《Sons of Lilith: The Price of Beauty》 Chapter 1: The Misunderstanding of the Foolish ¡°Mrs. Lancaster, it¡¯s a foolish ¡ª¡± was all Morrigan got out before being interrupted. ¡°Oh, you think I¡¯m a fool!? Why, I¡¯ve never! Pfft,¡± Carol Lancaster said with haughty disgust. Her styled hair was now a frizzy dark brown mess, dampened by sweat and the humidity of the bog. Carol brushed away a lock of hair from her face. In doing so, the gesture revealed a glowering expression that Morrigan felt was completely unjustified. Carol continued before Morrigan could get a word in. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I see how it is Miss LaFey. You think I¡¯m just a rich fool because I believe in magic. You¡¯re no better than anyone else!¡± Carol, turned her nose up at Morrigan with a ¡°hmph.¡± She proceeded to walk past her on unsteady feet, not interested in Morrigan¡¯s response. It was not the first time Carol had ignored Morrigan¡¯s input. This inconsiderate behavior had become a constant annoyance since Morrigan drove Carol Lancaster from her private plane, past the nearest small town, out to this desolate landscape. And it had only gotten worst once they left Morrigan¡¯s Honda parked further down the path; a safety precaution to keep it from getting stuck. And in the same way that this wasn¡¯t the first time the woman had ignored Morrigan, it wasn¡¯t the first time that she nearly fell. There were at least six times Morrigan rushed to catch the much taller woman, and almost face planted onto the rough ground herself. Carol took another misstep on the uneven terrain and almost tumbled over. Morrigan shot her hands out to catch the woman. Carol splayed her hands out, regaining her balance. With an indignant swirl of her hands, she batted Morrigan¡¯s hands away with disdain. The action sent a surge of anger through Morrigan¡¯s body. Swirls of heat, more than what any human body could produce, roiled in her palms, waiting to be called on ¡ª waiting for a simple incantation. ¡°That is not what I said!¡± Morrigan snapped, stomping the ground. Size six boots kicked up dirt and dislodged pewter grey stones into a miniature vertical volley. Annoyance creased her brow, and frustration drilled the heels of her boots into the ground, marking an imaginary line that she would not allow Carol to cross. A line Morrigan would defend with words and hard logic ¡ª or blood and fire if she needed to. Morrigan stood still, arms crossed, and feet planted like an immovable boulder in the middle of the gravel path. Carol spider-walked on her heels, carefully lifting and then placing each leg in an effort to keep her stilettos from getting stuck ¡­ again. She didn¡¯t notice, or care, that Morrigan had stopped moving or even appeared to respond to Morrigan¡¯s words. Instead, Carol¡¯s head remained tilted to the ground, paying attention to the walkway. The path was a nearly abandoned drive with only a splattering of visible gravel that was choked out by weeds and dirtied by old tree limbs, mud, and who knows what. The path, large enough to fit a car, maybe, divided clusters of gnarled trees on either side of the two women. The trees themselves serving as a barricade between them, the wetlands of the bog, and the hordes of mosquitos that infest it. The smell left much to be imagined. Even Carol¡¯s exuberant perfume couldn¡¯t hide the rancid smells that would occasionally ride the breeze; a stink that smelled like sour-milk and rotten eggs were actively making a love child in Morrigan¡¯s nostrils. That stench was only matched by the smell of something, or ¡°somethings,¡± that had died not too far away. Adding those smells, with the odd rustling in the trees made a good reason for Morrigan and her client to be on their way, unless things got worse. Morrigan¡¯s logical mind knew this. She knew, too, that their time was running out. From what little intel Morrigan gathered before accepting this escort mission, she knew that ¡°visitors¡± who arrived after a certain time didn¡¯t fare too well. Morrigan and her client, Mrs. Carol Lancaster ¡ª wife to a billionaire ¡ª had a deadline to reach their destination: the Bog Hag¡¯s hut.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. It was common knowledge amongst the magical society that you didn¡¯t want to piss off a bog hag; every witch knew that for certain. Even common people interested in myth and lore knew that bog hags weren¡¯t to played with. That also included Carol. What Carol didn¡¯t know was that she shouldn¡¯t piss off a witch, period. And right now, she was pissing Morrigan off. Or, as Morrigan¡¯s meathead friend, Ripley calls her, La Fey, The Cold Fire Witch, Second of the Sons of Lilith. But Carol didn¡¯t seem to get it. It seemed to Morrigan that this woman, who came into her shop, with the appearance of a church mouse, asking for help was more of a snobbish Persian cat. Morrigan didn¡¯t like to be played, nor did she like for people to make up things. ¡°I did not say that! You will not put words in my mouth.¡± Morrigan said. She stared over her rectangular-rimmed glasses at Carol. Carol stood at an easy 5¡¯9¡± without heels. But Carol did have heels ¡ª four inches high at least. The height forced Morrigan to stare up at the woman who towered over her 5¡¯3¡± stature. Carol wore a tight green, shimmering dress, with straps that fell to the shoulders. It was as beautiful as it was inappropriate for the situation they were in. And it was a sign of willful negligence to Morrigan¡¯s advice on what to wear ¡ª hiking boots, comfortable clothes you can get dirtied, and with as much coverage as you can for bugs. As if in further insult, Morrigan realized she was staring at the woman¡¯s exposed back. The only thing that somewhat covered it was Carol¡¯s dark brown hair, which was just below shoulder width. The woman was dressed for a formal night out on the town, not a trek through bog territory. A trek which might end up with a dangerous confrontation with a bog hag, or whatever else lurked out here¡­ But Carol didn¡¯t seem to care, and still didn¡¯t respond to Morrigan. The woman just kept walking, in that weird tip-toe posture reminiscent of a drunk college girl trying to walk in heels across a cracked sidewalk. ¡°Are you even listening to me? Or are you just going to ignore me?¡± Morrigan¡¯s usual neutral tone, honed to by years of scientific research and presentation, had turned cutting and defiant. Morrigan didn¡¯t like being accused of things that she hadn¡¯t done ¡ª especially when all she was trying to do was help. And she wasn¡¯t going to let Mrs. Carol Lancaster get away with it either, no matter how much she had paid for this needless venture. Carol snapped her gaze back and over her shoulder to Morrigan. It was a hard stare that gave Morrigan time to look at a woman whose¡¯s beauty didn¡¯t seem to match her behavior. Carol had olive green eyes, a shade dark than her dress, a mole by her red lips, and well manicured eyebrows. She for all intents, was a classic conventional beauty. Given who her husband was ¡ª a wealthy man with his pick of women ¡ª , and her looks, Carol probably had been a model. But unlike the usual choice of males with abundant wealth, Carol wasn¡¯t young. You¡¯d be hard pressed to say that she was at all beyond middle age. But there were tells - as age always has its tells. The smile lines that makeup can¡¯t quite hide. The subtle wrinkles and thinner skin around the neck. The thinning of fingers, common with all except those with meaty hands built from years of hard manual labor. It was doubtful that her hands had picked up more than dresses, wine glasses, and jewelry. Regardless, she was aging. Carol wasn¡¯t getting older and there wasn¡¯t much to do about it. But isn¡¯t that why they we are there? To help Carol keep her beauty so that she might not get the boot from her husband when he found some new young thing? Though, from Carol¡¯s perspective, it was the more likely situation that some new ¡°young thing¡± with ambitions for an easy life found her husband. A situation, with this new world of ¡°thirst traps¡± and social media that might be even easier to happen. The idea of losing something some precious as a loving relationship to something so simple was sad and unfortunate. The recollection of why they were here, washed over Morrigan like a bucket of water on a campfire - not enough to put out the fire of her anger, but enough to back it down to a level of frustration. ¡°Yes, you did. You think I¡¯m crazy don¡¯t you!? Just because I believe in magic, doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m crazy!¡± Carol Lancaster responded in a flash of words that would not be argued with. ¡°No Mrs. Lancaster, that¡¯s not what I said. What I said was ¡ª¡± Morrigan said, before being interrupted again. ¡°Plus, aren¡¯t you a witch? Don¡¯t you Do magic?¡± Mrs. Lancaster responded, arching a drawn-on eyebrow and peering down through crystal green colored eyes at Morrigan. ¡°Yes I ¡ª¡± Morrigan tried to get a word in but was interrupted immediately by the fast talking, flustered, and overly perspiring Mrs. Lancaster. ¡°That¡¯s what my Lifestyle Manager said. ¡®La Fey, from the Sons of Lilith, she¡¯ll get you there, no problem.¡¯¡± ¡°Mrs. Lancaster, we ¡ª¡± ¡°You think I¡¯m a fool don¡¯t you ¡­. I know magic is real. Even if you don¡¯t! Maybe I should just ask for my money back. And maybe I¡¯ll just demote my Lifestyle Manager back to being a personal assistant.¡± ¡°Mrs. Lancaster, listen ¡ª¡± ¡°No one believes me!¡± Carol shouted, awkwardly turning her body to face Morrigan, looking like a giraffe in quicksand. Her chest was heaving, her brows knit, and her voice strong, unbending. ¡°Enough! Come to me, essence of passion, essence of flame, light in my hands a power the same: flame craft: swirling flickers,¡± Morrigan chanted, turning her palms upwards to the sky, her hands at shoulder level in front of her. Chapter 2: "Magic ... is real ...!?" The rush of heat through her forearms and into Morrigan¡¯s palms was met with a matching heat from the air. The latter continued to get hotter as blinding sparks of light caught like someone striking flint against stone. Then came the flames. They danced around in small circles of embers at first, no larger than a golf ball in size. They continued to eddy, enlarging to the size of bowling balls. Their centers were mostly empty exception for the occasional flare of flame. But the outside of the orbs were a flickering sea of fire. The orbs illuminated her body, and her outstretched arms casts shadows. The shadows danced across her black combat jeans, her duty belt where she kept her potions holstered in several reinforced pouches, and her black jacket and shirt. Her dark hair had been tied in a pony tail that went through her unglamorous ball cap, keeping it safely away from the flames. Though not her usual style, Morrigan was still dressed for both combat and the use of her magic. All of her clothes were specially made for her, with a unique fabric that did more than just let her skin breathe. The multiple pockets in her pants had all sorts of lightweight tools, alchemical ingredients, and even a small ¡°grimoire¡± in case she forget a spell that she needed to cast. And of course if that failed, there were always the handgun she tucked into her waist belt, concealed from Carol¡¯s eyes. Granted, Morrigan would have preferred a hip holster, but didn¡¯t want to scare Carol who had likely never seen a gun in her life. But instead of scaring Carol with a holstered gun ¡­ Morrigan had done something worse, something that she had hoped to avoid on this trip: show Carol her magic. Morrigan had wantedplausible deniability about her magical abilities. Magic, although alive and well in the world was the talk of folklore and movies to the common person. Even if Carol was showed magic by the bog hag, that would not guarantee that Morrigan had any special powers. Any suggestions of such could easily be laughed off or ignored. Morrigan preferred that plausible deniability given this woman¡¯s ability, or wealth, to find and connect with the Sons of Lilith. The Sons of Lilith was, after all, a paranormal mercenary group that should have been far, far out of Carol¡¯s reach. Yet find them she had ¡ª or at least Harold, her Life Manager had. The hours Harold work to reach S.O.L. must have been severe. Regardless, Morrigan had intended to only use magic if their lives counted on it. But that¡¯s now how this was going after all. So many reasons¡­ Not being able to get a word in had taxed Morrigan¡¯s patience. Hearing that Carol would punish Harold, a man who probably had gotten roped into working for Carol the same way Morrigan had, was wrong and needed to be prevented. But that wasn¡¯t all of it, now was it? Morrigan knew she could give a thousand logical reasons why she just showed this woman magic. She could hide the reason why she took this mission under logic, or even just the concern to help the woman with her relationship goals. But looking at Carol, Morrigan could see why. Carol¡¯s expression had went from slack-jawed confusion, to closed mouth fear. That fear then dispersed, taken over by a smile that went from awe to pure joy. The flicker in the woman¡¯s eyes wasn¡¯t from the fire¡¯s Morrigan wielded either. ¡°Magic ¡­ is ¡­. Real? Magic is real!¡± Carol said, eyes wide, body visibly tightening and shaking in excitement like a child about to hold a puppy. Morrigan too once held such excitement. Long before she started her sterile studies of the sciences. Before she realized that her family had their head in the clouds and that she needed to be the grounded one. Back when she was young, and her grandmother would make her cookies and tell her about all manner of, fantastical things, heroic stories, and instilling in her that the world was both exciting and people at their core were good. A time back when Morrigan could dream unabated. A time when mystery and wonder was innocently abundant. And though, circumstance has led her to unraveling the science behind the magic of so many things to make for a better world, it didn¡¯t mean that she stopped valuing the ability to have awe. Like a parent who knew the benefit of believing in Santa Claus for a child, she knew the value of believing in that the world was truly magical. And she didn¡¯t want to take that away from anyone. She didn¡¯t want someone¡¯s wonder to fade. ¡°Your perception is accurate,¡± Morrigan responded. Carol clapped her hands together. ¡°Oh my gosh! This is great! I can¡¯t believe it. I mean, I believe it, of course I do-did. But wow, I never thought I¡¯d see real magic.¡± ¡°Yes ¡­ your Harold did a fantastic job,¡± Morrigan said. ¡°If I were you, I¡¯d give that man a raise as few other people would have been able to reach us as he did and even have me consider this.¡± ¡°Yes, but of course. He¡¯ll surely get a raise. Don¡¯t you worry. I might even give him a week off from being on-call. I think he gets bothered when I call him in the evening to discuss what I¡¯ll wear the next day.¡± Carol brought a manicured finger up to her face, taping her chin. ¡°I guess trying to do over the night rushed orders might be a bit challenging.¡± ¡°A few months would be minimally reasonable,¡± Morrigan said quickly. Carol¡¯s words had brought Morrigan back to earth like a balloon that was running low on helium. As much as Morrigan wanted to dream or enjoy the moment of awe, she had to reconcile with reality. And the reality was that Carol was an aloof snob, even if she did believe in magic. ¡°Right, right. So now that I know magic is real, which is amazing, I know that the bog hag can help me. Right?¡± Morrigan brought her palms together as the fireballs shrank back in size. Once they touched they collapsed onto themselves, and left noting but light ash on Morrigan¡¯s hands. Morrigan brushed her palms off on her pants, careful not to hit her potions or to trace her gun. ¡°She said she would see you, as surprising as that is. So we¡¯ll just have to see. Also ¡ª¡± ¡°Great! You¡¯re wonderful! I¡¯ll make sure to invite you to our next holiday bash dear! Now tell me. How do you do the,¡± Carol raised her palms up, ¡°Poof thing that you did?¡± ¡°Mrs. Lancaster, the utilization of ¡ª¡± Carol continued, cutting her off again, ¡°Can I get a picture? Where did you learn how to do that? Can you teach me?¡± Carol continued speaking, tossing questions, making statements, and giving Morrigan no space to speak.Stolen story; please report. Morrigan felt that same annoyancerise up again. She chanted a quick utility spell and the tip of her finger alit with a small fire. Morrigan closed the rest of her fingers, giving the universal ¡°shhh¡± sign to Carol. ¡°No! Teaching you would breach the extensive contract that you signed. S.O.L. was not contracted to be your teacher, or to educate you on magic more than necessary to warrant you safety.¡± ¡°But ¡­.¡± ¡°And so that you know, it¡¯s not so much a matter of where, but a matter of how to learn magic. It takes long years of studying a tiring text that are more convoluted than reading treaties born from the combined minds Fredrich Schleiemacher, Nietzsche, Newton, and Einstein. Then toss in social cognition, organic and inorganic chemistry into the mix for proper a base. All the while trying to make sure you don¡¯t incinerate yourself from the inside out while you¡¯re learning.¡± ¡°Um?¡± Carol said, looking a bit of loss of words. ¡°It¡¯s like reading a manual on how to program a VCR ¡­ from a Japanese, to German, to English translation. But the manuals are encyclopedia size in length.¡± ¡°There¡¯s got be a short cut. I¡¯ll just have Harold ¡ª¡± ¡°You cannot! There are no shortcuts. Like science, there are steps you must take, observations to be made, calculations and analysis. Deviation in these studies would cost you your life. There are no shortcuts and no one can do the work for you. If you try to short-cut it,you will likely blow up, melt into a pile of goo, or suffer an unfortunate combination of any the former effects, such as burning from the inside while your appendages explode from their sockets like shotgun shells. I believe that would be a distasteful display for your holiday gathering. Or is my logic off?¡± Morrigan gave the woman a few moments to consider the images of fingers lancing threw the air, blood splattering her walls and guests, and her body melting into a pile of goo. As if to confirm this, Carol responded with a stutter ¡°No ¡­ no, that wouldn¡¯t be ¡ª ¡° Morrigan cut her off, ¡°Correct. That would be very bad for your festivities. My logic is undeniable. That said, I shared that with you for two reasons: one, no more questions about me teaching you magic; two, the woman we will meet today can do a lot more to you than that. And she can do it a lot quicker than in a few years time. She can have you eviscerated by nature like that,¡± Morrigan said with snap of her fingers. Carol¡¯s eye widen, her shoulders raised, and Morrigan expected that the woman became pale, but that was hard to determine with the high-end make she wore. Skittering from the underbrush drew Morrigan¡¯s attention away from Carol. She bladed her body towards the potential danger. But whatever was there had disappeared. ¡°What was that?¡± Carol asked, her voiced worried. ¡°Uncertain. I cannot verify.¡± Morrigan said. She sighed and looked up at the sky. Still daylight, bun the sun had shift its position. They were losing time and if Morrigan didn¡¯t want to give this woman a piggy back ride to the bog hag¡¯s hut so that they could make it in time, they¡¯d need to get going, now. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster. We need to get going.¡± ¡°You can protect me, can¡¯t you?¡± That was a good question. Perhaps the best question Mrs. Lancaster could have asked at this point. It was a question Morrigan asked herself. She could handle the creatures of the woods, but an enraged Bog Hag was an all together different ordeal. They were elite witches in their own right and not worth the engagement on an equal playing field. But this wouldn¡¯t even be an equal playing field. They would be walking into the domain of a Bog Hag. In such a realm of cultivated magic, even low level spells would be supercharged. She would have access to spells not normally under her control. And the hexes that she could put on a person would nearly be unbreakable. But Morrigan couldn¡¯t tell Mrs. Lancaster that. They were too far along now. Mrs. Lancaster knew magic was real and would likely never leave S.O.L. or Morrigan alone until she met with the Bog Hag. Telling the woman that they were essentially walking into a spider¡¯s lair would do no one any good. ¡°I can do the best I can,¡± Morrigan said, after making eye contact. ¡°What do you mean you will do your best?¡± ¡°You are an unknown variable,¡± Morrigan said. That wasn¡¯t completely true. She had a sense about who this woman was, which is why she was saying going to continue her statement. ¡°If you want to increase your likelihood of survival, you must do the following things: You will need to do as I instruct you; answer the Bog Hags questions truthfully; and, above all else, be respectful. If you do that, everything should be fine.¡± Morrigan decided to keep the, ¡°As long as she doesn¡¯t out right attack us first,¡± to herself. Mrs. Lancaster kept the gaze a bit longer than Morrigan expected. But the eyes were actually focused on Morrigan, but instead looking off into the distance. The woman shimmied her shoulders uncomfortably coming too. It appeared that Mrs. Lancaster wasn¡¯t staring, but digesting the serious of the situation - a situation that no matter of moony would be able to help her with now. That is, unless she wanted to go back and bring a whole team of people with her. Morrigan doubted that. And if on cue, Mrs. Lancaster patted her hair down in place, adjusted her dress, straighten in posture, giving off an air of elegance.¡°Well, shall we? I wish not to keep the Bog Hag from her activities and I have a cocktail party to get to later this evening.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Morrigan said. As Morrigan took a step forward she felt a strand of something soft and tacky cross her face and ear. Mrs. Lancaster had turned around too, still awkward in her movements. She took a single step forward and then her hands rushed to her face. She pulled at something invisible. Her elegant presence was shattered by her unload like spitting that reminded Morrigan of something giving a raspberry. ¡°Pppfftss. Eww. Spider webs.¡± The woman took a bad step back, stiletto heel getting stuck in an awkward angle in the mud. Then the woman started to topple like the Leaning Tower of Pizza - a slow but very clear fall. Her hands wave frantically in the air trying to catch on to the nothing that was there. Morrigan¡¯s boots thumped across the pathway to Mrs. Lancaster. A hand hit her in the face, knocking off her glasses, and the weight of Mrs. Lancaster¡¯s body drilled into her. The other woman, still trying to right herself grabbed roughly onto Morrigan¡¯s shoulders, pulling her collar out of whack. The smack stung Morrigan¡¯s face, her vision blurred without her glasses, and her back hurt her from catching the woman in such an odd angle. Then there was the now oblong collar to her shirt that she¡¯d have to contend with while the taller woman continued to crawl up her. The shirt¡¯s special properties allowed for a number of safety features. But its most important property made it fragile to pulls. At least Mrs. Lancaster had just pulled on that, and not on Morrigan¡¯s necklace that bared a crescent moon charm. Morrigan sighed in frustration as she tried to help Mrs. Lancaster to a stand, which was made harder from the woman¡¯s awkward positioning and that her shoe was stuck in the ground. It was in this instance that Morrigan wished any other member of S.O.L. was here with her. Sera could have just used her wings and flown this woman to the Hag¡¯s hut. Ripley would have been able to simply carry the woman there. But that would have meant Sera and Morrigan splitting up, and the Hag, made it clear that Morrigan must be present ¡ª which was unnerving in its own right. And though Ripley would have sweet talked Mrs. Lancaster with his mid-western charm while carrying her like a knight from a bye-gone era, his allergic reaction to the sun wouldn¡¯t permit this daytime travel; vampires had few weaknesses after all, but that was an undeniable one. One which she was reluctant to figure out how to reverse through her alchemical studies. Nope. This was a job for Morrigan and Morrigan alone. After a few moments of the woman struggling, and batting Morrigan again, but on her ear, Carol finally came to a one legged stand. Pushing down hard on Morrigan¡¯s shoulder as a crutch, Mrs. Lancaster pulled her foot from the pathway. She placed it down and winced automatically. Still leaning a good amount of weight on Morrigan¡¯s shoulder, Carol said, ¡°I think I hurt my ankle. You¡¯re going to have to help me walk I think.¡± ¡°Walking Miss Daisy,¡± Morrigan muttered to herself. ¡°What was that?¡± Carol asked. ¡°It was irrelevant. Just put your arm around my shoulder, and let¡¯s get moving.¡± They both began to trudge on, with the weight of Carol Lancaster on Morrigan¡¯s shoulders. It was at this point that Morrigan decided that she¡¯d do a few extra workouts once this trip was well an over. Chapter 3: Friends? ¡°I told him ¡­. ¡®I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re the CEO and not a waiter. Go get me some more of those damn horderves; I¡¯m a lady after all.¡¯ Oh you should have seen his face. He got so red. But really, between you and me,¡± Carol Lancaster trailed off. Carol¡¯s head swiveled as if looking for ease droppers. Morrigan couldn¡¯t quite see this movement, so much as she could feel it as Carol¡¯s arm was still wrapped over Morrigan¡¯s shoulders and neck ¡ª and Morrigan felt like she was holding up sixty percent of the woman¡¯s weight. Carol, having finished looking for eavesdroppers, likely a trait out of habit given that they were on an empty, beat up road, miles away from where they had started, she lowered her voice to conspiratorial tone. ¡°Between you and me, his ass was the real sight!¡± Her loud laugh hammered Morrigan¡¯s eardrums, forcing Morrigan to resist the urge to roll the woman off her shoulders. That would cause Carol to fall. And Morrigan knew, that helping this woman back to a stand was not worth the effort. The woman had sat down several times over their couple of hours hike. Each time Morrigan had to pull the woman, who seemed not to know how to help in the process, back up, putting great strain and pain on an already tired lower back. One time the woman fell back. The jarring motion disturbed her bladder. And guess who had to hold the woman¡¯s hand so that she didn¡¯t fall over while she went ¡­.? One scientist-witch who was really re-considering her life choices. A burst ear drum would be acceptable versus going through that again. Plus, they were so close. They only had a short distance to go, by Morrigan¡¯s calculation. Which was good, because the sun was setting, meaning it was late. If only Carol Lancaster had listened to Morrigan in the first place. ¡°And they think guys only care about a nice bum. I can say, I¡¯ve had my share of suiters and would-be suitors and a nice rear was always welcomed. You know, what the men say in locker rooms, ¡®Good to see you come, love to see you leave.¡¯ Ha! Well, they¡¯re right about that one!¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Morrigan said with minimum enthusiasm. The ability to humor people who were talking at you, and not with you, while at the same time ignoring them was a skill Morrigan had developed growing up her racauos household, long ago. ¡°Isn¡¯t this great? Girl talk? It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve gotten to do it. You know, always worrying about who will say what to who. What might get put on the tabloids.¡° ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Morrigan said with as much enthusiasm as Cheerios had flavor. Mrs. Lancaster, whom Morrigan could only think of now as Carol, had divulged so much of her life during the trip. Morrigan was sure that the jabbering was part fear induced, part bad manners, and all laced with a hint of narcissism. The woman had spoken so much, that she became ¡°parch¡± several times. That shouldn¡¯t have been a problem had Carol wore the clothing and equipment Morrigan had suggested earlier. Unfortunately, Carol¡¯s choice of an evening dress didn¡¯t include a satin belt with a water bottle attachment. The only solution was for Morrigan to share from the water bottle she had attached to her duty belt, at the small of her back. Carol had finished it in short order. Morrigan wished she had taken more than a few gulps before letting carol had some. For some reason, Carol didn¡¯t understand the idea of rationing.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. The idea of it made Morrigan miss Ophelia. She had an unreal penchant for eating snacks. Morrigan wasn¡¯t sure if it was something to do with Naiad metabolism or if the girl was just a glutton for terrible food and bound to lose her figure like people who move to the states from Africa or Europe. Regardless, Ophelia would have been able to provide fresh water. Her natural affinity to fresh water, her ability to manipulate it like Morrigan could fire were awesome abilities. But her ability to draw moisture from the air and place it in containers would have been a saving grace here. So would her snarky personality. Ophelia and Carol would not have gotten along. But Ophelia would have made for good company. Same thing with Azura. Overly friendly while being sheepish at the same time, and with no real sense of personal space. She was sweet. And her singing would have made this trip shorter. And if Sera were here, they could talk about ancient literature the entire time. But they weren¡¯t here. And Morrigan missed them. She¡¯d have to bake them something good when she got back. ¡°You know, I can just open up to you,¡± Carol said. ¡°Uh¡­huh¡­?¡± Morrigan said, realizing she had zoned the woman out, and trying to figure out where they were in the conversation. ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t know. You just really know how to listen.¡± Morrigan stifled a snort. Knowing how to listen was different than just letting someone talk at you without them being interested in hearing your actual response. ¡°Oh, hmm,¡± Morrigan said. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe it¡¯s the breeze. Or this nice walk in nature. Being out, getting some exercise.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Morrigan said, humoring the woman. She knew that the stale and at times rancid breeze, wasn¡¯t good; that walking along a rotted pathway, amongst scraggly trees wasn¡¯t most people¡¯s take on getting out in ¡°nature¡±; and that she was doing most of the exercise for both of them. ¡°Yes ¡­.¡± ¡°Maybe ¡­. Maybe we can do this again. Ladies night out? We can become the best of buds.¡± ¡°Uh-¡± Morrigan choked on her own saliva as she realized what the woman was saying. ¡°I haven¡¯t had a girlfriend since Nicole got plastic surgery and started hitting on guys from South Africa. But you and I could have fun. I¡¯m always invited to events in New York, Chicago, Miami, London. I don¡¯t do Cali anymore. But London¡¯s nice. Ooh! I know so many people I could introduce you to.¡± ¡°I umm ¡ª uh,¡± Morrigan said, trying to figure out how to get out of this. ¡°Ooh, and a pretty thing like you, with a little make over, you¡¯d have your pick of guys. I know just the person who could do your make up. Her name is Amelia. I can get you scheduled as early as three days from now. No. She owes me one, two days from now. That¡¯ll give her time to get from Paris or wherever she¡¯s at. Actresses summon her around the globe, so she stays busy, and ¡­.¡± Carol said, but now talking again without listening. ¡°I don¡¯t know about this ¡­¡± Carol continued, seeming not have listened to a word Morrigan had uttered. ¡°Then we just golf with some guys. My legs look great in a golfing skirt, let me tell you. But you, child, with hips like yours they¡¯ll forget to even Tee off. Probably because they¡¯ll be thinking of getting something else off,¡± Carol said with a snicker. ¡°They¡¯ll be putty in your hands. I can teach you everything I know. And I know a lot. We gotta use our god given gifts don¡¯t we. So what do you think? Friends?¡± ¡°Ew no,¡± Morrigan said, resisting the urge to shoulder roll the woman off of her for a second time. The idea of using her ¡®gifts¡¯ in such a way disgusted her. And the idea of someone her mother¡¯s age talking to her like this sent shivers down her spine. ¡°Oh ¡­¡± Carol said, her voice low for once. Her one utterance trailed off like a sigh in the wind. She didn¡¯t say anything else. And Morrigan didn¡¯t have to look to see the hurt on the woman¡¯s face ¡ª on Carol¡¯s face. Chapter 4: Burn it with Fire! They walked in silence along the dirt road. The pathway had become more a mixture of mud, rocks, roots and creeping vines. There was the occasional whole where stagnant water lay. Morrigan helped Carol maneuver over holes that would take out any would be hiker. But all these movements they did in silence, under the watchful eyes of gnarled trees that stood like sentries on either side of the pathway. There were no sounds in the underbrush nor the whistling of a breeze through the leaves. Just utter silence. A silence that left Morrigan with her thoughts for perhaps a half hour or more. Morrigan¡¯s earlier outburst of disgust had rattled Carol. Morrigan had no interest in being the friend of a well-to-do narcissist. She had enough not-so-well-to-do narcissist in her actual family. A lifetime of dealing with those sorts of antics was behind her and she had little interest in dipping her toe back in that acidic pool of emotional negligence, manipulation and abuse. But she was not interested in hurting anyone¡¯s feelings, either. Morrigan had a penchant for being misunderstood, often like at the start of this journey with Carol. Over an hour into their trip, she had suggested they just go back. That this wasn¡¯t an idea and the benefit of continuing wasn¡¯t worth the cost. Carol took it as Morrigan didn¡¯t believe in magic or that she thought the woman was crazy. That was not true, nor what she was getting at. She just thought at their rate they¡¯d might be late. And even worse, Carol might get seriously hurt given her poor outfit choice. That misunderstanding was all on Carol, who chose not to give Morrigan the space to explain. Morrigan was accustomed to those stubborn, self-righteous, and ignorant behaviors. Morrigan¡¯s response was logical one after saving the woman from nearly falling again. And just because the woman was in a hightened emotional state didn¡¯t give her the right to add more meaning to Morrigan¡¯s words that she had clearly been intending. Nope. That was all on Carol. But, Morrigan¡¯s response to them being friends. That one was on Morrigan and she knew it. Her disgust was not aimed at the idea of being friends, despite her lack of interest, but at everything else the woman said. But even for Morrigan, who wasn¡¯t the best with understanding emotions, she could perceive how her response could have easily been misread. In the welcome silence of their walk, it gave time for Morrigan to think about what the woman had been saying: about her current friendships, her life, and all the other unnecessary stories she shared. In all that, she had a sense that besides the woman¡¯s husband, she didn¡¯t seem to have any friends. It seemed like her life and mixed with key bad choices led to her having only one friend. Morrigan could have ended up the same way, if not for different reasons. But she had all of team S.O.L. They were her family. She wouldn¡¯t trade them for anything. They might think her distant, but she¡¯d sell her shop, give up her magic, and put her life on the line for each and every one of them. They were her precious few. And they loved and accepted her for who she was. Carol didn¡¯t have that. Not in numbers at least. Carol¡¯s husband, from what she said, actually seemed like not just her lover and financial benefactor, but her true friend. It was doubtful that Carol¡¯s degrading looks would ever push him away, or that some ¡°thirst trap¡± would be able to pry his love from her. But Carol¡¯s behaviors were likely to do that for her. And then Carol would have no friends. And something about the finality of that truly felt sad to Morrigan. ¡°Carol,¡± Morrigan said. She stopped walking as they crossed under the shade of a tree¡¯s arm that spanned the entire pathway. Carol didn¡¯t say anything. She didn¡¯t need to either. Morrigan knew she was listening. The quickened heartbeat gave it all away. With Carol¡¯s side pressed into Morrigan, and her arm wrapped around Morrigan¡¯s neck and shoulders for support, it was easy to feel the increased thudding of Carol¡¯s heart. She was listening, even if she didn¡¯t want to speak for once. Morrigan turned hear head to Carol. Carol¡¯s sweaty arm felt like a damp cloth behind Morrigan¡¯s neck. The idea of someone else¡¯s sweat on her made Morrigan¡¯s stomach do a proverbial barrel roll. But she pushed down the feeling of disgust, as she couldn¡¯t have a repeat of earlier. ¡°Carol,¡± Morrigan said tentatively. ¡°You advised that you¡¯d like a friendship? When this mission is done, I suppose we can talk about ¡­ this lady¡¯s night out thing you mentioned. Or whatever you call it I guess.¡± Carol turned her head, expression blank, green eyes staring at Morrigan. Carol maintained the gaze for many people would consider a moment too long, too uncomfortable. An amount of time that most people would look away. Morrigan was aware of such, but she lost that sort of discomfort a long time ago. Prolonged eye contact did not dismay her. Staring at things was a part of observation, and just as useful of a tool as statistical analysis. So she kept the eye contact. ¡°Hmph,¡± Carol said, a rueful smile crossing her lips. She glanced away as if in thought, and then looked back at Morrigan. It appeared as though she was going to say something, but then her attention snapped forward. ¡°What?¡± Morrigan said, eyes going forward. ¡°Ahhh¡± Carol screamed. ¡°Oh my!¡± Morrigan said, as a large spider hung upside from a web, just inches from her face. Startled, she stepped back quickly but uncoordinated. The sloppy, jerky movement nearly cost her hold of Carol, who also backpedalled like a stork walking in reverse. Goosebumps raced across Morrigan¡¯s arms despite the humidity. Heat raced across her palms and fingers tips, like hot coffee spilled over a counter - scalding to the touch and uncontainable. Carol squeaked! ¡°Hot! Aww!¡± Her body squirming next to Morrigan. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Morrigan whipped her right hand out to the side, realization that she was still holding onto Carol¡¯s side to keep her from falling. She was burning the woman. ¡°Sorry!¡± ¡°Gods that was hot,¡± Carol said, holding her right side. They both then looked at the spider. ¡°It¡¯s a spider! Kill it! Kill it with fire!¡± Carol screamed. Morrigan raised her left hand to hip hight, ready to the incinerate the creature. Yes she could cast magic. Yes she¡¯s fought her share of supernatural creatures. But vermin such a spiders and mice held a special place on her list to annihilate on sight. It was a logical evolutionary response. At least that¡¯s what she told her self. The scientist side of her also told her that they had natural habitats, and that gave Morrigan pause. ¡°What are you doing La Fey? Kill it. Kill it! Gosh, I think something¡¯s crawling on me now.¡± Ignoring Carol¡¯s psychosomatic response, ¡°I understand your request. But I¡¯ve made a point of not killing spiders unless they were in my house. And given where we are ¡­ I¡¯d say this is it¡¯s home. Then again ¡­¡± Morrigan inspected the spider. The spider was larger than she¡¯d expect, its body, legs and all, about the size of her hand ¡ª more than sizable enough for a good shoeing from a safe distance. But its colors and vague familiarity had given her further pause, curiosity overcoming her natural and ¡°logical¡± creeped-out-ness. ¡°You see that,¡± Morrigan said. ¡°Yes. And I see that it¡¯s not dead.¡± ¡°No. The coloration on the creatures, hmm,¡± Morrigan paused, trying to recall the scientific term and then deciding if she couldn¡¯t recall it, Carol definitely wouldn¡¯t know what she was talking about. ¡°The myriad of colors on its butt,¡± Morrigan said, pointing but not reaching out to the creature; the heat in her hands not hotter than lukewarm tea. Morrigan paused, quietly scolding herself for not knowing the correct terminology. But bugs weren¡¯t her specialty. But there were some basic things she did know. ¡°Bright colors typically indicate poison. However, I don¡¯t think that is the case with this one. Some of the colors are dull. I¡¯m not certain, but I think I¡¯ve seen this one before. And¡ª¡± Morrigan didn¡¯t get a chance to finish her sentence. Carol lashed out with her right arm, waving it haphazardly at the spider. Carol¡¯s left arm still held onto Morrigan¡¯s shoulders, as the woman awkwardly advanced to get a better reach. The weight shift caused Morrigan to stumble. Morrigan grabbed tightly on Carol¡¯s side, and the woman¡¯s left hand, trying to both hold her back and keep them from falling. ¡°Stop!¡± Morrigan shouted, trying to hold the woman back. An image flitted into Morrigan¡¯s head. Two college students, one wearing black jeans and blouse, the other in a skin tight white dress and drunk off her ass. The woman in white, fueled by alcohol, lacking sense, but brave as a bull, zig-zagged mace in the eyes of an innocent who she thought touched her butt. The woman in black was doing her best to hold the other back. That memory of her old friend, Chelsea, hadn¡¯t come back till now. Morrigan remembered that that night didn¡¯t go so well for anyone. The memory of the event settled into the back of Morrigan¡¯s mind, while the old quote about learning from the past took the forefront. ¡°Carol, stop!¡± Carol didn¡¯t listen. Instead, she kept swiping at the spider. Morrigan kept pulling back, but underestimated the extended arm reach that went along with Carol being so much taller than Morrigan. Carol batted at the spider, just missing it. However, Carol did hit the webbing that held the spider up. The spider swayed like a pi?ata hit by a bat. Carol, disgusted by the thread on her hand, began waving it frantically, jarring the spider up and down until it fell. Two things happened at once as Morrigan watched the spider fall: one, she thought she heard the sound of something go ¡°eep!¡±; second, that their was a flash of light from her crescent-shaped necklace. ¡°What was that?¡± Morrigan said, glancing at her charm and then around her, and then back at the spider who was scampering about. ¡°A spider!¡± ¡°Hold on Carol!¡± Morrigan said. She wasn¡¯t sure where the voice came from, but she was certain that her charm flashed. And unlike she had told Carol earlier, the charm was much more than a ¡°mood ring.¡± She narrowed her eyes down at the spider, who dashed about after getting knocked from its web. ¡°It¡¯s going to attack us! Kill it!¡± Carol said, leaning heavily against Morrigan, her posture wanting to run or attack. ¡°No. If we don¡¯t get close, we¡¯ll be fine. Plus,¡± the spider stopped scrambling and stayed about two feet in front of Morrigan. ¡°It looks familiar.¡± Morrigan stared at the spider, who stared back at her with its multitude of eyes. If Morrigan didn¡¯t know better, she¡¯d thought that from its black glassy eyes had a hint of intelligence. She couldn¡¯t place exactly why, but it was the same feeling she¡¯d have when looking at certain dogs. That sense that there was a mind in there, that knew exactly what was going on. In addition, something about the creature seemed ¡­ cute to Morrigan, which is a far departure of how she felt about any arachnid before. Perhaps it was the paisley like colorations on its read. The collars were like was a mixture of red, blue, and a sedated yellow-green. The more she stared at it, the more she could make out the image of an elephant. The elephant image faced forward, its skin blue and the rest of its body, like its ears and tusks, were outlined in the backdrop of red. The yellow-green made up the color of its tusks, red its eyes, and a splattering more of that yellow color to make up additional shading on the skin. ¡°I¡¯ve ¡­. Seen this before. My friend, made me watch a ton of videos on these things.¡± Morrigan shook her head at the memory of Ophelia making her watch the a video called the World¡¯s Top 10 Creepily-Cute things. ¡°I believe that little guy is called a, um,¡± Morrigan racked her brain, trying to think back, letting her hold on Carol loosen. ¡°I remember! It¡¯s a Maratus Elephans, from the Peacock spider family. They¡¯re native to Australia and only a few millimeters long. Meaning, they are much smaller than this. But I don¡¯t know why it¡¯d be here, or so large. Unless ¡ª¡± Morrigan stopped her words as the spider moved, seemingly in response to her words. It raised black-and grey legs like a person putting their hands up. Then it started to move back and forth, its several sets of black eyes seemingly focused on Morrigan. The look reminded Morrigan that the small spider, was still a creepy-ass-spider, even if it was tiny and ¡°cute.¡± The same idea must have ripped across Carol¡¯s mind because in a surprising move, she began to stomp at it with her right foot. ¡°Carol no. Stop! That¡¯s not an aggressive move. It means us no harm!¡± Failing to stop the woman quick movement. ¡°Not aggressive! Sure, just like a hedge fund manager on a yacht party with bikini models. I know danger when I see it!¡± ¡°Carol listen to me!¡± Morrigan¡¯s hold on Carol wasn¡¯t secure. And for the first time, Carol had no issue keeping her four-inch heels from getting stuck in the mud. She used Morrigan like a crutch as she unleashed a series of stomp-kicks at the spider. Carol was a storm of kicks with her good leg. Carol¡¯s jerky movements, mixed with Morrigan¡¯s poor hold on the woman caused them to stumble dangerously close to the spider. Another flash from Morrigan¡¯s pendant caught her eye. They both almost trampled the spider. The spider zig-zagged, expertly dodging the stumbling footfalls. Seeking whatever exit it could find, the spider started to retreat further away. Carol was having none of that. She reached her good leg out as far as he could in an attempt to exterminate the spider. The attacked missed and Morrigan, for a second time, thought she heard a brassy and deep ¡°Eeek!¡± There was no time to pin-point the sound. Carol was falling now. She had over-reached and was going to fall hard on her side, already having lost her grip on Morrigan¡¯s shoulders and neck. Morrigan reached up with her right arm, awkwardly grabbing ahold of Carol¡¯s forearm before she slipped away. Morrigan yanked hard, using her arm muscle and body weight, dropping into a high, unbalanced squat, to pull the woman. Morrigan, overestimated the force she needed to use and flung Carol right into her. They both went down, hard. Chapter 5: All plans fails on first contact with the unknown Morrigan tightened her core and sharply punched one of her shoulders up, while the other went down, her hips doing the same. Her body twisted mid-air from the move, forcing her back to face the ground while positioning her body under Carol. Morrigan let her body hollow out, kept her head tuck and smacked the ground with her free hand as her back hit the ground, her right arm still holding Carol. She felt the stones and roots press into her back, through the protective layer of her jacket. Carol fell onto of Morrigan like a stone falling onto water. Her head landed hard on Morrigan¡¯s chest. Her torso landed like a blunt body blow to Morrigan¡¯s midsection, and her legs landed mostly off to the side. Morrigan wheezed as air was forced out of her body. Carol¡¯s body, falling with a slight bounce, followed gravity, rolling off the peak of Morrigan chest to the side where Carol legs laid. ¡°Ugh,¡± Carol groaned. Morrigan didn¡¯t respond, still trying to regain her breath. It hadn¡¯t been her best break fall for certain, but she¡¯d kept Carol from getting hurt. Though, she started to wonder why she was cared to do that. The woman would have fine landing on her face. Right? ¡°You ¡ª you ok.¡± ¡° I ¡­ pwew,¡± Morrigan responded, still trying to catch her breath. ¡°That was crazy.¡± ¡°Yes, attacking a spider like that ¡ª¡± ¡°No, no. I have a firm policy that you burn all spiders on sight,¡± Carol said, in a surprisingly serious tone. She paused, and then continued with a sense of respectful, ¡°That little move you did. You could be in Hollywood! I have contacts. Was that pilates move? You know? You could teach Pilates. I know people around the world. Good paying clients too.¡± Morrigan having caught her breath turned her head to look at the woman, who was already staring at her. ¡°Do I look like a person who¡¯d teach pilates? I mean, really, look at me.¡± Carol looked at Morrigan for a moment ¡°Well ¡­ I suppose you have a Morticia in her twenties vibe about you. But,¡± she then continued with a surprisingly sweet-tone that reminded her of a parent ¡°some people like that. It¡¯s ok.¡± She then gave Morrigan a smile. Morrigan stared at the woman for a few moment. Then an urge to chuckle came up, which she stifled. Then a second one came, and they didn¡¯t stop. Carol joined in on the kind hearted laughter. What else do you do when someone compares you to people from the Adam¡¯s family? But perhaps the bluntness from such a cooky woman wasn¡¯t so bad. She meant no harm, Morrigan could tell. In fact, it was probably the most aware the woman had been and the most kind. To see someone for how they are and to tell them, it¡¯s more than enough. Morrigan looked away from the woman, turning her eyes to the blue sky overhead. The glorious sun hung in the air, marching along the same path they need to walk, reminding her it would be setting soon and that they¡¯d be late. However, Morrigan didn¡¯t move, the smile still plastered on her face. The comfort and reassurance of a real laugh encouraged her to stay just a moment longer. It was a novel experience after all. A true connection with another person, and the moment. A sense of ¡°rightness¡± and stability not built upon her usual pre-plans, numbers and calculations. Morrigan felt the weight of her body be gently accepted by the cool ground, like a gentle embrace. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She could wait here just a moment. They could still make it in time at the pace they were moving earlier. It¡¯d be close, no question about it. But, as long as they didn¡¯t get distracted by any more odd-ball spiders they would be fine. ¡°La Fey, you¡¯re feeling pretty good aren¡¯t you?¡± Carol asked.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Morrigan stretched her tired back, feeling the knots grow across its length and beneath her shoulders from half-carrying Carol the majority of the way of the distance they traveled. She kept her eyes closed, a bit tighter as the sun must have ducked out from underneath clouds. ¡°Why do you presume that?¡± Morrigan asked, knowing that anyone would logic that a woman resting with her eyes closed in the middle of some mud-gravel pathway must be feeling pretty good. ¡°Well ¡­ I¡¯ve seen my share of mood-rings, but I¡¯ve never one shine as bright as your mood-necklace. Or one that flashed. You must be feeling better than I do after I¡¯ve had a Winston ¡­¡± she gave a conspiratorial chuckle ¡°the drink, my dear, not the man, in case you were wondering.¡± ¡°Mood-necklace? Flashing?¡± Morrigan asked, confused by the odd question, while tightening eyes shut against the sunlight overhead. Realization struck like a match when she realized that the light wasn¡¯t coming from above, nor should it given the sun¡¯s pathway. The light was coming from below, on her chest. And there was only thing that could glow on her chest, and it was no simple mood-charm. Morrigan tightened her core and sharply punched one of her shoulders up, while the other went down, her hips doing the same. Her body twisted mid-air from the move, forcing her back to face the ground while positioning her body under Carol. Morrigan let her body hollow out, kept her head tuck and smacked the ground with her free hand as her back hit the ground, her right arm still holding Carol. She felt the stones and roots press into her back, through the protective layer of her jacket. Carol fell onto of Morrigan like a stone falling onto water. Her head landed hard on Morrigan¡¯s chest. Her torso landed like a blunt body blow to Morrigan¡¯s midsection, and her legs landed mostly off to the side. Morrigan wheezed as air was forced out of her body. Carol¡¯s body, falling with a slight bounce, followed gravity, rolling off the peak of Morrigan chest to the side where Carol legs laid. ¡°Ugh,¡± Carol groaned. Morrigan didn¡¯t respond, still trying to regain her breath. It hadn¡¯t been her best break fall for certain, but she¡¯d kept Carol from getting hurt. Though, she started to wonder why she was cared to do that. The woman would have fine landing on her face. Right? ¡°You ¡ª you ok.¡± ¡° I ¡­ pwew,¡± Morrigan responded, still trying to catch her breath. ¡°That was crazy.¡± ¡°Yes, attacking a spider like that ¡ª¡± ¡°No, no. I have a firm policy that you burn all spiders on sight,¡± Carol said, in a surprisingly serious tone. She paused, and then continued with a sense of respectful, ¡°That little move you did. You could be in Hollywood! I have contacts. Was that pilates move? You know? You could teach Pilates. I know people around the world. Good paying clients too.¡± Morrigan having caught her breath turned her head to look at the woman, who was already staring at her. ¡°Do I look like a person who¡¯d teach pilates? I mean, really, look at me.¡± Carol looked at Morrigan for a moment ¡°Well ¡­ I suppose you have a Morticia in her twenties vibe about you. But,¡± she then continued with a surprisingly sweet-tone that reminded her of a parent ¡°some people like that. It¡¯s ok.¡± She then gave Morrigan a smile. Morrigan stared at the woman for a few moment. Then an urge to chuckle came up, which she stifled. Then a second one came, and they didn¡¯t stop. Carol joined in on the kind hearted laughter. What else do you do when someone compares you to people from the Adam¡¯s family? But perhaps the bluntness from such a cooky woman wasn¡¯t so bad. She meant no harm, Morrigan could tell. In fact, it was probably the most aware the woman had been and the most kind. To see someone for how they are and to tell them, it¡¯s more than enough. Morrigan looked away from the woman, turning her eyes to the blue sky overhead. The glorious sun hung in the air, marching along the same path they need to walk, reminding her it would be setting soon and that they¡¯d be late. However, Morrigan didn¡¯t move, the smile still plastered on her face. The comfort and reassurance of a real laugh encouraged her to stay just a moment longer. It was a novel experience after all. A true connection with another person, and the moment. A sense of ¡°rightness¡± and stability not built upon her usual pre-plans, numbers and calculations. Morrigan felt the weight of her body be gently accepted by the cool ground, like a gentle embrace. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She could wait here just a moment. They could still make it in time at the pace they were moving earlier. It¡¯d be close, no question about it. But, as long as they didn¡¯t get distracted by any more odd-ball spiders they would be fine. ¡°La Fey, you¡¯re feeling pretty good aren¡¯t you?¡± Carol asked. Morrigan stretched her tired back, feeling the knots grow across its length and beneath her shoulders from half-carrying Carol the majority of the way of the distance they traveled. She kept her eyes closed, a bit tighter as the sun must have ducked out from underneath clouds. ¡°Why do you presume that?¡± Morrigan asked, knowing that anyone would logic that a woman resting with her eyes closed in the middle of some mud-gravel pathway must be feeling pretty good. ¡°Well ¡­ I¡¯ve seen my share of mood-rings, but I¡¯ve never one shine as bright as your mood-necklace. Or one that flashed. You must be feeling better than I do after I¡¯ve had a Winston ¡­¡± she gave a conspiratorial chuckle ¡°the drink, my dear, not the man, in case you were wondering.¡± ¡°Mood-necklace? Flashing?¡± Morrigan asked, confused by the odd question, while tightening eyes shut against the sunlight overhead. Realization struck like a match when she realized that the light wasn¡¯t coming from above, nor should it given the sun¡¯s pathway. The light was coming from below, on her chest. And there was only thing that could glow on her chest, and it was no simple mood-charm. Chapter 6: And then the mood changed ... Dark eyes opened to darkening skies. The rich blue had drained away from the heavens above, leaving in its wake a pewter gray stratosphere. The clouds roamed about as if being ferried down stream, and the world above continue to darken to the edge of night. Moisture licked the air, carrying with it an electric buzz. Growing dread creeped through Morrigan''s body, like snakes in a pasture. Impulse told her to look down at her pendant. Her quick movement gave no time for her lenses to transition. Spots of white-gold filled her eyes, nearly blinded by the sight. ¡°Auah!¡± Morrigan said, closing her eyes. "What''s wrong?¡± Carol asked. "Get up! Get up!" Morrigan grumbled in the most direct tone she could muster. She struggled to her feet, eyes red with pain, her body trying to keep up with the sudden movement. Morrigan scolded herself for that rookie mistake. She knew better than to look down at her necklace like that. Even trained herself to give her glasses a few moments before they look down. She rubbed her eyes in circles, like a person waking up from a deep sleep, and careful not to knock off her glasses. She needed to get her eyesight back. And they need to get moving. Now. ¡°Are you up now, Carol?¡± Morrigan asked. ¡°Yes! I''m up, I''m up!¡± Carol said, sounding exasperated. ¡°What''s going on? What¡¯s wrong with you? We were having such a good chuckle and now you''re acting like a madwoman. It''s very unbecoming behavior for a young lady, I¡¯d tell you.¡± Morrigan noted Carol¡¯s chastisement, but ignored it for now. She was just glad that Carol sounded as if she were standing, and close. ¡°The pendant¡± ¡°Yes? It''s glowing like the headlights from our Range Rover. Blinds me all the time. Oh!¡± Carol said, suddenly understanding the obvious. ¡°You¡¯re blinded my dear!? I¡¯m so sorry! I hate when that happens. But if your mood-ring-necklace is that bright, you must really like my company.¡± ¡°No, Carol! That¡¯s not¡ª¡± Morrigan sighed, frustration and pain interfering with her usual clear-headed thinking. ¡°I mean, yes, it blinded me. But the pendant is not just a ¡®mood ring.¡¯ Can¡¯t you feel it?¡± Morrigan asked, blinking her eyes open, her head tilted to the sky. ¡°Feel what?¡± Carol asked? Before Morrigan spoke, she heard a faint buzzing off somewhere amongst the gnarled trees. ¡°The feeling, like before a rainstorm?¡± ¡°The husband can. Says his knees start feeling weird right before a thunder storm. He says he can always tell.¡± ¡°No! Well¡­¡± Morrigan sighed, trying to explain the sensation. ¡°Yes¡­ but no ¡®rain¡¯ is coming. It¡¯s the same kind of feeling when the hairs on your skin stand up, but there is no explainable reason for it. It¡¯s magic.¡± ¡°I tell you, whenever I get an invitation to one Gertrudes tea parties, the hairs on my whole body stand up ¡ª even on my eyebrows, and those are waxed off!¡± Carol said with a laugh. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Morrigan sighed, the sound mostly muffled the growing buzzing she heard. But the frustration at her inability to explain the concept to a woman who should clearly see the environmental changes going on around her, got the best of her attention. ¡°No Carol. Listen. What I¡¯m saying is that my pendant glows when there is significant use of magic in the vicinity. ¡± ¡°So it''s like a mood ring for magic?¡± Carol asked. Morrigan¡¯s eyes open completely. Spots still danced across her vision, but she could see more-or-less. But she didn¡¯t need clear vision to see that something was up. There was magic in the air, and Morrigan knew it. This time she looked down slowly, allowing her glasses to track. The greyscale above was a deep contrast to the bright pendant hanging from Morrigan''s necklace. ¡°Yes, a mood ring for magic,¡± Morrigan said, choosing to accept Carol''s layman terms for the magical item. Morrigan laid her eyes upon Carol, who stood right next to her. Carol had her hand behind Morrigan¡¯s, back, ready to catch her if she fell. She however, didn¡¯t touch Morrigan ¡ª like Carol knew that would bother her. Surprised by the gesture Morrigan almost smiled. But that expression flattened the moment she could see dark gray rolling in from the gnarled treescape like fog. It was a distance away, but there was no question that it was moving towards them. Morrigan uttered quiet profanities under her breath. ¡°What¡¯s wrong darling? You seem vexed?¡± ¡°Observe. Orient. Decide. Act on your hypothesis. Just like science,¡± Morrigan said, her mind racing through protocols, and her heartbeat quickening. She felt nausea as her eyes darted about. The blatant amount of magic in the air felt like a smothering, weighted blanket wrapped around her face, pressing down on her shoulders, and constricting her torso, while simultaneously leeching through her abdomen and rattling her insides. The discomfort made it hard for her to focus as she took in her surroundings; the lingering spots in her vision didn¡¯t help either. The world around them was at the cusp of night, lit by a jaundice-yellow sun. She scanned through the gnarled trees, and around her, looking for movement, threats, and options. Morrigan look to the left and right of them. The trees on either side of path, which were creepy during the day, took on a haunting image in the pale light. Many of them in this section were dead, with ash-grey scaled bark. Curving at awkward angles, they reminded her of colossal ribs sticking out of the earth. Dead vines clung to them, looking like dried veins. A rancid breeze blew through their brown clusters of leaves, making them look like decayed lungs that just inhaled. One cluster fell, and Morrigan swore she heard a wet plop sound. Then there was the buzzing. Did it come from the same location, or somewhere else? She wasn¡¯t sure. Morrigan struggled to see further out. The spots, while fewer, still danced across her eyes; the rancid wind caused them to water, blurring her vision; and the tinting from her large framed glasses was still in effect, protecting her from the glaring light of her charm, but at the same time, making it hard to see into shadows. But she didn¡¯t see anything, she thought, beyond the fog. The creeping fog was still a city-block¡¯s distance away. Beyond that, or inside of it, she couldn¡¯t tell. And a gut feeling told her that she didn¡¯t want to know either. Whipping her head around, she saw that the fog came in on all sides, except for the path leading to the Bog Hag¡¯s Hut. It appeared the sky, some distance off in that direction, was still blue. Morrigan began speaking to herself. ¡°Surrounded on three sides with no cover, no backup, and only one way out.¡± Morrigan sighed at the thought, knowing that she could be funneled directly into a trap. ¡°A choice is better than no choice. Decide and act.¡± ¡°La Fey?¡± Carol asked, leaving the question to hang in the air. The question reached Morgan¡¯s ears even though she didn¡¯t respond for an extra few seconds. Morrigan slipped a hand into Carol¡¯s, clasping it with the tenderness afforded to an older family member. She turned to face Carol, ensuring to make eye contact with the older woman. ¡°Carol, I¡¯ll get you out of this. Just listen to what I tell you. And don¡¯t let go unless I say so. Ok?¡± Morrigan said, putting effort to sound both reassuring but direct. ¡°Of course Morrigan, I ¡ª,¡± Carol¡¯s words drifted off, her eyes grew wide, and she let out a scream ¡ª a scream that barely rose above the buzzing that came their way. Chapter 7: The Swarm The buzzing noise was a unnerving. But the sight of one thousand black specks flying in a coordinated mass to her made Morrigan¡¯s mouth drop. The flashing of her crescent-shape pendant was enough to kickstart her senses. ¡°I can handle this!¡± Morrigan said. Her hand still holding Carol¡¯s, Morrigan stood between her and the rolling wave of insects. Morgan thrust her freehand out, centering it on the swirling mass. She concentrated all the heat she had into her outstretched hand, careful to not sitting towards Carol. Then she began to chant. ¡°Essence of man,¡± Morrigan winced, the shortened evocation, sending a surge of heat directly to the palm of her hand and spreading out to her fingers. The spike in heat was like grabbing an hot iron, and choosing to hold onto it for several seconds. ¡°Flame craft: flying embers!¡± Morrigan said, finishing the chant. A ring of fire formed in front of her outstretched hand. The loop was thick, and the flames kicked several inches high into the air. The heat on her hand cooled to a manageable degree, as the flames took shape. Three spheres the size of baseballs formed within the hoop. They swirled, at increasing speeds before cometing forward, and smashing into the swarm''s body. Flames immolated anything they touched, leaving nothing but open space where flies once were. Radiant heat cooked anything within a two foot radius, dropping signed bodies. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. The impact left several deep holes in the mass and the smell of baked flies. But that barely did anything to the rolling tidal wave of insects. They were still coming. And Carol was hollering in fear. Morrigan could feel the woman tugging, wanting to flee. Morrigan wanted to flee too. She also wanted to comfort Carol, to let her know that everything would be ok. But she had to focus. Wielding magic this way was dangerous. Not only could she accidentally burn Carol¡¯s hand or worse if she didn¡¯t direct her spells properly, but she could injure herself. Magic came with a price after all. Hers was that she too felt the heat. Not the same as those on the receiving end, but she could easily turn herself into a human candle, burning herself away like wax to the flames. Morrigan concentrated her breathing. She stepped forward, as if being tugged by a rope at her navel. Heat shot up from her belly, to her arms, and then to her hands. She focused the heat to her free hand, steadied her arm, and planted her feet. Bracing for what she needed to do next. She knew that you never turn your back on an attacking enemy; not until you made or found an opening for escape. Until then you stood your ground and fought. Fighting tooth and nail optimized the chances of finding a way to escape. ¡°Essence of man¡­¡± Morrigan¡¯s hand bucked as heat slammed back into her hand. ¡°Flame craft: flying embers. Essence of man: flame craft: flying embers!¡± Morrigan chanted loudly, repeating herself again and again, and again as the air in front of her glowed with hoops of fire. Each time her hand recoiled from the pain of the quick cast, and each time mini-fireballs blasted away into the swarm. Chapter 8: Reinforcements Six rings of fire floated in the air in neat grid pattern. Morrigan coordinated the strikes, unleashing a successive volleys of miniature fireballs. The bottom row would fire, and then the top, as Morrigan furiously replaced each ring that vanished after shooting. The blistering onslaught devastated the encroaching wave, rendering the pesky mass down to a few feet swarth of black specks. Morrigan¡¯s hand writhed in pain. The heat spread across her entire body in response; a bio-magical failsafe to diffuse the heat and save her appendage. But using her body as a heat sink was risky - because even that had its limits. The flecks of her shirt going up in ash was the tell-tale sign. Moses was the technological genius who designed the shirt such that it¡¯d provide cooling in case of a quick and excessive body heat rise. As its fibers overloaded with heat, it¡¯d smolder away, giving space for her skin to breathe, and warning her to change tactics. But she couldn¡¯t change tactics now. She was so close to destroying these creatures. Then something caught her eye. Movement, from the trees. What she thought at first was just shadow, lifted off the trees in a buzz. The brown leaves, she thought looked like a fallen organ, shifted and then buzz as another swarm of flies came out of it. ¡°Essence of man!¡± Morrigan yelped, feeling like she dipped her hand in boiling water. ¡°Flame craft: flying embers!¡± A fire-ring formed in front the new swarm. It shot through the center of the swarm, with one of the burning orbs landing in the pile of leaves and lighting it on fire. The sudden flame lighted the shadows on an adjacent tree. Instead of cracked bark, Morrigan saw the twinkle of thousands of tiny iridescent specks, like someone had blanketed the tree in black glitter. Then they took flight ¡­. Then the buzzing began. ¡°Oh my G-d!¡± Carol had scream what Morrigan felt. ¡°I can take care of it Carol,¡± Morrigan said with a huff, as her lungs took in hot air. Morrigan felt Carol release her grip and pull away. ¡°No-no-no-no, don¡¯t run away! Stop Carol!¡± Morrigan shouted. She couldn¡¯t keep up her volley, circulate her magic, and focus on stopping Carol at the same time. She could do two of those things, but not all three. Morrigan closed her fingers around Carol and dared a look her way. Carol looked frantic, her expression and demeanor that of a fox caught in a trap as a bear showed up. She yanked several times to get free. Morrigan had to let go lest she fall over too.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Carol, no! Listen to me!¡± But Carol was not listening. Hurt ankle and all she ran as best she could in heels. But in her panic she ran the wrong way. She ran in the direction they came, but there was nothing but fog as far as the eye could see half a city block away. ¡°Damn it Carol, no! Turn around!¡± Buzzing forced Morrigan to turn her attention away. She half expected to see the swarms about to overwhelm her. Instead, the remaining flies from the first wave were making a bee-line to Carol. The other two swarms hurtled Carol¡¯s way in a trajectory that would cut her off her escape. Morrigan could see the next set of moves; a talent developed through years of playing chess with Ripley. Carol would be chased, and with no other exit would have to flee through the trees and the undergrowth. If she made it past whatever flies were there, she would still be blocked by the wall of fog like the edge of a chessboard. Carol could try to run through it, but everything about it screamed danger. So, she¡¯d be left to run along the side of it, in rough, uneven terrain, on an injured ankle. She¡¯d never make it. Had Carol just listened to Morrigan, she wouldn¡¯t be in this position. The idea flared anger across Morrigan¡¯s sweaty brow. Why couldn¡¯t the woman listen? She told her not to run. She told her not to attack the spider, which seemed to trigger whatever ¡°this¡± was. And she told her they should had went back earlier. All of this so that she could preserve her beauty? Was that worth the price? A deep frown grew over Morrigan¡¯s face, as she crossed her arms, considering to leave the woman to her fate ¡ª whatever that might be. Morrigan detested fools, and Mrs. Carol Lancaster surely was one. Morrigan half-turned away, and nearly stumbled on the uneven ground, formerly unnoticed fatigue welling in her overheated body. As she righted herself, she felt a heat at her back. It wasn¡¯t magic, or any creatures. But it was the memory of the hand Carol had placed behind her earlier, when she thought Morrigan was going to fall. Morrigan had helped the stumbling woman so many times from falling. She never thought the woman would ever try to help anyone else. Yet there was that moment. An honest expression of concern. A lesson learned in care. Then the memory of their brief laugh, and all of Carol¡¯s unnecessary personal stories ¡ªcumbersome efforts to connect to another human being. And then there was the request¡­ A request for the one thing Carol could never buy: friendship. All of her wealth, all of her cars, trips, splurges, did little to fill the woman. What she needed could only be shared ¡ª a bond between two people. An intangible that could never be put away on a shelf, flaunted at events, or photographed. It was the feeling of mutual companionship in this thing called life. And Carol had asked Morrigan to be her friend ¡ª to share in the ridiculousness. The notion pulled at Morrigan¡¯s heart. Though Morrigan ran ¡°hot,¡± most people thought she was coldhearted, that couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. Just like Carol¡¯s belief that all she wanted, needed, was to remain beautiful. Morrigan sighed, turning in the woman¡¯s direction, as the swarms completed their trap. Her feet moved before her mind told them to, acting on emotion, instinct, and years of training.