#saddle-backed bush cricket

[antiqueanimals]

Grzimek's Animal Life Encyclopedia: vol. 2 - Insects. Written by Dr. Bernhard Grzimek. 1984.

Internet Archive

1.) Wart-biter (Decticus verrucivorus)

2.) Great green bush-cricket (Tettigonia viridissima)

3.) Saddle-backed bush cricket (Ephippiger ephippiger)

4.) European earwig (Forficula auricularia)

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 15)

first chapter >> last chapter

-

Sleep eludes you. You toss and turn that first night, not used to sleeping on your own. Every sound makes you jump. When the sky goes black and the bushes rustle with the breeze, you have to double check the locks on the doors no less than three times, fastening it with the wooden bolt just to be safe. 

Without John around, the world is twice as loud; crickets chirp raucous melodies, buzzing so loud that sometimes you swear there must be one on the pillow right beside your head, and, in the distance, an owl hoots at an interval so irregular that each screech tugs you back from the brink of sleep. The house groans as it settles into itself; the first time you hear it, you spring upright in bed, heartbeat erratic, certain that it’s the sound of someone coming up the porch steps. 

You collapse back onto the mattress with a huff when you finally recognize the sound for what it is. 

You don’t sleep well that night. Dawn finds you awake before its arrival. The songbirds keep you from drifting off back to sleep when the first wispy rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, and you lie in bed until the possibility of sleep is well behind you. That makes you huff, bitter over the loss. 

Again, the day is slow to come over you. It seems almost reluctant to really get going, the sunlight clear and the air brisk but the day itself slow moving. An early morning chill forces you to don heavier garments than usual. 

After breakfast, you take Buttercup into the paddock to run around, watching her from the edge of the pen, humming to yourself under your breath. 

Most of the morning is spent cleaning and doing chores around the house. You muck the stables, feed the horses, scrub the dirty laundry on the washboard before hanging it up on the line, weed the garden, and promise yourself that next week you’ll work up the energy to boil linseed oil to polish and oil the furniture. As it is, you stagger into the kitchen around midday for lunch, sticky with sweat. 

Kate comes up the path on horseback not too long after that, a large swooped hat perched precariously on her head. She has to hold it in place by the brim to keep it from flying off. You watch her from the window at first, drying your hands from the quick wash you gave them after finishing your lunch.

“I ought to start making new friends,” you quip when she takes a seat next to you on the porch swing. 

“Sick of my company already?” she laughs. 

“Well, a girl’s gotta have options.” 

She snorts at that, tipping her hat lower on her head to shade her eyes from the sun. It has the effect of cutting a wide shadow across her face, leaving only a swath of white teeth exposed. 

Her beauty has always come as an afterthought. Tanned, freckled skin, and hair like golden wheat. But you look now and you see something different than the woman you’re used to seeing, and it dawns on you that what you’re seeing now is a version of Kate divorced from the idea of her that you’d always had in your head. Almost fuller; more robust. 

You tear your eyes away only when she catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow. 

She coaxes you into saddling Buttercup up and accompanying her on a trail ride. Part of you resists initially, still wounded from your last ride, and when Kate presses you for more information, you reluctantly divulge, recounting the events from the weeks prior with a tremble in your voice. She nods only once while you speak, keeping her comments to herself. That she must have already known doesn’t surprise you; she’d insinuated as much only the other week. 

You’d be wise to not keep secrets from Kate in the future, you realize. Best to keep someone as omniscient as her on your side. 

After some encouragement, she talks you into a leisurely stroll and even helps you dress Buttercup in the stables. The dizzying spell of apprehension settles over you like a heavy fog up until you blink and realize that the two of you have been riding beside each other in silence for the better part of a half mile. 

The fear doesn’t entirely evaporate, however. Any sudden dip in the terrain or unexpected noise from Buttercup makes you start. You take several breaks to breathe and walk around. At the top of a hill, you ask Kate in a voice verging on shrill if you can take a break and dismount before she’s even answered you. 

“She can sense if you’re on edge,” Kate reminds you, nodding to where Buttercup grazes in a nearby patch of grass. 

“Well, I can’t help that much. I am on edge.”

She tips her head back to look at the sky and sighs before looking back at you. “Sit down for a bit then. It’s not a race.”

And you do, for a spell. You sit and rest with your back against the trunk of a tree that branches high above you, the canopy blotting out any sunlight save for the tendril thin strands that sink through like stones in water. 

You’re striking a delicate balance between the needs of the flesh and the needs of the soul. What the soul wants is to push itself beyond the boundaries that formerly enclosed it; after a lifetime of servitude and desires suppressed, even a simple trail ride feels momentous. What the flesh wants, however, is to shade in the shade until the urge to retch wears off. 

The walk takes the two of you by a farm with a large, fenced-in enclosure. A couple houses sit around the enclosure. The smell of the livestock is pungent at first and your nose wrinkles as you approach the farm, but you adjust after a time. 

Recent weeks so far from home have spoiled you; back in the city, the pungent stench of waste and manure was commonplace, the sour cloak of tobacco stinking up the alehouses and alleyways as much as the parlors and lounges. You’d adjusted to it back then as well. 

The grazing cows rumble and low behind the fence. It’s a pleasant bucolic scene, one lifted straight from a painting that you swear you’ve seen before, though the artist’s name escapes you. 

Looking out into antediluvian pastures sets your heart at ease. When the farmer wanders out of the barn to greet the two of you, the two of you join him and his wife for coffee in the big house. 

For a brief period of time, it’s like stepping out of your body; there’s no impetus to get a move on, and inertia doesn’t set in like a rolling fog leaving you stranded in no man’s land. Nothing like the late evenings lying in bed in your aunt and uncle’s apartment, staring up at the pockmarked ceiling and praying for something to change. 

You, simply, have a coffee.

After bidding them farewell, the bulk of the afternoon is spent at Kate’s house, a tiny plot of land just outside of town surrounded by fields of ochre prairie grass. You’re wiped by the end of the ride, sweat running in rivulets down your back. While Kate brings the horses into her little stable to let them rest and eat, you fill up the porcelain bowl in her bathroom with water to wash your face. 

It’s quiet. You help with a few affairs around the house and you learn, to your own internal amusement, that Kate hums through her chores. Soap stops by in the early evening to drop off Kate’s mail and stays for supper, glad for the company. You watch bemusedly as he scarfs down three corned beef sandwiches with ease, mildly nauseated by the way he talks with his mouth full. 

“Can he even breathe?” you hiss to Kate while Soap is busy shoveling food into his gob. 

She nods, unbothered by the display in front of her. “You should see him when he’s actually hungry.”

You pale when he belches, pushing your plate away from you.

“Ye tell yer man when he’s back what a good job I’ve done, Mrs. Price,” he says, licking a leaking trail of sauce off his thumb. 

“Won’t the town still standing be sufficient evidence?”

“Aye, but it’s sweeter comin’ from the missus, ye dinnae think?” 

Incorrigible boy. You shake your head, acquiescing even if only to get him to shut up. That mollifies him, gets him crowing about the raise he’ll get, or the commendation. You think he’ll start going on about lofty aspirations towards sheriffdom, but he never quite gets to that point. You wonder if the rest of your life will be similarly composed of assumptions that fall flat when you look at them too hard.

He takes you home at the end of the night as a favor to Kate, who watches you from the door until she disappears into the faraway. You only have to yell at Soap twice to slow down when he tries to goad you into a faster gallop. 

You sleep better that night, but only just. This time, it’s the empty spot beside you on the bed that bothers you. His pillow is cold when you reach over to touch it. Your hand lingers on the pillow; there’s a passing thought that maybe the warmth of your hand will transfer into the pillow and trick you in sleep. You have another passing thought that maybe somewhere out there, wherever John is, he’ll feel a phantom hand creep across the bed to cup his cheek. 

The blooming flower of daylight comes again to wake you up and the cycle starts anew. 

The chores never end, but there’s some comfort in routine. Regularity breeds familiarity. Any contempt has long been bled out of you, almost without you even noticing.

The days pass slowly. A horse-drawn carriage. A robin nestled in the branches of a pine tree sings at evening twilight. You look up to find it stark against the dark green needles, the fir’s red heart.

A neighbor comes by with fresh strawberries that you eat from the bowl out in the sun, lying down in the grass by the paddock. You suck the juice out of a big one when you bite into it and it drips messy down your chin. When the achenes fleck off, you wipe them off on your dress. 

Though you half expect Kate to come by, she never does. Perhaps she’s busy in town. You remind yourself that the brevity of your friendship can hardly measure up to competing priorities. Minding the shop, for instance, or stopping by to check on other acquaintances. 

And then the waiting ends when you see a dark shadow on the horizon that you recognize all at once as a man on horseback headed towards the house. 

Elation clambers up your throat. You very nearly shout at the sheer sight of him, but at the last second, you manage to reign it in. 

You wave at John from the porch when you can finally make out the face of the man riding up the path. Despite the euphoric wave that washes over you at the sight of him, you feign composure, keeping your butt planted on the porch swing until he dismounts and heads down the path towards you.

There's something striking about watching him from a distance. Like Kate, you see him now from a new angle, an added weight to him. When he lumbers up the porch steps, you don't just see the man that dragged you to the court house and forced you to marry him, but a man in his prime. Square, masculine jaw; thick thighed. Something in your belly stirs when he rolls his shoulders back, accentuating the breadth of them. 

When he reaches you, he grips you under the arms to pull you up, but your arms wind around his neck without any coaxing, meeting him halfway. Every inch of your body presses into his, and he smells and feels exactly as you remembered. 

“Been missing you like hell, sweetheart,” John rasps into your ear. 

“Missed you too,” you mutter, lips smushed into a kiss against his cheek. 

And you did, didn’t you? You can say it for once without worrying that you’ll fall apart. 

The two of you stumble into the house in a daze. Your hands are already trembling well before you fist them into John’s hair to drag him into a kiss. Desperation claws up your throat, need choking you when you go to tell him how much you missed him. You missed him bone deep. 

He pulls away briefly, chuckling when you whine. “Darlin’, can I at least get cleaned up? I’m a mess.”

His beard has grown since you last kissed him, the mutton chops more pronounced now. It scratches your lips and cheeks when you tug him back down for a deeper kiss. He can clean himself later as far as you’re concerned. You’ve gone three days now without your husband and you can’t go a second more. 

You can feel his smile when he breaks the kiss again. “Honey—”

“No,” you cut him off, a whine threading your voice. You tighten your arms around his neck, pushing your bosom into his chest. “Please, John, don’t make me wait; I can’t—”

“Alright, alright,” John sighs, and then hunches slightly to fit his hands under your thighs  and hike you up his body until your legs wind around his waist. “Poor girl. Never seen you this needy before. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes,” you answer succinctly, already pressing kisses into the sweaty skin of his neck and his cheeks. His arms shake when he laughs.

He nearly trips up the stairs when you suck at the salty skin of his neck. 

John smiles amusedly when you whip your dress off, nearly getting tangled in it before letting it pile on the floor by the bed. 

In a different time, your eagerness might embarrass you, but you’re well beyond that now. It’s impossible to hear that distant voice in your head shrieking modesty when your husband watches you indulgently and unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you nearly bark at him to hurry it up. And then you actually do when he goes to fold his shirt instead of simply tossing it to the floor.

He laughs; it sends frissons of heat down your spine. 

It’s unclear who pursues and who is pursued this time. All you know is that you either push him onto the bed or he pulls you down with him, clothes long since stripped and piled onto the floor. Your hands sink into the meat of his chest when you sit astride his lap, wet folds grinding on the hard shaft jutting up between his legs. John hisses through clenched teeth, already worked up, fit to burst. You wonder if he tended to himself at all on his trip, whether he even had time. 

The hands tightening around your waist tell you that, whether or not he did, it’s inconsequential now when faced with the thing he’s been wanting most.

Your instinct is to lift your hips and line his member up with your sopping entrance before sinking down, but John surprises you by shifting up the bed and dragging you with him, not stopping until your pussy is hovering over his mouth. 

It’s easy to panic over that, easy to grow skittish. You start when the flat of his tongue runs up the seam of your cunt, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the bed altogether being the big hands clamped around your hips.  

“You try to keep your pussy off my face and I’ll give you a licking you won’t like anywhere near as much,” John warns, and then pulls you down onto his face without further ado. 

Your back arches at the first lick, his tongue burrowing into your hole, softened by the slick leaking out of you. His lips and tongue work you over until you’re a shivering, coiled mess on top of his face, hands braced against the wall and toes burrowing into the mattress. 

A stiff tongue stabs up into your hole. The groan he lets out at the taste of you vibrates through you, making you clench around his tongue. 

You’ve never been much of a drinker, but you feel drunk now, grinding on his mouth. Hands running through his hair. Blissed out, sex leaking, throbbing. Shameful noises pouring out of you unbidden, your inhibitions packed up and long gone by now. His upper lip glistens with your juices and when his eyes blink open, they’re nearly black with desire. 

The hands on your bottom holding you over his head grip into you good and tight. He readjusts his hold on you whenever you try to pull off his face, yanking you back down and digging his fingers in harder, the tips wedged between your cheeks. You practically yowl when a finger prods at your back hole, worrying over the puckered flesh. 

The time for gentle words is far beyond him. When you glance down between your legs, his hair is matted with sweat and disheveled, a flush high on his cheekbones. Blue eyes peer out through slits, locked on the dripping mess between your thighs. His nose presses hard into your pubic bone when he pulls you down onto his waiting mouth, lips parting and tongue sawing over your clit. That part you can’t see, but you feel the wet slide of his tongue over your slit. 

You come with a finger lodged knuckle deep in your ass and his tongue rolling over your clit, coaxing it from you. Your whole body pulses and shivers. Chuckling to himself when you go dumb during it, slumped over him and panting hard. Tears dripping down your cheeks that John cleans up himself with his tongue when he drags you back down his chest and rolls the two of you over. 

“God, you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos when he’s got you under him, pinching your cheeks between his fingers until your lips go plump and pursed. 

When he drags you into a kiss, his tongue still tastes of you. 

He takes you on your back after that, knees over his shoulders and bending you in ways you didn’t think possible. Whatever control he had before is gone now. He thrusts in to the hilt the second he gets you flat on your back, taking three days of frustration out on you, near punching your cervix with the head of his cock. 

“There we go— fuck—” John growls. “C’mon, squeeze me tight, honey; make me come in your pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

You feel like a creature turned inside of itself. All high yips, sharp pangs of pleasure, an ache in your hips that you know instinctively will worsen by morning, and a deep seated, unquenchable need. He mates you like a beast in heat, jaw clenched and brows furrowed; when your eyelids slip shut, he growls at you to keep them open, and you do only to find him staring down at you with that indelible, maddening intensity of his. 

“Nngh, John—John—” you gasp.

“Just a little, darlin’—shh, c’mon, just take it. Like that, yes—that’s it.” 

A dark urge flutters under your skin, blinking its eyes open. You stare up at him through half lidded eyes. “Gonna come in me and give me a baby, John?”

His eyes go black. “I’m gonna fill this tight cunt right up, you keep talking like that.”

You reach up to rake your hands through his hair. "Please give me a baby, John. Give me it, please."

His hips snap forward, knocking the breath out of you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, lost in it, your nipples tagging his chest with every thrust. 

If you could peel back your skin and tuck him into your ribcage, you would. He’s already in you anyway; everywhere it counts. Leathery musk wafting under your nose, sweat-slicked skin, his spend deep in your cunt and leaking out around his throbbing cock, the heat steaming off him and warming you from the outside in and inside out. His come spurts into you hot and viscous, so deep that you swear you can taste it at the back of your throat. 

In the aftermath, you curl up against his chest and he traces a finger lazily up and down your spine. 

“You’ve been so patient with me.” You don’t know what prompts you to say that, but you know it’s been sitting in your chest and waiting for you to put it to words. 

His fingers pause in their ministrations, his hand resting flat on your back. “Patient?”

“Don’t play dumb, John. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Got some nerve accusing me of playing dumb,” he chuckles softly, leaning down to butt his forehead against yours. 

You nearly go cross eyed. Doe eyed. Treacle tart soft in your chest. You wonder if you’ll look back on this someday in fear and awe, and think that is the very moment when you finally let him in. 

This is how love suffuses into the girl: you wake up gasping to find it staring down at you. 

You’re brave enough now to ask what it is that you need. The world flashes briefly before you: in it, you see every possible version of a girl, how she goes from animal skin to teeth glinting in the night. She is perforated and vibrating; lacunae as the voice drips back into the sea, papyrus crackling hot in the fire. 

Maybe new love flounders again against the rhythms of the old, the song of you now sleeping beneath an alder tree, thickening with lemon and honey.

“I’m going to…—you know I’ll tell you. I just need time.”

“Darlin’, I know. There’s no use for rushing things. It happens when it happens,” John murmurs. He drops a bristly kiss on your forehead. 

“…And if it doesn’t happen?”

He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t happen.”

It’s a shock when love finds you because you don’t expect it. You’d open the door to anything else in a heartbeat, but it’s love that finds you cowering under the stairs. 

Love is not something you’ve ever touched, not even grazed. You recognize the insidious rot of lust or the gnarled grip of possession, but love? That has yet evaded your attempts on it. Not that you’ve ever given it a good go. 

But now, when you think of it, it looks at you through blue eyes. 

You sleep on it. You don’t contemplate when it’ll happen only because you know it’s inevitable. Your lips have already grown loose. When he eats you out in the early morning hours after a good night’s sleep for once since John left, you have to swallow back the wails of I love you, I love you, tell me you love me, please, please. 

Your lips part, lax. Only sinking your mouth down over his turgid length after he’s made you come keeps you from accidentally saying the words. The soft, grunted fuck he lets out at that empties out any thought in your head.

Desperate times, desperate measures. 

If John knows, he jealously guards your secret. Would take it to his grave you think. Just for him and you to know. Any temerity from the night before is squashed in the light of day, and you sit across from him at the table during breakfast wishing that he could hear the words in your head, if only so you didn’t have to say it out loud. 

God bites the lip when you want it most to part. Isn’t that just the nature of life?

John leaves you off at the general store as always, dropping a peck to your lips before heading out on his way, but when you wander inside, you find Miles behind the counter instead of Kate. That dims the excitement in your chest a tad. It’s no fault of his, but you’d hoped to regale Kate with the revelation you’d had the night previous, omitting some of the lewder details. Instead you’ll be forced to wait until she’s back in town. When you ask Miles when abouts that’ll be, he shrugs, unable to give you a definite answer.

“Visiting a friend, she said,” he tells you, and you blink like you don’t know exactly what that means. 

Her absence leaves you in a lurch though, little else to do but wander around the store. You’d leave entirely and try to find something else to occupy your time, but you feel a bit foolish coming in just to leave right away, though you’re sure Miles wouldn’t care either way. Still, you tell yourself you’ll linger for a few minutes before heading out to the library or down the road for a coffee at the inn. 

The bell over the door jingles, but you pay it no mind. 

You linger in the aisle with the fruit preserves and canned fish, gazing into the bottles. Tins with hand-drawn labels, branded packaging. On another shelf, you find oyster crackers, National Biscuit Company on the label. Nabisco. If Kate were minding the shop, you’d pop your head around the aisle to ask her what corned beef brand she used the other day. 

The sound of spurs jangling from behind you makes you frown and turn your head. 

A hand clamps down over your mouth, muffling the yelp that leaps instinctively from your throat, and you go shock cold when the blunt muzzle of a pistol wedges against the small of your back. 

“Bet you thought you were clever gettin’ me out of town, didn’t you, girl?”

Your eyes widen.

[caniruineverything]

you can’t choose what stays and what fades away

an angsty merlin fanfic inspired by dbda 1x04

Summary: Merlin and Arthur are on patrol when they come across a cliff overlooking a lake that wasn’t on any maps. Still, it seems just like a normal lake. So Merlin really isn’t expecting it when Arthur tries to throw himself off the cliff, yelling for his mother.

read below or on ao3

It was supposed to be a normal patrol. But then, Merlin really shouldn’t have been surprised when things went wrong. Troubles seemed to follow him and Arthur around.

Everything was fine for the first few days. Uther had gotten wind that Cenred’s forces were advancing from the east, and had sent Arthur and his men out to investigate. Which of course meant that Merlin had to go too.

The patrol had actually been relatively peaceful, which Merlin greatly appreciated. Arthur happened to be in good spirits, which meant more playful teasing and less unreasonable demands. Merlin also had to admit that seeing Arthur laughing around with his knights made Merlin happy too.

The calm that had defined the first two days was sadly not present on the third. When Merlin woke up, he was startled by the quiet. He had awoken before the knights, so the air was free of the noises of armor clinking and overlapping voices. But more than that, there were no crickets or birds chirping, no rustle in the undergrowth from squirrels or chipmunks.

As the sound of the knights waking up reached his ears, Merlin tried to push away his unease. By the time they had saddled up, he had managed to push that unnerved feeling to the back of his mind. It was all but forgotten as they rode. Arthur still joked around, but Merlin knew him well enough to know that he was slightly less relaxed than he had been in the previous days.

It seemed as though everyone had caught onto the silence Merlin had noticed. All the knights were a bit more reserved, and noticeably more on edge, constantly casting wary looks at the dense forest on either side of them.

The party rode until midday, when Arthur held up a hand to signal to the riders to stop their horses. Merlin wasn’t sure what had prompted Arthur to stop, but he obeyed nonetheless.

Quietly, but not silently, Arthur directed the knights to split off in pairs to survey the area. As he finished, he turned to Merlin, who could see that Arthur had slipped out of his lighter mood, now becoming more serious.

“Merlin, with me. Knights, fan out. Report back here when you’re done.” With that final command, he turned around, starting into the forest. Merlin trailed after him, cautious but still confused.

“Arthur, why have we stopped here? No one else sensed anything,” he reasoned. Arthur turned back to him, brows furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused. He turned back around again before replying.

“Mer-lin, I am the prince. I hardly need to explain myself to you simply because you have the instincts of a deaf mole-rat.” Merlin scoffed quietly, affronted by Arthur’s insult. Yet Arthur’s tone seemed off, less annoyed and more stressed.

“Alright, fine. I just figured I should know what we’re walking into.” Arthur didn’t answer, just continued pushing through the overgrown trees and bushes. He almost seemed to be following an invisible map, though Merlin was sure Arthur had never been here before.

Soon enough, they came across a cliff overlooking a large lake, so big Merlin couldn’t see where it ended, even from up so high. It seemed impossible, as a body of water this big would surely have been on the map of the region they had studied before embarking. Yet the map had showed no water anywhere near where they were headed.

Had they just gotten that badly lost? Merlin wouldn’t say it out loud, but he considered Arthur a pretty good navigator. So was it magic? If so, Merlin wasn’t sure it was malicious. By all accounts, the lake seemed normal.

“Arthur, why are we just standing here looking at this lake?” Merlin asked, genuinely at a loss for why Arthur was still just staring at the water, not moving. Arthur didn’t seem to hear Merlin’s voice, despite how quiet the forest was, so Merlin nudged him gently, tensing in preparation for the retaliation that was sure to come.

But it didn’t. Arthur simply jumped slightly, as if Merlin had snuck up behind him instead of having been by his side the whole time.

“Merlin?” He said it as a question, before apparently catching himself and speaking more decisively. “You dare question your prince?” Now, Merlin was used to Arthur brushing off his questions, but he usually gave Merlin some information, especially if he suspected a threat.

“Fine, clotpole,” he muttered, “be that way. What bug crawled up your a-”

“Mer-lin!” was all Arthur said. Merlin shut up. Arthur still hadn’t moved, still standing on the cliff’s edge and staring at the water. Merlin was slightly unnerved now, so he moved closer to Arthur.

“There’s nothing here, Arthur. Shouldn’t we head back to the horses?” To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur nodded slowly. Then he turned away from the ledge, and Merlin let out a breath, releasing tension he hadn’t noticed was there.

The pair had only walked a few feet, however, before Arthur stopped suddenly. Merlin looked at him with a mix of annoyance and apprehension. Arthur’s lips parted and whispered softly enough that Merlin likely wouldn’t have heard if he had been any further away.

“Mom?”

And then he was moving, before Merlin would even blink. Arthur’s pace was slow at first, allowing Merlin to process what was happening. As if in a trance, Arthur walked slowly over to the edge of the cliff. Merlin trailed behind him, unsure as to what was going on.

When Arthur didn’t stop walking, still moving towards the ledge, Merlin knew something was wrong.

“Arthur! What are you doing?” No reply, just the sound of Arthur’s chainmail shifting against itself. Merlin ran up behind Arthur, grabbing him gently. “Come on, snap out of it!” At this, Arthur slowly turned to Merlin, eyes slightly clouded.

“But she wants me to come,” he said softly, a heartbreaking confusion lacing every word.

“Who? There’s no one here.”

“My. . . mother. She’s here.” Merlin’s heart sank.

“Arthur, your mother isn’t here. She’s. . . gone. I’m sorry.” Arthur looked somehow more confused, but as Merlin carefully watched his friend’s face, Arthur’s expression hardened, becoming determined. He began to move closer to the edge, faster this time. Heart pounding, Merlin grabbed Arthur’s shoulder, trying to stop him.

“Unhand me, Merlin!” Arthur roared, the shock of such a loud noise nearly causing Merlin to do exactly as Arthur had ordered. He caught himself and grabbed Arthur more firmly. Arthur struggled hard, wrenching himself out of Merlin’s grasp.

“Arthur, no!” Merlin shouted, desperate. He lunged forward and grabbed Arthur around the waist, stopping him from moving any closer to the ledge. Arthur struggled wildly, thrashing about, and Merlin could feel his grip slipping. He knew that if Arthur jumped, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

Arthur was his other half, in every sense; if he were gone, half of Merlin would go with him. Merlin was prepared to give him everything. The world would go dark without the golden prince, and he knew the coldness of that loss would be unbearable.

“Arthur, stop! I’m trying to help you!”

“But she’s right there, she needs me!” Merlin looked around, once again seeing no one.

“Who, Arthur?”

“My mother,” he answered again, “She’s calling for me; she’s right there!” The desperation and hope in Arthur’s voice made Merlin’s heart clench painfully.

“Arthur, your mother isn’t here. Whatever you’re hearing, it isn’t real. Listen to me, please.” Merlin hated how close to pleading he was, and the audible desperation in his voice would have made him cringe in any other circumstance.

“No, no, she’s right there! Can’t you hear her? She’s calling for me. I need to go, let me go!” Arthur pulled against Merlin’s grip harder, nearly breaking free.

“I can’t hear anything, Arthur. Your mother isn’t here. Please stop struggling!” Merlin was genuinely pleading now, to hell with appearances. Arthur’s face took on that sad, confused look again.

“But she’s calling for me. She’s my mo- my- I have to- Mom!” Merlin’s heart cracked more with every break in Arthur’s voice. Arthur stopped struggling, slipping out of Merlin’s shaking hands and onto the stony ground.

Merlin could feel Arthur’s shoulders shaking with silent sobs as the sound of Arthur desperately crying for his mother rang in his ears, even away from the palace trying to avoid being seen as weak. He crouched down, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Arthur shifted, burying his face in Merlin’s shoulder, still choking out small cries for Ygraine.

They sat there in silence for a while, before Arthur composed himself a bit. He cleared his throat, pulling away from Merlin.

“Merlin, I, um. . .” he trailed off, clearly embarrassed. “Thank you. I don’t know what came over me.” He averted his eyes, avoiding looking at Merlin or the ledge.

“Arthur, it’s not your fault. It was magic, you couldn’t have stopped it.” Merlin hoped Arthur would listen. The prince had a tendency to blame himself when things went wrong, despite the fact that he always did everything he could to help.

“I suppose,” Arthur conceded, too drained to argue.

“Great. Come on, then, your men are probably waiting.” Merlin grabbed one of Arthur’s arms, gently pulling him up so he was standing. Arthur still looked pained, and a bit confused. “Arthur, I know you really wanted it to be your mother. I’m sorry it wasn’t.”

Arthur nodded at him, the gesture almost imperceptible, but Merlin knew every single one of Arthur’s mannerisms. This was a nod of acknowledgement and gratitude, and Merlin smiled warmly back at him.

“Now, come on, clotpole. The knights are waiting!” Arthur narrowed his eyes at Merlin before grinning conspiratorially.

“Oh, eager to set up camp and cook dinner, huh? Maybe you really do know how to be a manservant after all, Merlin.” He turned and began walking back into the forest, leaving Merlin scoffing behind him.

“Oh- you- Arthur!” Merlin sprinted to catch up, but not before taking another glance at the lake. Later, after he had indeed set up all the tents and cooked dinner for all the knights, he could have sworn he’d seen something glowing deep down in those dark waters.

[herpsandbirds]

Saddle-backed Bush Cricket (Ephippiger ephippiger), female, family Tettigoniidae, France

In the U.S., we refer to Bush Crickets as Katydids.

photograph by Bernard DUPONT

[sailoryooons]

Happy August Agust! For the fic request, how about some Yoongi fluff - Fae warrior Yoongi, while out on patrol, finds a human baby alone in the woods

❀ Pairing: Fae!Yoongi (ft. other members)

❀ Summary: Yoongi finds a human child in the most unlikely of places and discovers that perhaps he isn’t the most terrible father figure afterall. 

❀ Word Count: 1,754

❀ Genre: Fantasy, found family, fluff

❀ Rating: SFW 

❀ Warnings: Abandoned child in the woods, a little bit of tough love, Dad Yoongi who is like I’m Not Dad, vague world building, Yoongi teasing his kiddo, unedited!!!! 

❀ Published: August 4, 2023

❀ A/N: Okay this is my first attempt at kid fic and I tried to keep it short and sweet. I really wanted to add the members in like one giant family and like all these uncle vibes and influences and GOSH I think this turned out very cute! Thank you SO much for requesting, I adore you and you always brighten my day with your thoughts and comments!! This is unedited!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask |Hali’s Happy Agust |

Crickets sing their nighttime hymn as Yoongi rides along the road. The moon is a full, silver coin in the sky, painting the world in pale gray light. The evergreens on either side of the road glow blue in the light, their shadows long and stretching in haunting shapes. 

Yoongi does not fear the woods, no matter how dark the spaces between the boughs. He’s patrolled this route hundreds of times and he’ll do it a hundred more. Each night, he rides along the southern border, keeping close to the tree line that separates the fae and human territories. 

For the most part, Yoongi’s nights are boring. He watches packs of direwolves move through the trees and goblins chitter as they run through the bushes. Sometimes, he spots a redcap heading toward the human territory before seeing him and fleeing back into the fae country. 

Rare are the times he sees humans. The humans don’t dare to cross the southern forest that splits the continent in half. Though some villages and cities deep in the human lands no longer believe in the fae, the northerners near the border know that the fae are real and just beyond the trees. 

The time of war against the humans has long passed, but the memory of the fae is enough to haunt human tales and superstition over campfire. 

A soft cry catches Yoongi’s attention. He sits a little straighter in his saddle, tilting his head toward the forest that stretches between the two countries. The back of his neck tingles and just when he thinks it’s nothing more than a distant echo on the when, he hears the distinct sound of crying.

Spurring his horse into a fast-walk, he heads into the tree, following the sound. It sounds distinctly like the cries of a child, worry forming like a pit in the bottom of his stomach. 

It only takes a moment to find a bundle of blankets at the foot of a tree. Sliding from his horse, Yoongi feels his heart thundering in his chest, anxiety setting in as he slowly approaches the bundle. Instinct tells him he’s going to find exactly what he expects. Dread sets in when he looms over the bundle and peers down at the round, tiny face of a crying baby. 

A mess of dark hair sits atop the child's head. It’s swaddled tightly in wool blankets, but the bundle rocks as the baby has a fit. Yoongi crouches down slowly and reaches out gently, swiping the silk-soft hair from the side of the baby’s head. He swears under his breath when he sees small, rounded ears. It is the tiniest of babes, the runt of the litter.

Minutes pass. Yoongi stares down at the child that now cries in earnest, its wails sharp and punctuated with gasps from its mighty little lungs. Looking around, he sees no sign of parents. No footsteps, no horse tracks, nothing. 

A few yards away, Yoongi spots a circular ring of mushrooms and he tightens his fists. He could have spotted the faerie ring right away, but the babe was set down away from it, out of sight. Yoongi knows he’ll have to alert Namjoon immediately that someone has swapped a child with a changeling.

With a heavy heart, Yoongi reaches out and plucks the child from the ground. He bends down slightly and inhales, smelling lilac and milk. He realizes that the baby is a little girl, with plump cheeks. She opens her eyes and looks at him, their dark depths shining with the reflection of the moon.

Yoongi has no idea what to do with the child. But knowing he can’t leave her on the ground to die, he sighs and cradles her to his chest. Immediately, her cries stop. Her heartbeat thrums against his chest as he turns to his horse, careful as he mounts with the child in his arms.

“You’re only staying with me for a night,” he mutters at the babe, who has yet to take her round eyes off him. “You’re going straight to Jin in the morning.”

-

“Nari,” Yoongi sighs heavily, putting his head in his palm. “You have to eat your vegetables. I don’t care if you don’t like them. You can’t be a little runt forever, you have to grow strong.” 

“They smell weird,” she complains, shoving around the greens on her plate. Her wild, black hair is plaited down her back thanks to Jimin’s nimble fingers, and she smells like the lavender and oatmeal soap that Taehyung gifted her. “I don’t want to.”

This is one of the hardest parts of life with Nari, Yoongi things. What turned into housing a babe for a single night transformed into a life that Yoongi doesn’t yet know how to define. 

He remembers that first night. It was awful. The baby had cried all night, screaming with a rage that Yoongi did not know that human children possessed. He’d half-convinced himself by morning that the baby was actually a demon disguised as a human and had every intention of telling Seokjin to take her to a monastery in the human lands.

But then the sun had risen and Yoongi was reminded of a song about the dragonflies and lilies that his father used to sing to him. As the words came back to him, he found himself singing them quietly under his breath and for the first time that night, the baby was silent. Watching him. Curious. 

When Seokjin had finally arrived at the house, Yoongi found himself too enamored by the dark eyes and the blinding smile when he’d sing the baby and bounce, finally unlocking the secret to her silence and joy. 

Now, he doesn’t know how to get her to do anything. Nari is as stubborn as she was when he found her, and now that the five year old has a voice, she can talk back to him. 

“Let’s make a deal,” Yoongi sighs. He doesn’t know where a human picked up such a fae habit, but Nari perks up at the sound of a deal. She does nothing without compromise and is always looking to needle him into a bargain. She’d be a very good trickster, he thinks. “You eat your vegetables every night, and I will let you start training with Jungkook and I in the mornings.”

She narrows her eyes. “And with Uncle Hoseok in archery.”

He rolls his eyes. “And in archery.”

Nari extends her tiny hand over to him. “I, Nari of the Min Household, swear to hold up my end of the bargain by blood and bone.”

“I, Yoongi of the Min household, Sentry of Hala and Shadow of the King, swear to hold up my end of the bargain by blood and bone.”

Leaning over the table, Yoongi shakes her hand. It feels so small and fragile in his, but she grips him tight, squeezing her little fingers as much as she can. When she lets go, she gives a self-satisfied smirk and stabs a piece of broccoli and pops it into her mouth.

“I actually like when you use more salt,” she says around a mouthful. “These are fine, though.”

Only until her happy humming as she eats does Yoongi realize he’s been played.” 

-

“Stop crossing your feet,” Yoongi calls, crossing his arms over his chest. He watches you with laser-like focus, tracking your movements as your right foot circles behind your left. “You’ll get knocked on your ass if you keep doing that. Side-step, but keep your center of gravity wide, Nari.”

“I’ll knock you on your ass,” she mutters, correctly her foot work before bending at the knee and taking her stance again. Jungkook is across from her, wooden sword held up, grin on his face. “Jimin crosses his feet.”

“Jimin is the best swordsman in the kingdom. You are a little runt who can’t disarm Jungkook.”

To anyone else, it might seem mean. Perhaps it is. Yoongi doesn’t know how else to motivate her. Like Jungkook, Nari is a perfectionist with a vicious pride, driven by the need to do everything with the perfect execution. Like Taehyung, though, she is stubborn and hot headed. 

Jungkook leaps forward and the connecting thwack of wood against wood rings out again. The two of them fill the small clearing behind Yoongi’s cottage with clacking. Yoongi keeps his eyes trained on them, ignoring Namjoon and Seokjin who come piling out the house with Hoseok and Jimin behind them. 

Nari doesn’t break her concentration despite her audience. If anything, being under the full weight of her little family makes her swing at Jungkook harder. Yoongi sees the way her movements blend together, keeping a rhythm and flow of motion but no discernable pattern. 

When Nari spins under Jungkook’s wooden blade and uses her small size to her advantage to keep spinning and get to the side of him, bringing her wooden weapon down on his wrist and making him yelp and drop his sword, Yoongi straightens. 

While Jungkook yells about his injured wrist, Nari grins and looks over at the group of men gathered on the steps. Yoongi ignores them all as they cheer, shooting compliments at the beaming child and applauding her for disarming Jungkook.

Taehyung comes in through the gate, brows raised. “What are we cheering for?”

“I disarmed Uncle Jungkook!” 

“Did you? Do it again, I want to see!”

“No way,” Jungkook cries out. “She’s got a demon swing for a twelve year old. That shit hurts!”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi warns, making the younger blush and bow his head. “Language, please.”

“Yeah,” Nari teases as she picks up his dropped weapon and hands it to him. “Language.” 

Jungkook takes the weapon back from her with a scowl and she beams, flashing him perfect rows of teeth as she bows. Yoongi chuckles as Jungkook mutters under his breath, bowing in return before Nari turns and scampers over to Yoongi, her face red with effort and brow sweaty. 

“Did you see that, dad?” she gushes. “I disarmed Jungkook!”

Yoongi’s heart seizes at the word. It’s used so rarely between them. Something unavoidable, perhaps. For so long he had her call him Yoongi until she was finally corrupted by Namjoon and Seokjin to call them by family names. Dad. Uncle. Her family.

“Yeah,” Yoongi hums, opening his arm up as she plops down on his knee, tired. “It was very impressive. He deserved the smack on the wrist, well done.” 

“Aren’t you proud?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi smiles. “I am, Runt.” 

[clavainov]

katydids // tettigoniidae

saddle-backed bush cricket - ephippiger ephippiger, barbitistes serricauda (m)

great green bush cricket - tettigonia viridissima, dark bush cricket - pholidoptera griseoaptera

blue-winged grasshopper - oedipoda caerulescens (f), red-winged grasshopper oedipoda germanica

other grasshoppers 🤷

[queenxxxsupreme]

A/N: This is part 2 to this ask. 

Warnings: Lambert and his child surprise have an awkward relationship because the relationship doesn’t really exist, nothing outside of canon for the show or the game

Word Count: 

Summary: Lambert struggles with his new responsiblity over his Child Surprise. 

***

Though it was the dead of night, the forest couldn’t have been anymore alive. Cicadas, crickets, and frogs chirped, their songs echoing around the woods. An occasional fox or small pack of coyotes would run parallel to the road before darting off deeper into the forest. 

The witcher and his Child Surprise had been traveling for three days without stopping to rest. He didn’t want to chance anyone searching for you and he figured putting as much space between your home and the both of you was best. 

But this meant that neither of you had gotten proper sleep in days. Lambert hadn’t slept at all, and you only took a short naps here and there when your eyelids were too heavy and even the discomfort of Champion’s saddle couldn’t keep you awake. 

Lambert could feel your arms start to loosen around his waist. You were beginning to fall asleep.

He let out a sigh, one gloved hand coming up to rub his eyes. He was exhausted and though he knew he could push himself to stay awake longer, he didn’t want to keep going on such little sleep with a child in his care. You didn’t deserve that sort of temper from him. 

So the witcher directed his stallion off of the path and into the woods, taking the horse into the direction of the running water. 

Once he found the river the road followed, Lambert continued on until a nice bend hidden by thick bushes and out of sight of the road came into view. 

“Hey, kid?” He looked over his shoulder, his words quiet so as to not scare you. You didn’t seem to budge though. “Kid? Wake up.” He moved his shoulder a bit, giving you a nudge. 

You jolted, immediately lifting your head from his shoulder and rubbing your eyes with the back of your knuckles. 

“What?”

“We’re gonna make camp here for a little while.” 

You looked around, silently taking in the scene. 

“Come on. I’ll set out my bedroll and go start getting wood to make a small fire.” Lambert held his hand out for you to take so that you could get down easily from the tall horse. 

“Won’t that attract people?”

“It could, but I don’t want you getting sick from the cold. We’ve still gotta find you clothes.”

The cloak and nightgown you wore could only keep you so warm. 

Lambert got down from Champion and tethered him to a tree, then began to get out the bedroll. 

You watched him for a few moments, messing nervously with your fingers. 

You had never slept outside in the elements before. The very thought of laying on the ground where there could be all sorts of bugs and slithering things made you shiver. 

Lambert briefly looked up at you, taking note of how you seemed to be lost. You were still shaken up from what had happened three days ago, though it was no surprise you weren’t “over it.” You had been kidnapped from your house by terrifying men that your father employed and now you could never go back to the only safe place you knew, to the only home you ever knew. You had to stay with a man who had explicitly stated his desire to stay away from you on more than one occasion. 

“There.” Lambert stood up, brushing his hands off as he looked over the bedroll. It wasn’t perfect, but it would work for the night. “I’m, uh, I’m going to get some firewood.”

You said nothing in reply, your palms pressing together at your waist as you gazed down at the bedroll. 

He waited a few moments before realizing you weren’t going to speak to him. You were in your head, lost to whatever thoughts caused the blank stare in your eyes. 

The witcher disappeared into the bushes without another word. 

You didn’t fully realize he was gone for a couple minutes. 

You looked around, ears straining to hear anything that sounded like a person. 

Cicadas. Frogs. Raccoons. But no footsteps of a person. 

You moved towards the bedroll, bringing your hands up to rub your face. However before you could fully rub your face, you saw just how dirty your hands were. 

Your feet took you to the edge of the river where you knelt down to wash them off. You cupped your hands together and brought the cool water up to your face. 

It had been far too long since you had properly bathed and this was nothing close to what you needed, but it would have to do. Who knew when you’d be able to actually bathe. 

That thought alone brought tears to your eyes. 

What had your life come to? Just a few days ago you lived in a good home, a manor far too big for just yourself and your father, and you had all the food you could ever need. You had servants and maids to look after you, to tend to your every need. 

Now your life couldn’t have been further from what it was. 

Lambert emerged from the bushes with an armful of wood. His eyes went to the bedroll, hoping to find you asleep. But instead the bedroll was empty. 

You were knelt by the river side on your knees, your hands bracing the grassy edge of the riverbank. Your shoulders gently shook as you sobbed. 

“Fuck.” He cursed. He placed the wood down and debated on going back into the woods. 

He didn’t know how to handle a crying fourteen-year-old girl. Prior to three days ago, he had never been around a fourteen-year-old long enough to know what to do. 

Lambert awkwardly wiped his hands off on his pant legs and took a few steps towards you. 

“You okay, kid?” 

“Piss off.” You grumbled over your shoulder, your hand coming up to rub your face. 

He didn’t push the matter any further. Lambert himself didn’t like to be messed with when he was in a similar way, so he figured you just wanted the same. 

The witcher retreated to make the fire, then he sat down at the fire, occasionally watching you. 

You remained kneeling at the edge of the water, but after a few minutes, you stood up and went to sit across from him on the bedroll. 

“I didn’t know my father hated me so much that he would let something so horrible happen to me.” You whispered. 

Lambert’s eyes flickered down to the fire. He cleared his throat, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. 

“Did they do anything to you?”

The tension in the air is thick and awkward. The man before you asking such a personal and potentially invasive question was a stranger.  

You shifted a little where you sat and pulled the cloak tighter around you. 

“I don’t wanna be in your shit, kid.” He spoke quickly, seeing how uncomfortable you were. “I just think that there’s steps we gotta take if the answer is yes.”

You shook your head. 

“No, but I’ve heard stories. Things…. They could have happened. What happened to me was still bad.”

“It was. I’m, uh, I’m sorry you had to go through that.” 

Your eyes left the fire, flickering up to meet his. Your brows drew together as you watched him for a few moments. 

“What is your motive, witcher?” 

“My motive?” He repeated. 

“In fourteen years, you’ve never cared about…. about me. Never showed any interest in my well-being. But all of a sudden you do?”

“Well, you don’t exactly have somewhere to go, do you?”

You shook your head. 

“That’s what I thought. And I don’t exactly feel right sending a girl off into the world. So excuse my sudden desire to make sure you’re okay.”

You looked downwards, the flames of the fire lighting up your eyes. 

“Fuck destiny.” You whispered. 

Lambert’s eyes instantly found you once more. 

“What?”

“Isn’t that what you say every time someone mentioned me to you?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, kid.” Lambert groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Can you go the hell to sleep?”

“Tell me why I suddenly matter to you.”

“It doesn’t matter right now–!”

“It matters to me!” Though your voice was strong as you raised it, tears made your eyes glassy as you looked at the witcher. “It-It matters to me! I need to know, okay? My own father tried to have me killed or-or who knows what, so I just need to know why you of all people suddenly want something to do with me.” 

Lambert held your gaze until you looked away, then he did too. He rubbed his jaw and the back of his neck. 

“Look, kid.” He spoke quietly. “I don’t have a good answer for you. Guess I’m just trying to be the good guy for once.” 

You closed your eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath. Then you nodded your head. 

“You need to get some rest. It’s late, and I don’t know when we’ll be stopping like this again.”

You got as comfortable as possible inside the bedroll. You faced the fire, your eyes glued to the flames. 

“Good night, Lambert.”

“Night, kid.” 

Taglist: @samuraigrl89 @burningcoffeetimetravel @open--till--midnight @beautifulsweetschaos @gm_abbo @thefirelordm @here4thespice @many-fandoms-lover @one-eyed-captain-kinky @sparrowsparadise @bluscryn @blushingskywalker @buckysxgal @lady-of-glass-and-bone @super-calithehamm @invelda @eddyofthetruth @hc-geralt-23 @persephonehemingway @adhdhufflepuff @Purple-Tsuki @emperorpalpattitay @bitquirkydoe 

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[bukojuiice]

fix you.

ೃ pairing: (village prince! katsuki bakugo x princess mononoke! reader)

ೃ  tags: princess mononoke au! studio ghibli au!

ೃ warnings:  mild use of weapons and strong language

ೃ part 1/2  of the princess mononoke! au

ೃ word count 4.119 words

ೃ 2/??? of @bukojuiice’s studio ghibli au

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ  Loosely based off of Princess Mononoke! Not necessarily a word for word retelling/alternate universe. You can read on without any prior knowledge of this beautiful Studio Ghibli film. Hope you enjoy!

ೃ if you want to be part of this studio ghibli au taglist, send me an ask! or if you want to be a part of my mha taglist in general, send me an ask indicating whichever you want to be a part of!

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ shoto todoroki’s fic (howl’s moving castle au) for those of you who want to read the first in this series!

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34​ @sparkykatsuki​ @ramunegoddess​

 ೃ Katsuki Bakugo is the righteous yet arrogant village prince of the east. The entire village relies on him for protection and for guidance, further inflating his ego. however, after a cursed boar attacks him and the curse is passed on to him as a poisonous mark on his arm, slowly consuming him until he becomes a demon himself. he is exiled without hesitance from his village and is to go on a journey to look for a cure, a journey he might never come back from. With the help of two of his most trusted allies, he embarks on a journey to look for the gods of the forest in where he meets a girl (just as striking as him) who brings him back down to earth, saves him and make him experience a true life worth living.

“Damn this life.” Katsuki curses under his breath, rolling up his sleeves, and collecting clear water from the riverbend and transferring it into his jar.

“Hey! This isn’t that bad!” Eijiro Kirishima, son of the second in command to Katsuki’s mother, his most trusted ally and #2 most annoying fucker on this planet, cheekily grins, patting the blonde on the back. “We’ve gone through worse things in the past. And yet here we are! We’re still alive! Aren’t we?”

“Yea! We’ll find the forest gods soon! Offer food for them and hopefully they give us a cure! This is going to be easy!” Denki Kaminari, another one of his most trusted allies, grandson of one of the wise elders, and #1 most annoying fucker on this planet, reassures his friend whilst aimlessly fixing the saddle on his elk.

Why did life have to be like this?

Who did Katsuki Bakugo infuriate from high above to have this tremendous bad luck and fate be put upon him? All he wanted was to live a noble life as a village prince, have his mother pass down her position of power onto him, become the new village chief, live a life of prosperity, help his people, and then pass away with no regrets. But life just had to do this to him no?

After an unexpected attack of a raging cursed boar consumed by black slithering enigmas in the hills of Mustafu village, the handsome village prince was the only one able of combat who was around the vicinity at the time. He had no choice but to hurl himself in front of the boar, shooting one of his famed  arrows, sharper than most and one of the best in his arsenal.  The boar had met its demise by his hands. However, not without getting revenge at Katsuki, by passing its curse onto him. The black ooze slithering onto his arm before the animal had fully perished.

That was the worst day of his life.

As the son of the village chief and as one of the most well-known individuals in his tribe, how was he supposed to react?

Katsuki had always been number one. Never once slipping to loss or to failure. Never getting injured. Never letting his guard down. Never disappointing his parents. Never losing his pride nor his mighty personality.

He was the paragon of success.

But, sometimes, the best people feel lost and useless too.

The fact that his mother had easily let go of him, have the wise villager elders speak ill of him and banish him, having to leave everything he had loved and worked hard for, lose his position as a prince, and have the people of his village look at him in abhorrence and disgust, had ended up becoming the most painful experiences he ever had to go through in his entire life.

Leaving quietly at the dead of the night with no proper goodbyes but a brief hug, gift of a good luck charm from his mother, and the willing accompaniment of his two most trusted friends (although he would not like to admit the appreciation he has for them, he was very grateful) on this fruitless journey… He could never have it any other way.

What kind of life was he even going to lead from here on forth?

He didn’t want to stop believing. He didn’t want to lose hope. This wasn’t like him. Katsuki Bakugo knew who he was. He knows how headstrong he is, how prideful, persevering, and how much of a smart-ass he is. He had no time to sulk and contemplate about his demise and what fate had in store for him.

Although, it would be nice if he could release all these pent-up emotions and frustrations at least once. Just once.

He just has no idea how to and who to open up to.

Putting his vulnerable emotions aside, he is going to defy his destiny and take down whatever may come his way.

Making sure no one was going to stop him from doing so.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki jerks his head, gesturing his party members to start walking to the other side of the forest.

“Wait… haven’t we gone there already?” Kaminari protests, not raising his voice nor overreacting because even he knew that Katsuki was on a bad mood as per usual. (With this being the second afternoon of their journey and because they have to leave their animal companions by the river due to how unstable the geographical and terrestrial properties of the forest were.)

Katsuki shoots him a glare, the other blonde clearing the lump in his throat in response. “Okay okay! Let’s go then!”

They quietly navigate through the forest, hearing nothing but the sound of their own feet stepping on the grass, crickets chirping, fireflies flying about, the towering trees swaying with the wind, and the calming yet lonely atmosphere of the woodlands to accompany them.

“Kirishima.” Bakugo calls out coldly. “Are you sure that this is the same forest depicted in the legends?”

“Positive.” Kirishima replies, nodding aimlessly whilst turning his head and taking in their surroundings. “If we spot some Kodama, that means we’re near the tree that stands alone.”

“Tree that stands alone?” Denki asks, tilting his head and sparking a discussion. “Also, what even is a Kodama?”

“You’re the grandson of a village elder yet you’re asking me?” Eijiro narrows his eyes at his other blonde friend. “Kodama are the little white spirits who live in trees. They don’t necessarily guide travelers but instead watch them. They only intervene if ever anything bad happens. If we see them appear then that means we’re close to the spiritual core of the forest. The tree that gives life.”

Yakushima Forest. Located in the southern region, is the settlement of the forest gods and the place where the oldest trees of Japan and those known to man stand strongly. The power and the spiritual energy stored in this wonderous and enchanting forest could only be seen and could only be discovered by heroes and travelers with a pure of heart as the forest was welcoming only to visitors with pure and selfless intentions. However, to those who wish to exploit it and to ruin its beauty will be punished heavily by the gods in the most gruesome ways possible.

Katsuki breathes out a hefty sigh, leading his two other friends who were happily following him from behind. There was this bizarre feeling of anxiety welling up inside him. He was not himself and he couldn’t tell why. All he could do was pretend to remain calm and collected…

He will find that cure.

He will be able to save himself and he will be able to come back to his village, victorious and free of the curse.

Bakugo stops in his tracks when they encounter another streaming river. His two companions almost bump into him with how abrupt he halted in his steps.

There was something amiss in the river.

It wasn’t a bad spirit nor was it some bad energy, but Katsuki could feel something.

There was someone else there.

And he felt that they weren’t exactly the friendly type who would help them.

“Bakugo-sama, why did we stop-“ Kaminari is hushed by his blonde friend before he could even have the chance to utter another word. Kirishima quickly picked up what Katsuki is trying to motion to them and proceeds to quietly scout around the area. “There’s a girl? Wolves too.” He whispers from behind a bush not far from where his friends were standing.

“Let’s go back to the nearby village. Stay at the inn there.” Bakugo whispers sternly, as if not wanting to hear any other remarks from his friends.­

“Wait! Bakugo, I know we’re near the tree. Why stop now!?” Kirishima fussed. He knew something was up. “We’re pretty close. We can just set up a fire here then-“

“I said let’s head back. Damn it.” Katsuki repeated his words. This time, in a sort of a growl. “If you don’t want to go back, feel free to die here if you want.” He starts treading back to the path where they came from. Denki looks at his red-headed friend worriedly, even he, of all people, had finally noticed that there was something wrong with their most beloved village prince. Kirishima nods at him cautiously, the two of them walking together behind Bakugo.

They quickly got back to the small village near the forest with no interruption, as the chit-chatter and the energy radiating between both Kirishima and Kaminari were low as Katsuki was in a even terrible mood, refusing to talk to any of them nor humoring their antics and small jokes.

They continue to spend the rest of their day in silence. With, Katsuki, immediately heading back to his quarters to rest whilst his two other companions remained outside to help some village folk and prepare dinner.

The village chieftain of the quaint settlement had a good relationship with Katsuki’s mother. They were good trade partners and the village chief wanted to do everything in their power to help Katsuki be free of the curse by the means of giving him a private inn to stay in and come back to whenever he and his friends would like to. It wasn’t much, but Katsuki needed all the help he could get on this otherwise hopeless quest. Even if he refused the said offers at first.

After another awfully quiet bonding time with Bakugo at dinner, the convivial duo had to break the silence. Denki had thought of the most wonderful idea of bringing up the topic of the girl who was accompanied by wolves in the forest. Because, hey, it’s a girl in the forest! What could possibly be weird about that?

“Hey! So about that girl that we saw…” Kaminari suddenly speaks up, nudging Kirishima in the arm, signaling him to answer his query. Bakugo barely looks up at the sound of his friend’s yapping, continuing to play with the food on his bowl. “Who do you think was she?”

“She’s most probably the wolf princess.” Eijiro shrugs casually, biting on a roasted corncob. “Yakushima forest is protected by the three animal gods whom we know by now as the forest gods. The Wolf goddess, The Gorilla king, and The Deer god. The Deer god being the most powerful of them all. There have been rumors and reports going around that the goddess had taken in an abandoned human girl, and was treated as one of their kin years ago. The girl holds pure resentment for her own kind and chooses to live in the Yakushima forest, taking down every single human who has negative intentions and evil plans for the land she lives in.”

“Well, if she’s that badass, then you shouldn’t call her a princess. She’s a queen!” Kaminari remarks, biting on his newly roasted corncob, listening eagerly to Kirishima’s tale. Bakugo looks up at Denki and the goofy blonde could have sworn he saw a small smile form on Katsuki’s face.

Kirishima laughs at his friend’s little quip, “You’re right. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“You weirdos should get to sleep. We go back to the forest first thing in the morning.” Katsuki stands up from his seat, his hands in his pockets, grumpily trotting away to the inn.

“Oh.” Denki blinks. “That was faster than I thought. I didn’t expect him to be convinced so easily. Did you pull that story from your ass Kirishima-kun?”

The red-haired teen shook his head. “Nope. All of that was real.”

“For real? You’re not joking?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Goodnight then!” The other blonde leaves his seat, patting Eijiro in the arm before leaving and going back to his quarters.

Kirishima looks up at the glistening night sky, a few stars present in the sky to greet him a wonderful night, the boy hoping he would find an answer amongst the stars. “May the gods help us in our adventure.” He breathes a hefty sigh, closing his eyes. After a few more minutes of praying for guidance, he puts out the fire and retreats back to his room.

The night passes by quickly, another day of their adventure waiting to unfold.

“Don’t you dare come back here you disgusting prince.”

“No one wants him here! Got it? Let him go on this adventure and never come back!”

“He’s just a burden. To be cursed by an animal as simple as a boar? Pathetic.”

“Useless vermin.”

“Banished forever? How sad.”

“A prince falling from grace? Predictable.”

The voices of the village people echo in his head.

These were words from them that he was not meant to hear. Ones that he accidentally heard before leaving that same night. These were the words that will haunt him forever.

He, Katsuki Bakugo, of all people, would let all these horrid, vile, and false words get to him?

These were the same words with the same meaning that he’s heard hundreds and hundreds of times from different people, yet it never got to him. He chose to ignore them.

But, why now? What was going on?  Why was he feeling this way?

Katsuki awakens at the dead of the night. Beads of sweat falling from his temples, his breath hitched and his body aching. He was not himself right now and this intense feeling of uneasiness and torment confirmed it. Although, he wanted to keep this to himself. He didn’t want anybody else to know what he was feeling. He could overcome this on his own. He could do this all on his own.

“I’ll show them.” He continues to breathe at a fast pace, still a bit shocked by the nightmare he had just seen. “I’ll fucking show them that I am the prince of the Mustafu tribe.” He props himself up from his sleeping mat, reaching for his neatly folded clothes beside him. “And nothing’s going to change that.”

Katsuki begins to get dressed, feeling nothing but anger and determination running through his veins. He puts on his grey vest and wraps his red cape onto his back. He continues to put on his ensemble when a sudden rush of pain begins to throb in his arm. Bakugo’s immediate reaction is to curl up, holding his stomach to try and ease the pain.

The curse was acting up again, reacting to the anger and negative emotions that Katsuki was feeling right now. The blonde winces in pain, kneeling down on the floor to take a hold of his arm that was manifesting a glowing blue and black aura. His muscle continues to throb and he could do nothing but hold it down and take in all the pain until it eventually goes away.

After several minutes of resisting and trying to ease the pain by thinking of more positive and enlightening thoughts, the throbbing suddenly stops. Bakugo goes back to breathing at a normal pace. He rests for a few minutes, making sure that his body was functioning properly once more before he quickly heads out of his private room to head to back to Yakushima forest, searching for answers. He didn’t have time to wait for Kirishima and Kaminari anymore. He was growing impatient, and hearing the haunting words of his village people circling in his head fueled his will power to get this whole ordeal done and head back home.

It was finally the end of another day protecting the forest.

You were about on your daily patrol with the wolf goddess and your wolf siblings, when you encounter three young men who looked like they were lost in the woods. You immediately assumed that they were looking for the tree of life. But they weren’t like the others. They weren’t finding it for selfish reasons. They were looking for it in hopes to find a cure for a curse. That’s what their auras were trying to show at least.

One of those men particularly piqued your interest.

He was… handsome? Was that the word that humans used?

He had ash blonde hair that spiked upwards at all angles, passionate red orbs that gave him such a striking appearance, as if he could hold up the world in his hands. Calloused hands that had taken a part in many battles, a muscular build like that of a noble warrior, a shining sword just as big as him and an arrow that he looked like he was adept at using.

Yet despite your observations, there was this mysterious air around him that you just couldn’t understand.

“(Y/N)? Dear? Is anything wrong?” The elegant white wolf goddess, Moro, calls out to her human daughter, with a worried look.

“I saw 3 dorks by the riverbend on our patrol a while ago.” You say rather jokingly, trying to remember their faces. “I should have struck them down when I had the chance.” You shake your head, reaching for the knife in your skirt and grasping it.

“How so?” The goddess twitches her ear, as if raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you feel any bad spirits within them? Any emotional aura? I told you to do that before attempting to attack anyone remember?”

“There was this particular man among them who had strong energy. He was radiating a gloomy yet aggressive energy. Like that of a person hiding their true emotions to remain strong and brave to the outside world. I kind of felt sorry for him.” Your voice trails off as you nestle your body next to the wolf goddess, along with your siblings who were cuddled up next to you too.

“Why don’t you go check up on him then?” Moro replies casually, as if teasing you. You raise your head up, feeling a tint shade of pink appear on your cheeks.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

A shrieking noise began to ring in your ears, signaling that a human has entered the forest. You quickly rise up from the bed of leaves you were sleeping in. Running out of the cave, you gallop down a slope and sprint your way to the foot of the forest. The spirits guiding you to where you needed to go.

You feel the hostile energy yet again.

Could it be the young man from earlier?

When he enters your field of vision, you climb up the nearest tree to get a clearer look at him from above and from afar.

He still had the same expression plastered upon his face since this afternoon. An irritated and scornful look, yet there was kindness in his eyes that you couldn’t describe.

It wasn’t the kindness that you would see from the eyes of a regular person but it was a kindness that was combined with a desire to protect the people around him. It was different and oddly comforting.

You continue to observe his every move, waiting for him to mess up or try to hurt the magical properties of the forest before you confront him to ask why the hell was he even roaming around in the forest, in the middle of night like a fluffy dog.

Katsuki noticed you standing on the tree-tops.

You weren’t exactly the greatest hide and seek player.

However, he chose to shrug you off and ignore you as he continues to look for traces of spiritual energy that could lead him to the tree of life.

Based on the stories that Kirishima had told, he was actually a bit surprised by your appearance. He couldn’t make out your face with the mask that you were wearing but he noticed your mildly disheveled hair, the ragged clothes you had on, a cape made of white fur and a necklace adorned with three fangs hanging on your neck. From that alone, he knew you were a princess. Not your conventional princess per se with all the jewelry, intricate headpieces and beautiful dresses but, the presence that you have has sort of a dignified feel to it. You might not look like the part but you embodied everything that a princess should be. Headstrong, intelligent, confident in her beliefs, and never afraid to stand her ground.

That’s what Katsuki thinks at least.

With all the stories that Kirishima had recited about the Yakushima forest, you were one of the most interesting bits.

Katsuki Bakugo was enthralled by you in more ways than one.

You were a mysterious enigma that he had to unravel.

You were getting a bit tired of watching him aimlessly roam around the forest. He was absolutely going nowhere which is funny because he didn’t strike you as a person who had no sense of direction. In an alternate universe, he’d probably be kidnapped by some villain or bad guy if he continued to be reckless like this, just walking around without a care in the world.

You spoke too soon.

You barely dodge a sharp arrow that pierces through a tree. It wasn’t from the young man you were watching but from someone else. Thieves. two of them.

You forgot that you weren’t able to sense other humans entering the forest if you focus on a particular one. It completely slipped your mind that there would still be sick individuals who would try and attempt to find the riches of the forest despite the many incidents happening time and time again warning humans to not enter the Yakushima Forest if they want to explore it for their own selfish desires.

You hastily jump down onto the ground, releasing a flurry of punches and kicks at the thieves, knocking 2 of them unconscious. You thought that the fight was over until you hear agonizing screams from the other side of the forest.

You quickly sprint your way there, hoping nothing serious had happened and no one was hurt in the process.

You arrived in a secluded area, tall trees covering the sun or the moon for the light to seep into, resulting in a dark and gloomy atmosphere.

You stop in your tracks when you notice six thieves unconscious on the ground too. You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when you notice that the boy was panting heavily, injuries and deep wounds were present all around his body. He was terribly injured. He stares at you for a few seconds before collapsing onto the ground.

You grit your teeth, approaching him with a scornful look. “You’ve wasted your life by getting in my way!” You sheathe his blade from it’s scabbard, pointing it directly to his chest. Katsuki’s chest rises up and down, a sign showing that he was breathing normally but was at the brink of unconsciousness.

“I’ll cut your throat! That will shut you up!”

“You’re beautiful…”

He mumbles, his eyes fluttering open, making intense eye contact with yours.

You suddenly feel your heart race, thumping loudly. You pull the sword away and jump away from him. You were taken aback by his words because of how he caught you off guard just like that. Who gave him the right to do this to you? Who was he in the first place?

Why did he make you feel all these soft and mushy feelings right now?

Who gave him the right to do this to you?

A human being? 

A feeling sparking in your chest...

Is this what humans  call love?

-        To be continued.

[wafflesrock16]

Shakarian Fae AU!

What if turians were magical fair-folk and the krogan fearsome elementals? What if Garrus encountered a wounded Commander Shepard in his enchanted forest?

The turians were a race with many names: fae, seelie, forest spirit. They inhabited the plane known as Palaven, between the mortal world--the one where humans, asari, salarians and the other races dwelt--and the enchanted realm of the elementals, or krogan.

While little was known about them or their fabled Hierarchy Court, what was known was that they appeared as tall, naturally armored beings, with talons and claws and mandibles flanking maws filled with dagger-like teeth. They appeared dangerous because they were; as all the magical races were compared to mortals. Entering one of their red capped mushroom rings was flirting with catastrophe. 

You didn’t step inside a fairy ring, you didn’t sing near a woodland stream, you didn’t summon turians if you could avoid it. Everyone knew that--Shepard knew that. Had known since she was old enough to understand the tales of the turian-krogan war. 

Shepard panted, a hand coming to smear the trickle of blood coming from her nose across her cheek. Her head felt like it was stuffed with wool and her left arm, the broken one, hung uselessly at her side. Damn those batarian bandits! She’d lost her sword and even her knife, forced to flee into the thick tangle of trees and bushes. She swore she’d been pursued. The sound of cracking branches and heavy footfalls had chased her like a sinister echo until suddenly, suspiciously, all sound died.

Shepard whirled around, taking in the heavy greenery that cast the forest into permanent shadow. The birds had gone silent and not even a cricket chirped. The only noise was her ragged breathing and harried heartbeat. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy in pinpricks, drops of gold flecking her crimson hair and filthy armor. 

She tried to steady her breathing, ignoring the sensation of the fine hairs lifting off the nape of her neck. A quiet woodland was a full one--full of what, she didn’t know. I won’t go down without a fight, Shepard vowed, clenching her good hand into a fist. 

She backed away from the direction she’d come, deeper into the small clearing she’d entered. She heard a soft squelching sound and registered she’d stepped on something soft and slimy. Risking a glance down, Shepard saw the pulpy remains of a mushroom squashed beneath her boot. She took another few steps backward, senses still on high alert. 

The perforated gloom of the wood seemed to inhale a deep breath, before arrows of light fell down on her in a rain of smelted gold. Her vision went white and her broken arm throbbed. Shepard fell to her knees. As she took in the damp grass and moldering leaves, she noticed the ring of mushrooms that surrounded her. A perfect ring. In a deep forest, far from settlement. 

When she chanced to look up, the light had returned to normal. The forest resounded with the chirps of robins and finches, the buzz and hum of cicadas and mayflies and rustle of leaves. It was perfectly normal. Except he hadn’t been there before. 

Tall with a crown of horns fanned out behind his head, the turian had brilliant blue eyes and cobalt paint--or maybe tattoos?--in a bold geometric pattern across his small, segmented nose and maxilla. He was dressed in a form fitted suit that looked like it was made from iridescent fish scales. The spade shaped material caught the light, scintillating in lilacs, yellows, greens and the color of sea foam. 

“That looks painful,” the brilliant personage said, gesturing a three-fingered hand toward Shepard’s broken arm. His voice was warm amber honey.

“You’re a turian,” Shepard managed, forcing herself to stand. She cast a frantic look around her. The forest seemed the same, but somehow felt--younger. Wilder. The trunks of oaks were immense, bark flaky and untouched by mortal hands. It was noisier with more woodland creatures pitching their croaks and calls to the chorus. “Where am I?” she demanded, rounding back on the turian in front of her. “Where did you take me?”

“Somewhere that the batarians can’t follow,” he replied in an infuriatingly calm tone. “Somewhere where I can treat your injuries.”

“Treat my injuries?” She stared at him incredulously. “Turians don’t help us mortals--at least not without strings attached.” 

“I’ve never been a very good turian.” The forest spirit stepped closer, a mandible flicking out in what might have been a smirk. “Look, I don’t like batarians cutting through my forest and hacking at the verge. I...eliminated the ones pursuing you and brought you to Palaven. I’d like to help you with your arm, Ms…” he trailed off looking to her expectantly. 

Of all the warnings concerning turians, the one Shepard had always remembered was that names carried power with the fae. Give them your name and you gave them power over you. “You first,” Shepard said, narrowing her eyes. 

The turian chuckled. “Garrus Vakarian. A member of the Palaveni Guard.” He dipped his head as he spoke. Then, flicking his mandibles down and out, he made a strange whistling sound. The treetops exploded as though caught in a hurricane and Shepard shielded her eyes against the wind. The unmistakable sound of wing beats filled her ears and she gasped as two colossal dragonflies with charcoal black wings landed in the clearing. “And these are Widow and Mantis if you wanted to know,” Garrus said. 

He offered Shepard his hand, light playing along the scales of his tunic and the natural silver plating of his wrist. She stared at the appendage, unsure what to do. If Garrus wanted her dead he could have left her to the batarians. She couldn’t stay where she was--injured, alone, and acutely mortal. 

“Please,” Garrus said, drawing her attention back to his face. “I’m not trying to trick you. You won’t owe me some favor for helping you. I want to help you, odd as that might sound.”

Shepard’s arm twinged in pain, reminding her of how bad the break must be. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Okay,” she said, placing her hand in Garrus’s larger one. 

He led her towards one of the dragonflies. She could see a saddle was affixed around the segmented torso. He offered to help her but she shook her head, gritting her teeth against the pain in her arm as she hauled herself astride the massive insect. “Where are we going?” she asked Garrus as he climbed into the saddle of his own mount. 

“Hierarchy Court,” he replied. 

Then, the dragonflies beat their wings and the world became a gossamer blur as they lifted into the air, above the magical forest and toward whatever mystery and adventure awaited her in the Hierarchy Court.

[geronimo-11]

tale as old as time

So here’s that Katherine/Jeremy Beauty and the Beast!AU I mentioned forever ago. It’s just the beginning and how they met, but I was super excited about how it turned out! Maybe I’ll post some other stuff from this AU later, but I have some other things I need to work on first.

tw: blood mention

word count: 4,976 (I may have gotten carried away...)

---------------

Simon Adler was a notorious mother hen. 

It was one of the things that Katherine loved about her brother, as well as one of the many things about him that drove her crazy. Their parents' deaths had left them with no one but each other, and Simon took the role of protector and caregiver for his little sister very seriously. 

He would remind Katherine to grab a shawl if the weather suddenly turned cold, defend her against unwanted and persistent suitors like Declan Baxter, and he would tell her when to be on guard because the wolves were venturing too close to town. And the one thing Simon Adler absolutely never forgot, was to tell his sister when he was leaving to sell wares in the city-  and when exactly he would be returning. 

So when the sun set on the day of his predicted return and he didn’t come riding up to the house on his horse like he usually did, with a bright smile on his face and a cheerful wave, Katherine tried not to let panic overtake her thoughts too quickly. There were a hundred possible explanations as to why he hadn’t come home. 

His horse could have gone lame, his business could have taken longer than he thought, he could have gotten sick, or maybe run into trouble on the road… Actually, thinking about the possibilities wasn’t making her feel any better.

So Katherine decided that when morning came she would saddle her own horse and head in the direction she knew Simon always took to the next town. “A shortcut” he’d called it, a road close to the north side of Bear Valley. If anything, maybe they would stumble across each other on the way, have a laugh, and ride home together.

She always was prone to wishful thinking.

That next morning she packed a small bag, saddled her mare, Daisy, and headed out. After a few hours of riding she happened upon her brother’s horse. Well, less “happened upon” and more the poor thing burst from the treeline and nearly trampled her and Daisy as they trotted along the road. Katherine just barely managed to grab his reigns before he could bolt, shushing and calming him with soothing words. 

“Easy, Duke, it’s okay - it’s me.”

When he finally settled down Katherine continued to hold his reins as she scanned the trees to see where he’d come from. Initially she had thought he’d just burst through the bushes, running wildly through the forest around them, but when she really looked she noticed that there was actually a path hidden behind the overgrown brush and grass.

She had a choice to make now -- and little time to make it with the sun setting rapidly behind her. Either she could head back to town and rally a group to help her look, by which time it would certainly be dark and they all may suggest waiting until morning to look for him - and if he was lying injured in the forest that decision could cost him his life. Or, she could look for him herself, and hope that she either found him or made it back to the road before the sun set completely. 

Her teeth scraped anxiously over her lower lip as she weighed her options, and she glanced at her brother’s horse again. Duke still couldn’t stand completely still, stamping his hooves in the dirt and whinnying impatiently. His eyes darted around, looking for some unperceived threat, and Katherine noticed several large, red spots on his side. She reached forward to check him for any injuries, but there were no scratches under his coat. Lifting her gaze higher, she noticed a large streak of red coating her brother’s saddle and her heart lodged itself in her throat.

He is hurt! her thoughts screamed inside her head. He could be dying!

He could already be dead, another, quieter voice piped up from the back of her mind.

Decision made, she hopped back on her horse and reached for Duke’s reins again before leading both horses into the forest and onto the trail that Duke had just come from.

It was darker in the forest. The sun had been beginning its descent while she was still on the main road, but there was still a while yet before night fell completely. Under the close-knit canopy of trees, though, it seemed night was already there. The further in she traveled, the more uneasy Katherine became. 

The trees became more gnarled, the bushes grew spindly with sharp thorns protruding this way and that, and a sudden chill swept through the air and made her shiver. Which was especially odd, considering it was mid-July. It only got colder the further in she traveled, and Katherine began to regret her decision to not bring a cloak with her as she struggled to keep herself warm and hold on to the reins of both horses.

She had been calling for her brother the entire time, hoping to hear some sort of reply. She heard nothing for a while, until a branch snapped in the distance. Katherine jerked Daisy to a halt. Beside her, Duke stamped his hooves into the dirt, his ears twitching. She listened in silence for a while before calling out once more.

“Simon?”

More silence.

Not even the sound of crickets chirping, or an owl hooting in the distance. She could feel her heart begin to race in her chest.

There was another snapping sound, much closer now, though the source was still obscured by the trees. Daisy was stamping her own hooves, snorting anxiously as Katherine tried to keep her calm. Katherine lifted her head in the direction of the noise and tried her best to make out anything through the darkness.

“Simon?” she called again. There was still no response, and Katherine was about to move along when a loud howl pierced through the air. It was close, too close, and was followed by a series of other howls surrounding the small path from every side. Duke and Daisy both started shifting, and Katherine was having trouble trying to keep them both under control. A large, black shape darted across the path in front of them, and all hell broke loose.

Duke went first, letting out a loud cry and rearing on his hind legs. His reins slid from Katherine’s grip and he turned to bolt back down the path and towards the road. Daisy was beginning to panic, starting to move backwards in a desperate attempt to follow after him. Katherine pulled her reins and rubbed a hand on the mare’s neck to try and keep her calm, but when the dark shape darted across the path again, this time brushing against them, Daisy reared back in alarm. 

All the air left her lungs as Katherine hit the ground flat on her back, and she groaned as she rolled onto her side. She only caught sight of Daisy’s golden tail vanishing into the trees before she was alone in the darkness. Well, not entirely alone. 

Another howl pierced the eerie silence from the trees beside her. Her heart was beating faster, hammering against her ribcage, and she took a deep breath to try and calm herself. She would just turn back, find the horses, and go on to town. She would find help, and then she would find her brother. This was fine. Everything was fine. Rising slowly to her feet she started to head back the way she came, when the black shape from before stopped in front of her path. 

She couldn’t see too clearly in the darkness, but it wasn’t too hard to guess what it was. Katherine hadn’t lived in Bear Valley long, but she had gotten accustomed to the occasional wolf sightings in the forest near town. She’d just never been this close to one before. It was smaller than Daisy, but larger than any dog she’d ever seen, and covered nose to tail in thick fur. 

The wolf in front of her growled and Katherine felt her blood run cold. She couldn’t move, frozen with fear. If she made any sudden movements it might lunge at her, but she couldn’t stay there forever. Maybe if she was still enough it would get bored and move on. The wolf’s lip curled, baring sharp canines as it snarled and stalked forward. Another wolf emerged from the darkness and joined it, and then another, and another, all growling and snapping their jaws. Finally the fear overtook her and Katherine turned on her heel and sprinted down the path, further into the forest. 

There was barely any light to truly see where she was going, and she stumbled occasionally, but the path was relatively clear and straight and she had no problem putting some distance between herself and the wolves behind her. She could hear the pounding of their paws on the dirt -- gaining on her, but never closing in. It would have struck her as odd that they hadn’t overtaken her by now had she not been afraid for her life.

Eventually the trees started to thin, the area around her grew brighter, and Katherine thought that maybe the path had looped back to the main road when she finally burst from the trees. Instead she was met with a large clearing, in the middle of which sat a massive, ornate iron gate, with ivy spiraling up the dark bars. It was connected to a stone wall that went on further than Katherine could see, and two giant stone wolves guarded the gate on either side, sitting upright and gazing down the path to the gate attentively. Beyond them, Katherine could make out the top of what must have been an old castle, complete with crumbling towers. But she didn’t remember ever hearing about a castle this far north from the people in town. 

A howl from behind her reminded Katherine of her pursuers, and she ran towards the gate and wrapped her hands around the metal bars. 

A large crest stood proudly in the middle of the entrance, an “S” and “H” side-by-side, separated only by the split for the gate to open. Katherine rattled the gate for a moment, and relief filled her when it creaked open with a rusty moan. She slipped inside and shut the gate behind her, making sure she heard the latch click. She stepped back quickly, expecting to see the snarling faces of the wolves that had chased her through the forest. But there was nothing.

Looking back to the treeline she could see three wolves standing in the opening she had burst from. They made no move to come closer, just stood there and seemed to observe her silently. Finally they turned and moved quietly back into the forest. 

Katherine frowned, confused at their sudden disinterest. She was panting for breath, calming down now that she wasn’t in any immediate danger, and she watched as puffs of hot air escaped her lips and dissipated into the air. Now that the adrenaline wasn’t pumping through her, the cold was settling in again. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as she looked around. It was dark, but not as dark as it had been in the forest.

She was in a garden of some sort. A cobblestone path led further in the grounds, and old shrubs and trees were placed evenly throughout. As she moved further in she saw the occasional statue - most cracked with missing limbs and smudged with dirt - and when she reached what she assumed to be the middle of the garden there was a large, marble fountain. It was dried up and filled with leaves, leaving it a shadow of how beautiful Katherine was sure it was before it fell into disrepair. The entire garden looked as though it hadn’t been cared for in years. Flowers were overgrown with weeds and the trees and shrubbery unmanaged. It was still beautiful, but the lack of care made her nostalgic for what it must have been. 

Past the fountain was a massive staircase leading up to the castle. The building itself also looked as though it had seen better days, with ivy scaling up the walls and bits of the structure chipped and crumbling. Leaves sat in piles on the stairs, and what once must have been beautiful white marble was now streaked with dirt and mud. What was this place?

Katherine looked around her, taking in the decaying grandeur of the abandoned castle, and she spotted something fluttering in a bush nearby. When she approached it she recognized the small piece of fabric as her brother’s glove. She’d made them for him herself, two years ago. Beside the bush she noticed small, dark drops that only grew in size as they headed towards the staircase. With the glove still held tightly in her hand Katherine rushed up the stairs and pushed open the front door. 

The rusted hinges announced her arrival with a loud creak, and she didn’t bother to shut the door behind her as she entered. The castle was even more beautiful inside. Dust coated the furniture that lined the walls, and several gold-framed portraits were either askew or sat torn and broken on the floor. There were several doors leading further into the castle, each ornately decorated and inlaid with more gold. A fire blazed in the large fireplace to her right, casting the room in a soft orange glow. A long, crimson rug was laid out along the floor before her, beckoning her deeper inside. 

Even given how spacious the room was, the fire managed to warm the room significantly and she felt a different chill creep up her spine. Maybe this castle wasn’t as abandoned as she originally thought.

“Simon?” she called into the emptiness. She received no answer. Beside the fireplace was a large armchair with a small side table, and Katherine wandered over to it when she noticed the small lantern sitting beside it on the floor. She took it in her hands and saw the matches sitting on the table. Wandering over to the fireplace she lit the match and the lantern and felt the same uneasiness from before growing more persistent, gnawing at her stomach. This was all beginning to seem a bit too convenient. 

Wolves just so happened to chase her to a castle where her brother happened to (possibly) be, and then there just so happened to be a fire and lantern waiting for her? The uncanniness of the situation was not lost on her, but she’d come this far, and her brother was here somewhere, injured. For all she knew, Simon could have lit that fire himself. He may have found the lantern and left it there by accident. She’d have to find him first to be sure.

Holding the lantern in front of her she continued down the hallway. As she traveled deeper into the castle the chill returned, and she regretted not looking for a cloak or blanket when she first walked in. She saw no one as she continued calling out for Simon, and continued getting no response. As she turned a corner, still following the rug on the floor like a bloody path, she heard a noise. It was faint, but sounded distinctly like a door opening behind her. She turned on her heel and held the lantern up higher to illuminate the dark hall.

The space behind her was empty.

As she headed slowly in the direction of the noise, she heard the sound of a creaking door once more and felt her pulse race faster.

“Hello?” she called warily, fear closing her throat and keeping her from calling too loud.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed off the stone walls and bounced mockingly back at her.

“Is anyone here?” She asked, finding her voice as she stepped further down the corridor and tried to ignore the chill that settled in her bones at the lack of response -- and the terror at the thought that she might actually be totally alone. That she could just be losing her mind.

A flash of white caught her eye as Katherine neared the staircase at the end of the hall and she nearly tripped over herself as she came to an abrupt halt. Sitting on the landing was the most beautiful wolf she had ever seen. Its fur was stark white, a beacon against the dark backdrop of pitch black at the top of the stairs, and its eyes were a bright shade of blue. Even from a distance Katherine could see an unnerving intelligence swimming in their depths as it watched her. 

She stood still, barely even breathing as she waited to see if the wolf would pounce and send her running for her life once more. But it just sat there, staring at her, and seemed to be indifferent to her presence. No longer sensing a threat, Katherine lowered the lantern in her hand slowly and released a shaky breath.

“I don’t suppose you know where my brother is?” she asked.

The wolf regarded her silently for a moment before turning and heading up the staircase. Pausing halfway up it turned its head over its shoulder and sniffed at her as if to say “come on”, before continuing up the stairs. Katherine stared after it in wonder before moving cautiously up the staircase. She was expecting it to have disappeared when she reached the top, but instead the white wolf was waiting halfway up the second flight of stairs. Its ears twitched in impatience and it sniffed at her again as it continued up the stairs, “hurry up” it seemed to say.

She really was losing her mind. That was the only possible explanation as to why she followed the wolf without a second thought, keeping pace with its fast steps as they went up stairs, through corridors, and up another curling flight of stairs that seemed to twist upwards forever. Finally, though, they reached the top of what Katherine was sure must have been the tallest tower in the castle. 

Like everywhere else in this forsaken place the room was dark, and the lantern in Katherine’s hand provided a small sliver of light. She could only see a couple of feet in front of her, but it was enough that as she stepped further into the room she could see empty cages lining the walls. There were manacles and chains in each of them and Katherine felt her stomach twist again. Was this a trick? Had she just willingly walked herself into a prison?

A moan from one of the cages startled her and Katherine whirled with her lantern held out in front of her, as if it would defend her from whatever was lying in wait. There was a crumpled form in the cage her light landed on, not manacled to the wall but curled up in the middle of the cell. She slowly stepped closer and her light landed on matted, brown hair and a torn white shirt.

It was a man, but she didn’t recognize who it was until he lifted his dirt streaked face and she saw his eyes.

“Simon,” she gasped, rushing forward and kneeling by his cage. His brown eyes glowed almost amber in the lantern light, flickering with recognition as he reached a shaky hand out towards her. 

“Katherine? Is that really you?” he croaked softly. Gripping one of the bars between them he hauled himself forward, grunting painfully as he dragged his legs behind him. It was only when he was sitting up that Katherine noticed the blood on his shirt. It was dark, having dried over time, and covered most of his stomach. He still cradled the spot with his other hand, as if that alone would be enough to keep the pain at bay. 

“What happened to you?” Katherine asked, placing her hand over the one Simon still had clinging to the bar. His skin was ice cold. “Never mind, you can tell me later. We have to get you out of here.”

She moved to stand but Simon gripped her arm and kept her crouched on the floor.

“No!” The panic in his voice kept her from fighting against his hold. “You have to leave. Get out of here, now, before he knows you’re here.” 

His eyes were wild, willing her to listen to him. There was dried blood streaking one side of his face and it only served to make him look even more manic.

“Who?” she asked. Simon took in a shaky breath and looked frantically over her shoulder before he met her gaze again. Katherine placed both of her hands over his to keep him anchored. “Simon, who did this to you?” 

At the same time he opened his mouth to tell her to leave again, there was a deep, guttural growl from behind her. Katherine stood, turning to see where the noise had come from. She thought that maybe it had been the wolf that led her there, but there was no sign of its white coat anywhere. She could see something moving in the dark, but she couldn’t quite make out what it was. Grabbing her lantern she lifted it in front of her for a better look.

The light from the lantern reflected off of a large pair of eyes, glaring at her from the darkness. Katherine’s gasp echoed off the stone walls as she staggered backwards. Her back collided with the bars of her brother’s cage, stopping her retreat, and she nearly dropped the lantern as she sank to the ground. 

The silhouette of the figure was massive, easily about eight feet tall and wide enough that there was no room for her to dart around it towards the exit. From its spot on the ground her lantern illuminated a pair of monstrous paws, and her breath caught in her throat as they carried the creature closer.

“What are you doing here?” The creature’s voice was deep, rumbling in its chest and sounding more like a growl. Katherine struggled to form words.

“I- I’m-” 

This time the creature did growl, lowering its head closer to hers and causing the light to reflect in its eyes once more, giving them an almost hellish glow. Any chance of forming a coherent reply vanished the second Katherine realized the creature that had just spoken to her looked like a massive wolf.

Thick, dark fur coated its face and neck, down the rest of its body. Its mouth was curled into a snarl revealing sharp canines, and when it reached forward Katherine only had enough time to realize that its hand, while humanoid in shape, was covered in fur and pointed claws. It took the lantern from her hand and held it up next to its face.

“Come to stare at the beast as well, have you?” It snarled. Katherine shook her head, taking in the glowing eyes and sharp teeth with terror. She reached behind her for her brother’s hand. Simon’s fingers found hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“No, no I- I just came for my brother.” Her voice didn’t waver, and for that she was thankful.

The creature growled again. “He’s not going anywhere.”

It held the lantern high in the air and illuminated Simon’s crumpled form. “He trespassed onto my land. Hunted my family. This is his punishment.”

Katherine turned to face her brother and felt her stomach drop. “Simon?” 

He’d grown paler, dark circles standing out starkly under his eyes. Simon shook his head weakly at her. “He’s right. I thought they were just wolves, that I could sell the pelts… Just go, Kit-Kat. I’ll be fine. I brought this on myself.”

He winced again, doubling over in pain. Katherine shook her head and looked back up at the creature behind her.

“Please,” she started. “Let him go. He’s injured, he needs help. He could die-”

“He tried to kill my son,” the creature roared. Katherine’s mouth closed with a snap. “Imprisonment is better than he deserves.”

Katherine pressed her lips in a firm line, her gaze dropping to her hands in her lap as she lost herself in thought.

“How long?”

The creature paused, head tilting slightly, caught off guard by her question. 

“How long is he your prisoner?” She looked up once more. “What’s his sentence?” 

A beat of silence, and then: “Life.”

Katherine shot to her feet, filled with a mix of rage and confidence she could have only felt in defense of her brother.

“That’s not fair-”

“A life for a life.”

“But your son is still alive, isn’t he?”

The creature paused, mouth curling in what Katherine could only assume was supposed to be a smile. “Yes. But only just.”

Moving with a swiftness Katherine didn’t think possible for something so large, the creature moved around her to stand by Simon’s cage, its clawed hand wrapping around one of the bars of the door. “He left my son in near fatal condition. My son returned the favor. He pays penance for nearly killing him, but also trespassing on my land and stealing from my garden. A murderer and a thief. Sins I don’t intend to forgive lightly.”

Katherine stared between the creature and her brother. Simon was getting weaker. If he didn’t get attention soon he could die, and Katherine would never live with herself if she didn’t do all she could to protect him like he’d protected her for her entire life. Stepping forward, she lifted her chin and steeled her resolve.

“Take me instead.”

The creature barked a laugh and looked at her again. “You?” 

He paused a moment, taking in her stern expression and posture. In the light of the lantern she saw his eyes were blue. “You would… take his place?”

“A life for a life,” she repeated his words. “If I promise to stay and fulfill my brother’s punishment, will you let him go?”

The creature’s lips curled back to reveal more sharp teeth, and it leaned forward until she could almost see her reflection in its eyes. Katherine clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. She couldn’t falter. Not when Simon’s life was on the line. The creature was silent for a while, simply observing her, long enough that Katherine was sure she and Simon would both end up in a cage - when it nodded.

“Yes.” 

She released a shaky breath and felt her knees buckle beneath her. 

“But,” the creature began, and Katherine looked up at him with unease pooling in her stomach. “Should you try to escape, or should your brother try to come back and free you, the deal will be broken. There will be no imprisonment. And I will kill you both.”

Katherine barely heard her brother’s panicked protests over the sound of her pulse in her ears. She nodded once.

“Agreed.”

Faster than she could blink the door to her brother’s prison was opened and Simon was being dragged out of his cell by the back of his shirt.

“No!” he cried, reaching for Katherine. His fingers barely brushed her skirts before he was wrenched away and shoved roughly towards the door. “Katherine, don’t do this!”

The creature pulled the door open and it hit the stone wall with a loud bang. 

“Elena!” It called down the staircase. A few seconds later the white wolf that had guided Katherine through the castle appeared in the doorway. “Take him to the main road and set him on his way back to town. Make sure he doesn’t come back.”

The creature hoisted Simon to his feet and pushed him towards the door. Using the doorway to support himself Simon turned back towards his sister.

“I’m not letting you do this-” the white wolf - Elena - moved in front of him, teeth bared, and backed him towards the staircase.

“You don’t have a choice,” the creature growled at him. 

The weight of what she’d just done finally sank in and Katherine dropped to her knees as her brother's cries and pleads faded down the stairs. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes and she dropped her head in her hands as she began to cry. Her shoulders shook with sobs and she fought to catch her breath. She didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. But at least he was alive. Her brother was alive. She supposed could live with that.

“Come,” the creature spoke behind her, and Katherine lifted her head in surprise. She’d been sitting there long enough that she had forgotten he was still there. There was another wolf with him now, with light brown fur. Its brown eyes almost looked sad. She wiped stray tears from her cheeks as the creature continued to speak. “I’ll… I’ll show you to your room.”

Katherine frowned at him. “My room? I thought I was…” she looked around her at the empty cages and the creature huffed impatiently. 

“Your brother was my prisoner, a potential murderer, and a thief. He didn’t deserve my hospitality.”

“I thought I was your prisoner, too.” 

The creature sneered. “If you want to stay here, by all means. I won’t stop you.”

Katherine looked around at the damp stone walls, and then at the still blood stained floor of her brother’s cage. Rising unsteadily to her feet she kept her gaze down at the floor as she reluctantly headed towards the doorway. The second she was on the stairs the door slammed closed, and Katherine couldn’t help but feel a sense of finality in the booming echo that followed.

This was her life now. When one door shuts another door opens, but Katherine was wary of where this new door would lead.

She could only hope she’d live long enough to find out.

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Couldn’t Leave Well Enough Alone PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader REQUEST: Anonymous requested for a female reader getting jumped outside of camp by some O’Driscolls followed by an intervention by Arthur. (Shortened for fic spoilers lol) BLURB: “This is it. This is how it was going to end. You were going to get strangled to death by some O’Driscolls because you just wanted to stand in the river under the moonlight.” WARNINGS: Violence, strangulation, stabbing, gore, shooting, it’s mostly angst with like a hint toward a lighter note in the end. NOTE: Thank you for the request, anon! I got a little carried away so it doesn’t follow it to a T but I hope it’s enough of what you were looking for!

The chorus of cricket song, the slow rush of a light breeze through the grass and trees, along with, thankfully, a quietness from the camp might be enough to put anybody to sleep. However, it seemed like you were among those who weren’t that night.

It wasn’t without trying. Some fitful turning and re-positioning on your bedroll not really giving you enough relief from the wakefulness in your mind. So, eventually you decided to get up from your bedroll and wander toward the edge of Horseshoe Overlook, looking over the cliff edge that looked down into the valley, at the mountains in the distance, and the river that was lightly shimmering in the moonlight.

It was a perfect night.

So, really, you figured you couldn’t be blamed when you slipped down past where the horses were kept near the edge of camp and walked down toward the river. It was a bit of a walk on foot, but you didn’t want to bother with saddling up your horse for a short ride to look at the water for a bit before heading back. There didn’t appear to be people riding around at such an hour, either, considering you hadn’t seen anybody outside of the odd deer and fox darting back into the bushes when they saw you approach. Stopping by the river, you approached the water to see the small figures of fish darting around under the surface in the light provided by the moon.

You knew it was a bit of a risk. Most of the camp was on edge from Colter, and you were all supposed to be looking for ways to make money, but keeping a low profile. Between the Pinkertons and the O’Driscolls that you had all ran into in the mountains, wandering off from the safety of camp with nothing but your knife to protect you was a bad idea.

Still, taking comfort from the surroundings and the isolation the night brought from other people, you had relaxed enough to wander along the water’s edge, deciding to step out of your shoes to soak your feet and ankles in the cold water. Really, it was easy for your mind to wander back to what you were to do while the gang was settled in their current camp. Colter was a survival situation more than just a camp, it had been easy to just fall back into making sure you didn’t freeze or starve to death and keeping inside where it was warm. However, now? Well, even you were subject to a feeling of restlessness. A lot of people were, Dutch sending out his usual suspects to find what they could about their new area, while you remained in camp to keep up with the usual chores but…

Well, even the camp’s new scenery was getting a little old.

Though, you didn’t get to get caught up in your thoughts and ideas for too long before your ears picked up on the sound of hoof beats. You paused, raising your head up from where you were watching the ripples on the water toward where you could see a small group of riders were heading toward you. Quickly, you stepped out of the water and moved quickly toward the shelter of a nearby tree to watch them approach a little more. They could have just been some late night riders on their way to a town, but as they got closer you could pick up on the accents, could catch the glimpse of green to their outfits.

O’Driscolls.

...Shit.

Looking around yourself for a few moments, you decided to slip into the overhanging branches of the tree and use the darkness to let them pass by without being noticed. With a slow breath in, you listened as the horses got closer, silently waiting to hear them pass by you as you shut your eyes and prayed for a lack of a confrontation. Yet, it didn’t seem like luck wasn’t on your side.

“Hold on a minute,” one of them said just above where you were standing, “Thought I saw somethin’ over here.”

“Probably a deer, just keep goin’.”

“No, no. There’s boots here. See?”

Instantly, you shut your eyes tighter, pressing your mouth into a thin line as you tried not to cuss yourself out as you heard the horse move closer to the bank before the sound of someone dropping out of the saddle was heard. Letting out a slow breath, you watched as the figure of someone moved toward where you had placed your boots, shifting slowly to remove your knife from where you had it hidden on your person. Waiting until he was far enough down the bank with his back to you, slowly you moved out from the branches of the tree with all the attention on not making any noise.

Your focus was on the man along the bank, getting ready to make a run at him and jump on him, putting your knife into his shoulder or pressing it against his neck. However, as you moved out into the open, your world seemed to still as you heard a gunshot almost right next to your head, the noise pulling a sharp ringing from your ears as you noticed the shot landing right by your feet. Instantly, all eyes were on you standing out in the open on the bank, knife in hand, as the one O’Driscoll kept his pistol raised from where he had shot the ground next to your feet.

“What have we here?” one of them called out with a quick chuckle, the world around you moving with almost blinding speed. The man you were stalking from the tree rounded on you quickly, causing you to back a couple steps before raising the knife up and trying to bring it down upon the shoulder nearest to you.

However, he caught your hand in one of his own, slamming into your middle before you were picked up momentarily before thrown back onto the ground as you were disarmed from your knife.

“Out a little late for a stroll, are we?” one of them sneered, coming up behind you as you scrambled backward, gripping your forearm in a vice grip as you were hauled to your feet.

“She looks like a fun one,” the man next to you commented, pulling back twice as hard against the struggle you made to get away from him. You could feel your shoulder protest lightly against the counter weight, the movement threatening to pull it out of place.

Your eyes moved around to the faces of the O’Driscolls, one holding your own knife out in the moonlight as he approached, the one who shot you still remaining on his horse as he glanced around himself a moment.

“Wait…” he said, speaking up loud enough to cause the other men to pause. So, you knew who the little leader of this outfit was. “She’s out here alone...not too far from Six Point where that shootin’ happened…”

“The hell you talkin’ about…” the man in front of you growled, watching as the other man got down off his horse. You could feel your arm twisted around to be pinned painfully against your back, earning you some more struggle as you twisted and tried to buck your head back to hit his in some way, yet he was keeping his distance from where you could hit him.

“Get out of the damn way…” he snapped as he walked toward you, shoving the man in front of you aside as you tried to slow your breathing as he looked you over a moment.

“So, you’re alone out here, aren’t you? Why?”

“I just wanted to get some air,” you stated, trying not to trip over your words, “I don’t like getting snuck up on, some dangerous men around these parts.”

“No horse…” he observed, “No houses nearby…”

“I don’t know what you’re--”

Your words were cut short when his hand shot out, gripping tightly at your neck. With your free hand you gripped tightly at his wrist in return, the hold on your arm behind your back tightening as you could start to hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could vaguely make out the look in his eyes and a bit of teeth peering out from the curl of his lips in a snarl.

“You’re a damn Van der Linde, ain’t you?”

“I--” you started, letting out a choked sound at the tightening around your throat.

“One chance. Where’s your camp?”

“Ahh, they’re all loyal bastards. Just kill ‘er, we’ll find it someplace nearby. Get ‘em all while they sleep.”

You could barely register what they were saying after that, feeling the pressure in your face from lack of air and the fingers digging hard into the flesh of your neck as you tried uselessly to twist in the grip they had you. They were going to kill Dutch? Good luck. However, in the moment, you were more focused on the feeling of the stars starting to appear in your vision as they continued to argue, that hold on your neck not holding up. This is it. This is how it was going to end. You were going to get strangled to death by some O’Driscolls because you just wanted to stand in the river under the moonlight.

However, as you could feel your body starting to panic at the feeling of your lungs going without air for too long, you noticed one of the O’Driscolls fall on the ground, blood seeping from his head. Instantly, the sound of gunfire filled the air as the man in front of you tossed you aside and onto the ground quickly. Instantly, you took in a deep raspy gasp of air as more fighting happened around you. You glanced up to see one of the men holding his stomach, trying to make a move for your knife. Moving almost without thinking, you scrambled for the knife and stabbed him in the chest. Once, twice, before he collapsed on the ground as you pulled the knife from his gut. Blinking heavily, you backed away as he lay on the ground, not moving.

Though, upon hearing quick footfalls heading in your direction, you turned almost blindly, bringing the knife up and swung it down. However, a quick hand grasped around your wrist, your teeth gritting against the ringing in your ears and beating in your heart until finally it sounded like the world reappeared around you.

“Damn it--it’s me! Calm down!”

The gruff voice that filled your ears was like a slap to the face, reality locking into place as you realized it wasn’t another O’Driscoll in front of you but your gang’s enforcer, Arthur Morgan, who was holding your wrist tightly to keep you from stabbing him with the knife.

“...Shit,” you gasped, blinking heavily a bit before deciding to drop the knife as you raised another hand up. Arthur let go of your wrist at the gesture, causing you to step back and place a hand against your neck at the ache there.

“The hell’re you doin’ out here?” he snapped, his tone causing you to flinch slightly before shaking your head.

“Just...left camp for a bit. Thought nobody’d be out here but some O’Driscolls rode by.”

“In case you ain’t noticed, we got Pinkertons and O’Driscolls both lookin’ for us,” Arthur replied as you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, “Can’t go a damn day without some sorta drama.”

“It’s not my fault they couldn’t just leave a woman alone on the shore of a river!” you snapped back, turning to look toward him, “In case you didn’t notice, they were strangling the life out of me!”

“I know!” he returned, his voice raised before he seemed to take in a breath, “Damn it, I know. I saw.”

“If y’all hadn’t gone a shot up Six Point Cabin on some dead end, it wouldn’t have happened. So save it.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“It’s...no. It’s not. I just...I need a minute. I just need a damn minute…”

You turned from him to stumble over toward a rock, almost falling down to sit on it as you rubbed at your neck. You could already faintly make out the bruising on your wrist, the blood between your fingers. Looking down, you could see the mud and dirt that covered your bare feet. You let out a short sound that started as a laugh before the motion started to pull out some sobs from you, tears brimming in your eyes before you shut your eyes as they slipped out down your cheeks. The rage at the short confrontation dissolved into almost a scared relief as you let out the tension in your body. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at the display, bringing your arms up across your chest to grip at your shoulders.

“...I’m sorry,” Arthur said around a sigh, stepping over one of the O’Driscolls that lay on the bank of the river. You took in a shuddering breath as you tried to pull yourself back in, Arthur placing a hand on your back before he was bending down to pick up your knife. “Me and my damn mouth…”

“I was starting to blackout,” you muttered around a quick inhale, “I thought I was going to die.”

“It’s over. C’mon, let’s get your boots and head back to camp.”

Arthur was, admittedly, a little too short and to the point to be all that comforting in the moment, but you did take some comfort at the solid hand on your back and the idea of returning back to the safety of camp. Much as your appearance and bruises in the morning would raise a lot of questions.

“Okay…” you muttered, raising up on somewhat uneven footing before making your way toward your boots. “I don’t know what to do about all of…” The bodies.

“We get outta here quick, nobody’ll know it’s us,” Arthur returned, earning you a small sigh and nod as you moved back toward him once you had stepped back into your shoes. He climbed up onto his horse, reaching down to help you up onto the back before starting the short ride back to camp as you could see the sky growing a little lighter.

It would have been a great sight if everything hadn’t happened the way it did. However, instead, you were riding back into camp with bruises around one of your wrists and arms and around your neck. You pressed your forehead against the middle of Arthur’s back, gritting your teeth in frustration.

“I feel like a fool,” you muttered, feeling your eyes starting to sting, “Should’ve known there’d be no hope to have something peaceful for a night. Things had been feeling too good.”

“Can’t say I disagree with you there…” Arthur muttered, feeling his voice rumble against his back for a moment before you lifted your head, “But they...they could’ve been decent. Left well enough alone. I could’ve...not yelled at ya while you was obviously still thinkin’ you was under attack.”

“No, I damn well deserved that.”

“No...c’mon,” Arthur returned, sounding somewhat awkward but he slowed his horse, “I’m sorry ‘bout that. I am. Weren’t right, but...I need to tell Dutch what happened, but I can maybe get him to keep Grimshaw from botherin’ you come sunrise so you can get some rest.”

“...Okay,” you returned, not liking the fact that Dutch had to know, but you could understand why. It was a hop, skip, and a jump from camp. “Thank you.”

“Sure. Wish I could’ve got there sooner. Heard some distant gunshot, didn’t think much of it until I realized I was close to camp.”

“I would have died if you didn’t, so I say you arrived just in time…”

Arthur seemed to let that go and he rode his horse into camp and slipped off it to hitch it, helping you down from the back of his horse. You landed a little harshly, still somewhat weak from what happened. However, despite yourself, you leaned sideways to slip a quick arm around his middle in a half-hug.

“Really, thank you,” you muttered, “I thought that was…”

“You’re one of us, we look out for each other,” he returned, patting your shoulder lightly before you stepped back to give him some space before wandering forward into camp with him toward where Dutch appeared to be stepping out of his tent.

[windyfiend]

<< Chapter 1

Chapter 6: The Kith

Briony coughed, wheezed, her head upside-down, slung like game over the back of a saddled beast. Her hair dangled and swept the weeds, bound wrists at her back twisted toward the sky. She couldn’t see beyond the colors behind her eyes-- the shadows and filmy light left from the flash --but she could hear the rustle and childish chatter of her captors.

The breeze blew cool against her skin. In the distance a bird squawked, free and mocking.

Briony thrashed and kicked to escape, or at least to cause trouble for her captors, but the beast beneath her launched into a gallop and carried her bounding away.

They crashed into the forest, ripping a violent wake through the leaves. Thorns and vines struck her face, ripped her hair, while the beast leaped and lurched between the trees, deeper and darker into the woods.

Briony gave a violent heave of her legs, wrenched against the beast's rhythm, and tumbled sprawling into a rocky creek with a splash and a shock of sharp pain in her shoulder.

The hooves galloped away through the brush.

Soaked and shuddering-- her ears full of the quiet gurgle of water, the chirr of night insects --Briony dragged her knees underneath herself, grit her teeth around the gag, and shoved her body forward through the mud.

She squinted through the clearing haze, desperate for a glimmer of the rising suns over Woondaly, but instead she found a yellow eye watching her out of the socket of a skull.

“No way back from here,” said a kid’s voice, while Briony fell on her side and skittered back in the shallow water.

Her focusing eyes found the skinny, scruffy shape of a boy in the dark.

He wore a giant rabbit skull over his head: pale scratched bone, hooked teeth and sharp edges. It fit so snugly over his face it seemed a part of him, his own bones, his own skinless grin.

The glowing eyes stared out of the sockets on either side of the skull. The boy turned his head to stare at her.

“They tossed ya like trash.”

Briony felt small hands grab her shoulders from behind, and though she dug her tied feet in the mud, two other skull-children dragged her back toward the waiting beast. Rabbit boy bounced over the creek and followed.

They held onto her after that, careful to keep her from falling while the beast-- which Briony could now see was a shaggy old moose --stepped slower through the weeds and rocks, deeper into the night-dark of the forest.

 --

After an hour-- in the heavy darkness of a thicket --the moths fluttered out of hiding.

They glowed and shimmered dancing with the fireflies, trailing sparks of dust, revealing leaves and roots like passing ghosts in their wake.

Something bright skittered between the ferns: a chipmunk with a softly glowing belly and bright stripes down its back and tail. A fox watched from a distance, its fur spattered with shining spots, its eyes glinting cautious in the dark. A flock of little birds rushed out of a bush; each flap of wings flashed luminescent feathers.

The forest teemed with sugary light like a galaxy of skittering stars. Streaks and spots of bioluminescence moved and breathed and shivered and glowed, piercing the dark with life.

 --

Briony craned her neck to stare at the shining sparkles of a squirrel’s tail, and she forgot to struggle until the moose stopped. Small hands dragged her down and dropped her like a stone in the moss.

“What'd ya do, drag her down the river?” scoffed an unfamiliar voice.

A pair of dirty bare feet stopped in front of Briony’s face, and the speaker crouched low and picked at her hair with wiry fingers. Orange eyes glowed deep in the giant skull of a jackdaw.

“She tried ta skitter,” replied rabbit boy, perched atop a boulder above. “Wriggled off down the crick like a muskrat.”

“Well she's got nowhere to be skitterin',” said the jackdaw. She reached out with a coarse dirt-stained hand to touch Briony’s face, but the captive jerked away with a snarl.

“She's a live one!” the jackdaw laughed.

Briony's fists clenched. Her teeth bared. She listened to the forest, certain that someone was coming, surely someone had seen. She only had to stall for time until her rescue would arrive.

The forest offered only the insects. The rustle of leaves. A single, lonely birdsong.

The jackdaw clasped a hand behind Briony's head and pulled away the spit-soaked gag.

Briony dragged a ragged breath. She spat dryly on the ground and swallowed like sandpaper.

“I don’t talk to Kith,” she hissed like venom.

“Well you're talkin’ to Kith now,” said the jackdaw, “and you ain’t gonna have much else to talk to from now on.”

"LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!” Briony howled, bristling. “The whole city's gonna be looking for me. The Scythes are going to find you and cut you to pieces!”

The jackdaw shrieked with laughter, her beak tossed with mirth while the other Kith giggled.

“When was the last time you can remember,” the jackdaw crowed, “a Lost One came home again?”

Briony’s mouth dropped open. Her lungs felt frozen. “I’m not a Lost One.”

“Y’are now,” rabbit boy piped cheerily.

“The Lost Ones are dead! Gone forever!” Briony shrieked. “I’m not GONE! I’m getting out, I’m going HOME, if I have to murder every one of you!”

“Yep, we’ll see.” The jackdaw waved at rabbit boy. “Cut her loose, see how far she gets in the dark.”

Briony felt the cold of a blade between her wrists, and the ropes fell away like dead snakes. Her ankles released, and she pushed rabbit boy to the ground and took off at a stumbling sprint, her legs pumping as fast as they would go, her boots skidding and twisting on the treacherous forest floor.

She thrust her arms in front of her, ripped through curtains of vines and barbed bushes, tearing blood-slick gashes in her palms, her face full of spiderwebs and her fists full of thorns, then skidded into a rocky gully and crouched among the fallen leaves to hide.

Briony was sure her thrashing heart would give her away.

She breathed quiet. Her wounds throbbed with hot pain.

She listened. She could hear rustling. The sob of a dove. The creak of a cricket. The hush of leaves in the breeze.

She could hear them giggling.

Like waking fireflies, their molten eyes opened in the dark.

They peeked out of the bushes, behind the rocks, in the branches above, like the spirits of the dead come to haunt her. They were everywhere: a hellish constellation of red smoldering stars, watching her like jackals swarmed their dying prey.

Waiting. Laughing.

Briony squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her aching jaw and pressed her bloody palms to her ears.

She thought of the terror in Runa's eyes before she'd dropped to her death.

It was the last face Briony would ever see.

---

Thanks for reading!! Concrit welcome! 💚 (this will be edited as edits/rewrites happen)

[herpsandbirds]

Saddle-backed Bush Cricket (Ephippiger ephippiger), family Tettigoniidae, Bulgaria

In the U.S., we refer to Bush Crickets as Katydids.

photograph by Гал Ин Дао

[jedi-mabari]

Greene Acre Chapter 2

Word Count:1108 Warnings:Animal death, but it is humane. that is how you kill a rabbit. A/N:This may turn into a whole series, which I may actually enjoy. So, here is some more Black Belle content!

____________________________________________________________

Ashley had been with Belle only a few days, and she hadn't realized how exhausting it was riding horses all day. She ached in places she didn't think could ache, her legs sore from spending all day in the saddle, but she had quickly picked up on Belle's routine.

When they stopped to make camp at night, Ashley would set up a small camp fire, just large enough to cook the nights dinner, and the next morning's coffee. Belle was insistent that she set up her own bed roll, but she reluctantly allowed Ashley brush down her horse every night before taking care of her own horse. Ashley did the hunting, usually trapping small rodents or birds for their supper. The two women sat alone apart from each other until they fell asleep.

Five days after leaving Greene Acre, Ashley and Black Belle had stopped in a small grove of old trees, creaking in the wind.

"This looks like as good a place as any to set up camp," Belle said, pulling her horse to a stop. Ashley nodded silently and quickly began setting up camp. She gathered rocks to form a small fire pit, walking into the surrounding woods to gather sticks for the fire. When she got back to the camp, Belle had already set up her bedroll and was unsaddling her horse.

"I could have done that for you Ms. Belle," Ashley said, setting the stack of wood by the fire pit.

"You could have, but sometimes, I like to care for 'ol Jake myself." She dropped her saddle on the ground and pulled a brush from her saddle bags. "It helps to take my mind off things." Ashley sighed and began building the fire.

"After I get this fire going, I'm gonna go see if I can't find some fresh meat." Belle hummed in understanding, leaving Ashley to go hunting for something to eat. Ashley grabbed a small length of string and a hunting knife the Belle had given her. She walked into the woods and and began searching for any sign of small game in the area. She found some small tracks of what she figured was a squirrel or maybe a small rabbit.

She followed the tracks a short way, setting up a trap in an area where there seemed to be a lot of activity. She trailed a lead back from the trap and waited for anything to move over the trap. After only a few minutes, Ashley spotted a rabbit sniffing at the trap. She smiled as the rabbit stepped into the trap, and she pulled it closed, cinching the rabbits back feet into the string.

"Sorry little thing," she said,wringing it's neck with a quick jerk, exactly like her mother taught her. She slung the rabbit over her shoulder and quickly made her way back to the temporary camp. On her way back to the camp fire, she found a small bush of berries they could have after their supper. When Ashley walked back into camp, a small bag of berries in one hand, the rabbit in the other, she found Belle sat with her back against a tree, her eyes scanning over pages of a book as she scratched Duke behind the ears.

"I caught a rabbit," Ashley announced, setting the bag of berries down next to the fire pit before moving to the edge of camp to skin the rabbit.

"Save the skin," Belle said, not looking up from her book, "we can sell it when we get to town." Ashley nodded and began skinning the rabbit, making sure the save the skin to sell. She laid the skin out to dry and took the rabbit over to the fire. She put the rabbit on a spit and let it cook.

While their dinner cooked, Ashley took her saddle off of her horse, setting it behind Belle's. She began brushing her horse, whispering sweet calming things to it, feeding it little treats. She brushed the horse until she could hear the sizzling of the rabbit on the fire. She tossed the brush back into the saddlebag and went to pull the rabbit off the fire, moving the spit so it wasn't directly over the fire.

"Smells good kid," Belle said, setting her book aside.

"Well," Ashley said, using her hunting knife to pull some meat from the body, "it's falling off the bones." Belle chuckled and grabbed the plates, bringing them over so the two could split the meat from the hare. After they had picked the bones clean, they sat back and relaxed. Ashley set up her bedroll and lay on her back, looking up at the branches above her.

"What made you go on the run," she asked, turning to look at Belle. The question had been burning in the back of her mind for days, but she had only just worked up the nerve to ask. The older woman looked up from her book and smiled.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Ashley propped herself up on her elbows and thought about it for a moment.

"Yes ma'am," Ashley said, sitting up all the way. "Was it a mistake?" Belle laughed and set her book aside.

"No, it wasn't. I robbed a stagecoach in Rhodes," she said, her fingers brushing down the material of her black skirts. Ashley leaned forward to listen to Belle tell the story. "My family, once a well to-do group from Missouri, were on the down and out after the war, ended up in Lemoyne. We needed the money, and I heard a had the ability to get it." Ashley hung on Belle's every word, staring at the older woman as she recounted her first robbery.

After the tale was over, Ashley was yawning, trying not to fall asleep. The fire had died down so it was barely embers, just enough to keep the two if them warm. Belle chuckled softly to herself, watching the younger girl struggle not to fall asleep.

"You must have lead a charmed life," Ashley joked, yawning as she repositioned herself on her bedding.

"Go to bed kid," she said, laying down on her own bedroll with a chuckle.

"I'm sorry about your family," Ashley yawned, curling up in her bedroll, closing her eyes. "But I'm glad you made it out alive." Belle smiled at the girl's sincerity, pulling her blanket over herself.

"That's alright kid," Belle said, closing her own eyes, "just don't go dying on me, alright?" But Ashley was already asleep, so Maybelle Elizabeth Colter's words went unheard, floating up into the night along with the campfire smoke until it was drowned out by the crickets chirping in the darkness.

[emanuro]

A burst of spiny legs into the foliage of the undergrowth and a saddle-backed bush cricket (Ephippiger sp.) falls prey under the fierce hold of a predatory bush cricket (Saga pedo). This species preys other crickets and grasshopper waiting in ambush into the shrubs and in high grasses, walking rather than jumping, able to use its first pair of legs as raptorial organs like the ones in mantids. Only one male of this species was found in Switzerland some years ago and the populations are normally only composed by parthenogenetic females. #biodiversity #predatoridelmicrocosmo #pickoftheday #macrophotography #macro #insect #sagapedo #cricket #grasshopper #predator #thehunt #italy @ilcp_photographers @natgeo https://www.instagram.com/emanuele_biggi/p/BvKLNklgO07/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=4c0jpf82k6se

[neshtasplace]

A little surprise

I have decided to post a little teaser from the first chapter of my yet-unnamed story. I hope some of you enjoy. Just a note: This is only the second draft, so I’m sure spelling/grammar errors abound, please forgive that, I was just TOO excited to share this! =)

Sinara gasped, squirming out of her bed roll and darting her eyes about. The campfire has long extinguished, only smoke drifting up from the ashes and towards the night sky. There was enough starlight for her to be able to see in a limited sense. She crouched in the dark, straining to hear; the night was calm, quiet, only the sounds of crickets and the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind. After a few moments of trying to calm her breathing, her ears picked up the sound; someone was coming towards them. She sucked in a breath, slowly preparing a spell for the inevitable battle. She could hear them speed up, it was one person, and she nodded to herself, pretty sure that she was right. She saw nothing however, only the dark forest, she looked around, trying to see through the heavy underbrush, but it was too thick and nigh impenetrable. Instinctually, Sinara began to back away, moving closer to Acacia, she glanced down at her. She was still asleep. The injury would have her out of commission for days. It was up to her to defend the two of them. Sinara frowned at that thought; she was not much of a protector. She decided to reason the current situation. Clearly this intruder knew that the two of them were there, so it would be logical to try and engage in conversation. She gulped, then called out “Who are you, what purpose do you have here?” Out from the bush stepped a woman, she was dressed in what looked like black leathers, with some parts of silver mail. Her clothes were trimmed in a light green, and on her rope belt, hung the emblem of the Steppe Riders. She was armed with a bow of black lacquer. Her face was obscured with a cloth mask over her mouth and a wide round hat. All Sinara could see was one eye, which even in the dark seemed to burn with intensity. She gulped. “Y-you have three bows pointed a-at you. Answer my questions or j-join those Black Talons back there” The woman said in a dark, low voice. She levelled the bow at her, her well-muscled arms pulled the string back easily. Sinara snapped up straight, holding her hands up, this was the second time she’d had a weapon aimed at her. This was really not a good omen for her trip. “I’m a…I’m Sinara, I’m a healer and travelling your fine lands to-“

“I h-haven’t even asked a question!” The woman interrupted her.

“Oh right…yes of course!” Sinara stammered nervously. “I was just being pre-emptive!” the woman before her groaned and glanced over at Acacaia lying on the ground asleep.

“Why is Acacia in-injured? Di-did you hurt her!?”

“No! No, no, as I was saying, I’m a healer. I came across Acacia fighting the bandits, and I assisted her….quite well might I add! I only threw up the once!” Sinara said as she grinned, she could not help but resist the Valhaer custom of bragging. “She was injured in the fight and I, thinking quickly, stabilized her wounds.”

“Sh-she wasn’t lying a-about Valhaer being braggarts…” The woman mumbled in an irritated tone. “I-I don’t believe you, w-wake her…w-we’ll see what Acacia has to say!” Sinara nodded nervously “Of course, I am slowly going to do that now alright? Please…do not shoot me.” She said in as calm a tone as possible. She knelt beside Acacia, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to rouse her. Acacia stirred, then blinked her eyes open, she winced and let out a groan “Sinara? What’s going on?” She said as she looked around, she spotted woman with the bow, she blinked “FeiLing? What are you doing here?” She said groggily. FeiLing looked down at her, pulling down her mask and smiling “Ch-checking up on you Acacia…y-you’re bad at staying out of t-trouble.” She said as she then looked over to Sinara. “D-did this woman help you? W-was she the one who healed you?”

“And, helped defeat the bandits!” Sinara added, earning a glare from the archer. She shrunk back “Who’s keeping track right?” She chuckled nervously. Acacia nodded her head slowly “Yeah. I didn’t see much, but by the time I came around, they were all dead, I thought she was the ring leader or something, but…no, she’s what she says she is…big mouth included.” She turned her head to Sinara, giving her a slight nod. Sinara let out a breath of relief. FeiLing put her arrow and bow away, placing her hands on her hips “O-Okay…w-we’ll, make sure the t-two of you have a safer place to r-rest than out here.” She nodded her head, looking at the brush behind Sinara. She yelped as two others stepped out from the brush, seeming to materialize from nowhere. They were dressed similar to FeiLing, dark clothes with the wide brimmed hats. They moved over to Acacia to lift her. Sinara hissed softly “Wait, hold on! You have to be very careful with her, she’s suffered a deep wound and it could open up again!” FeiLing just looked at her “W-we know what we’re d-doing” She said as she snapped her fingers, a few second later the sound of a wagon and horse could be heard. As Sinara looked over she saw a small wagon with a single horse trotting down the path. Alongside the wagon were three horses, they looked very impressive and well bred. They were adorned with the same colours as the rangers before Sinara. The horse in the lead had more elaborate reins and saddle. Sinara figured that one was FeiLing’s. As Acacia was carefully loaded onto the cart, Sinara quickly packed up all her gear, placing it neatly into her magical satchel. After a few moments of packing and checking up on Acacia, Sinara looked over to FeiLing “Well, thanks for all this, I’m glad you found us!” She said as she went to climb into the wagon. She felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder “O-Oh no! You w-walk….I-I still ba-barely trust your kind.” Sinara frowned, but hopped off, dusting her clothes, “Fair enough…I suppose I’ll do my best to keep up!” She said, trying her best to appear affable, but part of her wanted to protest. FeiLing and the other two both got onto their respective horses. Sinara opened her mouth to ask, but was cut off as the group started on their way with a slow trot. Even if they were going at a slow pace, the lone Valhaer had to struggle to catch up; she hadn’t even gotten a full night’s sleep yet.