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[acrowamongsparrows]

Day 3(b) - Romance

Long summers always foreshadow a harsh winter.  For young lovers though, a warm night is the beginnings of a romance that one hears only in stories.  At least that's how Jolanta felt as she dashed through the wood, her patchwork cloak wrapped tight about her shoulders as she did her best not to trip in the dark.  The last thing she needed was a broken ankle and having to hobble back to the Leaf and be questioned by Alina.

The old woman was the closest thing she had to family now, the barkeep bringing her in with no questions and taking care her for the last few years since her father died.  Velen had been a troubled man, but he was still her father.  Between bouts of drink and depression, he'd always done right by his daughter.  Sadly too much drink had lead to a trip into the river and an orphaned child.  Alina had brought her in sheltered her, taught her about the inn, clothed her, and paid her as well.  'Nothin is free, includin you' the old woman had told her time and time again.  Thus she had hated lying to her, telling her she wasn't feeling well and that she wanted to go home for the night.  The grey eye of Alina had narrowed and tried to pierce her like a sword, but in the end she relented as she promised to clean up in the morning.  

Now Jo just had to be home in the morning.  A short laugh echoed among the trees as she continued on, the flower still held in hand as she knew clearly where she was going.  Her dark eyes well accustomed to the dark already could pinpoint the scattered of orange light ahead.

A small campfire crackled in the center of a copse of trees, the orange and red light filtering among the wide trucks to dance shadows to and fro.  The light of the flames lit her face as she peered from around on the trunks to spot her beau resting nearby it.  Peter looked at ease, his chest bare and feet to match as they sat stretched to the flames obviously enjoy the warmth.  He was seated on an old cloak much like her own, spread out with his boots to one side along with his shirt.  All about him were the same violet flowers to match the one in her hand.  Their flower.  The young man was handsome as ever as he leaned forward to poke at the flames with an dead stick, a slight smile always on his squared face.  Jo felt her heart beating so quickly as she bit her lip just watching him in the quiet.

"Are you going to come over?"

Jo giggled softly as she stepped out from behind the tree, keeping the cloak still tight about her as she watched him rise to stand again.  The two slowly came together, bare feet walking among the foliage as the girl kicked off her slippers and reached him.  His arms were strong and smooth as they wrapped about her to draw her close to his bare chest.  He smelled of sweat and hard-work, the life of a rancher.  Jo supposed she wasn't much better, likely smelling of old sweat, beer, and tavern life.  It didn't matter though.  They both enjoyed the taste more than the smells of one another.

(NSFW below cut)

His lips were soft and warm to her own as she reached up her arms to wrap about his neck as his arms did the same for her waist.  The cloak falling away in a heap to reveal why she had kept it so tight about herself.

"Jolanta," Peter whispered in a surprise as his hands ran along the bare skin of her back and felt the warmth of her breasts against his own chest.

Jo looked up at him with a sly smile with a tilt of her head.  "Is this alright?"

The handsome young man was at a loss for a few moments as his hands continued to do the thinking as they ran across her bare back and down to below her waist , a shudder of anticipation clear in his breath.  "I just wasn't sure."

Again the tilt of her head and the smile on her face as she looked up into his eyes.  "You weren't sure?  The cloak?  A fire?  Our flowers?"

"Well."

"Kiss me, Peter," Jo cut him off as she pulled him down again to her mouth, the former coy love turning more feral and hungry as they kissed one another.  The girl weighed next to nothing as Peter lifted her, only breaking this contact with her for a moment before carrying her to to his spread blanket.

Youth and vigor are great for the needs of lovers, as clothes are all but tossed to the wind and bodies entwine in dying firelight to match midnight moonlight.  But it's messy.  And it's quick.  Stories would tell of lover who would go for hours, writhing and grinding upon one another in bouts of romantic gestures and the language of the sex.  This was not one of those times.  

It was new.  It was rough.  It was unexpected.  But it was enjoyable.  A weight upon her body as she felt the first pangs of his thrust followed by the few to follow as she felt a unfamiliar fullness that had only been told to her by the short lived patrons who got to handsy in the Leaf.  This though she wanted as she lay still at first as Peter slipped in and out of her, eyes closed in a new found pleasure.  She could hear him grunting above her as he rocked his hips back into her, it felt incredible

"Oh Jo," Peter's voice cried out, before he froze atop her.  The pleasure of his movements had ceased after only a few strokes as she tried to grind back on him, but his hands held her firm as he began to shake.  And then she knew as she felt the warmth increase between them and lay still as Peter shivered above her groaning before collapsing in a heap upon her.

Breathing was hard with his weight upon her, but Jo was confused more than anything.  This wasn't exactly how she imagined this to go.  Boastful men had spoken of what they would do to women or her.  It had been frightening but at the same time curious.  Now she'd experienced it and wasn't sure what to think.

The fire had died down completely now as the last embers barely made shadow among the trees before Peter rolled off her with a sigh, a happy smile on his face.  "That was amazing."

"Yes, yes it was," Jo murmured back as she felt cold now, not only from the wetness between her legs but in general as she curled up beside her lover.  His arm gently wrapped an arm about her to draw her close.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, just cold," Jo smiled up at Peter wanly, who in turn returned it before leaning down to kiss her.

"Let me go get your cloak," Peter stroked her cheek with his same warm smile, that warmth in his face began to assail her fears. feeling her heart begin to warm again to the man.  She smiled softly as she watched him stand and stretch, her eyes tracing his figure as he stalked through the flowers to her discarded cloak.

She watched him lean down and rise back up with the cloth in hand, staring back into the darkness.  Jo rose to her elbows and regarded her love with a growing worry.  "Peter?"

"Hello?"  Jo heard Peter call out, concern now rising that they were being watched.  Grabbing up his shirt, Jo pulled it close as she watched Peter face whatever he thought was out there.  Again he called out into the night.  "Hello?  Is somebody out there?  Show yourself!"

"Peter come back please," Jolanta whispered as she watched his back, her eyes trying to focus on him instead of where her imagination dared into the dark beyond the trees.  "Peter please."

A soft prayer began to play on her lips as her mind began to play tricks on her, as the moon was lost but the stars remained.  And the were so close, so many.  Like they were all watching them.

Panic grabbed her now as she held the shirt close to her naked body, her eyes widen desperate to see clearly in the dark.  "Peter come back."

"Hello?  Come out here now you fuck!  Who's there?  Patrik?  Wallace?  You sons o-," Peter never got to finish as his verbal assault was cut off by a black shadow streaking forth from the dark to grab at him from below.  His howl of agony sent the stars above to swirl in the blackness of night as the stars were no longer in place but flapping with wings as eyes brought forth from hell.  Peter was still screaming as he fell to his back, Jo's cloak tossed to aside again as he flailed at something between his legs.  The black shadow eyeless form grasping him like a voice about his crotch before lifting him from the ground to shake like a rag-doll.  The man continued to scream, his arms and body limp to the insane strength of the thing that grabbed him.

Jo's screams joined Peter's in thin contrast to his guttural cries of suffering as the shaking continued to toss his body back and forth.  The slap of weak flesh and snapping of bones clear as day against their cries.  The shaking stopped and Peter slay still, legs spread much like hers had been a few moments ago with him now hanging in the jaws in some misanthrope monstrosity.  His pale skin was streaked over from blood, his mouth agape moaning in defeated agony.  Above the swirl of flapping feathers and a growing chorus of caws began to drown out the sounds of the lovers, a wave of darkness that had waited so patiently on it's prey.

Tears streaked the girls face as she sobbed her screams, screams that become less of terror but now pain as roots from the trees that been their sanctuary before began to draw her back.  They did not wrap or warp about her limbs, instead plunging like daggers through the skin as they pierced her much as her screams in the night.  Her throat was raw from screams as she felt one finally pressed to the back of her neck, the sharp point pressing harder and harder through flesh.

The last moments were of looking past the rag doll of her former lover, his body a broken mass of split bone and blood, into the cawing madness of the swirl of feathers that was now descending upon them.  From within those shadows were the shapes of something tall, thin, and steady in it's steps.  No light came from it.  No sound.  Just the screams of birds, the black eyed death grin of a yellowed animal skull.

Jolanta felt everything as the branch pierced her.

@daily-writing-challenge​

[acrowamongsparrows]

Day 4 Accomplished/Macabre

His hand ran through the tall grass as he walked through the wood, a slight smile on his face as he felt the dew drops of early morning sticking to his fingers to slide among the scars of his trade.  He was hunter and trapper, but not in the sense that many thought.  When someone called for a hunter they expected a tall, meaty man covered in furs who spoke little and always had something monstrous to show of his prowess.  David was different.  

A beard was clear on his face but that only was due to the weather and how much Sara had been enjoying to play with it when the babe was in his lap.  Margaret would roll her eyes and smile at her husbands as she busied with their quaint home full of a mixture of hand-me-downs and furniture from Lan Exeter.  He was particularly proud of a looking glass he'd bought from a merchant ship from the south, there was something incredible of looking into heavens on a clear night.  His family was poor in the eyes of the city but in the eyes of Markhor he was quite the upper class, to almost the extent of Buckenhall if he really wanted to be.

But there was the differences again, David was content.  Not in a way that spoke of a man accepting his life, but true contentment and happiness in his small cabin with his girls.  He was happy with his steady trade of hunting game and bringing it to the small market or Alina.  He was happy to spend an evening in the Leaf, hear a wild tale, and go home to Margaret's arms or walk home hand in hand with Margaret when her mother could watch Sara.

Adjusting his half cape about his shoulders, David began to slow his pace as he peered between the weeds for his catch today.  They said he had sixth sense for where the game was hiding, but truthfully he knew he was just patient and could be quiet.  His gait grew even slower as he listened, no breeze which was good for him as it meant his scent stayed put.  A shake of the grass to the right would bring him to a stop, slowly easing himself down to one knee and breathing in softly through his nose.  With well practiced silence, David would slowly pull his crossbow from around his back to hand a bolt already held in place by a clip he'd imagined up himself.  He was lucky Candell could forge such a small item and for little cost.  

A finger gently moved the metal knob to the right and unlocked it before setting a bolt to the fire lane.  David let his breathing grow softer and tell her near held it, craning his ears to the sounds nearby that he knew was his quarry.  Speed and efficiency was the key if he hoped to bag his deer today, but knew that any false start or move could be just as disastrous.

Patience.

Patience was his power and he knew how to control it as he waited for one more move to pinpoint the exact spot of the deer's bed.

One breath.  Two breath.  Three breath.  A shift in the grass as autumn decided it needed to let forth a sigh as much as him.  A flash of yellow, a blink of black, and now he was pushing up to his feet.

One breath.  Two breath.  Three breath.  The deer was rising, two short antlers rising as fast as him as the black glassy eyes of the deer locked with his own.

One breath.  Two breath.  Pull.  The bolt flew straight and true, the skilled bowman's shot driving deep into the broadside behind the front let.  Three breath.

The deer in panic and pain flew, it's heavy legs pulling it straight up and bounding into the tall grass as it caught the flecks of crimson from it's wound as it stumbled back toward the wood.  David smiled as he followed the trail of blood, reaching back to reload his crossbow as he walked along behind it.  Today was a good day.

Blood flecked the crushed weeds as they grew thinner and broke into the forest edge into the woods.  Tuft of grass and scrape of dirt from a drug horn was only a few yards further, the beast was putting up quite a fight as he followed the trail of his prey.  The blood was falling faster as he walked, thicker, and more frequent as he sped up his step further into the wood in fear of losing the thing to some other predator.  Further he traveled that began to seem more likely what happened as he noticed the darker it grew the deeper he went after.  

"You gotta slow down by now," murmured David as he stepped over a large rock and pressed on, noting a torn bit of fur to match the splatter of blood nearby.  Still warm.  "Where the hell are you going?"

The trees broke again as he marched onward leaving a soft clearing before a copse of trees loomed ahead.  David came to slow halt as he looked up at those trees, they sat tall and still.  Much like the air around him as he licked his lips and tried to hear something out there in the open air.  Nothing.  A feeling of dread sat in the pit of his stomach as he stood there staring at the trees.  He should cut his losses and go home.  They had plenty.  Plenty of skins, meat, and money this wasn't worth it.  But human nature was an animal unto itself as curiosity burned brightly through logic, springing forward with his loaded crossbow to investigate further.

The yards to the trees took seconds to reach, but the smell in the air hit him far before.  Rank and earthy, like rotten meat as he coughed and lifted his sleeve to his mouth in hopes of saving him from the stench.  It was like a tide of putrid ilk that was awful and familiar as he wandered these woods for years to know the smell.  

Death.

It felt far to poetic to put it in terms like that in his head, but the thick air of stench made him want to vomit as he entered the gathering trees.  His eyes falling over the trunks of the trees as he noted a strange tangle of dark veins rising from the earth to dig deep into their bark.  They pulsed with an eerie almost breathing motion as he thought better of touching one, knowing his curiosity could only push him so far into this adventure.  But he needed to find out what was going on, the village needed to know.

He should have turned back but the blood trail lead into the enclosure.

The circle of trees wasn't large but it felt thicker by the strange rooted trees surrounding the perimeter as David let his eyes move swiftly about for signs of the deer or the thief who had drug it so far.  Maybe a wolf or a bear, it was the logical idea of what was out here.  His booted feets gently slid through dead leaves, going silent and quiet as he could be in the face of this unknown foe.  The crossbow resting in the crook of his shoulder as he looked about in the silent shadows, sweeping the area as he followed the trail.  Crimson were dashed by brown and yellow leaves as the blood shined in the dark but were also framed by strange purple fauna.  

Crouching down, David let his finger brush the face of one of the violet flowers but never picked it.  It felt like any other flower but for some reason he recoiled from it's touch, as if there was something ready to bite him in the face of plain beauty.  They felt wrong.  Blooming, season, and abundance as he stood back up again to follow his bloody trail again.  It felt like hours since he'd begun and by the deep shadows around him the sky was doing little to aid him in reminding it was only maybe early afternoon.  Night ruled here.

The trail ended at the base of a tree, violet flowers spread about in a blanket of bright ground stars as they stared at him much as the eyes ahead of him did.  So many eyes.

Crows rested in the many empty branches above, their white staring eyes regarding him in silent judgement at his presence within their hold.  Where once leaves of green or even red and gold had sat now were the many feathers of the birds.  Black and beyond counting, David could already feel his mouth growing drier and chest tighter as he felt a great warning coming from them as he stared up at them.  

Run away.  Run away if you can.  Run away.

Swallowing hard, David pressed on the last few feet in the face of the carrion nightmare that guarded from above and let his eyes settle upon what they surrounded.

His kill lay on the ground before that great tree, but it had not even made it halfway here on it's own thanks to his original bolt.  No the thieves were to be thanked for that.

Twisted, crouched, and eyes much like the crows above stared at him from now from below where they surrounded what he hoped was their meal.  But that would need mouths.  Teeth.  Tongues.  Taste.  Only the blank broken animal skulls with black empty sockets leered at him with their flickering empty witch light.  Hands like warped branches wrapped in thorns and vine to hold them split into what appeared as claws had obviously only been random bones split.  The bones were clearly just as good to do their work as they carved and ravaged the carcass of his kill, splitting the fur and skin like a ripe tomato to spill the precious dying life of the deer into the soil beneath it.  Greed was clear in that earth's hunger as the blood seemed to disappear as quickly as it spilled into the loose dirt.  His deer was not the first to litter these monsters table as the jutting hunks of bone and sinew lay strewn about with purple flowers growing in the bed of corpses.

David found he was gasping now, the thick putrid air filling his lungs as his legs grew weak to the sight of the graveyard of the macabre.  He wanted to look away from the eaters of the dead but only found his eyes widening as he looked beyond them to the base of the tree.

The picked apart face of men and women sat pierced and hung by the roots of the tree, their bodies splayed for all to see who could see.  There was no blood left among those dried husks of humans as their bodies were twisted and pierced by the foliage all around only to leave the slow succor of their bones.  Mouths wide in silent screams to match the holes of sharp beaks.  An offering to those above still.  There were to many faces in that tree.

One breath.  Run.  Two breath.  Run.  Three breath.  David was running.

The black leaves above moved as one and the collective caw of their hunger rang like thunder to match an ominous high pitched hollow roar from the lungs of some long dead being.

The flowers continued to bloom.

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge - Day 1 Silver / Darkness

@daily-writing-challenge

He knew he shouldn't do it, but at the moment Eld found little other way to pull himself up as he stuck his sword in the ground to leverage himself up.  Silver shone bright in the matching moonlight as he swayed to steady himself in the broken wood around him.  He was cold, but warm at the same time as he felt the slick crimson slip inside his ruined sleeve along the black hilt of the short sword.  Everything was getting darker and crimson at the late hour as he listened to the sounds around him of muted moans from those he called family, only for them to drowned out by the beast before them all.

Blinking hard as he finally found purchase on his bad leg, Eld steadied to stare at the rising creature as it roared into the night sky.  It's body a mass of wounds now from a dozen or so different stab wounds to match the pin cushion that had developed over it's fur from the numerous crossbow bolts they had fired at it.  Blood seeped black from these wounds but it didn't seem to notice them in the least as it's wide eyes stretched and rolled with a madness brought not from nature from the curse that plagued it.  A curse the man within had tried to hide for so many years.

"Damn it Arthur," Eld whispered, feeling the dripping despair in his tone match that of the hot blood coursing out of his body.  "Why didn't I listen to you?"

The bear only answered again with it's wild roar, now becoming more guttural and bearing the echoing hints of the man trapped within.  It didn't notice though as it squared and paced in front of the witcher, it's heavy paws thumping over the earth causing the dirt to lift from the tremors of it's supernatural weight.  Eld knew his years were ringing by the high pitch whine in his head but it wasn't enough to hide the mounting terror of those he now stood between.

Gregor was yelling for him.  Yelling for him to move or for help, it was all to muted.  Mina was silent but he could hear the boys screaming for their unconscious mother as the young Klaudin sons could nothing to wake their wounded parent.  The only one who did not speak was Verida.  He knew the old woman would stand as stone with him as the next defense of their family.

In his heart the witcher knew what needed to happen next, knew that he could put it off no longer as the bear began to grow more agitated and mad with the growing moon that lite the clearing.  But he couldn't do it.  Not in front of them.  Not now.  Why did happiness and joy need to always be so fleeting for him?  Was it just the poetic justice of his profession?  For what he was trained for?  What he was built for?  To kill.

The bear would roar again as it looked to be fighting with itself as much as Eld was in what to do next.  It could run.  The Klaudins could run.  Go their separate ways and wait til sunrise to sort it all out.  To perhaps save them and then finish it.

"Eldridge."

The voice was soft behind him as he felt the hand of one of his only friends touch his back, Verida's words soft but steely.  "Uratuj moją rodzinę."

Save my family.

A deep breath was drawn in as the weight of three simple words struck him deeper than any blow from the beast.  A shaky return was all that he could provide as he blew forth that same breath and reached up to rip the blood sleeve from his wounded arm.  Tossing the cloth to the ground before using the same good arm to draw his sword from the earth again.  His creaking step was solid as he focused, his mind and spirit into one as he started at the bear.

No.  Eld was coming for Arthur.

Silver sword shining in the moonlight, dripping red in the darkness as his free hand began to achingly shift his fingers.  He felt the fire he had trained for so long to master but could only ever hope to guide ready in his heart.  Arthur too was on the move as his maw of sharp teeth and gaping jaw flapped open to roar in the face of it's new foe.  The witcher's dull eyes could see clearly into the depths of that darkness and a for moment almost caught the agony ridden face of his friend.

"Arthur," Eld couldn't muster any other words as he felt the power well to his need before lifting his hand to feel the word he needed in his broken heart.  

Igni.

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge - Day 2 Forever/Displaced

@daily-writing-challenge​

Waves sang their unending song as they crashed upon the beach, spreading the wet course sand with a steady gentle toss.  The sand was never alone though as bits of rock, shell, and debris always managed to find their way among the silent grains of deep earth to find the sun.  One piece of debris was much larger than the what it had brought forth from the depths on this pale morning.  Larger but not unfamiliar to the ocean, the strong lapping crashes would toss a figure from it's embrace to lay silent as the dead.

But death had no place for this creature.

The figure would roll over weakly onto it's back, resting in the bed of sand it had been so unceremoniously deposited.  Long brown hair wet and stringy from the elements coated it's face much like the bits of seaweed that clung to wild wracked limbs.  Though not so much an it as a he from the beard that sat wild on his pale skin, a skin stretched thin but still healthy despite the pallor.  Clothing once rich of crimson were now scorched black by could only be deduced as fire and cooled by the very salt of the sea, sat in rags about the thin form in a mockery of what had been a much stronger man.  The tide continued to sing it's low dirge as the man's chest matched the rising waves, the water trying to drag him back as much as it pushed him further inland.  Harsh wracking coughs would break the symphony of the depths as the man found him expelling the strangling remnants of his former master.

Salt and brine bubbled out to be wretched into the sand as the man rolled over on his side to continue to vomit up the ocean on his hands and knees.  Body shaking and convulsing from the expulsion of the element before struggling only up to his knees, his head leaning back as he tried to suck in as much air as he could.  Despite all the obvious pain his body conveyed, his face was did it's best among the sand and filth to portray a surprising look of satisfaction.

And a smile.

"It worked," a croaking whisper ached forth as the man tried his best to slow his breath and calm his hacks.  The red blotches of sunlight would grow bright behind his lids before he would finally open his eyes to see the world he had come to at last.  Dark, near black eyes would peer out into the growing light of morning as he felt the long lost friend that had been the sun.  His hand lifting to guard his weak gaze from the brightness as his smile grew stronger at the feeling of it's warmth despite the cold of the sea all around him.  The hand would sit silent above him as he stared at it, the digits flexing and folding as if staring at something that did and did not belong to him.

"Extraordinary," he would whisper again as he brought the hand down to touch his face and trace the lines across his skin against the abrasiveness of his salted hair.  "Absolutely extraordinary."  

As he marveled at his appearance, the man would slowly begin to rise to his feet.  Stumbling a step or two before finally catching his bearings to stare about the empty beach, not even perturbed by the lack of bird or fish at this juncture he now found himself in.

"I did it, Iseult," he would whisper again as he smiled again feeling the brightening day above him as he closed his eyes.  "I'm free."

And so Duncan Waycrest had come to the Continent.