiancée always brought her. Silent as they waited, the sun finally began to rise and spread light across the canyon. A smile broke out on ingrid’s face, slightly blinded by the grandeur of the sun. it felt like, up in the mountains, they were closer to it than they were on the ground. 

She felt nora’s eyes on her face and turned a bit to look back. In front of such a beautiful sight and all nora wanted to do was look at her. Nora kissed her hard, ingrid matching the intensity before they both pulled back. “I love you too, baby.” The romance of it nearly made her want to cry. No one had made ingrid feel so special, so loved. Not genuinely. The man that she had been involved with when she was eighteen made her feel special and loved sometimes, but other times made her so miserable it tore her heart apart—she hesitated to call it grooming, though hearing the stories of other women that had been often had her comparing them to her previous relationship. After years of breaking up with theo and then getting back together with him, they finally parted ways for good. She didn’t date much after him, too focused on law school and getting a job at a good firm, and then nora came into her life. It finally all made sense to her. Ingrid always knew she was bisexual, but she never did more than kiss another woman. Nora was her first for many things, and she hoped she’d be her last for the rest of time. 

The hernandez family accepted her easily, though nora’s mother had passed away early on in their relationship and ingrid never had a chance to meet her. By all accounts, ana maria would have accepted her the same, and she wanted so desperately to be a hernandez, too. The sergeants, on the other hand, were permanently fractured. Ingrid didn’t see or talk to her mother much, not since her mom remarried, and her father always seemed permanently stuck in that high school stoner mindset, more so now that her parents had divorced. Cassandra made her mad, mark made her sad. Her sister, marnie, was the only member of the family that she really kept in touch with, and sometimes she forgot she even had an older brother, dylan. Nora and her family were so different, so warm. She felt jealous over their closeness, their love for each other. She wanted that. She wanted nora. 

Well, that was a little concerning. But ingrid trusted her. She had to trust nora. Her fiancée was the one that knew what she was doing. Her fiancée had the experience of cave exploring and the emergency training needed for this to be the safest trip possible. And it did sound amazing. It also sounded labor-intensive. To hear about how much work cave exploring was going to take, she was beginning to think she bit off more than she could chew. Smiling and giggling at the feeling of nora at her neck, she was still apprehensive, but in a much better mood when nora took her hand. Letting her lead the way, ingrid sighed lowly, “alright, show me the way!”

[ja-khajay]

Stuff I read (and liked) this year

As promised, here’s a list of the novels, comics, manga, etc... I read this year, focusing on the ones I enjoyed and would recommend to people. Under a cut, this is going to be a little long.

-------- Books --------

Favorite book of the year: Stranger in the Woods, by Michael Finkel

Non-fiction. Based on the interviews of the man himself by the author, it is about a man who felt so unfit for society he decided one day to leave it, and spent the next 28 years as a hidden hermit in forest in Maine. The book details how he survived there, how he was eventually found, and some of his reasons for doing so. It’s a great reflection on the nature of loneliness.

Indian creek, by Pete Fromm

...Yet another detailed tale of living alone in the woods. This time, the diary of a student who spent a winter in the mountains to help tend for salmon hatchlings, and how he spent the rest of his days hiking, hunting, meeting the locals. It’s a fun little book who, being set almost the whole world away from where I live, was a nice way to travel.

Howl’s Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones

I don’t feel the need to explain this one since everyone and their mom has seen the movie adapted from it. The book, that I first read a decade ago before I actually watched the film, is a less romantized, more spirited telling of the same story. The writing is absolutely delightful and so is the world it paints, and it’s the first time in ages a book had me laughing out loud during my entire read.

-------- Comics (BD) --------

Favorite comic of the year: Monsieur Désire?, by Hubert and Virginie Augustin

A discreet young woman becomes a maid for a decadent, unbearable, byronesque young lord. Caked in the rigid and oppressive social hierarchy of the victorian era, you follow a mental and verbal joust between the two, as the lord tries his best to offend and corrupt his new unrelenting servant, to little success. The writing and especially the dialogues were stellar, drawing me into the tense atmosphere, watching this trainwreck of a character flamboyantly destroy himself. While there’s no precise content warnings that I can give, this is a mature and heavy story.

World of Edena, by Moebius

Anyone who’s followed this blog for over a month knows how much of a Moebius fan I am. Edena combines the vague, dreamlike, wordless storytelling from stuff like Arzach or The cat’s eyes with an actual plot. While I haven’t completly finished the story, the evolution of the main characters and how the story is told have been great to read through, and as always the art is beyond gorgeous. Unfortunately suffers from some good old sexism in the writing that even if minimal, tasted sour

Le roman de Renart, by Joan Sfar (book 1)

Sfar’s work always has a signature vibe of being dreamy and light without being light hearted, of being down to earth but drifting in the fantastical, and this one is no exception. It’s an adaption of a series of medieval folk tales I grew up with, who uses the same characters to tell an original story. If you’re familiar with icons like Renart as well as other mythological big boys like Merlin you’ll fit right in. There is something special in how the dialogues are written, who feel natural in a way that you’d overhear in a street corner and is very special to me.

The mercenary, by VIncente Segrelles

Another one I post about a lot on this blog. The mercenary is a king on the throne of fantasy cheese. The worldbuilding is interesting at times but the writing is a pretty pathetic display of glorious old time sword and sorcery sci-fantasy 10 years too late for it’s prime (warning for ye old sexism and orientalism that plagues the genre, cranked very high...) but you come and stay for the art. The entire thing is drawn in a series of hyper detailed oil paintings with an insane eye for technical detail, from the engineering of the weaponry, to the architecture and weather, to the anatomy of the fantasy creatures... Each panel stands out as it’s own painting which makes even flipping through it without reading the scenario a treat. Click here to see more of the art, in my Segrelles tag.

The ice maurauder, by Jacques Tardi

A short story about mad scientists entirely drawn like a 19th century engraving. In great Tardi tradition everyone is ugly and mean, it ends terribly, it’s both a hommage to the genre of late 19th cent. to early 1900s dramatic adventure novels and a critical eye on it, and it’s morbidly funny. Most people I saw online hated the way this was written but I’m not them and I really recommend this book. Die mad

-------- Manga --------

Favorite manga of the year: it’s a tie between the following two.

Cats of the Louvre, by Taiyo Matsumoto

Most wonderful comic I have read in ages. The story follows a bunch of semi-feral cats secretly living in the Louvre museum’s attic, and the small group of humans who share their life, walking through the museum as the night watch. When the cats are together, they are represented in a humanoid way, but still act like animals, and “become” cats again when a human is nearby. The plot is a sort of supernatural mystery centered around a kitten who walks around paintings. It’s a love letter to art, sincere and beautiful, with a unique art style and great characters.

Memoirs of amorous Gentlemen, by Moyoco Anno

A sex worker in early 20th century paris starts writing down a diary of the clients she meets, in a quest to cope with the troubles of her life. You follow her, her colleagues, and her bittersweet relationship with an abusive lover. I don’t have much words about this comic, but the art and writing both are amazing, it’s the perfect length and drew me in like little series had before. Obvious content warnings as this is an adult story that talks about sexuality, but also depicts both mental and physical abuse.

Hana, also by Taiyo Matsumoto 

A very short story, this was not made to be read as a comic originally, but served as storyboarding and visual development for a play, and the way it is written follows that. Hana is a slice of life story set in a fantasy world, of a young boy, his family, his village. Despite the setting being an original one, the character interactions are refreshingly... normal, and there is no huge plot to speak of, just a bit of the life of these characters. The art is beautiful, entirely black and white, with a scratchy style and an emphasis on contrast. Matsumoto is on a speedy road to becoming my favorite manga artist haha

Delicious in Dungeon, by Ryoko Kui

While not marked as my year’s favorite, I still consider this series among my favorite manga ever. The art and writing are amazing, and it’s both heartfelt, well concieved and plain hilarious. The story follows several parties of dungeon diving adventurers each on their little quests with a premise of our protagonists, on a panic rescue mission, surviving in the dungeon by cooking and eating the monsters they come across. From a DnD party turned cooking manual dinner of the week beginning, the plot creeps up on you and slowly thickens. I don’t want to spoil anything about the overarching story of this because it was a delight to discover for myself. While everything about DinD rules, I am especially fond of the design philosophy of the author, who puts great detail in the practicality and biology of what she draws, as well as the character writing. Everyone even side characters has so much charm and depth to them, the cast is so diverse and entertaining...! Each character is just a bit lame enough but endearing, and has their own little backstory that shows in the way they exist. It’s a delight

Chainsaw man, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

I went into CSM expecting a borderline campy hyperviolent dumb fun thing to read and was very surprised to find an uncomfortably well written story about a teenager being groomed. The hyperviolent dumb fun fights are here nonetheless and the series still qualifies as shonen for some reason, but the more mature character writing as well as some truly outlandish visuals make it something very special. If you can’t stand shonen, not sure you will like it, but if you don’t mind it, worth trying.

Witch hat atelier, by Kamome Shirahama

The oh so elegant fantasy seinen every cool kid started posting about this year, who I also succumbed to and fast. Witch hat is hard to explain, as most of it’s plot revolves around the rules of the world it’s set in, specifically the regulations around it’s magic and the social and historical reasons for them. It’s about growing up, learning, disability, making art. You follow a little girl taken in by a witch as an apprentice, her magical education, and learn little by little why her lovely teacher is so willing to break a lot of rules... While a bit too gentle and pretty for my taste at times, Witch hat has great worldbuilding and explores sensitive themes I rarely see in manga, much less in fantasy. And Berserk wishes it had art this good

[winterswrandomness]

📚

and by this i mean as many as u wanna

:0 alrighty get ready for a lot, by which I mean 5 (Link)

Hmm let's start with

1. Shift

Now I love Shift, at least the concept of it, but I have yet to start writing a first draft I'm happy with. In the initial draft, it centered around Etho and Beef going to Zedaph's lab to help with redstone and deliver some supplies, respectively, for the first chapter.

In the version I want to write now, it would have five chapters and focus on different hernits in each one. It was going to be set in a world similar to Minecraft, but with modern advancements in terms of buildings and structures. Think Keralis' city in season 7, but as a whole world. Or, well, I suppose in that case it'd be easier to compare it to an adventure map set in a city.

Anyways, this newer version was still going to focus on mental health, disabilities, and perhaps most notably in a more subtle way, relationships and interpersonal connections. See, there would be no permadeath, and the closest thing you could get was someone leaving and not coming back (think when you die, you can go to the Minecraft Title screen, or when you log out of the game by choice you are leaving).

So sometimes, people will "log out" in a sense, and sometimes without saying a single thing about it, which can easily leave you wondering why.

2. Mycophobia

So, Mycophobia would have centered around the Mycelium Resistance becoming re-Mycelium Resistance-ified in season 8 or 9 (still not concrete on which).

The main premise would be figuring out why they did, without any of the other hermits being comprimised by whatever was happening. It would start out small, and I was thinking it would start at someone else then go on to Grian because he was the Mother Spore and that person was like "hmm need to find him", and that basically jumpstarts the whole story since "oh look now there's two and they're plotting"

And I'm thinking some of the other hermits who have had mushroom themes or been around them will be more easily affected, at least at first. I think a fun detail would be them having a harder time recruiting Etho because of the whole mask deal, and maybe the hivemind connection infection thing would be sent through the lungs.

Did I mention there would be a hivemind? if not, there would be, since mushrooms are actually interconnected in huge networks! It # really quite fascinating, and one could perhaps even argue that every mushroom in rhe whole world is connected in some way even despite oceans, since maybe they can go through the ocean floor, or perhaps connect through the water itself. That would be horrifying, swimming one day and finding a large net of webbing and roots.

Anyway, Mycophobia would have been this fic with some unsettling elements and somewhat high tensions.

3. Unnamed concept

Yeah, this one doesn't have a name.

So this fic would have been a 3rd Life fic, actually! I had the idea for it somewhere between 3rd Life and Last Life I think, and it would have been about someone in Dogwarts freezing to death but having Weird side effects. Honestly, this could probably also transfer over to Last Life, with the snow fort and everything. Maybe someone hiked up too high on a mountain and reached powdered snow. In that case, it could probably also work for Hermitcraft

Anyway, it's probably a ditch concept. Just not enough substance to it, and what it does have lacks something. The plot basically would have been someone not feeling cold ever again, and not really being affected by it, after their death to it. It would have been sort of like the universe was laughing in their face, which I do like! I love bitterly ironic twists of fate and reality and whatever

4. A road trip about a knight and a demon

Working title. It would have centered around Wels and Impulse!

I don't really have any clear ideas on what exactly I would do for this, but it would probably be nonsensical (in a good way)

Like, I don't know the setting or how they ended up on a road trip, or literally anything else except Wels is a knight, Impulse is a demon, and they meet a bunch of mythical people like a centaur who's taller than both of them but lets birds land on her antlers, a fish and a fae who try to scam them by a river bank that cuts the ground between them and a field of horses, a completely normal scientist that's definitely not at all related to shadows or voids or clouds in the slightest, a zombie who seems more interested in their skulls than their brains, and many more!

It would just be a fun slice of life, maybe about returning home (or reconciling with being unable to return home), maybe involving portals to this new world, and stuff like that

5. A Day with Bdubs and Gem!

So this is about my one crossover AU, of Stardew Valley and Last Life (plus some others), where it's all the Last Lifers (and some friends) in a world similar to that of Stardew Valley. Admittedly, I've already started writing this one, although it's on a bit of a halt at the moment!

A Day with Bdubs and Gem! would center around the two mentioned in the title, as they go about their day! It's meant to be a simple, sweet introduction into what exactly the AU is about and the kind of world they're in and the basics of what some people do. Along the way, they run into lots of people and talk about lots of people, like how Ren brings False and Martyn to Gem's saloon most of the nights he's there.

It's meant to be very slice of life, low stakes, and very nice overall! The purpose would be to demonstrate the feeling of community, and that would be communicated through a series of short chapters set at different points in their day! The summary would go something like, "Bdubs need to build a barn for the local farmers, and enlists Gem for help carrying the materials."

Now if you're here, thank you for asking! <3 <3

[writerbyaccident]

The Beauty of the Beast (Yandere WerewolfxReader)

Please consider supporting me at my Ko-Fi account

The mountains had seemed so peaceful on your drive up.

           They were breathtaking in the evening sun, the trees practically glowing in the light. The world was breathing with the new life that only early summer could provide, and even before you made it to the cabin you felt as if you were on vacation. Once you finally did reach your destination though, you knew that nothing could possibly compare. The charming little log cabin, nestled away in the forest, looked like a sanctuary. It was a sanctuary. A place where, if only for a week, you could finally spend some time with your friends and forget all of your troubles.

           Speaking of which…it didn’t seem as though any of your friends had arrived yet.

           Stepping out of your car and pausing to stretch for a moment, you glanced around to see if you had simply missed your friends’ cars. But after scanning the area, you had to admit that you were the only one there at the moment. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, you chuckled to yourself. Most of them do have a history for being late. At least I’ll get to have some alone time before they all get here.

           With that in mind, you left your car behind you, figuring that you could just bring your things inside later, and began to approach the woods. Wandering past the tree line, you breathed in the fresh, warm air gratefully, utterly content in your private little slice of paradise. Although you were sure that there were plenty of animals just out of view, hiding from the human intruder that had entered their home, you felt as though you were the only living creature for miles. That feeling of peaceful isolation stayed with for a little while, but soon enough, it disappeared.

           In its place entered a feeling that all people have been familiar with at one time or another: the feeling of being watched. You recognized it easily from the way the hairs on the back of your neck had stood up stiffly in fright, but unlike all previous instances of having the feeling of being watched by someone just out of sight, it did not fade. No, it only continued to grow, as if you were being stalked by some unknown predator that was slowly making its way towards you. Shaking your head, you tried to reassure yourself that it was simply one of your friends playing a trick on you.

           “This isn’t funny guys!” you called out, your voice unsure. “Cut it out!”

           Your voice was lost as the wind picked up though, and you cursed yourself for ever leaving the safety of the cabin. Peering through the trees, you scoured for any sign of the creature that was tormenting you. But even as that strange tension grew, you saw nothing. And with the wind whistling in your ears, you could hardly hear anything either. Deciding to risk movement, you took a cautious step back. And when nothing happened you took another. But when you took your third step, even the wind couldn’t hide what you heard.

           First it was simply a low growl, one that you told yourself was just the sound of the tree branches creaking in the roaring wind. As you took your next steps though, the sound grew louder and louder until there was no pretending that it wasn’t some sort of animal. Unsure of what you should do, you halted in your tracks. As soon as you stopped moving away though, the growling ceased. Not only that, but it felt as though some of the tension surrounding you lifted. Staying frozen where you stood, you prayed that whatever was watching you would grow bored and leave. But as the minutes passed, you had to admit that that wasn’t about to happen. Even though you couldn’t see what was stalking you, you could still feel the creature’s eyes boring into you zealously, pinning you there and refusing to let you leave.

           Snap.

           As soon as the sound of snapping twigs reached your ears, you began to run with all of the speed you could muster. Although you didn’t want to make yourself a target for some beast, you weren’t about to just stand there as it attacked you either. Dodging underbrush and fallen trees, you continued to race back towards the cabin as fast as you possibly could. You forced yourself to stare straight ahead, refusing to look back, even as you heard the sounds of a crashing predator chasing you. And even over those sounds, you could still hear the beast growling at your audacity to run from him.

           Just as you thought that the beast would reach you, you saw the cabin come into view just beyond the trees. With the sight of safety so close, you spurred yourself onward. And as you approached your sanctuary, you saw the familiar figures of your friends standing in the gravel driveway. Thank god, you thought. They must have just gotten here. The sound of you crashing through the woods soon reached their ears, so that when you finally made it through the trees, they were there to catch you in their arms.

           “Oh my god,” Matt gasped. “What the hell happened?”

           “Are you okay?” Julia asked. Catching your breath, you nodded and buried your face in Matt’s chest. When you did though, a part of you swore that you heard a faint growling, from the same creature as before. Neither Matt nor Julia seemed to hear it though, so you forced yourself to ignore it, letting them guide you into the cabin. And although you still felt those greedy eyes devouring you as you approached the cottage, you didn’t look back. Soon enough, the door slammed shut with your friends and you safely inside, meaning that no one was there to hear the dark voice growling from the trees.

           “Mine.”

           Over the next few days, you did your best to try to forget what you told yourself had been an escape from some random animal. But even as you tried to bury the experience, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but doubt that you had been chased by just some average predator. It was hard to pin down, but there was something about how you had felt as the creature had been gazing at you that had felt…intelligent. Almost…human. And the way it had only growled as you tried to step away—whatever it had wanted, you weren’t sure that it had seen you as a meal. Still, even as your mind whispered these things to you, you knew how just how ridiculous you sounded. So instead of dwelling on it, you tried to just focus on making the most of your vacation.        

           That was certainly easier said than done though.

           Every single time that you walked out of the cabin door, you felt those eyes on you again. Whether you were alone or with your friends, whether it was day or night, you felt their weight on you. And no matter what you did, whether you hiked for miles or simply sat on the porch, they never left you. You forced yourself to go out regardless, trying to convince yourself that it was all in your head, but paranoia still worked its way into you. Each time that you ventured outside without one of your friends beside you, you grew more and more certain that the beast would drag you off to its den. As the week passed, you began to leave the cabin less and less, and when you did leave, you refused to do so alone. Whenever you ventured back into the woods with your friends though, you swore that you could hear the creature growling at the sight.

           Eventually, when your last night at the cabin had finally arrived, you were positively desperate to leave. It was sad, you had been looking forward to this trip for so long, and now you couldn’t wait for it to be over. But even your dreary life would be better than living with some monster always watching you, waiting for the opportunity to take you for themselves. With the prospect of a return to normalcy close by and a bright full moon shining above you, roasting marshmallows by the fire pit, you allowed yourself to relax with your friends.  

           “Ugh,” groaned Caitlin, “I’m not ready to go back to school.”

           “Me neither,” Brendan said. “We should just become hermits.”

           “I second that. You don’t need a college degree to be a hermit,” Matt added.

           “Go right ahead,” you scoffed. “Have fun living without the internet.”

           “Wow, way to destroy our dreams.”

           “I try.”

           “We’re almost out of marshmallows,” Julia pointed out. “Any volunteers?”

           “I’ll go,” you sighed. “I’ll leave you guys to planning your lives as mountain dwellers.”

           Pushing yourself out of your chair, you began to make your way towards the cabin. It was odd, while you had been sitting with your friends all that evening the feeling of being watched hadn’t returned, but now as you approached the cabin, you felt the slightest unsettling pit in your stomach. When you glanced back towards the fire pit though and saw all of your friends still joking around happily, you shook your head, exasperated with your paranoia and continued inside.

           With all of the food that had been thrown onto the kitchen counter and stuffed into the cabinets, it took you a few minutes to find the marshmallows. You opened every cabinet door in search of them, only to discover that the shelf they were on was too high for you to reach. Making your way to the dining table, you grabbed a chair and started carrying it over, not about to let the marshmallows escape. Just as you were climbing onto the chair though, your errand was interrupted by a shrill scream.

           Heart leaping up into your throat, all you could do for a moment was stand there and strain your ears, praying that you had just imagined it. But then there was another scream and then another and then another. With a mad dash you scrambled off of the chair and reached for your phone. Your shaking figures began to dial 911, only to stop when you realized that there was no signal to let you call for help. Not knowing what else to do, you ran towards the sounds of your friends.

           When you finally reached the cabin door, you paused for a moment, trying to see what was going on before running outside. But the fire pit was around the corner and out of your sight, leaving you with nothing but the sounds of your friends’ screams. Beyond that, all you heard was the sound of that familiar growling. And then—then it became more than growling. Then that snarling voice called out your name.

           “Come,” his voice—for whatever the beast was, you could tell that it was male—snarled greedily. “Come to me.”

           Struck speechless, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

           “Mine. You are mine. Come to me.”

           “No,” you whispered, clutching the doorknob tight enough to bruise your fingers.

           “My mate,” the beast growled. “Mine. Only mine.”

           “No,” you repeated, louder this time.

           “Come. Or they die.” At those darkly distorted words, you whimpered, the tears that had been building within you finally spilling over. Knowing that you had no choice, you turned the doorknob slowly, walking outside with trembling steps.

           Just past the porch steps stood the beast. At first glance you thought that he was simply a common wolf, but a closer look showed you just how wrong you were. He was so much larger than a wolf, practically a giant in comparison. More muscled than a bear and nearly twice as tall, you might have thought that he was some sort of mutant. No, a part of you whispered to yourself. There’s something in him that’s almost…human.

           It was true, from the thumbs on his enormous paws to the way his legs bent to show you how easily he could stand on two legs. More telling than any of that though were his eyes. They were golden and they shone through the dark night just like gold would. But rather than stare at you with the empty cunning of an animal, they gazed at you with all of the intelligence of a human being. In truth though, it wasn’t their intelligence that scared you. No, what scared you was the way that they gazed at you with such hunger—with such lust.

           “Mine,” came his voice, this time sounding less like a growl and more like a purr.        

           “If—if I let you take me, you’ll leave my friends alone?”

           At the word friends, the werewolf bared his teeth and snarled. Desperate to keep him from returning to attacking them, you made your way off of the porch, only barely keeping yourself from running back into the cabin. As soon as you stood before him, the beast leapt upon you, knocking you to the ground. Flinching as you were pushed to the ground, you stared up at the werewolf, drowning in the hunger his eyes showed. With you finally beneath him as he had craved from the first moment that he had seen you, he could not stop himself from burying his snout into the crook of your neck, needing to scent you. His hot breath brushed against your skin as his tongue brushed against your neck, utterly unable to get enough of you. He could feel himself beginning to shake with the need to devour you, to make you howl as only your mate could. But before he could surrender to his need, he saw what you had spotted.

           “You—you said you wouldn’t kill them,” you choked out, unable to look away from the bodies. “You said you wouldn’t if I gave myself to you.”

           “Had to,” he growled protectively. “Had to keep you safe. To keep my mate.”

Trembling on the ground where you were trapped, a new wave of tears came pouring out of you. As soon as the tears touched your cheeks though, they were wiped away by the beast’s tongue, his licks too gentle and too comforting for even you to ignore. Despite everything, you found your eyes beginning to flutter closed, something about the werewolf somehow calming you. At the sight of you accepting his affection and letting yourself be soothed by him, the beast bared his teeth in a satisfied grin.

“Mine.”

Please consider supporting me at my Ko-Fi account

[jaimesam]

Sawtooth

We woke up on the morning of our fourth day in the Sawtooth wilderness feeling spry. It can take a day, or two, or three before the rhythm of backpacking— wake up, wolf down some instant oatmeal, slurp up some instant coffee, shoulder a 35 pound pack and start the day’s climb—begins to feel right. This was our morning.

A miracle: the skies had truly cleared of wildfire smoke for the first time since setting off from Grandjean. Good timing, too: our day ahead would be perhaps the best of the trip — up and over Cramer Pass, beneath “The Temple,” down past the Cramer Lakes and up again to Alpine Lake, reputedly a gem. We hit the trail with bounce in our step.

Three, four, five miles into our hike we were still having fun, even as we began to wonder — was it possible that Hidden Lake was, in fact, so hidden that we wouldn’t see it from the trail? When would we hit the killer climb up to Cramer Pass? Slogging through overgrown brush and clambering over deadfall — all of which felt oddly familiar — we encountered a group of five friendly outdoorsmen from Seattle.

“Morning.”

“Afternoon.”

“Am I right that we’ve got a climb ahead?”

“Oh no, it’s all downhill from here.”

“Hmm.”

“Where are you trying to get to?”

“Well we were aiming for Cramer Lakes…”

“Oh you’re a long way from there. This trail goes down to Grandjean.”

“Oh my god.”

Jaime caught up.

“We took a wrong turn.”

“I thought so.”

“It’s a bad one.”

“How bad?”

“The good news is that we’ve been making great time. Covered a lot of miles.”

“And?”

“That lake was Elk Lake. This is the trail we hiked in on our first day.”

“How…”

“Five miles ago. Missed a turn.”

“God damn it.”

“Actually more like five and a half.”

Oh yes, there were signs. Including literal signs made of actual wood. Two of which we somehow blew blindly past, and a third: seen but egregiously misinterpreted. Also the creek we had crossed thrice, which, had we been paying close attention, we might have noticed was flowing in the wrong direction. Or beautiful Smith Falls, which we had passed two days before. Or the 2.4 miles of the South Fork of the Payette Trail we had hiked on day one — the most grueling and unattractive stretch of trail we had yet encountered — you would think we might have realized something was amiss. And yet.

“We could just hike out.”

“It would be eleven more miles.”

“So we backtrack.”

“Five and a half. Uphill.”

“We’re spending an extra night out here, aren’t we?”

“I think so.”

“Do we have extra food?”

“We have enough food.”

“I hate this.”

So we backtracked. An eleven mile detour, all told, with 1500 feet of elevation lost and then gained agin, for no reason, on unremarkable, overgrown, valley trails with views of nothing but dense forest, overgrown with scrubby mountain brush. The last few miles, a steady and grueling climb, brought us back to where we had missed our first sign, six hours before. We collapsed at the intersection, refilled our bottles, and snacked on salami — the promise of which was all that had gotten us up the hill. Mosquitoes and black flies swarmed, and the sky, which had begun the day clear, turned a pinkish gray as wildfire smoke began to dim the sun again.

“Why do we do this?”

“Good question.”

Onward to Hidden Lake, not so hidden after all. After dragging ourselves over 14 miles — 3 miles of forward progress from our last camp — we collapsed on a grassy shoreline, and rinsed our scratched and bruised bodies in the glassy frigid water. The lake sat beneath two pointed cliffs, side by side — one of red stone, the other gray— and the sun set early in the narrow valley. Trout jumped, snatching flies from the water’s surface, and pair of mergansers jetted around the lake, snatching the fish in turn. Exhausted, we fell asleep listening to hermit thrushes whistling their fluting ethereal song over the quiet rush of cascades tumbling down the cliffs, filling the lake.

We woke up, wolfed down some instant oatmeal, slurped up some instant coffee, and began the day’s climb. Up and over Cramer Pass, beneath “The Temple,” a tower of red sandstone capped with a knobby monolith that might well have been the icon of some desert religion. We descended again to the three Cramer Lakes, each one cascading to the next, down further to cross a rushing stream of snowmelt and spring water. We dipped our hats and bandannas in the almost-freezing water to drip down our necks and backs in the hot afternoon. Then we’re climbing again, this time twice as high, twice as far, to Alpine Lake, a pristine tarn carved into the side of the slope, a fine place for a salami break. Then higher, sweating our way up to the day’s second pass. We looked down on the Baron Lakes, where we would camp for the night, and across the lakes to Warbonnet Peak and Monte Verita, grey and purple in the late afternoon shadows.

“This is why we do this.”

“Yeah.”

One reason, anyway. The most obvious reason. If you did a survey of the people who somehow ended up at the top of the pass above Baron Lakes, this would be the number one reason cited for braving the insects and the varmints, dealing with the aches and the rashes, and slogging up a mountain with a heavy pack: the views, the vistas, the landscapes, the panoramas. The drama of the mountains. It’s like cooking your own meal — it tastes better when you’ve worked for it, earned it, done it yourself. The view from the pass is more beautiful for the sweat and exertion dragging your body and your pack up the climb.

We got more the following day as we descended from the Baron Lakes, our final day on the trail. An oceanic valley opened up beneath us, ringed by steep cliffs and rockslides of red and grey and purple, Baron Creek turning into a 30 foot waterfall. You can’t find this outside the mountains, this sense of three-dimensional space. Of looking down a valley two miles wide as it falls away from your feet, three thousand feet down. Like standing in the greatest of civilization’s cathedrals, but one with enough open space to park a carrier group, with more room for a fleet of attack submarines below.

After five nights and six days, we have become the land. Smeared with the dust of an arid country, we blend in with the rock and dirt. And despite our daily dips in the alpine lakes of the Sawtooth, we smell like it too. That first shower will feel great. The first meal — Jaime’s been fantasizing about a tuna melt and French fries, Sam has been inexplicably craving pancakes — even better. This is also why we backpack. It feels awfully good to have done it.

More than just the relief and indulgence of returning to civilization, a week in the mountains offers a welcome reset on city life. I am a city person. I like living in a density of people, living within a stroll of most everything I need, nearby neighbors and friends. But I crave the balance offered by nature, by a week in the woods, a month in the mountains. We’ll return feeling refreshed, glad to be back, awed by the commonplace luxuries of modern urban living: a world’s worth of cuisines, at my doorstep in 20 minutes; humanity’s complete works of recorded music, in my pocket. We’ll be very glad to have done it, for all its ups and downs. And, more immediately, we’re glad to be done.

“I’m sore.”

“Me too.”

“My blister just popped.”

“Ew.”

“I feel great.”

“Me too.”

Leaning on the car, we ease off our boots. The horseflies are back at this lower elevation, and their buzzing takes us back to last week when we tightened our laces and adjusted the straps on our pack in preparation for starting our trip. We had arrived at Grandjean just a few hours behind the first wave of wildfire smoke. Hiking in July, we thought we’d beat the wildfires to the punch; no such luck. So we started our hike in a haze - literal and figurative - wondering if we’d be walking up mountains for 54 miles with the reward of smoggy vistas waiting at the passes and peaks.

The first day’s hike didn’t lift that haze. The trail was overgrown, not often used, with deadfall lying across our path requiring us to clamber over dead trunks or bushwhack through brush to get around. Horseflies dogged us, buzzing and biting. As we climbed, sweating, copses of trembling aspen yielded to a forest of ponderosa pine, white spruce, douglas fir, and horseflies yielded to mosquitoes. Six miles up the trail, we encountered two fellow hikers, who informed us that the first good campsite was another eight miles ahead, and that they were churning out 20 miles in a day to get out of this godforsaken wilderness pronto. Terrific.

Fortunately, they were wrong, and we soon found a very fine place to pitch a tent next to a small waterfall. The Payette River’s headwaters split and cascaded down on either side of a great red rock, and every few seconds, the waters surged and a shower of snowmelt would surge over the rock itself, spraying into the air.

A western tanager — electric yellow body, reddish head, and jet black wings — flitted through the campsite. So did chipmunks, rushing around frantically to spread the good news that a pair of slovenly campers had finally arrived, and the summer’s harvest was here at last.

“Look at the cheeks on that little guy.”

“He’s just dying to fill them up with our trail mix.”

Joke’s on us. His cheeks were already full. We turn around, and our bag of trail mix has been chewed open, our week’s supply of almonds, cashews, chocolate, and cranberries pawed through and looted.

“Oh no!”

“Tou thieving little bastard! You bandit! Son of a bitch!”

He was long gone, and presumably the life of the party in whatever chipmunk den he had retreated to. Not wanting to contract whatever rodent virus the chipmunks might have left on our nuts — and not wanting to reward their banditry — I fed our entire supply of trail mix to the fish, swearing profusely as each morsel washed downstream. We have enough food without it, I think.

Our second morning, we awoke to what appeared as a fine morning mist; the pines in the middle distance enveloped in a grey cloud; the ridgeline hazy. But central Idaho is a dry country, this time of year. There is no mist. The wildfire smoke has thickened, and an image of peace transforms to a vague and grim picture of threat and foreboding. We shoulder our packs and resume the climb; eleven more miles on the trail, plus half a mile vertically.

As we walk we get our first glimpses of sawtooth silhouette. Steep rocky cliffs capped with jagged ridgelines, hazy and dark in the smoke against the grey sky. We cross a cold stream, boots off, sandals on, almost knee deep in the rushing icy water. We stop to rest — our first salami break of the trip! — beside Smith Falls, a roaring cascade.

“Do you have the hand sanitizer?”

“I thought you had it.”

“Nope.”

“Where’s the soap?”

“Packed with the hand sanitizer.”

“We’re disgusting.”

The day has gotten hot, and our final mile is a savage climb, switchbacking up the rough talus slope of Mt. Everly. Closing in on 9000’ feet of elevation, we stop to catch our breath every few steps and soak in the panorama behind us: smoky and grey, but astounding nonetheless, with miles of views into wilderness valleys ringed by sawtooth ridges.

Finally, we climb high enough that a lake reveals itself as a sliver of blue, and then it’s at our feet. Everly Lake is a sapphire droplet, water clear to the bottom, the gently rippling surface sparkling azure in the late afternoon sun. It sits beneath the east face of Mt. Everly, a scree cliff dropping a thousand feet to the water’s edge, across from where we set up camp. We haven’t seen another soul all day, and we have this lake very much to ourselves.

Why do we do this? An interesting question because, in case it’s not obvious, backpacking trips involve a considerable quantity of suffering. We do it for the satisfaction and rejuvenation of completing a trip, certainly. And obviously the views — even when they’re gray and hazy. But this — this is really why we hump heavy packs up rocky cliffs, put up with clouds of insects and wildfire smoke, endure blisters and aches and altitude sickness. There is freedom in solitude (dual solitude, in our case), and real solitude is a hard thing to come by. Hot and sweaty and ragged from the climb, I splash into the glass-clear snowmelt of Everly Lake, naked as a wild animal.

When telling people about our big trip west, our route through Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, the most frequent first response was “ah, you’re doing the parks.” Meaning the National Parks, those natural American wonders with scenic byways leading drivers to the parks’ iconic sights, visitors’ centers full of gifts and amenities and fun facts, and influencers dangling their immaculate bodies over sheer cliffs to rack up the likes. Not so. We are, in fact, avoiding the Parks at all costs, instead seeking solitude in forests and wilderness — the likes of the Sawtooth.

In March, we took a trip to Great Smoky Mountain National Park, hoping to hike and revel in some of the finest scenery you’ll find east of the Mississippi. The joke was very much on us. Day one, we spent two hours in the car, inching toward a trailhead, in a miles-long snake of cars and trucks and RVs. In July and August, Yellowstone National Park transmutes from the largest national park in the lower 48 into the biggest parking lot on the North American continent. People sleep in their cars on the road to Zion, in the hopes of snagging a shot at a sunrise selfie.

It’s been fifty years since Edward Abbey wrote Desert Solitaire, which I’ve been reading on the trail. The book is an account of his summers as a ranger in the park that would eventually become Arches. He lamented road-building in National Parks, and proposed banning cars altogether, a fine idea. Many of our Parks did alright for decades, even with their roads and scenic byways; today’s plauge, clogging those roads and viewpoints and even some of the trails, is known as Instagram. The secret is out about the natural beauty of the American west, and the hoards have flocked.

Of course, not everyone out here in nature is seeking solitude. That’s fine. Certainly, every person has a right to see and experience earth’s great wonders. But even for the casual nature tourist, I would posit that the Grand Canyon would be better enjoyed with enough room to swing one’s arms. What to do about it? Who knows. The French are de-marketing their national parks, advertising the flaws and shortcomings of the country’s great natural sites; another fine idea, maybe there are others. At any rate, Abbey is lucky to be dead; the sight of hoards of selfie-snappers crowding for the perfect pic at Mesa Arch would kill him over again.

For those who do seek something approaching solitude, it’s harder and harder to find. We’ve avoided the National Parks, but even many of the forest campgrounds are full beyond the brim. We’ve spent evenings driving around the backwoods, trying in vain to find a good place to camp that isn’t already clogged with RVs. And I’m not here to tell anyone how to enjoy nature, but I am here to tell you that the RV is a blight upon American wilderness. Pulling into a campground in a forgotten corner of the Black Hills, and listening to a fleet of generators run for hours is, shall we say, irritating. If your idea of exploring America’s natural beauty involves parking a bus that costs as much as Lamborghini in the woods and running a generator 16 hours a day to keep your A/C running and your TV on, why not save yourself the trouble — and do the rest of us a favor — and stay home?

As one friend likes to say, gazing up at a spectacular mountain view and taking a contented sigh: “We mean nothing.” In the city, it’s hard to see yourself outside the contemporary, the immediate, the urgent. Put yourself in nature, in the shadow of a great peak or at the bottom of a colossal canyon, and it becomes possible to see your ego and your consciousness in a more accurate perspective: transient, insignificant. There’s freedom in that. And peace.

The chipmunks of Everly Lake share the thieving attitude of their cousins down the mountain. As we sat absorbing the last of the orange sun’s rays, we heard a rustling behind us, and caught one in the act trying to seize our sesame crisps. Rather than chewing through the bag and filling his fat cheeks with whatever they could carry, this greedy fellow had his tiny arms wrapped around the entire ziploc bag, attempting to make off with the whole kit and kaboodle. Not today, chipmunk. We learned our lesson. Our food bag didn’t leave our sight the rest of the trip.

We awoke the next morning to the smell of a campfire burning outside our tent. Poking my head out into the grey predawn light — no campfire, just a thick cloud of wildfire smoke. The far shore was shrouded in haze, and our sparkling blue lake had turned dull; a grim sense of foreboding gripped us as we wolfed down our instant oatmeal, slurped up our instant coffee, and shouldered our packs to descend from Everly.

We hop from lake to lake through the southern Sawtooth, and, mercifully, the cloud of smoke thins as we go. Not a soul on the trail, as we dip our toes in lakes with wonderful names — Ingeborg, Spangle, Ardeth— and some quotidian names — Rock Slide, Vernon, Benedict. I regret leaving my binoculars in the car, we try to ID our avian companions anyway. Most will end up in our books as LBBs (little brown birds), curious peepers and cheepers. We do grow fond of the white-capped sparrow, which looks like it’s wearing a bike helmet and sings a song that sounds like the opening refrain of Baby Shark. Funny little fellow.

We arrive at Lake Edna, our camp for the night, and the skies have cleared. We are treated to sunset over a glassy indigo surface. We watch the sun fall behind the same mountain that it has set behind for hundreds, thousands of summer evenings previous. It’s harder and harder to find pristine nature like this, unaltered by humanity. If some other person had felt compelled to make the same hike, climb the same hill 500 or 5000 Julys ago, they would have seen the same thing, heard the same birds, enjoyed the shade of the same trees. There is magic in that.

We woke up on the morning of our fourth day in the Sawtooth wilderness feeling spry.

This essay borrows liberally and consciously in structure and style from Messrs. Edward Abbey & John McPhee.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Mamma Mia AU  2 It’s a Rich Man’s World

Mamma Mia AU (With the boys)

Words: 1507

Summary: Your two best friends arrive on the island just in time for everything to fall apart. 

Notes: Hello lovely humans, I don’t know if the link that I sent you guys works, so if you have comments, I guess just message me? Yes I know the band name is cheesy, please help me. (Also, I’m posting this at 11:12 P.M. my time so it is technically still Monday)

New to the series? Here’s the trailer made by @childhood-imagination: Mamma Mia AU Trailer

-

While Lili and Kat were the first ones off the ferry, your friends took a little longer to get through the group of passengers. It didn’t help that Priyanka had her gargantuan suitcase trailing behind her. You could pick that red sun hat out of any crowd. 

“For one night!” You shouted once most of the other people had filtered away. “And one night only!” 

“Farrah…”

“And the…”

“Fates!” You ran across the dock, colliding in a big group hug. You must have sounded like a group of middle school girls the way you were giggling and squaking. You hadn’t been called your stage name in years, but hearing them say it took you back to when you were all young and carefree and you didn’t have a business to keep a float. 

“I’ve missed you guys.” You sighed, pulling back to look at your two best friends in the whole world. Priyanka smiled. 

“You should come and visit us sometime! Once Daisy and KJ have flown away from the nest.” 

“Are you kidding?” You laughed, shaking your head. “Who would run this place? It’s falling apart as it is.” You helped them put their luggage into the trunk of the jeep and you all climbed in. 

“Then we’ll just have to come here more often.” Scarlett suggested. “When her majesty is in between press tours and photo shoots… and husbands.” She poked at Priyanka mockingly who swatted her hands away. Priyanka had become a pretty popular model throughout Europe, but she’d cut away this time to come to the wedding. She had also been married a few times- three, to be exact. But she was happily single at the moment and always ready to party. 

Scarlett, on the other hand, wrote books in her lovely cottage up in Ireland. She wrote some of the sappiest self-love books you’d ever seen, but she was always the best shoulder to cry on. And boy, had you cried on it many times. 

-

Twenty One Years Ago

“We’re going to be late!” Scarlett shouted from outside the bathroom door. It was your first gig as a group and you’d been throwing up all afternoon from the nerves. 

“I can’t do it!” You cried, sitting on the cool, tiled floor. “I’m gonna screw it up and then we’ll all look like idiots!” 

“Sweetie, you’re not going to screw it up.” She assured you, though Priyanka’s face was starting to look skeptical. Scarlett pinched her arm. 

“You’ll do great.” She yelped, swatting Scarlet’s hand away. “Now come out here so I can fix your make-up, or I swear, Y/N, I will break down the door.” You thought for a moment, realized that she actually would, and scrambled to your feet to unlock the door. 

“You look fine.” Scarlett smiled and Priyanka placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’ll just do a couple touch-ups.” 

The makeshift stage wobbled under your feet as you walked on. The festival was swarming with people, but not many had stopped to listen. They all just passed by, ignoring the three of you completely. While your crowd only consisted of an older woman selling flowers and a man in a worn band t-shirt and jeans, you would make the best of it. You blew out a nervous breath and just let the music take over.

“Tonight the super trooper lights are gonna find me. But I won’t feel blue. Like I always do. Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you.” You sang out your opening solo, your voice a little unsure at first, but as soon as Scarlett hit the button to play the tape and the music you’d written started to play, you’d never felt more confident. With your best friends by your side, you could stay on the stage forever. 

More of a crowd had formed and people were starting to cheer, fueling your energy. It felt like everything was blurred into one, the crowd, the music, Priyanka and Scarlet. By the time you reached the end, you were practically glowing. 

“Tonight the super trooper lights are gonna find me. But I won’t feel blue. Like I always do. Cause somewhere in the crowd….” You did your final dancing spin, but your foot caught on one of the creaky, loose boards and you tumbled off the edge of the stage, the crowd collectively gasping. Instead of the ground, however, you landed in the strong arms of the t-shirt clad man with beautiful brown eyes and a gorgeous smile. “There’s you.” 

The crowd cheered and the man gently set you on your feet, his grin sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“You okay?” He asked and you nodded, unable to form actual words. “You must be Farrah?” He pointed to the poorly made banner that hung over the stage. You just stared at him, lost in those perfect, perfect eyes. 

“Ahem.” Priyanka coughed, drawing you out of your trance. You felt the blush rush to your cheeks. He just kept smiling at you, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. 

“Farrah is my stage name.” You admitted. “My real name is Y/N.” 

“Well, Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun at a concert before.” He beamed and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach go wild. “You guys are really really good.” He looked up at Priyanka and Scarlett who looked as wide eyed over his good looks as you were. 

“T-thanks.” Scarlett stammered. Priyanka rolled her eyes at you and Scarlett’s awkward natures. 

“We were going to grab a drink in between sets…” She gave you a suggestive look, darting her eyes between you and him. It took you a second to catch on. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed, more blush turning your face red. “Would you like to join us?” He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked forward on his heels. 

“I’d love to.” 

“Oh my god, how rude of me,” You turned to introduce your bandmates, “This is Priyanka,” She flashed him one of her show-stopping smiles, “and this is Scarlett,” She gave him a small wave. He nodded politely and his eyes fell back to you. 

“I’m Pedro.” 

- 

Present Day

The trek up the stairs was painful and had the two women huffing and puffing by the time you reached the top. You, of course, were used to the hike and couldn’t help but snicker. 

“Why did I wear stilettos?” Priyanka exclaimed dramatically. They set down their suitcases with a thunk. 

“Here, let me get those.” KJ offered with his usual charming smile. 

“Guys, meet KJ, he’s the leading man for Friday’s shindig.” You introduced and he chuckled. 

“The lucky man.” He beamed. “You must be… Priyanka.” She nodded and he pulled her into a hug. 

“Wow.” She mouthed over his shoulder. He turns to Scarlett.

“And you must be Scarlett.” 

“I am.” She nodded with her usual welcoming grin and hugged him tightly. He helped you take their things to their room before scampering off to gather supplies for a date he was planning with Daisy. 

“Just one more night together before things start to get a little crazy for the wedding.” He explained. He was right. Today was probably the last day before set-up would be in full swing. Daisy wanted a big wedding and oh boy, that’s what she was getting. As soon as KJ left, Scarlett fell back onto her bed. 

“I want to stay here forever and never get up.” She groaned, rubbing her aching feet. “Why do you have to live on a freaking mountain?” 

“I’m lucky I didn’t break a heel.” Priyanka added in agreement. 

“Well the two of you better get used to the not so luxurious life here for the next few days.” You snorted. “The walls in here need a new coat of paint, the floors creak, and the toilet doesn’t always flush correctly.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Nothing works around here, except for me.” 

You flopped down on the bed next to Scarlett and Priyanka joined on the other side of you. You grabbed onto their hands and felt powerful again. 

“It’s all money, money, money out there.” You sighed. “And without snatching a wealthy husband, I’m stuck doing the laundry and the dishes and everything else around here.” You chuckled to yourself, mentally scolding yourself for sounding so whiny. 

“Speaking of husbands…” Priyanka wriggled her eyebrows. 

“Here we go,” Scarlett laughed, “Husband number four!” 

“Not for me, for you!” Priyanka exclaimed, poking Scarlett in the side. “There’s got to be some Greecian god around here somewhere.” 

“No.” She waved her hand for emphasis. “No thank you. I’m fine all on my own, thanks.” 

“What great examples for Sohpie you two are; The Serial Bride and the Little Hermit.” You threw your head back with a laugh. While the three of you reminisce over your ‘glory days’, your daughter had her hands full down on the beach, staring at the three men bickering on the dock; one of whom was her father.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination

Mamma Mia Series list: @materialisthicc; @holybatflapexpert; @mandoandyodito;  @justawriterinprogress; @fangirl-multifandoms; @thelupusonyx; @arrowswithwifi; @mylovegoesto; @ahopelessromanticwritersworld; @kata1803 Pedro Tag List: @halefirewarrior;  @c-ly-g

[moxy-fruitbat]

Backpacking with Muriel headcanons

It's been like a month since I went on my 2019 hiking trip, so it's about time I posted this. These are based on this year's trip through Michigan and also my time backpacking part of the Appalachian Trail. Trail culture is weird, y'all.

- Muriel is already a pretty experienced hiker, living in the woods and climbing that mountain in order to do his divination. At the very least he's in really good shape.

- He uses 1 hiking staff instead of 2 trekking poles like The Hermit card

- Muriel in a tent is like Kronk in a tent, from Emperor's New Groove, with his feet sticking out. No animals bothers him, though.

- He can light a 1 Match Fire like it's nobody's business.

- Knows a lot of good campfire folk songs, but doesn't think he's a good singer, so he won't sing unless someone else (Asra, MC) starts.

- Whittles as his pack hobby - he uses the shavings as fire starters, uses wood he finds along the trail and he already has the knife as part of his pack essentials, so it's basically no added weight to his pack.

- He leaves the carved trinkets at the shelter houses among the trail. Trail Lore is that shelters with animal statues are protected by bears, bad weather, water-borne illness... the tales change as the season goes on.

- His trail name is Mountain Man, or something like Park Ranger, Field Guide, Audubon, Smokey the Bear, etc. because he knows so much about everything wilderness. Someone suggested Boy Scout, but he turned it down.

- or he doesn't have a trail name, I guess, because no one remembers him

- Or he doesn't have one because he keeps saying no to all of them, so No Name becomes his accidental trail name.

- He's just happy he has a positive nickname he can call himself, so he can be his trail name and not Scourge of the South.

- I also want to suggest DayGlo for Asra bc he'd wear bright neon trail gear (I have a teal drywick shirt and yellow cactus shorts in my closet I'm picturing right now lol).

- Julian would be either Eyepatch, bc hikers aren't really creative, or Red Beard, especially after he's been hiking for a while and hasn't gotten a chance to shave.

- Muriel is really intense about Leave No Trace, and gets really pissed when other hikers leave their trash behind. He doesn't say anything, though, just picks it up and packs it out with him.

- If your pack weighs too much, he'll make you stop and will silently take some of your gear amd put it in his pack. If you protest, he says it's so you can keep up with him but in reality he worries about your back.

- At the next town or hostel, he'll help you go through your bag and cut down on weight.

- If you can guarantee no one else is around and it's ok to go off trail (like in a National Forest), he's down to have outdoor sex. Prepare to be held up against a tree.

- Will share a tent with you "because it's less weight to carry than two tents". Insists that's the only reason why.

- If you don't have mummy bags, zip your sleeping bags together to make a double person sleeping bag!

- Although that might not work because he probably has to buy an extra long sleeping bag since he's so tall.

- Puts protection spells around your guys' tent or the shelter, so bears and other animals don't get in.

- Does the same with your pack/food bag when you hang them in a tree, to keep animals out.

- Inanna comes too. Has her own doggy backpack with her food and food pad balm in it.

- Secretly wishes he'd come across a bear.

- Really big on "hike your own hike". For real. Everyone leave him alone.

[jockeyholla]

Bangkok and Beyond

Happy Fall,

Despite being in one of the biggest, most populated cities I have ever been in my life, I was serenaded to sleep by a chorus of frogs last night. Torrential rains flooded the streets in Bangkok yesterday & our trip home on the boat from the weekend market was quite the wild adventure. We did fine on the metro, though it's a bit too air-conditioned for my taste. Rather like whizzing along in a super smooth refrigerator car. Just installed in the last 15 years, new metro stops are still being created, a bit of a wacky miracle in such a gigantic city.

We just barely squeezed onto the local boat taxi, packed in like sardines. I almost lost John in the fray. A woman who got on beside me at the next stop, was pushing me so hard that I thought I was going to fall over & break everything in my shopping bag. Finally< I traded places with her & became suddenly aware of why she was trying so hard to get further inside the boat. Within seconds, approximately a bucket of water came off of the roof tarp and poured right down my back. I was more soaked than the front seat of Splash Mountain, but fortunately my pirate booty from the market stayed dry. Mostly it has just been a little bit of rain now and again, beautifully cooling when we get it.

We have been amazingly lucky to have an opportunity to see a Healer here in town, who is very famous within Thailand, but virtually unknown to the western world. Like my massage practice, his healing is known mainly by word-of-mouth. They say you have to have the right Karma to come see him, so I must' have done something right at some point. The healing takes about five minutes, but the taxi ride there is anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 and 1/2 hours. Then we have to get back, creating quite a full day. Fridays are easy because the turnaround time is quite good, but on Sundays when we go & wait in line with the locals, it'''''' is usually a few hours in the healing center. We are the only "flongs," foreigners, aside from our translator, a wonderful Aussie buddhist who has been here for nearly 40 years. We receive our sessions from an esoteric buddhist healer who lived as a hermit monk in a sacred jungle cave for ten years, until he was called to heal people. I feel like that is such an amazing amount of time to be silent & still. I cannot quite imagine the wisdom that one might procure from such a practice✨

His father was very familiar with the healing properties of the jungle herbs so each week we boil some to make a tea.The first one was for detoxification of the kidneys, second for cleansing the blood and then one that helps the ligaments & sinews. He treats the seven primary diseases in the first sessions, including cancer, diabetes, fatty liver disease, heart issues, and arthritis.There is a monk who lives in a temple next door to the healing center who, after being diagnosed with stage 4 cancer got treatments and he looks great.

We had a quiet week off the coast of Sumatra for John to go surfing. A beautiful island with shy monkeys and amazing kingfishers. Back to the mainland of Sumatra, a few days in the rainforest for me to see orangutans & for them to see me. We camped in the jungle for two nights, hiking straight up then straight down muddy, steep terrain. We saw some giant colorful hornbills, Thomas monkeys (my favorite new nickname for John on that trip), monitor lizards, something that looked like an iguana & a plethora of other beautiful birds. What a wonderful gift to get out of the city.

Upon our return to Thailand, we also spent a few days near the bridge over the river Kwai. Peaceful and beautiful, with a great old third class train ride 3 hours north of Bangkok.I believe it took us about 1&1/2 hours to get out of the city to the countryside & occasionally pass beautiful pools of giant lotuses.

A bit exhausted from our treatments, we spent the last week in the Bangkok visiting the Jim Thompson house, the weekend market & some other local sites. Great to get some Christmas shopping done so early.

Yesterday was our six year anniversary & we were lucky enough to get a very special Saturday “Prosperity treatment,” in between our normal routine. We dressed all in white, had special symbols called yans written in red ink on our backs, each side of our hands, and right on the hairline in the center of the foreheads. The treatment clears karma from past lifetimes & creates good fortune for the future. We asked weeks in advance for this treatment & I feel very lucky to have been able to receive it. The healer had one word after he wrote on us both & that was "clear,"  oh joy. I thought how wonderful & auspicious to have this fall on our anniversary. I felt so light & joyful afterwards & slept better than I have in forever. Today we are back for our Sunday treatments & tomorrow we will head north until Thursday to see the nature park, Khao Yai. If we are lucky, we will get to see elephants.

October Footnote: I have once again been delinquent in sending this & more time has passed.During our Bangkok visit we had an amazing & magical trip to Khao Yai with so many animals & insects, also a hot & beautiful trip up to the old Thai capitol, Aytthaya, visiting some ancient khmer style buddhist temples, and more down time in the city as those healings can really take it out of you. I think of it as a sort of fast forward healing from which one has to detox and catch up with oneself again.

We have finished our last treatments & travelled to a small beach community in southwest Java where I will get to relax at the beach & see tiny sea turtles released from a local hatchery. John hopefully will enjoy the surf.

Miss you and hope that life is lovely, healthy and joyous, Ahna-Kristen

HI EVERYONE,

Ahna-Kristen and I have been gone a month now. We were invited to go see a healer in Bangkok by one of her clients. The healer only sees people on Friday thru Sundays, and we go twice a week. On Fridays we get a body treatment and a facial treatment. On Sundays we get another body treatment. Fridays are super slow and there is usually no one there, or just a couple of other people, then on Sundays there are around twenty people and they have a big pot of food out for everyone to share. For each treatment we leave an offering of flowers incense, candles, these little coins and some money that we place in an envelope. Treatments are by donation only, so everyone gives what they can afford. About 98 percent of the people that see him are Thai, so very few white people go there and that makes us a bit of an oddity. We would be lost without the valuable help of our interpreter Jimmy, a 75 year old Aussie man who has lived in Southeast Asia for the last 45 years. We are staying in a hotel that is half a block for his apartment and he arranges a cab to take us the hour drive out to the treatment center. He interprets everything the healer tells us. During a treatment Anchon opens a point near my solar plexus and then lightly rubs his finger across my body. In some areas it creates extreme pain and feels like his finger is made of steel and on other areas I barely feel it at all. He is working with meridians, points and blocked energy.

As the story goes, he was a hermit monk and lived in a cave for more than ten years when celestial beings started to visit him and train him to become a healer. He said no initially, as he did not want to leave his life of solitude. They started writing on the walls of his cave, leaving him messages and teachings on how to heal people. After some time, he agreed to become a healer.

Our original plan was to see him once when we arrived, then go surfing in Indonesia for a month and come back and see him twice on the way home. After our first treatment, he told us if we came to him for a month he would send both of us back home healthy. So we decided to stay on after the surf trip. After our first treatment, we flew to Simelue, an island off of Northern Sumatra.

On my first surf paddling out I did a face plant on the lava reef while trying to duck dive a wave. Our surf trip was cut short by my accident, which took about three week for my face to heal from. This was a sign for me that I was supposed to head back for more healings. I had prepaid the surf lodge where we were staying and they where super generous, lettimg me postpone the rest of my paid stay for a week in September. That gave us six days before we could have our next treatment.

We headed up to Buket lawang to do a three day jungle hike to see the orangutangs and other creatures that live in the rainforest,

before flying back to Bangkok. We have now seen him 5 times, and are on a 12 day break back in Simelue enjoying the beach life, warm water and the quite. We will be going back to Thailand for another 4 weekends of treatment. Spending so much time in a big city like Bangkok makes me so grateful for my home in Aptos.

 Well a month has passed and we are leaving for home in a few hours after spending two weeks in West Java surfing and relaxing at the beach. I had a lot of fun surf and feel really good after spending the 6 weeks with the healer. I am looking forward to being home and reconnecting with you all.

Love to you all,

John

[kootenaygoon]

So,

I wasn’t quite asleep yet, and the swirling night wind smelled like smoke.

It was too warm on our back porch for my sleeping bag, so I was laying on a foamie with Muppet nuzzled into my bare chest while the shadows deepened around us. Paisley had been working on her desserts for hours now, stressed and playing Workaholics in the background, and through the open windows I could hear those fictional stoners up to their typical shenanigans. I was sunburnt and half-drunk, feeling satisfied with our summer life and ready for slumber. We’d been in Nelson for over a year now, and I was really starting to feel like this was becoming my real, true home. A refuge from the rest of the world. 

The back door banged open, and Muppet jumped to attention in alarm. Paisley was cradling her open laptop, and she thrust it in my direction.

“There’s like a huge forest fire on the other side of the big orange bridge, everyone’s posting about it on Facebook,” she said.

“Look, see? You can actually see it from here.”

I quickly clambered to my feet in my boxer shorts, a little unsteady, and squinted off into the distance. There was a diagonal stripe flickering beyond the right flank of Elephant Mountain, a mix of deep oranges and blood reds, and it seemed to be growing downhill towards the lake. The flames gave off an ominous Mordor-style glow. Pink smoke billowed above the black landscape. Right away I realized it must’ve started during the windstorm we’d reported on days earlier, which featured multiple lightning strikes. Things were getting apocalyptic around here lately. 

I took the laptop and examined the pictures that had been posted on social media, trying to will myself toward sobriety. People were in panic mode, talking about evacuation, sending out updates about road closures and successfully retrieved family members. I took a deep breath through my nostrils.

“We gotta head out there, like right now. I’ve gotta call Greg,” I said, handing back the laptop and searching for my pants.

“Are you coming?”

Paisley loved to come on assignments. Sometimes she took pictures, other times she actually suggested who I should interview or what I should pay attention to during a community event. Comp tickets were always flying at me, so I took her to free movies and free plays and free fundraisers. She worked her way into my columns as a character, and though she pretended to be embarrassed by the attention that earned her at work, I liked to think she enjoyed having this public persona. She was that Paisley, the girl from the newspaper, the Kootenay Goon’s girlfriend. She’d made a name for herself with her dessert company and her burlesque performances, and I figured one day she would end up being a YouTube chef or something like that. At the very least she would release a cook book, or start a blog. Supporting her ambitions was my favourite thing, and I liked puttering off to pick up ingredients for her on lazy Saturdays, knowing I was helping her achieve a dream. 

We stopped at the 7-11 in town before driving out to the fire, where we picked up Red Bull and Doritos. I needed something to wake me up. I wasn’t sure if the highway would be blocked off, if we’d even be able to make it all the way to the blaze, but I was determined to get as close as possible. We drove with the windows down, talking about Tolkien. We’d seen each of the three Hobbit movies together in succession, as an annual tradition, and we’d been increasingly disappointed. That being said, we still considered ourselves aspiring hobbits and spoke longingly of a future world that was a little more like the Shire. The Kootenays didn’t seem too far off that, actually, as it seemed to be full of fairy hideaways and pastoral communes. If we could make things work long term here, we figured, we could become increasingly hermit-like as the years progressed. 

“You’re my Samwise Gamgee and I’m the little Frodo, and we’re on our way to Mount Doom,’” Paisley said.

“You sure I’m not Gollum? Or maybe I want to be Boromir, since he’s my favourite character. I could even be a dwarf, maybe.”

“No, you’re Sam. You even kind of look like him, but with a beard.”

“You think I look like Sean Astin?”

“Yeah, you’re burly like him. And kind like him. And innocent.”

“I’m not fucking innocent.”

She shrugged, then leaned out her window to get a better look at where we were heading. As we rounded corners the fire came into and then back out of view. It was nearly midnight and there was no traffic, no noise, no spectacle. Just a looming threat. I couldn’t believe we hadn’t seen emergency vehicles yet, or heard choppers. Was the whole firefighter apparatus working like it was supposed to? Were people going to be losing their houses here? I clenched the steering wheel and wondered how much mayhem I could expect to encounter. That’s when I started seeing cars lined up along the side of the road, with people crowding the dark shoulder in packs. There were houses to both my left and right, and I found a place to park that had a sight-line of the burning slope. I left Paisley the keys so she could wait with the car, and she stood taking videos with her phone for social media as I hiked across the street. My main goal was to get some quotes from a resident, someone who was being menaced directly. I decided to walk up the driveway of the first property I saw, where I found a woman uncoiling a hose by a row of vehicles. 

“Excuse me, sorry to bother you. I’m a reporter with the Nelson Star, do you live here? Can we talk?”

She was an older woman, and seemed shy. She waved her arm in the direction of the backyard and told me to head back there to find her husband Bob. I took out my phone and used it as a flashlight to work my way around the side of the house, wondering for a moment about the safety of what I was doing. When I rounded the corner to the backyard I saw multiple sprinklers methodically spraying all along the perimeter of the lawn. In the middle of the grass was Bob, calmly gazing up at the conflagration. It was like he was watching a drive-in movie, one the universe had arranged just for him. There was an empty chair next to him, and once I introduced myself he invited me to sit down.

“I don’t know how they contact you in situations like this. I think they resort to going door to door,” he said. “But I haven’t heard anything yet.”

He said there was a plan for if things went truly awry, but he was hopeful the fire wouldn’t be able to make it all the way down the hill. There was a lot of wind, he said, and the firefighters were on their way. They must be. He went through all of this in a monotone, never glancing over, just staring up the hill with a muted look of dread in his eyes. The sprinklers continue to hiss and spray, creating a contrasting soundtrack to the flames’ crackling, which somehow sounded a bit like boiling water.

“Aren’t you scared right now? Like this thing could wipe out your house, your possessions? The wrong wind and it’s game over, right?”

He snorted, smiled. “That’s one of the most important things you have to learn in life, Will. There’s some things you can control, and there’s some things you just can’t no matter how hard you try.”

“That’s pretty Zen.”

He smiled, turned to me. “What, you think it’ll make a good quote?” The Kootenay Goon

[colbypuppythebaker]

Story starts under the cut! Wrote up a Horrorswap story for Halloween!

Warning- horror story, things aren’t always what they seem...

According to local legends, those who climbed Mt. Ebbot never returned. These stories spoke of shifting forest paths, pitfalls, and evil spirits and monsters that were supposedly locked away within the mountain itself.

You never were one to believe such stories. They were fun, sure, but stuff like magic and monsters just didn't actually exist in the real world. That's what you had told yourself as you set off on your hike. You were going to climb up the mountain, and you were going to come back and prove once and for all that the stories were just stories.

Supplies gathered and journal in hand, you set up the winding, narrow mountain trails making use of paths worn by local wildlife. To avoid the pitfalls, which you were convinced were either old abandoned mine shafts or sinkholes, you kept a walking stick handy to test the ground as you moved forward. The woodland was breathtaking, undisturbed by human hands. Or so you thought. Every now and again you would spot something, the tattered, faded remains of a toy or small article of clothing. You documented these in your journal, you could not deny that these things made you uneasy. Of all the documented disappearances, many were children. Some of the locals believed the mountain somehow called to them, but you would not be surprised if some of them hadn't been abandoned or worse out here.

After all, what better place to hide a body than a place nobody dared tread? You spun around as a branch snapped behind you just in time to see two squirrels scurry back up a tree. Dusk was setting in and you were starting to think that going on a hike alone in prime dead body dumping territory might have been a bad idea. Packing up your journal, you set back down the path where you had come from.

Or at least, you thought you were heading back. As the light continued to fade you couldn't help but notice that none of the scenery looked familiar. You had made note of a few distinct landmarks on the way- a large patch of mossy ground, a tunnel of trees, a miniature waterfall. As you continued to wind through the trees you instead found other noteworthy things that you couldn't have possibly missed before. Patches of smooth stones on the ground suggesting ancient paths, remnants of buildings where only the foundations remained. You nearly fell down a steep slope when you spotted a tall, dark figure in the ever dwindling light. Upon closer examination, it looked to at one time be a statue, though it was so weathered and overgrown with vines that it was hard to say what it was once a statue of.

None of this sat with you well and you were starting to panic. You were sure that you were at least heading down the mountain, but if anything it seemed you were heading further up. It was getting darker, soon you wouldn't be able to see at all. A distant rumble warned of an approaching storm (strange, you had checked the weather and it was supposed to be clear). 

You were about ready to curl up against a tree and hope you could find a way out in the morning when something caught your eye, a light. It looked unnatural, whatever the source was. It was a bright, steady white glow that seemed to draw you in.

As you drew closer you stood amazed, the glow came from a large cavern with great pillars carved from the rock face. The flowers and mushrooms growing in the area near the entranced were bright, vivid colors that seemed to glow faintly in the dark. 

This cavern would be a great place to take shelter from the storm, you hurried in as rain began to fall. As you did so for a moment the strange light became blinding, as though you had gone through the actual light source. You stumbled forward as you rubbed your overexposed eyes, your foot hit air.

And so, you fell.

Thankfully, instead of hitting the unyielding cold stone floor, you found yourself landing atop something soft. As your eyes finally began to readjust to the faintly lit surroundings, you slowly began to recognize what had broken your fall.

Dolls, dozens of them. You recognized these, they were a common enough sight at the local village. Traditional Temmie dolls, they started out as being symbolic protectors for people's homes and eventually it became common to give them to children. 

There was something sad about the sheer number of these dolls at the bottom of this pit. Looking up, you realized you couldn't even see the top where you had fallen in. Maybe there was something to that whole "protector" thing, such a long fall even with a cushioned landing you were amazed you were not more injured. Looking back to fish for your walking stick, something suddenly occured to you. There was a doll missing. You swear there was a doll missing. There were two little dolls in sweaters standing watch over the pile before, now there was only one. You started moving with a bit more urgency getting out of the pile. You began to leave, then turned around. You weren't one to believe in stories and superstition, but maybe one of those good-luck dolls could help sooth your nerves.

Something had turned the remaining sweater-wearing Tem doll around, the black button eyes felt like they looked right into your very soul.

You shuddered, turned, and walked quickly forward. You're an adult, you don't need to carry around some child's toy to feel safe. You told yourself that your mind was playing tricks on you as a soft, young laugh echoed in the cavern behind you.

Down here the cavern walls had been carefully carved, giving it a more man-made look. The style reminded you of the ruins you had passed through earlier, but the structures down here were better maintained. Surprisingly there was plant life down here too, you could swear that the foliage almost looked cultivated. Every now and again you would spot more Tem dolls. Some sitting among the flowers, others up on small podiums which held burning braziers. Every now and again you think you catch a glimpse of the one in the yellow and green sweater, just out the corner of your eye, but any attempt to look closer was met with nothing but shadows and flowers.

There were many signs that suggested you were not alone down here. The fires, the gardens, but who could possibly be living down here? Your imagination raced from missing people, to murderous hermits, to tales of monsters and evil spirits... but you didn't believe in monsters. Monsters, ghosts, magic, that was all stuff of fairytales.

You froze, echoing through the cavern you could hear footsteps, soft with slight taps like a cat with long claws padding along the floor. Slow, steady, whatever it was had to be large. And it was getting closer.

Thinking about it, this far up the mountains it was not entirely impossible for there to be something like, say, a bear. Down here. With you. 

You ducked into the shadows behind one of the pillars, knocking over a Tem plush in the process. The soft clicks of nailed paws on the stone grew closer, you held your breath as they came to a stop next to your hiding spot.

  A deep, gentle voice came from the other side of your pillar. "Is there somebody there?"

Okay, that was not a bear. Bears did not talk. Hermit murderer was still on the table. 

The voice drew closer, "do not be afraid, my child. Did you fall down, are you alright?"

Tightening your grip on your walking stick, you peek out from your hiding place.

Your heart skipped a beat. The large, horned, white furred beast was just like how some of the monsters in the old stories were described. Evil creatures that stole children, mislead travelers, they could even imprison you after death by capturing your very soul. 

But, this one did not look like a bloodthirsty beast. He had a soft, concerned look in his hazy eyes. He smiled at you, though you were pretty sure he couldn't see you. The pupils of his eyes were cloudy, white, and they did not focus on you. "Howdy, my child. My name is Asgore, I am the caretaker of these ruins," he held out one of his massive paw-like hands, "allow me to guide you, would you like some tea?"

You questioned him, tea? That was perhaps the last thing you expected from a massive monster. Asgore nodded, reached into his coat, and pulled out a chipped tulip-shaped teacup to offer you.

Baffled, you tucked your walking stick under your arm and accepted the empty cup. He then brought out a thermos and carefully poured hot tea into the cup.

As the sweet aroma filled your lungs the fear and anxiety you had been feeling faded away. You smiled back at the kind monster, thanked him, and took a sip. It was as though the steam from the tea was swirling inside your skull, none of your surroundings really registered as Asgore led you through the ruins. This was nice, peaceful, why you wouldn't mind just staying here forever.

At some point you must have dozed off, the world faded and when it returned you could just register being carried. The large, clawed paw-hands supporting your body surprisingly gently. He felt so warm, so safe.

The world faded again.

Your surroundings swirled around you as you struggled to focus your eyes. There was a fading numbness in your limbs, as though you were detached from your own body. Before allowing the dizziness to take you once more your eyes locked onto a pair of familiar button eyes. One of the Temmie dolls from earlier.

The surroundings looked normal enough, a simple room with a chair by a fireplace that filled the room with soft, warm light. Flower pots and vases decorated the top of a bookshelf and the table before you. Yet, as you stared into the doll's eyes, you felt yourself becoming more and more uneasy. 

It was incredibly difficult to collect your thoughts. The fogginess and numbness was lifting, but you still felt light-headed. As you lifted your arm to steady your head a new addition caught your eye. Gauze was wrapped around your forearm and wrist; you began to become aware of a dull, throbbing pain. 

As you slowly tried to comprehend how the injury had occurred, the massive monster returned carrying a tea set on a platter.

"Ah, you are awake. I have fixed us both something extra special," as he went to set down your teacup he collided with the Temmie doll, "oh!" His paw jolted and the cup slipped from his paw. The liquid that was in the cup immediately spilled over the table.

The liquid was thicker than tea should be, deep red in color. 

"Oh dear, excuse me," the monster stepped back and hurried back towards where you suppose the kitchen was.

Looking between your sore arm and the liquid spreading on the table, soaking into the note, your muddled mind managed to connect the dots. You needed to get out of this place.

Standing as quickly as you could you rushed out the only other exit to the room, out into a main foyer. Spotting your belongings by the door, you go to retrieve the walking stick. If anything it might help hold you steady in your current state. Asgore's voice carried from the other room, "my child? Where have you gone, you have not had your tea yet."

Now was the time to run. Your first instinct was to reach for the door, but the handle refused to budge. Looking around, there was a hallway with a couple doors, or stairways heading down.

The Temmie doll in the green sweater was at the top of the stairs.

You decided to question that later, the thing had apparently saved you from drinking blood-tea so maybe it was trying to help you out? That was illogical- but now was not the time. Scooping up the doll as you passed you hurried down the steps into the dark basement.

After rounding a corner you slumped on the wall as the world threatened to fade out again. Maybe, if you kept quiet, you would get more time to recover from the drugged tea and blood loss.

The sound of heavy paw pads on the stone floor reverberated in the small tunnel of the basement. You held your breath.

"Do not be afraid, my child," he was almost at the corner, "you will be very happy here."

He slowly turned the corner and for a moment you thought your idea had worked, that he would walk past you. Instead, he stopped.

"You cannot hide." Slowly he turned to face you, tiny embers began to dance around his paws, "I can hear your heart beating."

His fire magic flared, blinding you as those large, clawed paws lunged for you. In an instant a force pulled you sideways by your arms, there was a loud crash of claws digging into the stone wall. 

"m0ivs u nawt-smarts pants!"

Following the new voice, you soon found yourself colliding with a stone door before the spots could fade from your vision. There was not much time, as evident by a ball of fire impacting the door just above you. 

Asgore pleaded behind you, "please, come back! I can't be alone again!" 

Somehow you were able to push the heavy doors open, bolting into the next room. There was the Temmie doll again, waiting for you beside another open stone door. Snow and cold blew in from the outside. (at this point you didn't care how it was doing that, it was helping you.)

It was an exit.

You burst out of the ruins into the cold and white, the sound of the heavy doors closing behind you echoed in the snowy silence.

Out, you had gotten out! Laughing at how you had survived the mountain, you allowed yourself to fall over into the snow and take a moment to rest. 

As the adrenaline faded you began taking stock of your surroundings. These woods didn't look anything like any of the woodland you had passed through on the way up. Thinking about it, there wasn't any snow atop Mt. Ebbot this time of year either. The faint smell of burning tobacco lingered in the otherwise crisp, yet stagnant air.

Using the walking stick to get back to your feet, you began to regret flopping over in the snow. The warmth of your body caused the snow to melt, soaking your clothing and sapping away your body heat. Great, escaped the blood thirsty goat only to die of hypothermia. 

Determination moved you forward, you refused to give in to the cold. If you died here, you would go down fighting!

Dragging yourself along the path you approached a small bridge with some sort of wooden gate constructed over it. Every now and again the sound of a branch snapping under the weight of the accumulated snow would resound throughout the silent woods. It was unsettling, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched.

As you came upon a structure beyond the bridge, either some sort of guard station or food stand, it sunk in that something most likely did have an eye on you. Nobody was currently attending the station, but a cigarette sat smoking in an ashtray on the counter. You decided not to wait for whoever it was to get back.

There was a distinct lack of the Temmie dolls out here. They had been all over the place back in the ruins. Now, you hadn't even seen the slightest signs of even the green sweater wearing doll that had aided you earlier. You should have grabbed it when you left, then again it seemed to have an uncanny ability to track you down on its own. Somehow. 

This mountain was turning you insane.

"GOLLY GOSH, FRIEND! YOU LOOK LIKE YOU ARE IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE! HAVE NO FEAR, THE SENSATION SANS IS HERE TO SAVE THE DAY!"

Startled by the sudden loud voice you spun around too fast. The world tilted sideways, gloved hands quickly grasped your shoulders to keep you from hitting the ground.

You never thought a skeleton could look so cheerful.

"WOWIE, YOU'RE PRACTICALLY A POPSICLE!" Sans' eyelights darted to your wrapped arm, then back to your face, his smile somehow widening further, "WAIT, WAIT, DID YOU COME FROM THE RUINS?!"

The volume of this monster's voice was starting to make your head hurt. You made an attempt to slur out some sort of answer, but in his excitement the skeleton cut you off at the first "uuuuh".

"OH! OH! THAT MEANS- YOU'RE A HUMAN! A REAL HUMAN WOW!" The short skeleton pulled you into a surprisingly strong hug. "OH! RIGHT! YOU'RE ON YOUR WAY TO BEING A POPSICLE! LET'S GET YOU HOME RIGHT AWAY! MY AWESOME BROTHER PAPYRUS WILL LOVE MEETING YOU!"

You began to protest, but before you knew it this small skeleton had you lifted over his head as he ran through the snow and trees. This was far from ideal, you were not keen on spending more time with monsters. 

Flailing your limbs, you were able to cause the two of you to tumble over, staggering back onto your feet as quickly as you could.

Sans hopped back up almost immediately and shook off the snow. "OH! GREAT IDEA, HUMAN! WE CAN WARM YOU UP WITH SOME QUICK EXERCISES! GET READY TO JUMP!"

With a quick motion Sans sent a wave of bones bursting from the ground in your direction, they barely missed you as you dove to the side. Shortly after you hit the ground you feel the blunt force of a second wave of magic construct bones impacting your side, sending you rolling. 

"NO, HUMAN! JUMP! GO UP, NOT SIDEWAYS!"

This little skeleton was going to kill you at this rate, you were sure of it. The onslaught continued, every time you began to get your bearings he launched another attack. It was too much. You were cold, your head and heart pounded as the physical activity pushed your already drained body to the very limit.

You couldn't take it, it was hard to say how many waves you had endured. 

Energy spent, you laid on your back staring up at the falling snow and towering trees. 

"YOU'RE NOT VERY GOOD AT THIS, ARE YOU, HUMAN?" The skeleton was now right next to you, looking down with a concerned expression. Your vision blurred and finally faded as you gave in to the exhaustion.

The first thing you noticed was the gentle warmth surrounding you.

The second thing you noticed was the musty smell of mildew.

As you stirred awake you found yourself upon an old, water stained couch covered by a pleasantly warm (and thankfully clean) blanket. You could see into the kitchen from your position, a figured just out of sight seemed to be in the midst of preparing something if the steady sound of chopping was anything to go by. Thinking back to your experience with Asgore, you began checking yourself over for any new injuries.

While sore and slightly bruised, there did not seem to be any new cuts. The bandages on your arm had been replaced with fresh ones, it hurt less than it had before and you hoped that was a good sign. 

At some point as you inspected yourself the sound of chopping stopped. You only became aware of this when a voice disrupted the silence, "ah, good, you're up. looks like m' bro gave ya a real work out."

You looked up from your arm to be greeted by the sight of another much taller skeleton. An unlit cigarette was gripped in his teeth. He must have had a habit of smoking, his bones had a sickly yellow tinge to them and a faint smell of smoke lingered about his person. An orange hoodie and khaki pants kept his limbs mostly covered. Over his cloths was an old apron that looked as though it had been found in a thrift store, you could just barely make out an image of a rabbit and the words "Hoppy Easter". It was covered in stains.

The tall skeleton handed you a glass of water, which you eyed warily. In his other hand was a large muffin on a plate.

"just bringin' ya a snack and some water," when you made no move to take the items he sat them down on the side table, "have 'em or don't. I'll be in th' kitchen workin' on dinner, so don't go anywhere."

The shrugged and returned to the kitchen, leaving you alone with the water and pastry. Your stomach growled and you couldn't help but stare down the muffin. You really didn't want to trust anything given to you by monsters, but you were also very hungry and very thirsty.

The muffin called to you.

Giving in the temptation and your growling stomach, you picked up the muffin and took a bite.

You waited. Nothing happened. You took another bite, still nothing. It didn't take long for you to finish the muffin and water after that. You instantly felt much better, more than you would expect from just a muffin.

  The skeletons seemed to actually be hospitable so far, but you still were not keen on sticking around. Telling yourself that you didn't want to overstay your welcome, you quietly made your way to the door.

As you reached for the door the handle turned on its own. The door swung open and you were once again face to face with the smaller skeleton from earlier. "OH GREAT, HUMAN! YOU'RE UP! JUST IN TIME FOR US TO HELP PAPY WITH DINNER!"

There was a flurry of activity as Sans rushed you into the small kitchen area. "IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE A HUMAN HAS BEEN IN THE UNDERGROUND! WE'RE SO HAPPY YOU'RE HERE!"

"yeah, it's gonna be nice havin' ya for dinner." Papyrus snickered to himself as he turned, large butcher's knife in hand.

You took a step back, bumping into Sans. The shorter skeleton huffed, "PAPY! THIS IS NO TIME FOR YOUR JOKES!"

Boney hands gripped your shoulders as Papyrus walked towards you, knife still in hand. He shrugged, "alright, fair enough, guess we can just cut to the chase then."

As Sans freed one of your shoulders to shake an annoyed fist at his brother, you took the opening to make your escape. Wrenching your other shoulder free you bolted from the kitchen, dodging bone pillars as they rose from the floor.

The temmie doll in the green sweater sat beside the exit, the door was open. The onslaught of bones stopped as you snatched up the doll on your way out. You never thought you would be so happy to see such a creepy doll again.

Not wanting to stick around you kept running into the woods, weaving between trees. Soon you found yourself lost in the wilderness, with any luck you were finally alone.

It was still cold out in the snow, but you could swear that the doll in your arms felt warm. You hugged the Temmie tight as you started to slow and catch your breath. Safe, so long as you had the Temmie doll you were safe.

Looking back to see if you were followed, it occurred to you that the skeletons had given up their assault rather quickly. You mused this thought aloud as you slumped against a tree.

You heard eerie, childlike giggling coming from the doll in your arms.

"dey saw Tem. Yoos al reddy bel0ngs tu Temmie."

The doll moved, its' head turning to face you as the legs stretched and wrapped around you.

You were never one to believe in fairy tales. After all, they were only stories. Things like monsters and magic just didn't exist. You desperately wished that you had been right.

Local legends say that those who climb Mt. Ebbot never returned. These stories warned of shifting forest paths, traps, and evil man-eating monsters and spirits trapped beneath the mountain.

[grimmtaless]

The soldier & The Spartan Chapter 4: The Hunt & The Song

The sun beat down on Jaune and his new companion, as they hiked across a grass covered field. It had been two days since they first met and fought alongside one another to take down that winged monster, and Jaune still had no idea what was going on. After beating the creature, this woman went on a rant of which he only caught one or two words: “Mistral,” an accent greek city which he guessed was where they were going, the Greek god “Zeus,”and something about allies and demigods.

Jaune assumed from the girl's rant that they were going to Izmar, a city which laid right outside the ruins of the ancient city of Mistral. He hoped he might be able to get in contact with London when they reached the city. He needed to tell the British army about the monster he and the girl fought. If there were more of those terrifying beasts flying around, then the allies might have bigger problem the Germans.

Jaune had given up on speaking Greek about a day into the journey. Whenever he tried to speak Greek, either the girl couldn’t understand him at all or he used words in a way that no sense to her. During their first day of hiking, Jaune had tried to tell her tell her he needed to rest. “ υπόλοιπο, do you hear me? I need to rest” once he spoke the girl turned around and gave him a look of bewilderment. After a short pause, the girl shook her head and just kept going down the trail. What jaune didn't know was that the word “υπόλοιπο” meant “balance” if used by itself. He was finally able to grab her attention by waving his arms and sitting down. This was how every interaction went. He would try to speak Greek, fail miserably, then resort to a game of charades to get his point across.

Eventually, Jaune got so fed up with the routine that he elected to speak exclusively in English. There was no need in trying to speak Greek if it would only end up failing every time. Whenever he needed something he would use hand gestures along with English to get his point across.  Jaune made small talk several times during that day's trek, if for no other reason than to pass the time. Of course he knew the redhead would not understand, but he needed to fill the silence. A silence that used to be filled by the distant sound of fighting along other sections of the trenches.

“Sooo gorgeous, where did you get that armor? It's quite good looking, especially on you.” Normally, Jaune would never say anything quite so bold, but he decided to turn off his filter knowing she could not understand him. “I mean that helmet is a perfect replica of the Mistrali helms, and that xiphos is masterfully forged. All that gear must have cost a fortune.” This one sided conversation continued for an hour. He would ask about her name, appearance, and her skill with ancient weapons until he became bored with the pointless talking.

Soon evening came and the the redhead stopped and turned to Jaune. She put her hands together and put them beside her head as if she was sleeping. Jaune took the correct meaning as “let’s set up camp here.”  He nodded in reply as he took off his pack and sat down in the grassy clearing. He took out his canteen and took a long, refreshing drink of water. The redhead soon beckoned him to stand and pointed at sticks, most likely asking him to pick some up for a fire. He nodded again and started wandering around collecting small twigs for tender, sticks for fuel, and the occasional tree limb for a sustained burn. Meanwhile, the girl unpacked a small woven mat out of her bag and laid it out on the ground. She got up and grabbed her bow before pointing into the forest to signify where she was going. She then sprinted off into the woods to find them a meal.

***

As Pyrrha stalked the forest she had time to think about the stranger she meet. Over the last two days she had become certain that the man was not from Greece. His language was foreign and he most definitely did not know the lay of the land. He has no stamina for the mountainous terrain, and every so often he would have bend over and catch his breath. He couldn't even run as fast as her. When they first left for Mytral she expected him to be able to keep up with her running, but of course this man couldn’t even run half as fast as she could. It was as if he weren’t a demigod.

“Maybe he was cursed to have the strength of a normal man?” Pyrrha wondered aloud. “That would explain why he could not keep up or fight like a demigod, but why would he still have his magic? Could the curse only affect his physical strength?” She pondered the matter for quite awhile, but soon forgot about it when she came upon two rabbits eating between a cluster of trees.

She praised Artemis silently for placing game in front of her. She strung an arrow and raised her bow, pulling the string as she prepared to fire. She aligned her arrow with the larger of the two rodents, let lose her arrow, and hit her mark. She walked over to her prize, but before picking it up she knelt and gave thanks to Artemis for the profitable hunt. Once done cleaning the rabbit, she slung it over her shoulder and set out to find more game so that that the man could eat.

She wandered the woods keeping a sharp eye out for the slightest of movement, hoping to find her next prey. As she stalked through the trees, the man kept appearing in her thoughts. He fascinated her. Never before had she met a person so oddly dressed or spoke so strangely. Pyrrha was no stranger to foreigners. She had met many people from distant lands before. She had met men from Pirsa, Africa and even a Barbarian from the north - a woman who wore furs and wielded a massive hammer named Nora. She had stayed in Mystral for quite some time before heading east. Pyrrha had enjoyed her company and had learned much from her, and was sad to see her leave. Yet all of these people still were no where near as perplexing as this man. Her thoughts were driven from her once she spotted a flock of peasants sitting near a rock. Each one was pruning themselves and were unaware of the approaching warrior. Pyrrha crouched low and drew her bow. She aimed and fired hitting the closest bird to her. She smiled and went to collect her second prize of the day.

As she carried the rabbit and pheasant back to the camp, her thoughts still lingered on the man. He had talked all day long as if he were some old hermit. She was sure that he knew that she understood nothing of what came out of his mouth, but he still persisted to talk. Many times she felt as if he had been talking about her specifically but she couldn’t be sure of it. In any case, she would learn his language soon enough - all she had to do was get him to teach her what each word meant and she would remember it forever. It was another blessing from her mother: anything she ever read, heard or saw was forever engrained in her mind. Every child of Athena was blessed with this gift, which is why she was able to learn every language and dialect in Greece. She had already began learning one or two words such as “stick” or “fire.” She knew that in time they would be able to communicate easily.

Retracing her steps back to camp. Pyrrha was was met with the slow and somber sound of  blonde’s singing. She was amazed, even if she could not understand what he sang she could tell that it was sad and full of greaf. She decided to listen for a while wanting to hear more of this mans song

***

After collecting enough firewood to last the night Jaune sat back down on the ground and rummaged through his pack. He first pulled out a dark gray bedroll which he had taken off an enemy soldier during one of their attacks of on the German trenches. It had been a major score at the time, as it provided Jaune with an extra layer between him and the damp ground when sleeping in the bunkers. He spread out his roll a few yards away from the girl’s bedding. Next he retrieved his cleaning kit for his rifle. He had been in two major firefights in the last three days, and he knew that the ammunition the British army used had corrosive chemicals in the gunpowder that would erode the inside of this barrel if not cleaned every so often. Lastly he pulled out a tin of canned meat.

He found a few rocks lying about, arranged them in a circle, and placed the tinder in the center along with a few small sticks. He then took out his brass colored lighter and went to work making a suitable fire. Once the tinder was alight and the small sticks were burning, Jaune slowly added larger sticks along with more tinder to keep the fire burning hot.

Soon the fire was large enough with a pile of red hot coals in the center. Jaune went out once more and found another rock to use as a seat. He then reached for his rifle and it's cleaning kit and set to work. He first removed the bolt of the gun and laid it on his shirt as to not get it dirty, and then proceeded to clean the bore of the rifle with the “bore snake” (a long, flexible rod with metal bristles running down it.) As he cleaned, he began to sing a soldier's song. Usually it was sung with a fake sense of glee, but today Jaune sang it slowly and sadly.

If you want to find the Sergeant,

I know where he is, I know where he is, I know where he is.

If you want to find the Sergeant, I know where he is,

He's lying on the canteen floor.

I've seen him, I've seen him, lying on the canteen floor,

I've seen him, I've seen him, lying on the canteen floor.

While he sang, he went to work on the bolt, disassembling it and cleaning off the carbon that had built up as well as any speck of dirt. Once each part was wiped down, he picked up the small brass container which contained the gun oil, and covered each component with a few drops before reassembling his gun. All the while, he sang.

If you want to find the Quarter-bloke

I know where he is, I know where he is, I know where he is.

If you want to find the Quarter-bloke, I know where he is,

He's miles and miles behind the line.

I've seen him, I've seen him, miles and miles and miles behind the line.

I've seen him, I've seen him, miles and miles and miles behind the line.

If you want the Sergeant-major,

I know where he is, I know where he is, I know where he is.

If you want the Sergeant-major, I know where he is.

He's tossing off the privates' rum.

I've seen him, I've seen him, tossing off the privates' rum.

I've seen him, I've seen him, tossing off the privates' rum.

With his firearm reassembled, he set his rifle aside. It was now time to take stock on how much ammunition he had left. He opened each pouch on his webbing and witdrew several stripperclips full of rifle ammunition. In total, he had 20 stripperclip of 5 rounds, making 100 rounds for his rifle. Jaune went into his bag and removed the revolver ammo and counted out to 18 rounds. While he worked jaune never noticed the redhead who had been standing on the other side of the fire enthralled by his singing.

If you want the C.O.,

I know where he is, I know where he is, I know where he is.

If you want the C.O., I know where he is

He is down in a deep dug-out,

I've seen him, I've seen him, down in a deep dug-out,

I've seen him, I've seen him, down in a deep dug-out.

If you want to find the old battalion,

I know where they are, I know where they are, I know where they are

If you want to find the old battalion, I know where they are,

They're hanging on the old barbed wire,

I've seen 'em, I've seen 'em, hanging on the old barbed wire.

I've seen 'em, I've seen 'em, hanging on the old barbed wire.

 “Pyrrha.” Jaune jumped off his rock at the unexpected noise to see that the woman was back. This was the first time he had heard the girl speak something that wasn’t in Greek. Once he had recovered from his initial surprise, the girl said it again, but this time while pointing at herself. “Pyrrha ” the redhead repeated while poking her breastplate. With this, Jaune realized she was trying to tell him her name. So her name is Pyrrha. Interesting. I guess I should tell her my name in return.

“Jaune,” he said while repeating the same action as Pyrrha did. Pyrrha seemed to understand as well and broke out into a wide smile. “Jaune,” she said. She then pointed at the wood and said “stick,” then at his rifle and said “gun,” then at the burning wood and said“fire.” As she went identifying different objects, Jaune just stood there in awe. She's been learning English just by listening and observing what I say that’s impossible. I've only been traveling with her for two days and she already knows the names of some objects. The most peculiar part for Jaune was that he couldn’t discern any kind of foreign accent in her voice as she spoke. If he hadn’t known better, he would have assumed she did know English, just by how well she pronounced each word.

“Well it seems like you have a knack for languages. How about I teach you some more English?” Of course, Jaune knew that Pyrrha didn’t know what he said, but he really didn't care. He started to point at different things and say what they meant in english. Pyrrha watched attentively and would repeat every word that came out of Jaune’s mouth.

Hey guys i hope you liked this chapter. I’m really sorry for not getting this chapter out sooner. i had lost my editor and it just took me a while to get a new one. also I cant promise that the next chapter will come out soon, but that is due to the fact that I’m a college student.

[vesperlionheart]

Under the Rabbit’s Moon 2

Part 1

Her next unsolicited invader wasn’t another Senju boy, but surprisingly it was one of the Uchiha’s brood. Not nearly as young as Kawarama, the older Uchiha child was able to see through her first genjutsu with no problem, and even managed to dismantle her second layer of illusion. Sakura held herself back from the third layer, watching to see if he would catch it.

He didn’t, and it was with much snickering that Sakura helped herself to the snoring child who looked pretty enough to put on a coin.

“Careful, Sakura sama, at this rate you’re going to want your own if you keep collecting little boys from the bushes,” one of the sentry nin volunteers teased her.

“Why would I want that when they just seem to grow on trees? I can pick them off whenever I want.” Sakura cradled the child in her arms, noting his weight was greater than Kawarama’s and his body was more developed. He looked so much like Sasuke when he was that age.

Sakura couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to let this one go.

There was a stream that fed into her camp from the mountains, and along the way there was a pleasant sort of bend that Sakura liked to visit when she needed to leave her settlement behind and pretend she didn’t hid herself in layers of genjutsu just to be safe while she waited to find some direction in life.

It was at this same river bend that Sakura sat down to figure out exactly how many years it had been sine she ripped open the moon goddess’s chrysalis and cheated death. That had been three years and eight months ago, making her older than she first figured.

It was also at this same river bend that Sakura felt safe enough to stretch her limits and find how far she could take the stolen power before it snapped back on her like a rubber band.

There was a well of new potential in her, but Sakura still had the same limits of chakra. Many of the things she now had the ability to do, were beyond her practical control because they used too much chakra. She had so little to spare in comparison to people like Naruto or Sasuke. Yeah, her control was perfect, but her potential was limited.

Sakura found her favorite spot and set Izuna down against a tree’s trunk. He mumbled something in his sleep that sounded like his brother’s name and it was cute enough to make her giggle. He really did remind her of Sasuke and she wondered if it was a unique Uchiha trait for younger brothers to worship their elder brothers.

 Just like Sasuke.

Discarding her sandals and hiking up her simple cloth kimono Sakura waded into the water. It lapped at her knees and she could almost touch it with her fingertips without bending down. It was cool on her skin.

In the quiet Sakura pooled chakra into her eyes and looked down at herself in the water. Her reflection was warped as she looked through what she thought were seven different layers of colored glass. The world was a mess and she blinked, tearing up and staggering before her vision focused. She felt herself emptying as she struggled to maintain the mutation of two Rinnegan. A cold sweat broke out and then sakura felt her limit come up and the swirling purple light fled her eyes in a flash of what felt like knives.

Sakura cursed, wiping her face with shaking hands, once dipped into the waters. Too much, it was too much. She had only maintained the Rinnegan for a maximum of nineteen seconds, and the first few seconds were blurry and unfocused as her physical eyes went through the mutation. Her body wasn’t suited to it. She was living in stolen power, after all.

‘It’s too bad you’re so stupid, but thank god you’re compatible.’

Sakura froze and swore the water shifted into ice around. She turned sharply in the water, searching for the voice, hating how much it sounded like her inner self from so many years ago.

‘Who was that?’ Sakura screamed inside her mind as she turned slowly and looked over her surroundings with a ninja’s eye. The Uchiha boy was still out like a light by the tree, breathing easy. As she turned the surface of the water rippled.

‘It’s been a long time since we’ve talked. Feeling lost?’

Sakura stepped back and looked down at her reflection in the water. She was staring down at herself, but her reflection was a body of black, outlined in white with the familiar markings tattooed across the forehead. Inner cooed and blew a fake kiss.

‘What is this?’ Sakura seethed in mental frustration, falling too easily back into the inner banter she was once so fluid in. She knew how to talk to herself.  ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Keeping you from killing yourself, obviously. You’re going to end up dying an immortal’s death if you keep trying to summon those eyes. You don’t like to try anything small, do you? Really, out of all the stupid eyes you just had to want the hardest.’

‘It grants the user the most power, and it’s the most useful.’

‘Yeah, and you need it? Look around, cupcake, you’re in the boonies living the life of a hermit. What you gonna do? Summon a demon fox to cuddle on lonely nights? You’re pathetic.’

‘You’re insulting yourself.’

‘It’s my job, remember. I’m you. I’m your will. I’m here to make you the best you that you could possibly be. Also, it just hurts to watch you be so stupid.’

Sakura felt her cheeks burn, knowing that she was both right and wrong. ’What did I do that was so stupid, huh?’

‘You can’t use the Rinnegan in your eyes, stupid. They’re not genetically compatible.’

‘I don’t need that. Kaguya gave me this chakra power. I’m like Naruto and Sasuke were. I can just magically-‘

‘Don’t lie to yourself, you’re lying to me. You’re not like either of those two and you know it.’

Sakura staggered back in the water, back until the backs of her legs hit a bank of rocks. She pulled herself up and let her legs dangle in the water. She hated how her reflection followed. She wanted to run away from the water, but she knew she couldn’t. She knew she had to stay and listen to the end.

‘How am I different?’ Sakura asked after a long time, her voice nearly cracking.

‘Heritage. They have the DNA that allows them to adapt those skills. You know this. It may seem like magic, but I know you remember hearing about this back when Naruto and Sasuke fought her.’

‘But I can use it.’

Inner just sent Sakura a look and it was enough to remind Sakura that she was arguing with herself. There was no point in lying. It would not end well.

“What do I do?” she asked out loud, not caring if it was an unnecessary action. She wanted to voice her worry.

‘What do you want? You really want to use the Rinnegan out of all the available abilities? What about the wood controlling? What about that third eye you’re keeping closed up behind your Yin seal? Those would be easier to manage.’

‘I want to do this.’

‘Why?’

Sakura truly didn’t know, and that was likely why Inner was asking. ‘I’m not a Hyuga or an Uchiha, those eyes are meant for them, but I feel like I could claim this Rinnegan for myself. It’s not so vividly linked in my memories to the boy who died  for his cousin or the teammate who was killed next to me.’

Inner is silent for a moment before shifting in the water. There are no ripples, she is only a manifestation of illusion from Sakura’s will.

‘The Rinnegan grants the wielder a wide range of abilities without any known chakra requirement to keep the eyes active. Certain abilities are only available to the original owner of the dōjutsu, but possession of even a single transplanted Rinnegan can grant overwhelming power, you just can’t manage it with eyes that aren’t compatible.’

‘You haven’t told me anything new.’

Inner sighed, looking exhausted. ‘You’re going to have to manipulate the genetic foundation of your eyes or cultivate new ones, like, maybe in your hands or something. I’ve seen that done.’

And it was weird because Sakura had never seen that done. Only Deidara of the Akatsuki had an ability where on his palms he had mouths that could mold clay and infuse them with explosives. But Sakura had never seen anyone with eyes on their hands.

‘It’s not one of your memories, but one of Kaguya’s memories,’ Inner explained. ‘It’s also how I know so much more than you.’

Sakura felt the truth of it, but turned her mind away from those moon colored feelings that hid deep inside her. Kaguya had put so much of herself into Sakura. Since waking up, Sakura had done all she could to cut away the woman’s influence and block out as much as she could.

‘What is the memory of?’ Sakura asked after a while.

‘It’s this guy who had eyes on the palms of his hands. He was born with the genetic mutation, but manipulating the base makeup of an eye from nothing is easier than transforming the subpar eyes you already have.’

‘Yeah, that sounds super easy.’

‘You can hold the Rinnegan for nineteen seconds. That can be enough time to make something out of nothing.’

Inner pushed forward into Sakura’s mind and she felt the pressure of a thought puncture her mental identity.  She saw a man she recognized as the sage of six paths forming a world between his hands. It was unsettling and unnerving, but Sakura managed.

’By using his Yang chakra, the essence of physical energy, along with his Yin chakra, the essence of spiritual energy, Hagoromo had the ability to create form from nothingness with a mere thought to bring it to life. Guess who’s already a master of Yin and Yang chakra.’

Sakura felt the pressure on her forehead and for once was confident it was from her seal and not the third eye that slept behind her seal. Yin and Yang chakra…her natural affinities were for earth and water, but under the training of Tsunade she had studied, trained in, and mastered both Yin and Yang chakra, becoming one of the few people alive to do so. Or at least, at the time she had been. In this odd day and age Sakura didn’t know who could do what. She was so out of it.

‘Let me think.’

Sakura pulled her legs up under her and sat in a lotus position, not caring it it was improper as long as she wore a kimono. The Uchiha boy was dead asleep behind her and she was alone. Her brain was a vice of memory and she drowned in it, mixing theory with recall.

“Creation Rebirth,” she said out loud after a long while.

Tsunade’s legendary jutsu would create the conditions so that the body’s cell division is forcibly stimulated by proteins, reconstructing all organs and all tissues making up the human body. However, when combined with the Creation of All Things Technique, she could stimulate growth from a single cell in both palms.

In addition to that, the Creation of All Things Technique would eliminate the only known downside to creation rebirth. She wouldn’t have to fear splitting her own cells so often because she could generate new ones, effectively rendering her-

“Uuuugh.”

Sakura startled, not used to the sound of another human. She turned quickly, sliding backwards on the rocks and into the water on a startled shout. Even though it wasn’t deep, Sakura’s standing was shaky and she felt her ankles twist and lift in the riverbed, sending the rest of her into the water with a cry of complaint.

“Are you okay?”

Sakura looked up at the concerned face of a Sasuke Uchiha look alike and nearly whimpered. She felt her face flush and she almost reached up to hide her blazing cheeks before remembering that this wasn’t Sasuke and she wasn’t the little girl who once was so head over heels for the loner Uchiha. Also, she was the adult and he was the child. Who cares if she slipped a little?

“I-I’m okay. I just was startled. I heard you wake up after so much quiet.”

Sakura grabbed the edge of the rock outcropping and started to pull herself up. Her kimono clung to her in weighted chunks. She didn’t doubt she looked miserable.

“I am sorry. I do not recall falling asleep in this area.” He looked away from her to take another glance about his surroundings.

“Yeah, I almost didn’t see you when I came by this way. Sorry, did I wake you?” Sakura lied.

She didn’t look too out of place. She could pass as a simple town girl doing chores. One good thing about the misogyny in the old ages was no one suspected women of much. He wouldn’t think much of her.

“No.” He blinked, looking her over once more. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

Sakura huffed and fisted her hands over her hips. “Wow, you’re rude. I’m the one who lives in this area, little boy. You’re the one I’ve never seen around here. This here is my favorite creek. I do plenty of my chores here and I’ve never noticed a kid before. What’s your name anyway?”

The Uchiha puffed up and seemed to hold himself with dignity as he stared down at her from the ledge. “I’m an Uchiha, woman. I am the noble son of the main family, Uchiha Izuna. Who are you?”

“Sakura.” She smiled and spoke so innocently. “You’re pretty young to be out by yourself. Your mom or dad around? Maybe an older brother or something?”

Izuna flushed. “I’m old enough to fight. I’m a ninja in my father’s company. Don’t treat me like a child.”

“You are a child.” Sakura folded her arms in front of her chest and kept smiling, enjoying the way Sasuke Lookalike Izuna Uchiha flustered at her tone and words. He seemed to not hear them often from members outside the clan.

“Stop it,” he actually whined. “I’m not a child, don’t treat me like one.”

It was enough to actually make her laugh. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry. I’m not good with avoiding hurt feelings when it comes to people I just met. I have a bad habit, they tell me. But, what are you even doing out here. You seem like too big a deal for a watering hole like this.”

“I thought you said this was a creek.”

Sakura felt her brow quirk in agitation. “Uh, same thing.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Whatever. What are you doing here? It doesn’t change the nature of my question.”

Izuna crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. “I can’t tell you. It’s top secret.”

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

His face turned a deadly shade of pink. “No! I was looking for someone.”

“No one else lives out her, kid. If you need help finding your way you don’t have to be embarassed.” Sakura waved her hand in front of her face, grinning in spite of her resolve to keep up the act. It was too much fun teasing the boy.

“I told you I was looking for someone, I’m not lost, and I know I was close because I fell asleep for no reason.”

Sakura stared blankly and let the silence between them grow awkward. Izuna whimpered, face heating further until it became too much and he cried out in embarrassment, turning on his heel and running off into the trees.    

Sakura watched until he was no longer visible and then chuckled out loud. “Wow, he is too cute. Someone better watch out or else the women will run all over themselves for him one day.”  

It was a month before she saw any more children, and the child that came to her hedge was Tobirama. She didn’t go out to greet him, but let her genjutsu work on it’s own. Unlike the others, Tobirama knew better than to underestimate her simple terrain and stay sensitive. He sensed her genjutsu, tried to dispel it, but only found another layer, and then another layer, until his doubt was a layer all on it’s own.

He stopped before he could fall asleep, turned, and left on his own.

Sakura wouldn’t admit to being disappointed, but the way the others in her sanctuary teased her meant she hadn’t needed to admit to anything.

One of the nursing mothers teased Sakura over the wash with a knowing smile. “Don’t worry. Miko’s boy will be just as captivating when he’s born. You can stalk him then.”

[cemeterygatesmedia]

The Hermit of Russian Lake

 by. J. Sullivan

Big Moose Lake had been an out-of-the-way destination for vacationers and hunters since the late 19th century. It managed to retain much of its remote nature during the 20th century, unlike most of the Fulton Chain, a series of vast lakes not far south of Big Moose. While the other sizeable lakes in the central Adirondacks had become tourist hubs—lined with grand hotels, serviced by steamboats and railroads—Big Moose only begrudgingly built new settlements; and the hotels that did spring up were never all that successful.

Keith Lane had visited the area with friends over the years and wanted to share some of the charming solace of the lake with his wife, Becky, and their baby girl. He hoped to build a foundation for positive mutual memory there, and have a spot to return to each summer that they could make their own. He and Becky were having a difficult marriage, wanting different things in life, with disparate plans and goals. The vacation was meant to be a first step toward mending their relationship.

However, things never seemed to go as planned for Keith. Becky hated the cramped confines of the bungalow that her husband had rented. She complained from the minute they arrived, about the furniture, the lack of things to do, the difficulty of caring for their one-year-old daughter in an unfamiliar place. She really let Keith know that he was putting her out on this little vacation of his.

Not a day and a half had passed before Keith needed to get out of the cottage and away from his wife’s niggling. Becky and the baby were sleeping, so he decided to take the canoe from the backyard and put it out onto the water. He knew from an earlier trip that in the eastern bay of the lake there was a dock, and from there a short hiking path to a campsite and pond. He was determined to ex-perience a little of his own type of vacation, whether Becky gave him a hard time about it or not.

The forty-minute-long paddle was leisurely, with a gentle wind at his back. Not many powered boats were out on the water that day, likely because it was overcast and threatening rain. He waved to a carpenter piloting a flat-top motor boat full of old dock lumber.

Keith arrived at the small dock and tied up his canoe. He found the marked, flat forest trail with ease and followed it toward Russian Lake. The path appeared well-travelled, and along the way he passed a man and a boy carrying a canoe, presumably back from the pond. They paused to talk.

“Hey. Were you guys camping?” asked Keith.

“Yep. We stayed overnight at the lean-to. It’s really a nice, little lake up there,” said the father. “It looks like it might rain, so we’re trying to get back.”

Keith left the pair behind and continued on the path for another half-mile until he reached the lean-to, which sat on a bluff overlooking the pond. He saw the obvious signs of the campsite in front: a fire pit, trampled grass, and indentations where gear had been parked for the night.

The pond itself held a small island, densely covered with trees, grass, and underbrush, as was most of the surrounding area. It was the end of the trail, and he thought it odd that there weren’t more trails going off into the vast Pigeon Lake Wilderness Area which lay to the north, south, and east.

He wandered down to the small lake, peering into the brackish water for any sign of life. A beaver caught his attention as it swam from shore to the small island. He spotted the creature’s bulky timber pile near a small outlet stream and searched out a spot where he could get a better look at the developing dam.

When Keith had walked far enough along the shore, he spied a gently tread game path that he could follow to the outlet. He waded through tall grass, flicking burrs and thorns, and swiped away various clinging bugs from his pants. Loons called out from a thick patch of reeds nearby; their eerie, almost wolf-like territorial posturing made him jump. Finally, he reached the outlet stream and looked over the beginnings of the dam.

The sun peeked out for a few minutes, and Keith saw something metallic shimmer downstream. He walked along the rocky brook toward the mysterious glistening beacon. Eventually, he could begin to make out some sort of structure among the trees. A little clearing had been made, on which sat a shack.

Keith had heard stories of the guides, mountain men, and hermits who had once occupied solitary settlements in the deep woods—men who had been present for nearly every exploration and discovery—the lore-makers themselves. He was a student of Adirondack history, yet was stunned at the existence of a hermitage in the 21st century—reasoning that the state of New York wouldn’t stand for such a thing on its hallowed public land.

Smoke drifted from the makeshift chimney of the cobbled-together structure. The aluminum wall panels and asphalt shingle roof were set at odd angles—and the whole thing seemed about to collapse. Keith was startled from his structural study by the emergence of an old hermit, obviously the proprietor of this squatter’s refuge.

“Are you lost?” asked the old man.

“No,” replied Keith.

“Then get lost,” said the old man, abruptly, and returned to his abode.

Keith paused, unsure if he shouldn’t just turn around and hurry himself back to his canoe. The old man returned with a tobacco pipe in his mouth, already puffing at it in caricature of the classic Mountain Man.

“Sir, my name’s Keith. I was checking out the beaver dam and saw the sun shine off the aluminum down here. I was just curious, you know?”

The old fellow sauntered over to him. They both stood about the same height, a little over six feet tall. “As you can probably figure out, I’m here on this land illegally, and any mention of my being here, to the wrong sort of people, will get me arrested and tossed out on my head.”

“I won’t say anything. I’m just at the lake for a week on vacation.” Keith looked at the weathered shack and the surrounding area with curiosity. “How long have you been out here?”

“Decades… But who’s counting?” The old man broke a yellow, wry smile, and continued to puff away at his pipe. “I suppose you’d like to see inside?”

Keith nodded and followed the old man into the shack. The first thing he noted were the modern provisions. There were canned food tins, a tidy collection of recyclables, and a newer portable propane stove. It all struck him as neatly utilitarian. The only non-essential items seemed to be a stack of hardcover books and a few magazines that sat on one small, homemade table.

“Do you want some coffee?” asked the old man, as he set some water to boil on his stove.

“Sure.” Keith was directed to sit in one of the rough-hewn chairs.

“So, what do you think?”

“Sir, I’d have to say that I’m surprised at how well-organized everything seems.”

The old man nodded. “Thanks. I’ve had time to get things right. Plenty of it.”

“Do you hunt and fish for food?”

The old man looked at Keith queerly. “No. I buy my food in Eagle Bay at the market, the same as everyone else. I do make a little money trapping—legally, of course.”

Keith was taken aback at how normal the hermit seemed. He figured there had to be something horribly awry in the psyche of someone brave enough to endure an Adirondack winter in such a hovel.

“Does it get boring out here?”

“No. Just simple.”

“God, I wish my life would get simpler. I have a baby girl, and my wife is sure she wants us to get separated.”

“Sorry to hear that, son.”

“It’s just so goddamn infuriating that she can upend my life because she’s bored, or sick of it all, or whatever.” Keith looked at the old man, who had been listening intently. He was embarrassed by what he had just revealed to the stranger.

The old man added some instant coffee to the now-boiling pot on the stove, and then poured two mugs, setting one in front of his guest. “You’ve a right to be angry.”

“I’m sure life out here can be miserable and difficult, but it seems like it can be a paradise, too.”

The old man didn’t respond. He gave Keith a bagel and sat down in the other rickety chair across the small room. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Rain began pattering on the roof and aluminum walls.

“I should probably get back before it starts pouring,” said Keith, standing.

“Do you have a motor?”

“No. Canoe.”

“It’s going to be a rough paddle back. The wind pushes east,” said the old man, feeling briefly paternalistic toward Keith.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t exhaust yourself. Tie up to docks along the way and rest.”

“Okay, thanks.” Keith took a few steps to the door then paused. “You’ve got a real great spot out here. I won’t tell anyone.”

The old man nodded his thanks, and Keith left the cottage. He jogged back down the brook to the pond, then up to the trail that began at the lean-to. It was raining lightly by the time he got into his canoe on Big Moose. The water was already pushing roughly against the far eastern bank.

As soon as Keith nudged out onto the water he knew the wind was going to be a real problem. He tossed his backpack into the front of the canoe to try and keep the bow even with the stern. But his backpack wasn’t heavy enough to keep the front end of the boat down, and the wind was pushing it each way, making paddling in a straight line impossible. He struggled against the piling water and strong gusts to drag the canoe, little by little, away from the dock.

The first twenty minutes were fine. He made decent headway and was practically within sight of a smaller bay to the south, which had a public boat launch. But the storm grew increasingly intense and he knew that he wasn’t going to make it back to his cottage on the water. It wasn’t a long walk from the launch to where he was staying, and he could return with his Jeep and grab the canoe from the parking area.

Twenty more minutes had passed by the time Keith realized he had gone no more than fifty yards. He was paddling furiously and his shoulders, back, and arms were fatigued. He knew he could always stop at one of the docks or even pull his canoe onto the shore and deal with the possibility of an unfriendly dock or cabin owner. A group of older ladies passed him with their speedboat and waved as he tried not to panic from his predicament.

The combination of a sudden blast of wind followed by a small wake from the passing boat knocked the paddle from Keith’s hand. He lunged for it and had it nearly within his grasp when another strong gust sent him plunging into the water. The canoe tipped behind him, knocking him in the head. He struggled against his open life jacket in trying to find the surface, cursing himself for loosening it when he had begun to sweat from exertion.

The carpenter’s flat-top boat, now devoid of cargo, pulled up alongside Keith as he was treading water. The man pulled him and his canoe on board. Keith, completely exhausted, could barely manage a thank-you to his rescuer. The rain was pouring as the boat cut through the choppy water and away from East Bay.

“Are you staying on the lake?”

Keith could only nod and point; he was out of breath, cold, and sodden. But he was able to direct the carpenter to the dock off the property where he was staying with little issue.

“Christ. Thank you so much, man,” said Keith as the pair unloaded his canoe right onto the dock.

“No problem. You’re not the first to get stuck out there. I don’t know why they bother maintaining that dock and that trail to nowhere,” said the carpenter.

Keith shrugged and tried not to grin as he thought of the old man. He thanked the carpenter again then returned to the cottage, unsure of how much of his tale he’d share with Becky.

 * * *

 The hermit of Russian Lake wasn’t used to having visitors. Linear time for him was inconsequential, and how much of it passed between events was nebulous, at best. There were three seasons in his world and they merely cycled. Winter was an endurance event each and every year, followed by mud season (which coincided with an incessant black fly nuisance), and finally, summer.

Summer in the Adirondacks was the reason one would endure the other two seasons on the fringes of the wild. The hermit didn’t consider himself ‘of the wild,’ as he benefited from modern convenience, the same as the campers who came out to his little lake every so often. He shopped once a month at the Big M grocery store in Eagle Bay; the hike wasn’t bad at all once he found the maintained trails south of Big Moose.

He had enough money saved that he could continue his meager existence indefinitely. The Community Bank in Long Lake saw him once per year. He cashed his fur and hide checks, and withdrew a varying amount, usually based on the projected price of propane for the winter.

Though the hermit mostly kept to himself, a small legend had grown around his periodic appearances in the towns from Inlet to Long Lake. He had acquaintances that he spent time with during the hunting and trapping seasons. Most didn’t know that he lived in the woods, and he shared very little of his past with them—a past which he had mostly suppressed, or nearly forgotten, by the time he had spent half of his life as a solitary recluse.

A young man appeared at his door one summer, as if he had been there before. He even seemed to knock as if he were visiting an old friend. It irritated the old man—the wandering curiosity of the upper-middle-class who descended upon the big lake from their luxurious ‘cabins,’ with party boats, speed boats, and now biplanes. They would traipse into his world from time to time, but they usually turned on their heels at the first sight of his camp, and well before making contact.

“Yes?” said the hermit, answering the knock, but not the door. He figured a little unpleasantness would be enough to send the visitor on his way.

“My name’s Keith. I met you out here a few years back.”

The old man shuffled to the door, exhausted from a morning spent chopping wood. He opened it but didn’t recognize the interloper. “Yeah? I don’t remember you.”

The young man paused, considering if he should just leave. “I was staying on the lake with my wife and baby girl. I canoed over, followed the stream, and wandered into the clearing. We had coffee?”

The hermit looked at him quizzically, half-remembering some detail. “I don’t get many visitors out here. And if I recall correctly, the last one may have drowned on his way back over Big Moose during the microburst. That storm did a helluva number on my cottage. It nearly tore my roof off.” He pointed to some of the repairs he had done over the door.

“I’m looking for some advice. I think I might want to try and live a solitary life in the woods.”

The old man chuckled, openly sneering. “My advice?! I’m the last person who should be doling out advice on how one should live.”

“I’m not on a spiritual quest or something—I’m running from the police.” Keith felt relieved to reveal his troubles to someone. “I’m just looking for a few tips, maybe an idea where I should go?”

The hermit’s brow furrowed. “Are you a thief?”

Keith shook his head. “No. I just haven’t been making the best decisions lately.”

“No, you haven’t. Someone certainly saw you come over here, and eventually I’ll be found out because of it, and my home will be demolished. Not to mention, I’ll be arrested like a common criminal.” The old man looked the fugitive over. “Come in, I suppose.”

He let Keith in and closed the door.

“Jesus. I’m sorry. She was gonna leave me. I actually saw red. I didn’t think it was a real thing, but I actually saw red and the knife was right there on the cutting board…” said Keith, panicking.

“Stop it! I don’t care what you’ve done or who you are. We’re screwed now. Both of us.”

Keith broke down, sobbing. “I loved her more than anything, and she just wrecked everything for us, for my daughter…”

The old man sat Keith in the rickety chair at his small wooden table. “Give me a minute. Let me think about this. We can figure something out.”

There was a firm knock at the cottage door, and the hermit was pulled from his silent meditation. He nervously turned and approached the door, hesitant to pull the handle.

“Hello?” said a man’s voice.

“Are you lost?”

“No.”

The old man opened the door on a solitary hiker, a young man of about thirty.

“Sir, I’m sorry to bother you again. I was trying to paddle back out of the bay, but the wind was just too goddamn strong; so I turned back.”

The hermit noticed that it was raining, the pitter-patter growing louder against his aluminum siding. “Again, huh? I’m really busy right now—just go back and wait in the lean-to for the storm to pass.” He turned back to check on Keith, but he was gone. He looked around the small cottage for the man. “Keith?! Where the hell did you go?!”

The man at the door answered. “Sir, I’m right here… My name’s Keith Lane, remember? We met and chatted a couple of hours ago. I’m vacationing with my wife and baby girl just down the lake.”

[expatsecuador]

Where to Find Ecuador’s Brilliant Hummingbirds

Ecuador is the Mecca for hummingbird watchers and photographers. With more than 130 of the world's 340 species, it's no surprise Ecuador is known as the "Land of Hummingbirds" and the hummingbird capital of the world. 

Sword Billed Hummingbird photo taken in Ecuador's eastern slope. Photo Andy Morffew 

Hummingbirds (colibríes in Spanish) have long fascinated us with their speed, agility, compact size and perfectly adapted beaks and tongues. Many cultures have placed spiritual significance on these pint-sized marvels. The Aztec god of war, Huitzilopochtli, is depicted as a hummingbird because of his belief that hummingbirds contained the spirit of fallen warriors. 

Huitzilopochtli the Aztec God of the Sun and War is also known as "Hummingbird of the South"

Christians associate hummingbirds with the resurrection because they appear lifeless when sleeping, but will rapidly fly away and 'resurrect' when then sun rises. 

What hummingbirds mean to us

The symbolism that resonates strongest with me is from the Native Americans who view hummingbirds as healers or a spirit-being helping those in need. 

You see, we went through a very difficult time with the loss of a loved one and over the next week two events happened:

A sentimental tree was constantly visited by a new hummingbird, and

A female built her nest in a tree located in a prime viewing spot from our living room. Later on her baby joined us too. 

These may seem like trivial events. But, at the time they were beautiful moments of reprieve from the persistent despair we were all feeling. For this I was incredibly grateful.

From then on hummingbirds have taken on a very special meaning within our house, elevated to the position of our family symbol. 

I've heard similar stories from various friends and read numerous other stories online about similar experiences. This leads me to think there are many people out there that share the same appreciation for hummingbirds on numerous levels, including physical beauty and spiritual. 

Where in Ecuador can I find hummingbirds?

Everywhere! Well, except the Galapagos - Darwin certainly would have mentioned these remarkably adapted creatures if so...

This doesn't mean you're going to come across Hummingbird nests on every street in Quito or Guayaquil. But, get a few minutes outside of the city and you can potentially have an encounter. 

The cloud forests have the highest concentration of hummingbirds, so that's a great place to start your journey.

The most popular areas for tourists to visit are divided into the eastern & western slopes of the Andes mountain range that runs through Ecuador.

Some of the most popular spots for the eastern and western slopes have been included in the map below (blue = east slope, red = west slope). These are mostly accessible from Quito, but don't think for a second that these are the only places to find hummingbirds in Ecuador - they just happen to be the most popular. 

Western Slope of the Ecuadorian Andes

If you're like many visitors to Ecuador, this is likely where you're going to start your hummingbird exploration.

Mindo Valley

Mindo has quickly become one of the premier bird-watching locations in the world. The lush cloud forest provides a rich biodiversity, allowing visitors to see many of Ecuador's birds, plants, insects, vegetation and pack in some other sightseeting activities like chocolate and coffee tours, rafting, ziplining and hiking. All within a 2 hour drive of Quito.

Reserva Ecologica Yanacocha

With over 15 hummingbird species (several endemic), the Reserva Ecologica Yanacocha is well-known for watchers looking for a quick weekend trip from Quito. 

It takes around 1 hour to get to Reserva Ecologica Yanacocha from Quito, making it the closest of the western slope locations to do some serious hummer watching. 

Tandayapa Valley

At least 17 species of hummingbird have been spotted around the Tandayapa Valley, including the Purple-throated Woodstar (Calliphlox mitchellii) .

Two of the popular spots to bird watch and stay are:

Bellavista Cloud Forest Reserve & Lodge

Refugio Paz de Las Aves

Purple-throated Woodstar (Calliphlox mitchellii). Photo Andy Morffew  

Reserva Mashpi Shungo

A little further out, about 3 hours from Quito, is the privately held Reserva Mashpi Shungo. In addition to howler monkeys, you can find 13 types of hummingbird, including the Violet-tailed Sylph (Aglaiocercus coelestis).

Whilst here, you can also treat yourself at the luxurious Mashpi Lodge. 

Violet-tailed Sylph (Aglaiocercus Coelestis). Photo Andy Morffew  

Silanche Bird Sanctuary

Still around 3 hours from Quito is the Silanche Bird Sanctuary. In addition to several toucans, you can also spy around 7 hummingbird species, including the Booted Racket-tail (Ocreatus underwoodii).

Booted Racket-tail (Ocreatus underwoodii). Photo Andy Morffew  

Eastern Slope of the Andes Hummingbirds

The eastern slopes of the Ecuadorian Andes starts about an hours drive east of Quito, heading past Papallacta. Hint - be sure to give yourself some time to soak up the hot springs in Papallacta.

Puembo Birding Garden

I've included this spot on the list because it is a convenient starting/stopping off point given its close proximity to Quito's international airport. If your sole aim of visiting Ecuador is bird watching, then staying here will mean you don't need to go into Quito and you can start enjoying some 35+ different species of birds, including several hummingbirds. 

Guango Lodge

Situated about 10 minutes past Papallacta is Guango Lodge. Here you can see around 17 types of hummingbirds in well maintained gardens. These include the Mountain Velvetbreast (Lafresnaya lafresnayi).

Mountain Velvetbreast (Lafresnaya lafresnayi). Photo taken in Guango Lodge by Andy Morffew  

Hosteria Hda. Cumandá

Continuing along the E20, about 2 hours from Quito is Baeza. This lesser known little town has several options to stay and view the many animal and bird species in the area. Approx 6 types of hummingbirds have been known to live here, including the Speckled Hummingbird (Adelomyia melanogenys). 

Speckled Hummingbird (Adelomyia melanogenys). Photo: Andy Morffew  

Cosanga

Turning right onto the E45 will have you at Cosanga, around 2.5 hours from Quito. This town includes bird watching options like Cabañas San Isidro. Here, around 10 species of hummingbird have been spotted, including the Sparkling Violet-ear (Colibri coruscans).

Sparkling Violet-ear (Colibri coruscans). Photo: Andy Morffew  

WildSumaco Lodge

Continuing down the Ecuador's Eastern Slope, turning left at Narupo onto the E20 for around 40 minutes and then left at Wawa Sumaco towards the Sumaco Volcano, you'll find the most remote lodge on the list - WildSumaco Lodge. This birding lodge has been know to contain 21 species of hummingbird.

Southern Ecuador 

Moving further south down the eastern slope you'll pass through other areas such as Baños, Cuenca (where we live) and Loja. Whilst you won't find many bird tour companies offering tours here, that doesn't mean there aren't quality hummingbird spotting opportunities. 

Giant Hummingbird (Patagona gigas)

One of the 5 different species that regularly visit our home in Cuenca is the Giant Hummingbird. We love having him visit us because his large size seems to calm down some of the smaller, but more aggressive, hummingbirds. They seem to know that this larger hummer deserves respect and they agree to give him some space.

This brings a more harmonious vibe to the 3-4 hours in the morning when the hummingbirds are at their busiest and creating the most noise (and we might still be sleeping!). Check out the Giant Hummingbird in this video:

Where does the Giant Hummingbird live?

The giant hummingbird's habitat extends from Ecuador down to Argentina and Chile and can be found on both slopes of the Andes mountains. This covers a sizeable range of 1,200,000 km2.

How long is the Giant Hummingbird?

They are around 23 cm (9.1 in) long, with a wingspan of approx 21.5 cm (8.5 in) and weigh 18–24 g (0.63–0.85 oz). This is about double the weight of the next heaviest hummingbird. 

How many Giant Hummingbirds are left in the world?

There is an estimated 10,000+ adult Giant Hummingbirds in the wild. 

All Ecuadorian hummingbird species

For all you hardcore hummer fans, here's the list of all the different species you can find in Ecuador along with their scientific names:

Common name

Scientific name

Common name

Scientific name

Amazilia hummingbird

Amazilis amazilia

Amethyst woodstar

Calliphlox amethystina

Amethyst-throated sunangel

Heliangelus amethysticollis

Andean emerald

Uranomitra franciae

Band-tailed barbthroat

Threnetes ruckeri

Black-bellied thorntail

 Discosura langsdorffi

Black-breasted puffleg

 Eriocnemis nigrivestis (EM)

Black-eared fairy

Heliothryx auritus

Black-tailed trainbearer

Lesbia victoriae

Black-thighed puffleg

Eriocnemis derbyi

Black-throated brilliant

Heliodoxa schreibersii

Black-throated hermit

Phaethornis atrimentalis

Black-throated mango

Anthracothorax nigricollis

Blue-chested hummingbird

Polyerata amabilis

Blue-chinned sapphire

Chlorestes notata

Blue-fronted lancebill

Doryfera johannae

Blue-headed sapphire

Chrysuronia grayi

Blue-mantled thornbill

Chalcostigma stanleyi

Blue-tailed emerald

Chlorostilbon mellisugus

Blue-throated hillstar

Oreotrochilus cyanolaemus (E-M)

Blue-tufted starthroat

Heliomaster furcifer (H)

Booted racket-tail

Ocreatus underwoodii

Bronze-tailed plumeleteer

Chalybura urochrysia

Bronzy hermit

Glaucis aeneus

Bronzy Inca

Coeligena coeligena

Brown Inca

Coeligena wilsoni

Brown violetear

Colibri delphinae

Buff-tailed coronet

Boissonneaua flavescens

Buff-tailed sicklebill

Eutoxeres condamini

Buff-winged starfrontlet

Coeligena lutetiae

Chestnut-breasted coronet

Boissonneaua matthewsii

Choco daggerbill

Schistes albogularis

Collared Inca

Coeligena torquata

Crowned woodnymph

Thalurania colombica

Ecuadorian hillstar

Oreotrochilus chimborazo

Ecuadorian piedtail

Phlogophilus hemileucurus

Emerald-bellied puffleg

Eriocnemis aline

Empress brilliant

 Heliodoxa imperatrix

Esmeraldas woodstar

Chaetocercus berlepschi (EM)

Fawn-breasted brilliant

Heliodoxa rubinoides

Festive coquett

Lophornis chalybeus

Fiery topaz

Topaza pyra

Fiery-tailed awlbill

Avocettula recurvirostris

Fork-tailed woodnymph

Thalurania furcata

Geoffroy's daggerbill

Schistes geoffroyi

Giant hummingbird

Patagona gigas

Glittering-throated emerald

Chionomesa fimbriata

Glowing puffleg

Eriocnemis vestita

Golden-breasted puffleg

Eriocnemis mosquera

Golden-tailed sapphire

Chrysuronia oenone

Gorgeted sunangel

Heliangelus strophianus

Gorgeted woodstar

Chaetocercus heliodor

Gould's jewelfront

Heliodoxa aurescens

Gray-breasted sabrewing

 Campylopterus largipennis

Gray-chinned hermit

Phaethornis griseogularis

Great sapphirewing

Pterophanes cyanopterus

Great-billed hermit

Phaethornis malaris

Green hermit

Phaethornis guy

Green thorntail

Discosura conversii

Green-backed hillstar

Urochroa leucura

Green-crowned brilliant

Heliodoxa jacula

Green-fronted lancebill

Doryfera ludovicae

Green-headed hillstar

Oreotrochilus stolzmanni

Greenish puffleg

Haplophaedia aureliae

Green-tailed goldenthroat

Polytmus theresiae (H)

Green-tailed trainbearer

 Lesbia nuna

Hoary puffleg

Haplophaedia lugens

Humboldt's sapphire

Chrysuronia humboldtii

Lazuline sabrewing

Campylopterus falcatus

Lesser violetear

Colibri cyanotus

Little sunangel

Heliangelus micraster

Little woodstar

Chaetocercus bombus

Long-billed hermit

Phaethornis longirostris

Long-billed starthroat

Heliomaster longirostris

Long-tailed sylph

Aglaiocercus kingii

Many-spotted hummingbird

Taphrospilus hypostictus

Mountain avocetbill

Opisthoprora euryptera

Mountain velvetbreast

Lafresnaya lafresnayi

Napo sabrewing

Campylopterus villaviscensio

Neblina metaltail

Metallura odomae

Olive-spotted hummingbird

Talaphorus chlorocercus

Pale-tailed barbthroat

Threnetes leucurus

Peruvian sheartail

Thaumastura cora (H)

Pink-throated brilliant

Heliodoxa gularis

Purple-backed thornbill

Ramphomicron microrhynchum

Purple-bibbed whitetip

Urosticte benjamini

Purple-chested hummingbird

Polyerata rosenbergi

Purple-collared woodstar

Myrtis fanny

Purple-crowned fairy

 Heliothryx barroti

Purple-throated sunangel

Heliangelus viola

Purple-throated woodstar

Calliphlox mitchellii

Rainbow starfrontlet

Coeligena iris

Rainbow-bearded thornbill

Chalcostigma herrani

Reddish hermit

Phaethornis ruber

Royal sunangel

Heliangelus regalis

Rufous-breasted hermit

Glaucis hirsutus

Rufous-capped thornbill

Chalcostigma ruficeps

Rufous-crested coquette

Lophornis delattrei (H)

Rufous-gaped hillstar

Urochroa bougueri

Rufous-tailed hummingbird

Amazilia tzacatl

Rufous-throated sapphire

Hylocharis sapphirina

Rufous-vented whitetip

Urosticte ruficrissa

Sapphire-spangled emerald

Chionomesa lactea (H)

Sapphire-vented puffleg

Eriocnemis luciani

Shining sunbeam

Aglaeactis cupripennis

Short-tailed woodstar

Myrmia micrura

Spangled coquette

Lophornis stictolophus

Sparkling violetear

Colibri coruscans

Speckled hummingbird

Adelomyia melanogenys

Spot-throated hummingbird

Thaumasius taczanowskii (H)

Straight-billed hermit

Phaethornis bourcieri

Stripe-throated hermit

Phaethornis striigularis

Sword-billed hummingbird

Ensifera ensifera

Tawny-bellied hermit

Phaethornis syrmatophorus

Tooth-billed hummingbird

Androdon aequatorialis

Tourmaline sunangel

Heliangelus exortis

Tumbes hummingbird

Thaumasius baeri

Turquoise-throated puffleg

Eriocnemis godini

Tyrian metaltail

Metallura tyrianthina

Velvet-purple coronet

Boissonneaua jardini

Violet-bellied hummingbird

Chlorestes julie

Violet-fronted brilliant

Heliodoxa leadbeateri

Violet-headed hummingbird

Klais guimeti

Violet-tailed sylph

Aglaiocercus coelestis

Violet-throated metaltail

Metallura baroni (EM)

Viridian metaltail

Metallura williami

Western emerald

Chlorostilbon melanorhynchus

White-bearded hermit

Phaethornis hispidus

White-bellied woodstar

Chaetocercus mulsant

White-chinned sapphire

Chlorestes cyanus

White-necked jacobin

Florisuga mellivora

White-tipped sicklebill

Eutoxeres aquila

White-vented plumeleteer

Chalybura buffonii

White-whiskered hermit

Phaethornis yaruqui

Wire-crested thorntail

Discosura popelairii

Cell

Cell

Are you planning a visit to Ecuador to check out hummingbirds? Please feel free to let us know in the comments where you're going and whether you're doing it by yourself or through a tour group. 

Image credits: I have not taken the incredibly superb photos of hummingbirds used in this article. I wish I was that talented with a camera. They are from a UK photographer, Andy Morffew. If you like the photos, let him know on his website & peruse his other fantastic wildlife images. 

from Expats Ecuador https://expatsecuador.com/hummingbirds/

[mrrandallallen]

Effects of Deforestation on Lizard Communities Differ at Low and High Elevations

  Anolis landestoyi. Photo by Miguel Landestoy.

As reported by Science Daily:

Elevation matters when it comes to climate change, deforestation and species survival

Date:

February 25, 2019

Source:

University of Toronto

Summary:

A study examining the impact of deforestation on lizard communities in the Dominican Republic demonstrates differing outcomes at different elevations. In the lowlands, deforestation reduces the number of individuals, but not which species occur in an area. In the highlands, it’s the opposite. When the forest is cut down at higher elevations, the newly created pastures become filled with species found in the warmer lowlands. But locally adapted mountain lizards cannot survive as temperature rises.

University of Toronto student George Sandler was shocked to see the rainforest floor suddenly come to life around him, as if in a scene from an Indiana Jones movie.

“The forest floor started rustling around me,” says Sandler, “as dozens of crabs emerged from holes and crevices. Some were huge, the size of dinner plates. I even spotted a hermit crab climbing up a tree, lugging its heavy shell along with it.”

But Sandler wasn’t in the field to study crabs. He was in the Dominican Republic to take a census of the region’s Anolis lizard species for a study on the effects of deforestation being conducted by researchers Luke Mahler, Luke Frishkoff and collaborators. In the Caribbean nation, deforestation is the main form of natural habitat loss as residents cut down rainforest in order to produce charcoal, as well as create pastures for livestock and farmland for crops.

It is no surprise that deforestation has a profound effect on biodiversity; scientists have been studying this problem around the globe for decades. What is surprising is the difficulty they still face in making detailed predictions about which species survive, especially in relation to other factors such as climate change and natural local conditions.

Now, using the data collected in the census, the research team has discovered details about how Anolis lizards are being affected by the loss of their habitat.

“When it comes to predicting the effects of deforestation,” says Mahler, “elevation matters.”

Mahler is an assistant professor in the Department of Ecology & Evolutionary Biology (EEB) in the Faculty of Arts & Science at the University of Toronto. Frishkoff led the research while he was a postdoctoral fellow in Mahler’s lab at U of T and is lead author of the paper describing their findings, published today in Nature Ecology & Evolution; he is currently an assistant professor at the University of Texas at Arlington. Sandler and researchers from the National Museum of Natural History in Santo Domingo were also co-authors.

Mahler and Frishkoff analyzed populations of lizards in both lowland and highland regions affected by deforestation. Generally, the lowlands are warmer than the highlands due to altitude; also, forest canopy blocks direct sunlight, making forests at any altitude cooler than their immediate surroundings.

“It turns out that deforestation changes lizard communities in fundamentally different ways in the lowlands as compared to the highlands,” says Mahler. “In the lowlands, deforestation reduces the number of individuals, but not which species occur in an area. In the highlands, it’s the opposite.”

“When the forest is cut down at higher elevations,” says Frishkoff, “the newly created high elevation pastures become filled with species we saw down in the warmer lowlands. But, the locally adapted mountain lizards cannot survive.”

The invasion into the highlands by lowland-dwelling lizards was made possible by a combination of human activity and natural factors; i.e. deforestation and elevation respectively. Thanks to the altitude, the temperature of deforested fields in the highlands was comparable to the temperature of forested lowlands.

As it is in many regions around the world, the problem of deforestation in the Dominican Republic is dire. In 2016, Mahler announced the discovery of a previously unknown chameleon-like Anolis lizard on the island of Hispaniola. In the paper describing the discovery, Mahler and his co-authors recommended that the new species, dubbed Anolis landestoyi, be immediately classified as critically endangered because the lizard was threatened by illegal clear-cutting in the region.

Unlike the crabs that crowded around Sandler in the rainforest, the lizards were more elusive and difficult to survey. In order to obtain accurate counts, the students employed a technique known as mark-resight.

“We hiked out to our designated plots,” says Sandler, who was an undergraduate student while conducting the field work and is currently an EEB graduate student at U of T. “Then we walked around looking for lizards. We carried a paint spray gun filled with a non-toxic, water soluble paint — a different colour for each of the six observation periods. If we saw a lizard we would note the species, if it had any paint on it already, and the colour of the paint. Then we would spray the lizard with the paint gun we were carrying, a task that was a little tricky with some of the more skittish species!”

Paint on a lizard indicated that it had already been counted; and the number of unpainted lizards that were observed during each period allowed the researchers to calculate how many lizards were going uncounted.

“It’s not your typical summer job,” says Mahler. “Each survey is essentially a game in which you try to find all the lizards in an area and zap them with paint. It’s a messy affair, but we get great data from it.”

“Our results help us better understand the likely consequences of climate change and how it will interact with human land-use,” says Frishkoff.

For lowland forest Anolis lizards, deforestation just means a decline in abundance or relocating to the highlands. But for highland species, the situation is more critical. Unlike their lowland cousins, they have reached high ground already and in the face of deforestation have nowhere to go — a situation facing more and more species around the world.

“Our data suggest that while many lowland Anolis species might not be seriously affected by deforestation and the gradual warming brought about by climate change,” says Frishkoff, “the opposite is true for the unique mountain lizard species which do not tolerate land-use change well, and which are already on the top of the island.

“Land-use and climate change are a double whammy for these species. If we cut down the mountain forests these lizards have nowhere left to go. Gradual warming might push species up slope, but when you’re already at the top of the mountain, you can’t move any higher.”

Story Source:

Materials provided by University of Toronto. Note: Content may be edited for style and length.

Journal Reference:

Luke O. Frishkoff, Eveling Gabot, George Sandler, Cristian Marte, D. Luke Mahler. Elevation shapes the reassembly of Anthropocene lizard communities. Nature Ecology & Evolution, 2019; DOI: 10.1038/s41559-019-0819-0

from Anole Annals https://ift.tt/2UgIxVb