《Handbasket》


 Fear in a

    The sun had gone down, bright rays replaced with an invasive chill that sunk down to the bone, a lovely country-side plunged into darkness. For a few hours, animals bedded down for the night within their chosen dens¡¯ and hobbles, those that didn¡¯t, would reign supreme until the sun peeked over the horizon to kiss a dark world all over again. A small logging village situated on the outer reaches of a forest, small and quaint, windows closing, candles blown out and doors being locked. The inhabitants, a group of slowly growing settlers, miles upon miles away from anything one would call civilization, were all taking drastic precautions that only grew more severe night after night.


    It started small, a missing person or two every other month, nothing too out of the ordinary, it was an untamed wilderness, and accidents were bound to happen. People started going missing more often, then loud guttural wolf howls could be heard in the dead of night. Those that lived on the outer perimeter reported seeing a large shadow moving between the foliage. Talk of a pair of bright yellow eyes creating a ghostly trail in as it moved about. Stalking. Watching. Something was out there. Lights began to go out by themselves, candles being snuffed out as if by magic, rush-lights refusing to stay lit, lanterns somehow no longer working past a certain hour. Worst of all, fireplaces started burning with a fire that radiated a deep purple, almost pitch black as if wood cut from the forest were somehow sick with plague. Since then the town¡¯s leader started enforcing a strict curfew, as well as baring doors and windows past a certain time.


    Streets were abandoned, and work left unfinished. Those who still yet lived on the outer edge of town were advised to bunk with others closer to the center. One such abode, the home of Edward Griffith, tall fit man with a build suited to a hard life of logging opened his door and home to recent widow Rosanna Whitelock. During the day she would return to her home and take care of her daily duties, but at night, since her husband was claimed by the forest she¡¯d been having to travel deeper into town to stay with Mr.Griffith, a widower whose wife vanished in a similar fashion.


    Whatever was out there, it seemed to target couples first, but only one, never both. Made apparent by Mrs.Whitelock, who saw her husband dragged away. By her own account, the shadows themselves snatched him; something that caused the inky blackness to wrap around his legs and dragged her husband kicking and screaming into the forest. It let her go. She ran to town square telling others what she saw, spreading fear and anxiety. Plunged herself into despair for having to watch the man she¡¯d married for years be dragged away, invalidating twenty happy committed years together in an action that took mere moments.


    Mr.Griffith sat at his dinner table, powerful hands clasped together with his fingers interlaced, face illuminated by lantern a light so dim it only illuminated half of his strong features. A square chin partly covered by a short trimmed beard below a roman pointed nose that looked to have been broken and reset incorrectly. Turning his head he took stock, one hatchet, one loaded rifle, both within an arm¡¯s reach.


    Footsteps. Bare feet padded across a hard wooden floor. Mr.Griffith turned around, roused from his thoughts, only to find his new house guest, Mrs.Whitelock, clad in her short clothes and holding a small mug of warm milk and honey, setting it down in front of him. Taking her own seat, the candlelight illuminated the smooth canvas of her face, ashen skin and auburn hair that sloped to each side framing her, decorated with a worried frown and soft silver eyes, painted a portrait that more resembled a ghost than a real person.


    ¡°You should get some more sleep Mrs.Whitelock,¡± he said, his voice sounding like stones being dragged across gravel.


    ¡°I could say the same of you Mr.Griffith, and we both kno the reason we can¡¯t sleep,¡± She retorted back, scooting closer letting her hands slide over his clasped ones, like a velvet sheet thrown over hard stones.


    ¡°Aye, night after night and it still doesn¡¯t get any easier,¡± He explained with a sigh hanging his head


    Mrs. Whitelock had been staying within his home for the better part of three months, it was awkward at first, both having lost their respective partners. Now all but shoved into each other, being a shoulder for one another helped immensely, for both of them to work through their trauma. There had been more than a few nights where Mr.Griffith was forced to wake Mrs.Whitelock from a nightmare that gripped her, and likewise she took it upon herself to drag the man from his self-destructive brooding thoughts.


    ¡°We¡­we can¡¯t keep doin¡¯ this to ourselves,¡± she reasoned


    ¡°It ain''t that easy. To suddenly have to start going at it alone, without any warning, without anythin¡¯, they''re just gone,¡± Mr.Griffith¡¯s hands were starting to tremble ¡°Look at me, shaken like a wee babe, these hands have broken stone and wood, I¡¯m supposed to be strong, but these hands couldn¡¯t hold onto something as precious as my wife,¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t kno¡¯ what the right thing to do is, I wish I had the answer but I don¡¯t, but I do know, it''s time we let the dead rest and maybe¡­ it doesn¡¯t have to be alone,¡±


    ¡°Mrs.Whitelock I -¡±


    ¡°Call me Rosanna or Rose¡± in that moment her silver eyes sparkled like diamonds in a coal mine


    The warmth created in the room both by candle light and action only lasted for the span of a breath, before a very distinct, an all too familiar sound could be heard outside. A wolf howl.


    ¡°It¡¯s movin¡¯,¡± Edward said reaching for his hatched and musket


    ¡°It sounds far away may-¡± Rosanna started but was cut off at the sound of loud creaking floorboards upstairs, causing her to gasp and shrivel up ¡°It¡­it..its in the h-house¡±.


    Determined to not be frighted out of his own home, Edward stood up, rifle lifted, slowly creeping forward. Taking aim up the stairs when the lantern light blew out, casting both in darkness. For a few peaceful moments, all was still, he¡¯d even stopped breathing, it felt like the whole world came to a halt.


    ¡°Rose, relight the lantern, shine it as bright as it¡¯ll go¡± Edward called back, retreating to where he knew she and the table were.


    Two paces turned into five, then ten before he bumped into something solid, too soon for it to have been his table.


    ¡°Nyctophobia?¡± a voice said, it sounded slightly like Rosanna, but different, deeper, more guttural ¡°Or Xenophobia¡± it said again now Rosanna¡¯s voice was completely replaced by whatever it was, a deep growl that pierced through Edward¡¯s very being. It awoke something primal in him, a deep dread that touched his soul.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    No time to think. Acting on impulse his body turned and fired. Too slow! The firearm flew from his grasp knocked free by a hand. No. A claw. The round sang through the air, embedding itself within his cabin¡¯s wooden walls. Whatever stole away into this home was strong, and persistent. Claws snatched him up from the floor, several feet, almost to the first floor ceiling. There he saw it. A pair of bright yellow eyes, shining in pitch darkness, they embodied every waking nightmare that plagued him.


    ¡°So which is it?¡± the creature inquired ¡°Fear of the dark or fear of the unknown, or maybe the fear of being alone,¡± it growled ¡°Not enough, never enough, need more, pan-de-monium, spice the buffet¡±


    Fear could be a powerful motivator to run, but sometimes it just freezes your body. Before his brain could process it all, he was thrown aside, body smashing into the wall with such force both broke on contact. Nothing more than shattered remains flew through wood, and tumbled out onto the street. Roused by an earlier gun shot, and subsequent crash, the village residents came pouring out of their homes, only to find a man too broken to identify sprawled out across a cobblestone road. Maybe he was still alive somehow! Some ran to assist, those were the ones who got a good look at it. Under a full moons light it was illuminated. A pair of yellow eyes walked out and revealed itself.


    Standing there, on digitigrade legs, twice as big as any man, a monster covered in inky black fur that oozed off in droplets to then spill across paved stone as it drew closer. An elongated face formed a vicious snout that made such a guttural sound it felt like the heavens above would tremble, at the violence it promised. Not quite from legend, for they were known, alpha killers who gave up their humanity for power and ferocity. A werewolf.


    ¡°Meat is food, Fear is spice, I will eat you all tonight!¡± it howled, a bellow that made the citizen¡¯s stomachs drop.


    Fear gripped them, they couldn¡¯t move, even trembling was somehow made an impossible task. Werewolves were known creatures of the world, but so uncommon that they were made as stories to scare small children. Meeting the real thing put every piece of fiction to shame, maybe it was its sheer size, the strange mix of familiarity while at the same time being completely alien, an unholy mixture between man and beast. What set this monster apart from fictional preconceived ideas of what a werewolf should be, was the way darkness itself clung to its fur, dripped off like liquid and swirled about to join larger shadows, curling up at its feet and reaching out like tendrils. A full moon¡¯s light meant more shadows cast, more to command to subjugate. Shadows reached out for something, anything to grab. Magic.


    Debating on if this was indeed a werewolf or something more was made into a mute point, the here and now demanded attention. It stalked out into their streets, slowly, deliberately, there was no need to rush. After-all, the residence couldn¡¯t move, pinned in place by their own shadows, each one interconnected to another, binding them together. It reached out with those impossibly long arms and grabbed a young woman. In that moment. Everything started to move again, but only for that single subdued woman who let out a scream of pure terror cutting through the silent night. A scream that carried with it terror, hopelessness, trauma and fear. Every emotion she felt reflected in her fellow towns folk. When her scream reached its crescendo, she was eaten, a gaping maw wrapped around her upper torso and bit completely through. Her agony. Her pain. Her fear. All devoured, torso noisy pulled from her waist, blood and guts that couldn¡¯t be taken splattered with wet thunks as it rained down.


    It made a show out of eating, powerful jaws working across each bone, crushing them slowly, methodically, making deliberately sure it could pull as much noise as possible with each bite. All while maintaining eye contact with the residence. Next went her waist. Crunch. Pop. Crack. and still they could not move, could not speak. Shadows coiling up their bodies like fiendish snakes constricting the very breath from their lungs. Kneeling on the ground like wheat waiting to be harvested at leisure. The beast¡¯s banquet began. One villager after another, each chosen to be given a gift of sound and movement just long enough for that person to kick, scream, or beg. All roads ended the same. Such actions only served to draw out a more pleasured look across its snout, a sickening, sinister sight to behold. Somehow, it seemed to know who was married, had kids, who was recently single due to its actions, or those alone from the beginning. Taking deep satisfaction in plucking family members apart, starting with children, then partners, but only one at a time and never too quick, it preferred to slowly eat.


    Eventually, a collective sense of inevitability settled, as one and all waited their turns to be consumed. After-all what could they do in this situation? Being effectively bound and gagged on their own shadows. They stopped screaming eventually. Sobbing or expressing last their goodbyes, crushed by despair. Resigned to a fate most cruel and its feast quickened; that was one silver lining. Reaching out, it plucked a young boy right upon the cusp of maturity, high above the monster¡¯s head where it opened those impossibly wide gaping jaws.


    Just like those who came before him, a promise of death, sure to be answered. Without warning it jerked forward, unintentionally tossing the boy away. Whatever happened caused it to double over in pain, something lodged itself deep in that powerful back of fur and muscle. It shown in moonlight; a large hatchet not only pierced its hide but managed to embed its cutting edge completely inside. A loud hiss escaped its wound, and began releasing a cloud of smoke, no blood spilled, only that cloud of hot steam that smelled of burning fur. As if by will of its own the hatchet twisted itself, prying apart flesh and fur; without warning, it yanked itself free, with so much force the werewolf went from being doubled over to standing up completely straight. Now howling in pure agony, an exposed gash left across its back began to sizzle and bleed. The offending hatchet, shinning like a small star, flying down a street until a hand reached out, snatching its handle, and taking ownership.


    A figure loomed on a street leading to the village entrance, and silently stalked forward. Another hatchet appeared in its other hand in a small flash of light as if by magic. A body shrouded in a red cloak that shone so bright under moonlight, it looked to be reefed in flowing fire instead of mere cloth. A hood pulled up and over their head that would bath it in shadows, were it not for crimson hair that spilled out from each side to frame her face.


    Whirling around, the werewolf¡¯s eyes widened before growling a warning that turned into a snarl, lips pulled back to show gums and hackles erected. Making itself look bigger, more intimidating, a threat display, seeing that red hood triggered something deep within, much like the citizens a mortal response to anything life threatening. Fight or flight.


    Shadows began to coalesce, before the darkness was a creeping thing, like insects trying to move slow to avoid being noticed, but now, they stirred violently. Forming into writhing angry tendrils before extending forward, picking themselves off the ground turning into solid constructs. They twisted themselves into knots until a hand made of darkness appeared, long unnatural fingers of the void attempted to curl around the hooded woman, but only grabbed air. One moment she was there, gone the next, having leapt with such strength the figure appeared to have disappeared. Two hatchets were thrown, a high pitched whistle of wind being cut as they screamed towards their intended target, light reflecting from each blade made them look more like disks. Being more wary of being struck again it willed its creations to swirl around and form a shield. The expected impact never came; instead each hatchet reversed direction inches before their blades could find purchase, spinning back to her waiting hands.


    No motion wasted. No time for hesitation. Landing on top of a nearby building she started sprinting across each rooftop at a blistering pace, jumping from one building to the next. More shadows came in an attempt to intercept her while unarmed. Whether by planned confidence or just luck, both hatchets not only returned to their master, severing each tendril to do so, causing a sympathetic within the werewolf. Putting more pressure on the werewolf she released both axes again, one high, one low. Shooting up to another building narrowly dodging more tendrils, demolishing a home in an attempt to strike from below. Having witnessed what those blades could do the man-beast opted to dodge rather than form another shield. Creating much needed space between itself and the residence to where she would land right between them.


    A woman with a milky skinned-complexion, completed with freckles splattering each cheek that extended up to connect upon the bridge of her button nose. Eyes so light in their blueish hew one could mistake them for being clear. Most noticeable of all, a scowl that seemed more like it naturally belong there rather than being brought upon by emotion. In fact, to anyone looking up at her one emotion was clear; disinterest, detached, like she wasn¡¯t in a life or death struggle against a cursed abomination. One breath of peace before bedlam re-erupted. Shadows worked like machines creating shields to block a blow that more often than not turned into a feint, the werewolf howled in pain each time it was struck or a construct met its end.


    They went back and forth throughout town. If they could more accurately follow the fight, they would see her expression never changed. She lead, it followed, turning a deadly duel into a dance of blood and silver. Left. Duck. Right. Leap. She dodged every attack a grace that could rival any dancer, and made her partner look like a trained circus monkey. Every telegraphed attack punished with a silver blade, lycan blood splattered across wood and stone pressuring it across the very streets it terrorized. Somewhere in a haze of her own arrogance she¡¯d found herself unarmed again. Intending to put an end to this, and make a show of it, shadows in the immediate area sprang up, wrapping around the monster¡¯s claw, refining it, making it bigger, sharper, all this and she did not move, just stood there looking up as it descended upon her. Shaking her head, taking one step back and opened her hands, a light flashed across her palms, just like before they would come soaring back, now what was in their way was a solid mix of fur, skin, muscle tissue and bone.


    Both weapons spun even while swimming in viscera and healthy muscles. Inch after inch they worked deeper, sawing apart bones and organs alike, until eventually bursting from its chest to be reunited with their owner. She shook her head again and sighed, turning back towards the entrapped townspeople who were only just now being freed. She walked forward, heart shaped lips pulled down in a frown, rather it would be more accurate to say her face was permanently stuck in that shape.


    ¡°Right¡­ I need to speak to whomever is in charge here, mayor, leader, chief, goddamn foreman, I don''t care,¡± The woman in red called out brows pushed down.

 Omen in a...

    The nights terror had passed, for most. However, it continued to drag on as if the heavens above were determined to put a bow on all transpired events. It took a few hours for the huntress to get everything she wanted, mostly tools for an examination. A freshly killed, now beheaded werewolf lay strewn across a massive oak table with said huntress working to skin its thick black fur free of blood leaking flesh. Taking what was now a blanket of fur, cutting it into long strips, and placing them long ways near the body. One by one, each strip was tested for a reaction. One curious thing she noted, was that after freeing the beast of its mortal coil, its fur went back to acting like very thick and armor-like fure one would typically see on a werewolf. Four hours ago, its pelt would shift into a free-flowing ink-like substance, dripping and swirling about before forming right back into its natural state. The most plausible excuse for this phenomenon is that magic caused it to change, and when not in use, revert back.


    "So it''s transmutation in the moment instead of being a part of its body," she mumbled, writing her thoughts down on paper. "Can rule out cursed flesh experimentation, definitely magic¡­which should be impossible."


    The creaking sound of a door being opened caused her to derail from that train of thought; looking up caused her unwelcoming frown to deepen. A man strode in, only stopping at the opposite end of her workspace. He carried with him a select few tools; a bone saw, a chisel designed for breaking through a skull, and a pair of cutters specifically created to crack through a rib cage, all procured from the town''s physician, who thankfully was still alive.


    "We got everything you asked for, miss-" he started.


    "Call me Red, only Red, and I also asked for the doctor to come, not just his tools," she interrupted before subjecting this man to her full scrutiny.


    This was not the actual town doctor, but Mayor Wood, or rather, that''s what Red remembered his name to be. The latter was only necessary because she needed town hall for a big enough table to work on, while the former was tangentially required as an extra set of hands and a secondary opinion on medical knowledge.


    "I''m sorry, miss uhm Red, he declined and sent me with his tools¡± He began before stammering out ¡°Please understand we''ve all gone through a very traumatic event, and everyone is a bit shaken; we sent word to the nexus order months ago," he tried to explain in the process of doing so betrayed a bit of irritation, possibly at Red, who showed up in the final hour. Fine by her as she could match his irritation with her own annoyance.


    "That''s what happens when you decide to settle on a back-wood island over two thousand miles away from the nearest piece of civilization! The only person who knows you''re here is a ferryman operating so far outside legal trade routes, I had to twist his arm just to get a straight answer. You''re lucky this werewolf was so comfortable and sloppy that it didn''t bother covering up its tracks!" she hissed, pointing to a now fur-less carcass, causing the mayor to flinch back and look around more from what she said than the body ¡°Don''t worry its well and truly after breakfast, and that¡¯s my first time mentioning it anyway.¡±


    So saying, mayor Wood cleared his throat "We founded this town under the banner of our independence from outside interference."


    Red stared at him. An icy dismissive look that felt more like she¡¯d been visually degrading him "That''s cute, considering you needed outside help to deal with the issue. Well, anyway, if the doctor refuses to come, you''ll just have to do."


    After quickly inspecting every tool, Red got to work cutting open a now-beheaded monster. The smell of iron and rot permeated town hall; whether by good fortune or planning, it was indeed big enough to contain it. Dissection of a werewolf was a process that promised to be slow and a test of persistence and patience. Lycan physiology guaranteed regeneration on flesh and fur even after death. Trying to slice away large chucks before they could right itself made a truly daunting task, one she would not participate in were it not for extenuating circumstance.


    They, or rather, Red, worked well into the night, parting skin from the corpse, cutting it into strips just like the fur, then tested in similar ways. Results were inconclusive or fit in line with what Red already knew. The silence between them dragged on for hours, well past what one would consider awkward. Red didn¡¯t seem to mind working in an absence of sound, but having spent the past few months huddled in silence for fear of death, Mayor Wood''s brain raced to find something, anything to break the tension.


    ¡°Sooo, I heard werewolves are supposed to change back to human after being slain,¡± he started after finally pulling his gaze away from the lifeless eyes of a severed head.


    ¡°Normally, yes, it is the curse of Lycanism, but this is a natural-born werewolf. He wasn¡¯t a human before, likely fourth or fifth generation. Conceived between two preexisting werewolves.¡± Her tone was very matter-of-fact, bathed in irritation, and she did not sound like she wanted to answer, but she did, which opened the door for more questions, easing the silence momentarily.


    ¡°So if all this is normal, why is there a need for an autopsy?¡± He continued to press, giving her a hand with peeling the stomach away from its home.


    Red¡¯s cold blue eyes rolled sighing out ¡°Do you know the differences between witches, wizards, and mages?¡±


    Mayor Woods thought on that question while Red began breaking and removing the rib cage to get at the other organs and better view its body as a whole. He knew there were distinct differences between them, made evident by the fact that finding a mage was exponentially more straightforward than finding a witch or wizard. A school for mages on the easternmost continent to further expand on this fact.


    Having no clear answer he chose to give an educated guess ¡°I don¡¯t know the specifics, but I¡¯d say mages must be taught magic, and the others are just born with the gifted aptitude.¡±


    Red stopped what she was doing and looked up at Mayor Wood as if she were seeing him for the first time. Their interactions were previously behind a veil of indifference, but he suddenly became more interesting. Standing slightly more than a foot taller than Red herself, with ashen skin that might have been a peach color in his youth, she had to appraise him again. Not only did he take time to figure out her question, but he¡¯d also offered a well-rounded hypothesis and admitted his own ignorance on the subject. Most would have spat some nonsense or admitted they didn¡¯t know without giving it any thought.


    ¡°Hm, well, you¡¯re mostly right, Mages have to be taught to harness natural, free magic around them, but witches and wizards are born with an organ that gives them internal magic; thus, they don¡¯t have to be taught, there are other differences, but for now those are what¡¯s important,¡± She explained and began to crack the first rib.


    ¡°So you¡¯re trying to figure out if this monster was taught or born with the gift, because if it was taught, he has a master?¡± He spoke louder as to avoid being overridden by the sound of another rib being snapped.


    One brow raised as she turned and looked towards him again, this time with a smile, if one could call it that. It looked strange, macabre, out of place even, as if the corners of her lips were never meant to be pulled upward, bringing a disturbing visage to an otherwise attractive face. His hairs stood up as goosebumps ran rampant like a wild animal over his skin. That smile looked like it could scare small children. Another rib cracked free.


    Once her face returned to normal, that being a slight frown, she walked to a portion of the table free of pooling blood and gore. Outstretching her left arm, palm down, a faint iridescent glow shown on her upper shoulder, then her palm; Wood recognized that glow from the werewolf fight. During said fight, it signaled for her hatchets to return; only now, thinking about it, they weren¡¯t anywhere to be seen. What was there to be seen was a backpack, shaking of its own accord. Concerning, but it belonged to the huntress, so he watched without a word. Another thing he took note of was that now, blessed with sudden illumination, he got a better look at her, rather a better look at what she wore under that red hood and cloak. A leather tunic sitting over a permissibly black cotton shirt with lace sleeves running to her fingertips.


    Lights dimmed, and a book, rather a massive tome appeared; it would have landed in her palm, but because of the orientation of her palm, gravity took hold, pulling it down to the wooden table with a heavy thump. A bright red book embossed with an emblem depicting a howling wolf being engulfed by fire. Mayor Wood stared in wonder; its sheer size made it appear more like someones magnum opus than any regular piece of literature. It boggled his mind to imagine what secrets a book like this must hold for it to not only be this big, but so pristine in its appearance.


    ¡°As you probably know, magical aptitude for all mortal races ranges drastically, so much so most don¡¯t bother attempting,¡± Red explained, flipping from one pact to another, delicate finger tips skating across old pages.


    The book completely dwarfed her hand even before she¡¯d pried it open, but thankfully, there was no apparent need to flip far. A massive section dedicated to none other than werewolves appeared on several pages in. It looked to cover all manner of topics, from local habitats, teeth, and social structures down to preferred ways to kill or experiment on, as well as the findings for said experiments likely to avoid redundancy. Whoever documented these findings had to be absolutely obsessed with eradicating werewolves. Whole pages written fanatically to nothing more than sadistic ways to torture them. From abusing their shared regeneration for ¡®interrogation purposes¡¯ to creating a calling horn made from their throats to track more.


    ¡°This is-¡± He began with a slight quiver


    ¡°Sick? Trust me I know, but crazy or not you¡¯ll want for nothing as far as information is concerned¡± She ran her finger across each section, skipping over whole chapters of text.


    Red pointed at a passage that contained a snippet about werewolf physiology and origins; this section, in particular, talked about their skin and fur, calling it cursed. Taking into account how unhinged the author seemed to be, this term ¡®cursed flesh¡¯ could just as readily be a slur, rather than a medical term to describe a condition.


    ¡°Is this whole book about werewolves,¡± he asked with a tremble.


    Anyone who took this much pleasure in the murder of another wasn¡¯t all there. He was glad this specific werewolf was dead, but that didn¡¯t mean all of them were as irredeemable. This person went so far as too document different cries between adults and children when put under intense pain.


    ¡°No, not even close, but lycanthropes are what we¡¯re looking for, and here¡¯s the information I needed,¡± Red explained, running a finger across a passage and read aloud ¡°Lycanism, was and still is a disease that began as a curse, those with cursed flesh no matter what generation share the same strengths and weaknesses, one of these weaknesses being abandoned by the first miracle; a worldly phenomenon that allows mortals to harness magic.¡±


    ¡°But thats-¡±


    ¡°Impossible?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s impossible, then how? Maybe a wish,¡±


    Red shook her head slightly and tapped a nail on a second passage ¡°Another symptom of cursed flesh, you can¡¯t cure or wish it away, according to my testing this is by all accounts a normal werewolf, so if it isn¡¯t a rare mutation how was it able to acquire and use magic, not just magic mind you, shadow manipulation is something you need a very particular mindset to use,¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this a creature of the forest, maybe it¡¯s been blessed¡± At this point Mayor Woods was speculating things that just sounded like they made sense, granted if this weren¡¯t a werewolf he might have been onto something.


    Shaking her head again Red cut that thread of thought of before it spun a yarn ¡°Half. Lycans are hated by both humanity and their wolf counterparts in equal measures. Likely hood anything on either side took time to bless one is low.¡±


    Audibly Mayor Woods ground his teeth together. His entire town just came across an anomaly among anomalies and lived through what most would consider a historic event ¡°You would think the shamans would have taken care of this before it became a problem then,¡±


    Red¡¯s train of thought halted for the second time that night, this time out of incredulity. A forest guardian being present more than tripled her questions about this situation as a whole. A headache was in her near future. ¡°These woods are ruled by a spirit?¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Guardians and shamans hated most of mortal kind especially humans and tended to avoid them wherever possible. The thought of one way out here in the boonies wasn¡¯t completely far-fetched, but felt unlikely given how little territory their would be to claim. Maybe a new spirit trying to establish a foot hold?


    A large powerful hand raked through graying hair as the Mayor tried to recall ¡°So long ago, I nearly forgot. We only spoke to them once when we first settled, and we were approached by the Mala twins. They demanded we replant what we cut down and not expand beyond a certain point. Naturally, not wanting to call down a god¡¯s wrath, we obliged,¡±


    At that piece of information, Red produced a map from thin air and unrolled it to skim up and down, trying to find their approximate location. Sure enough, this sorry piece of land was technically a part of Daemon Lupus territory; while tangentially, it was owned regardless. Wolves would never give up what¡¯s theirs without heavy restrictions, and they definitely wouldn¡¯t allow werewolves to come sniffing around. Given the nature of guardians, a werewolf wouldn¡¯t have been able to rest for a night, let alone terrorize some village for months.


    ¡°Well, that settles what I have to do next,¡± Red concluded.


    Waving her map away into non-existence, then summoning another book, albeit much smaller than the first, with a writing utensil firmly down its round binding coils. After scribbling something in its confines, she dismissed it just like her map then both books until nothing was left except her backpack now being slung around and worn. Every action to summon or dismiss something was heralded by a different glow across her left arm, palm remaining a constant. With that finished, she began packing up what wasn¡¯t hers, including borrowed tools and cleaning up the butcher¡¯s mess that was her test subject. A clinical, detached demeanor settled across her face, handling each organ to shove back into place, then stitching it up, looking down over it as if it were just part of daily chores.


    Mayor wood attempted to help, by putting organs, cut apart tissue and hacked off fur back together like some sort of twisted puzzle ¡°How are you planning on contacting them, we only spoke once and it was only after we¡¯d started cutting down trees?¡±


    Red packed everything back into the body and started sewing it closed, nothing fit back properly, such a bulbous mockery of what once was a living thing ¡°I have an idea. Does anyone in this town have a cart to spare? I¡¯d ask to borrow it but you¡¯re more than likely never getting it back, and something to pull it,¡±


    Getting a wagon was surprisingly easy, getting something to pull that wagon, less so. As it turned out most livestock and their work animals were eaten, leaving a lone mule as her only candidate. Deciding beggars can¡¯t be choosers, she led her new mule into the woods, rays of sunshine breaking over the treeline, ushering a new day and an end to suffering. Before she could leave town, villagers gathered around its exit gate to see her off, mostly to exclaim their thanks for saving them. Mayor Woods watched her wave back more as a matter of appearing nice than actually meaning to. She surprised him when she¡¯d stopped for a group of children to produce candy for them; interestingly enough, these pieces of candy were the only things she¡¯d pulled physically from her pockets.


    Once Red managed to successfully break free, eventually pushing forward deep into the forest proper, exasperation started to bear its ugly head. For one, there was no trail anywhere, most likely due to whatever pact Mayor Woods made with the Mala twins concerning the inevitable expansion of a village. Guardians and shamans alike hate the ¡®civilized¡¯ world and don¡¯t typically trust mortals, even though shamans are mortals themselves.


    Knowing this wasn¡¯t just some random patch of greenery made every move sound so much louder. Every leaf stepped on sounded like squeaking floorboards loudly announcing an intruder breaking into an unsuspecting home. The wagon wheels having to bump and climb across every upturned root sounding like explosions, sending Red¡¯s survival instincts flaring. Usually, she wouldn¡¯t be so on edge, protected or not. Red knew her way around woods and could navigate them without rousing attention from its protector, but she wanted their attention; in fact, every sound would help do precisely that. In this situation, the only thing guaranteed a modicum of protection was the damned mule; being an animal forced to carry a human¡¯s burden would garner sympathy points. Unfortunately for the mule, being in a predator¡¯s territory meant sympathy points were meaningless to an empty stomach or urge for a snack.


    ¡°It just HAD to be me to deal with this nonsense didn¡¯t it, couldn¡¯t have been Hansel, or that know-it-all and her hairy pet¡± Red mumbled, cursing her misfortune ¡°Every. Single. Time theirs a problem with a werewolf, it¡¯s always, send Red Riding Hood they always know how to deal with them; YEAH WE DO, its called CHOPPING their damned heads off! Oh, but it couldn¡¯t be as simple as that. Today, this one just has to know magic because WHY NOT, like I¡¯ve got nothing better going on, now I have to figure out why,¡±


    Pulling a piece of chocolate out from her pockets she sat it on her tongue and let the rich, intense, and slightly bitter taste cool her foul mood. Left pocket sweets, right pocket waste. Rolling the confection from one corner to another, it melted all over, filling her mouth with such sweet satisfaction.


    Red stopped the mule in a clearing and decided she¡¯d gotten a reasonable distance that wouldn¡¯t harm the village if something unexpected happened. Patting the animal for a job well done, the huntswoman walked to her cart to yank its tarp away, revealing the beheaded carcass, detached tattered fur sandwiching its body like a gory blanket. After unhooking her service animal, allowing it to roam where it may, she surveyed the area, a lovely clearing complete with a small stream that ran across it, likely an offshoot from the surrounding ocean. So tranquil. Peaceful. Dead quiet.


    ¡°No wonder I didn¡¯t realize this was a protected forest. It¡¯s dead, no tracks, no dens, no animals; I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve even seen an insect crawling,¡± Red remarked, thinking back to her walk here.


    At first, she¡¯d just attributed it to over-hunting by settlers, which wasn¡¯t uncommon. No werewolf could devour everything, no matter how famished. Knowing this place exists as territory for a daemon, somethings gone wrong or had been going wrong for a long time now.


    ¡°No point in wasting time, I suppose,¡± she sighed and began to prepare for what was assuredly going to be a trying situation.


    Breaking down the cart¡¯s wheels was a task in and of itself, even before having to surround it with rocks. From there, it was a simple matter of starting a fire using the fur and cursed flesh as kindling. Fire being just as much a purifying agent as silver, flames naturally gravitate to it and latch on without needing to be stoked or coaxed. Within seconds, a good, proper bonfire built up high, burning a sickly blight that brought a detestable bubbling to one¡¯s stomach, a side effect of cursed flesh. A smell most odious erupted within an instant, but that was the plan. Creating a signal fire of taint would surely draw the ire of a garden or shaman.


    Her hand went spelunking once again into her left pocket to produce a large sucker wrapped in paper. Flammable waste tossed to feed the fire along with all other wrappers that once contained sugary treats, accumulated over the past few days. Humming happily on a strawberry-flavored creation, a little bit of chocolate from earlier lingered half-melted, giving it another dimension of flavor, further lifting her spirits. Unfortunately, she didn¡¯t have much time to savor her sugary wonder before a strong gust of wind ripped through the trees; it whistled and howled like a pack of angry wolves so strong even her sizable pyre blew out. Several minutes of gale winds caused an uproar before, all was still, sending the woods back into an unnatural silence. Two glowing silhouettes stood hand in hand across the clearing.


    ¡°Hm, well now, they really are guardians now.¡±


    The twins shone in a magnificent holy brilliance, an obnoxious party trick anyone visiting was forced to witness, a guardian letting you know they were in charge. From what Red could recall, both were adopted by the Daemon Lupus tribe or Wolf Gods in plain English. It wasn¡¯t just some fancy name; all daemons were gods in some capacity, ascended nature spirits that held dominion over a majority of forests, mountains, and seas. When she¡¯d first met them, the twins sported a similar build of lean musculature, jet black hair, and skin that reminded her of decedent melted dark chocolate. Guardians and shamans shared a similarity of being painted with red markings to depict loyalty to a chosen daemon. Now ghostly white hair flowed around as if to halo their faces, red markings painted on as lipstick, eyeliner, and blush gently moving about as if alive up and down through stark white locks.


    ¡°Annah Mala, Kennah Mala, good to see you again, congratulations on the promotion from Shaman to Guardian, how was the whole¡­dying process¡± Red began. Since she actually knew them in life, it might do to try honey rather than vinegar; even going so far as to pull down the red hood.


    ¡°Why did you bring this trash into my domain¡± a combined voice rumbled, conjuring wind to whip in all directions


    So much for honey over vinegar. Red clicked her tongue pulling out the sucker she¡¯d been nursing and pointed it back towards a now smoldering wreck that had once been a cart. ¡°Right, to business then. That was a werewolf that terrorized a village you permitted to settle here¡±


    ¡°What business is that to we,¡± They barked in unison.


    ¡°You two let them settle here under the condition they wouldn¡¯t expand. Contracts and terms no matter if verbal, made between mortal and shaman / guardian, extends to protection as long as mortals in question haven¡¯t broken a prior agreement. That¡¯s natural law set forth by all Daemons as well as enforced by Nexus which extends to me.¡± Red countered smacking an open palm with her other hand in a chopping motion several times to accentuate her point.


    ¡°And what does a Red know of natural law, your kith and kin are forbidden from setting foot in ANY wolf sanctuary, or are you not aware!¡± Hearing voice speak in unison was both annoying and disturbing on a fundamental level.


    Returning her candy to her mouth she nursed from it more as a means of cooling off. They were starting to make her blood boil. An obvious deflection to avoid her accusation and questioning, obvious or not, it still burned. ¡°Look, this is a current issue happening right now, not some grudge from before any of us were born¡± Red hissed back her teeth grinding over her sucker.


    ¡°The first Red¡¯s crimes can never be forgiven!¡±


    Her anger starting boiling over, she¡¯d need much more candy and sweets later ¡°And I¡¯m the hundredth. Its been well over a millennium. Don¡¯t use that as an excuse to dodge the issue at hand, why did you allow tainted flesh to not only wander your so-called domain, but also haunt a town YOU gave protection to,¡±


    The twins simply shrugged ¡°No such protection was promised, the terms were: they get to keep their lives, if they keep to their boundaries. It is no consequence to us if they died due to their own misfortune, the forest is safe.¡±


    A debate was in full swing in a dying or already dead forest, one one side a huntress arguing on behalf a village, the other side two guardian twins who seemed to forget what their jobs were supposed to be ¡°Safe is an interesting choice of words considering a werewolf with magic may have inflicted a curse. Look at this place! Barren with no wildlife in sight, where''s your precious circle of life?¡±


    The twins made a show of looking around ¡°We see nothing wrong here, grass and trees still grow,¡±


    Her teeth were currently trying to bite into the still-hard sucker; she had to pull it out or risk chipping a tooth. A simple meet and greet with some straightforward questions turned into a lot of finger-pointing. All Red wanted was information. Instead, counter-accusations based on family crimes committed so long ago they couldn¡¯t be taught in history classes due to being closer to myth in this day and age. That was normal; every Red Riding Hood got this type of ire out the homelands, it came with the hood. Her problem was that she¡¯d known the Mala twins in life, extraneous, of course, but they weren¡¯t like this.


    It took a considerable amount of willpower, but eventually, an intelligent woman has to know when she¡¯s beaten. Deciding not to waste more time, Red turned and walked away. ¡°If you¡¯re not going to help, I¡¯ll be going,¡± leaving the cart, the mule, and the charred remains of a foul-smelling werewolf.


    ¡°Forgiveness is something beyond what you and yours deserve, Red Riding Hood. See that you do not darken our lands a second time.¡±


    Indignation wrapped itself around Red¡¯s psyche, leaving her face a mask of simmering frustration. Being slapped with rudeness, disrespect, and general unhelpfulness back to back could make anyone¡¯s blood boil. There was nothing to be done about it. Of course, using force could always be an answer, but it wouldn¡¯t get her an answer that mattered. In fact, it could and would just lead to more problems. In this specific instance it was best let sleeping dogs lie until an opportunity presents itself. Red decided to put a nice, pretty bow on this whole ordeal and begin her trip back to Nexus headquarters. Her goal: to inform its leaders personally that the situation has been handled, more or less; second, to remind them she is a part-timer at best and isn¡¯t beholden to their orders.

 Assist in a...

    Salty smells picked up by a gentle breeze from a vast ocean assaulted Red¡¯s nose as she sat at a table on the deck of a ferry currently heading back north. If she hadn¡¯t left in such a huff about the Mala twins, she¡¯d have missed it leaving harbor. This ferryman operated on a dubious timetable at best, most likely due to a lack of credentials or license to sail and trade here. Whatever the case, it made no difference to Red; she wasn¡¯t coast guard nor in charge of tariffs involving mortal trade. So long as the tithe was paid to whatever daemon owned this section of ocean, everything would be fine.


    ¡°No telling when he¡¯d be back, and I don¡¯t fancy spending weeks upon weeks waiting,¡±


    In front of her, weighing down said table, was a book, the very same she¡¯d shown Mayor Woods, once again opened to a familiar section on werewolves. ¡°Only thing about this that makes sense is a werewolf terrorizing a small backwater village.¡±


    As, not only a cursed species but a universally hated one, they had to haunt the fringes of mortal society. This put them at odds with other less than agreeable creatures lurking about.


    ¡°Pickings are slim for them. At least Mermaids and Trolls can just retreat underwater or to mountain tops, provided Harpies don¡¯t live in said mountain tops. Werewolves are stuck here; no, the real issue is it could perform magic, without incantation or artistry just pure will power. Not just any magic, shadow magic; it takes a very particular mindset to conjure and control shadows, at least all my testing last night proved it was a mage, not a wizard.¡±


    Narrowing it down to a mage meant next to nothing, as a werewolf mage even conceptual was nonsensical. Common knowledge of history depicts their ancestors trading away the First Miracle in exchange for power and ferocity. In doing so, cursed their lineage into what they are today on top of taking away any and all ability to utilize magic.


    ¡°Except this one didn¡¯t get that message, but the question is how, can¡¯t just undo a millenniums worth of baked-in genetics, can¡¯t use any of the four wishing types either,¡± Red grumbled.


    While reading, her hand subconsciously found its way into a nearby bowl filled with assorted chocolates. Scooping several out, depositing them into her mouth till her cheeks bulged, creating a collage of different flavors that curiously brought her mind back to the Mala twins. Before, that is to say, when they were alive, both were exceptionally respectful. They even gave respect to her, a RED, someone whose family garnered less than amicable public relations with both natural and magical worlds. In all fairness, this is primarily due to the first Red¡¯s actions, not to say two through five were paragons, but they only perpetuated what first started.


    Deciding to table her thoughts on shadow-manipulating werewolves and instead focusing on the Shaman duo turned Guardians. Of course, they had every right to be mad; she did, in fact, drag a cursed corpse into their forest and turn it into a bonfire. That much was expected, but their interest didn¡¯t extend beyond that. No lycan could last a day in any other wolf territory, except this one somehow managed to live for several months without issue. Red swallowed her treats, immediately replacing them with a strawberry-flavored lollipop, leftover melted chocolate coated a good amount of it. Something about strawberry chocolate mixture triggered a thought that led to a tangent.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t even react when I mentioned that menace could use magic,¡± she started


    chewing away at this line of thought like a dog with a bone. If it were anyone else with that information, they¡¯d be well within their right to just ignore it, but I¡¯m THE current Red Riding Hood, my people know how to kill a werewolf by five years old.¡±


    Red¡¯s suspension grew. She didn¡¯t think it had anything to do with the werewolf specifically, but something wormed its way into her mind and festered like a parasite. Eventually, she had to give into her intuition, taking out a sheet of parchment she had written in her thoughts and a request for her chosen recipient. Detailing how to actually get there then folding up a spare map of the surrounding area for further assistance. That done, Red extended out her left hand and willed a silver bell to materialize; a bright afternoon sun shone off its plating with a beautiful radiance of otherworldly hue. Swinging her hand for three consecutive chimes, no sound emitted, at least no sound mortal-kind could hear.


    1. To call


    2. To trace


    3. To hurry


    Winds picked up and swirled around Red, coalescing into a single form made of bright iridescent light. The gale left as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind a humanoid of diminutive stature, just small enough to comfortably sit within Red¡¯s palm. It beheld a perfect complexion of blue skin made more beautiful by its aura invoking a sense of ever-lasting winter. Crowned with hair as white as the snow, all brought together by a dress of pale blues and purples; an immortal snowflake, captured in its perfection, brought to life. A winter fey.


    ¡°Daft cunt, If I¡¯ve told yah once, I¡¯ve told yah a thousand times, two rings no more, no less any more than that, and ya grating ma fuckin¡¯ ears; I¡¯m already on my bloody way after the first!¡± Its first words after forming were fowl and full of anger


    ¡°I need you to deliver this to Goldy,¡± Red said curtly, handing her folded message to the Fey, completely ignoring its irritation.


    Instead of actually getting to the task, it immediately unfolded the letter and began to pour over its content, much to Red¡¯s annoyance.


    ¡°Kicked out of a protected forest, were we,¡± It said a bell like giggle chimming from its lips with all enough malice it could have been used as a catalyst for a curse, complete with smug grin. ¡°Family reputation strikes again...or maybe it¡¯s your personal crimes~.¡± As if to prove a point it Fliped off Red¡¯s hand and landing itself upon her backpack, the Fey earned a very satisfactory cringe of irritation from Red. ¡°Its got nothing to do with that!¡±


    ¡°Suuurrreee, it doesn¡¯t. Maybe the illustrious chosen just has a wounded sense of entitlement and needs to send her friends to accost an innocent, hard-working guardian.¡± It continued to tease and needle as was its nature to do so


    Red growled, teeth grinding into her sucker, a sensation she¡¯d experienced not too long ago¡° Just deliver the damn message, and give her this too.¡±


    She handed her messenger a piece of venison covered in brown sugar or cinnamon wrapped in transparent paper.


    ¡°Oooooh, I¡¯m givin¡¯ presents now too; why don¡¯t I put a white beard on, a bloody red hat, and pack on a ton while I¡¯m at it!¡± So saying it changed its dress to more of a reddish hue and sprouted a beard of ice


    ¡°Just do it. Stop acting like you¡¯re actually doing real work! Something like this will take you what, twenty minutes at most, less time if you¡¯d quit complaining! Then you can go back to doing absolutely nothing like you normally do.¡±


    ¡°You mortals are lucky the queen forces us to assist you during our off-seasons.¡±


    Winds began to blow harder at its proclamation; a swirling vortex engulfed the ill-mannered creature; when all was calm again, it was gone, leaving nothing but the soft nippings of a cozy winter morning. Red pressed her middle and index fingers to her temples to gently massage them in small circles. In all fairness, most of this was her fault, so she couldn¡¯t be too mad, had she rang the damn bell like she was supposed to, that conversation might have gone much better.


    ¡°Forgot to send a message to Nexus,¡± Red hissed, running her fingers through her hair, causing the hood to slip and reveal her face in all its scrunched-up beauty. ¡°I¡¯ll send it after I make land.¡±


    The rest of her trip was uneventful and wonderfully mundane; it gave her so much time to get her thoughts in line with what she wanted to send in as a report. Ultimately deciding to just send in the bare minimum that everything had been handled; ¡°werewolf taken care of and burned¡±. A report missing essential details, but having killed and burned any evidence, it was best to continue her investigation as a Red Riding Hood rather than a Nexus operative. Having someone who could not be turned away look into the forest guardians for her, at least nowhere near as quickly as they dismissed her. Now the only other end to look into was how a cursed entity could learn magic.


    ¡°Gonna need an expert in shadow magic, so I need a strong mage, but I also need an expert in curses and cursed flesh, so likely a witch or wizard. Rather not get involved with a coven if I don¡¯t have to. That just leaves, Grimm Union, probably the only school that¡¯ll employ witches and wizards as teachers.¡±


    Everything about her line of thinking sounded airtight; last real issue was travel, not so much fees, but actually getting there was a hassle. Grimm Union school sat on an island by itself, far removed from any significant landmass. Thankfully, unlike the village, it was a very well-known location with more than a dozen ships frequenting it every week for various reasons.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°None of that changes the fact it¡¯s going to take a two-day train ride just to get to the nearest port city, then an extra two days on sea.¡±


    Holding out her hand palm up, she willed a worn leather pouch appear. As it settled, a soft jingling of presumably gold coins could be heard within. There were some perks to being a part of Nexus; for one, travel fees were either reimbursed by the organization or waved outright to be charged directly. This type of waving extended to living accommodations at inns and rudimentary repairs on weapons. Individuals were held responsible for all else, including small-owned businesses with no way of reaching out to Nexus as a whole. Regardless of how much she got for being technically a member, Red still felt it was essential to have her own finances in order for rare occasions such as bribes, traps for thieves, or... a carriage being pulled by horse, blessedly going the exact same direction as she¡¯d have to walk.


    ¡°H-Hey excuse me!¡± she shouted running after the carriage


    Her savior, a goblin man named Tin¡¯Khiaq, graciously agreed to give her free passage to town, seeing as how he was already heading there to take his crops to market. Because piers accepting, unloading, and resupplying ferries needed to be reasonably large, it often times forced contractors to build an irritable distance away from the town or towns they served. In this case, five hours on foot or, thankfully, about two with horse and buggy. Red sat next to the goblin, hood pulled over her head, and leaned back, enjoying how much better service animals made life. Worth their weight in gold; honestly, she¡¯d love to have a horse or some other riding animal to assist in transportation if they weren¡¯t a liability. Not every operative thought like that; one in particular carried out his duties with packs of hunting dogs, another ran her prey down on horseback. Even in her family, plenty of past Reds bred attack animals; this Red in particular, was just horrible with animals; in truth, it had nothing to do with liabilities.


    ¡°Heh- can¡¯t even teach a dog fetch,¡± she grumbled.


    ¡°What was that missy?¡± Mr.Tin inquired with a voice that befits his age, reedy with a shaky quality.


    ¡°Just thinking how bad I am with animals. Respectfully thank you for the ride, Mr.Tin,¡± Red answered, tilting her head in gratitude.


    ¡°Oooh, think nothin¡¯ of it. Just wouldn¡¯t sit right with me makin¡¯ a youngin like you walk all day in this heat,¡± he laughed, stroking the long gray beard that traveled from chin to chest. ¡°As for the animal handlin¡¯, it¡¯s not so hard. Just gotta remember every now and then you have to remind em¡¯ whose boss, carrot or stick, carrot will get you much further, but you run the risk of spoilin¡¯ them. Stick works in the short term but makes a mean ornery sucker. Take Daka and Vvitch up there, for example, I raised Daka from a foal, mostly carrot, and he¡¯s the softest horse on the farm, but Vvitch, on the other hand, I got two years ago from another farmer who had his fill of her and almost put the poor creature down. I can¡¯t speak to how she was raised, but the fact he actually named her Bitch speaks a lot to it. Easily upset, quick to buck, and charges almost anything, but she¡¯s strong and resilient...I also keep her around because she reminds me of my wife, so I guess I have a soft spot for troublemakers.¡± He slapped his knee and cackled at his own joke, a laugh that might have sounded more apt for a witch or hag.


    True to the nature of his race, Mr.Tin was exceptionally talkative and, true to his age, somewhat crass. Better still he seemed to be a straight shooter, meaning he¡¯d only tell it how it is and not sugarcoat anything, Red¡¯s favorite type of person. It took two hours to get to their destination pleanty of time to talk about all manner of topics. She¡¯d learned Mr.Tin not only had several children, but he was also a great-great-grandfather whose youngest was around her age; surprising, if only for the fact that goblins didn¡¯t tend to have prominent families. Among all mortal races, goblins reproduced the slowest, somewhere around ten births per thousand. Low birth numbers offset by ludicrously long life spans that rivaled half-elves. Mr.Tin, while he wouldn¡¯t mention his age, had to be a couple of centuries old. The rest of their trip was made in polite company and light conversation before bidding their farewells at the town gate. Red herself needed to make arrangements for the train station to procure passage.


    Standing fourth in line to buy a ticket. Red mused to herself that she was basically waiting in line, to buy a way to wait even more, to cut down on her total wait time to get from point A to point B. The most annoying reality of her job was just waiting, traveling by walking, boat, and train; it never seemed fast enough. Some would this lack of patence was a personality defect on Red¡¯s behalf. She had places to be! True enough, some magic in the world allowed spell casters to travel massive distances in a flash, teleportation and portals, for example.


    ¡°But those are just that, magic, difficult magic at that. There¡¯s no telling how many botched teleportation spells caused an unprepared mage, witch or wizard¡¯s death,¡± she thought, moving one space up.


    Of course, much easier elemental magic could be used to traverse land at speed; it just paled in comparison to a train, rendering it a moot point. She wondered how Reds ninety-eight and older got around. Trains were something that only became widespread in the past fifty years or so, around ninety-nine¡¯s time, and made even more so in her time. As she understood how history told of such, they would have been created much earlier if it weren¡¯t for denizens of the natural world stepping in to voice their complaints about pollution. Such complaints fell on deaf ears until daemons with much louder voices threatened another world war if an alternative wasn¡¯t found. To that end, and in the interest of keeping relative peace, said guardians and spirits were brought on as consultants on how to make the now-current model of train, one that didn¡¯t spew out damaging smog. Taking a step forward brought another thought on whether there would be more ways to travel in the future.


    Trains are a wonder of mechanical and natural engineering, but they can¡¯t go everywhere; primarily designed to go from one large city to another. Crossing beside or around, but never through a forest or mountain, and only four large railways exist today. If one wanted to travel by train, an individual would first have to travel to a town that operated as a hub sending and recioeving trains. Thankfully, those four railways were long and nearly spanned the entire central continent. She moved up one more space. Maybe the next invention to further aid this issue would be flying machines; already, Red could see massive amounts of problems dealing with such a thing, but aerial traversal would create a complete trinity of travel, land, sea, and air.


    ¡°Next!¡± a nasally voice called out.


    Lost in thought as she was, Red nearly missed hearing when it was her turn. Taking a step to the ticket booth, she looked at the young man, who looked back at her expectantly.


    ¡°Going to Corsair¡¯s Haven,¡± Red answered the unasked question, sliding her Nexus badge across the counter; now it was her turn to look at him expectantly.


    His eyes lit up in recognition. In that moment, he sat up a little straighter as he examined the badge for authenticity. Most people tend to act differently around those who worked for, or in her case, worked with Nexus. Something like seeing a war veteran; an air of authority hung around that badge. The change in his demeanor brought a visible cringe to Red¡¯s face. Respect was nice, but anonymity was better, but not having to pay for her own ticket was even more desirable, even with a caveat or two. He inspected the badge, nodded his head, and slid it back. When he looked up at her in realization, his eyes turned to the size of dinner plates. Red sighed heavily. She hoped he wouldn¡¯t put two and two together.


    ¡°Y-your Red I-I-I mean Red Riding Hood,¡± He stammered.


    ¡°Just Red, and it¡¯s fine, but give me my-¡± She tried to cut this conversation off like the head of snake before it got too troublesome.


    ¡°I am terribly sorry, Madam Red; please let me have staff take care of you until the train arrives!¡±


    Two short breaths passed, and several men appeared, all to wait on her hand and foot, triggering another sigh, another caveat, only this time not from Nexus, her own family. Acting as bodyguards, they lead her to a waiting booth, one considerably nicer than others by leaps and bounds. Every given train had nine cars, three provided for each social class, commoner, business, and royal. Red grumbled under her breath, cursing ninety-nine¡¯s hubris. In the woman¡¯s time, she not only worked with Nexus but, in her spare time, rapidly expanded the Red family lands in all feasible directions. Turning it from a condensed village to a town to a city, which happened to be an entire peninsula, THEN began a campaign to conquer land on both central and eastern continents. Now, the Red estates, and she had no other word to describe them now other than as such, roughly equaled a duchy. Since Reds are considered matriarchs or patriarchs, she preferred leader, technically means that all chosen Red Riding Hoods are arch duchesses or dukes.


    ¡°Which unfortunately makes me royalty, dammit one idiotic ambition single highhandedly makes my job so much harder, and I¡¯m the second idiot who forgot about it.¡±


    Because she was considered royalty, her name would be recorded and sent via message spell to the next train station to ¡®warn¡¯ them they would receive an ¡®honored guest.¡¯


    ¡°Then, in turn, they will deduce where I¡¯m actually going, then they¡¯ll send my name to the academy, not counting how many are going to leak that information about a traveling royal as news or just information to trade, dammit ninety-nine; you couldn¡¯t just leave well enough alone could you.¡±


    Red buried her face in her hands, trying to control the inevitable headache that was indeed about to come on.


    ¡°Goldy, please don¡¯t make too many waves; just investigate and send me a message via fey. Please don¡¯t do something to tip off anyone.¡±

 Gold in a...

    Miles away from a disgruntled Red Riding Hood, in a familiar forest, a new shape blurred through the trees. A massive humanoid shape that moved with such bewildering speed and dexterity that it personified the idea of transhumanism. A thick coat billowing behind it, struggling to maintain coverage upon the figure¡¯s wide shoulders, stretching low enough to touch its knees when inert. Where Red¡¯s cloak seemed to be made from an enchanted array of cotton and silks, this was rugged fur with a hood made from three bear heads intricately sewn together. Sleeves that ended in closed off mittens underneath resembling paws, each one housing a set of serrated claws jutting out from five open slits. Shooting from one spot to another, clearing chunks of land in each bound. Tilting forward with extended arms performing a front flip, spring-boarding up to stand vertically on a nearby tree, exhale then jumping to another. Every jump indented its foot upon strong bark that immediately put itself back to rights with a surge of strange green energy ever following its passage. Arms lifting, snagging a branch it swung itself around several times picking up speed with each rotation, letting go and catapulting itself skyward in a wide arch, past the treeline. A staccato of laughter exploded throughout the forest, a beautiful, joyous laugh full of jubilation.


    ¡°I¡¯M FEELIN¡¯ SPIFFY,¡± she howled out, such a blustering rush of laughter that shook half the forest.


    Legs stretched out with complete confidence in a safe landing, she cast her gaze up and just free fell from heaven, looking towards a beautiful cloudless sky her world descended back beyond the thick canopy. A familiar clearing, so calming and peaceful in equal measures, not a sound could be heard for miles. No birds chirping, not even ant mounds, spiderwebs or burrows, like a painting, beautiful and barren, devoid of life. Until a visitor collided with the ground with all the grace of a bomb. A herald of sound like an explosion foretold her arrival, it proclaimed she was here to the very heavens she¡¯d just left and beyond. A shock-wave composed of green iridescent energy swelled up like a bubble originating from her body, from her very core. When it popped all that stored power washed across like a crashing wave bearing down on a shoreline. For all the noise and lights she¡¯d caused in moments, no visible evidence could be accounted for. No creator for evidence of a landing. The energy released dissipated without a trace. To clarify, no visible evidence was left; but to those who could feel a forest¡¯s ¡®spirit¡¯, it felt like a fresh gust of wind just blew through a room that had previously been filled with a sitting smell of repugnance.


    Placing her hands on her hips she began laughing again. An innocent, gleeful sound, with the cadence of a machine gun tore through the forest. Finally, sated by whatever had caused such seemingly spontaneous joy, she calmed down and took stock of her own surroundings, a smile never fading. Her smile dropped to one of puzzlement and instead tilted to the side in confusion.


    ¡°Wooooow Red wasn¡¯t kidding, this place is dead.¡± Confused, perplexed, yet interested she began to walk about.


    Not just physically but spiritually abandoned, any other forest that felt like this was likely a burned down ruin, but these woods were thriving, the very picture of growth on the surface.


    ¡°Pretty spoooky,¡± she she announced melodically, her index finger and thumb rubbing along her chin


    Winds picked up blew throughout the trees, an angry whistle howled all around her and brought back that foul smell with it. Whatever happened here was festering like an old corpse. Calling it an offensive smell did no justice to how utterly foul it assaulted the nose. Within moments of taking that first sniff her smile lowered into a scowl, then twisted up like a gnarled tree branch. When they appeared, white hair with red accents, pale skin that shone with a luminous sheen, forever healthy, forever pure.


    ¡°Ah, Goldilocks Ursus. It is good to see you however unexpected. How can we help you, Shaman?¡± the Mala twins spoke in unison, every breath like a wind storm cutting through the shrubbery.


    Tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth, Goldilocks dug around a fold in her pelt that functioned as a pocket.Thankfully, in Red¡¯s infinite wisdom she¡¯d sent a note with detailed instructions, she¡¯d also know that Goldilocks herself has never come into contact with the Mala twins so odds are there was some sort of information about them. Just like she¡¯d known, Red thought of everything, shes so cool, and smart and¡­ getting off topic need to focus. A small addendum detailed the Mala twin¡¯s in as few words as possible, those words being ¡®do what you feel is best¡¯. Pondering over what to actually do here regarding Red¡¯s request, her nose scrunched up tight and her face contorted like she¡¯d just smelled excrement from a goat. The twins had gotten closer, settling a dilemma that presented itself earlier.


    ¡°Excuse us esteemed Ursus what brings you -¡± they started, sentences cut short by a pair of claws bisecting each, creating four identical halves. Under normal circumstances, spirits had little to fear from common steel even silver had limited effects, but Goldilocks¡¯ claws weren¡¯t made of a mortal material.


    ¡°No guardian smells that much of death,¡± Goldilocks snarled


    The sheer force Goldilocks struck created a ripple effect that expanded and ejected all four halves apart, two of which colliding with one another while others splattered across nearby trees. Under normal circumstances for mortals, this would have created a disgusting canvas of viscera and gore, even in abnormal circumstances a guardian would have just reformed itself, but this was a new experience all of its own. Turned a substance not unlike tar before splattering like spilled ink. Curiosity piqued, she leaned down, examining the now bubbling blots slowly transforming into steam before dissipating back to nothingness; all the while disrespecting her nose, a smell graduating from goat excrement to a goats corpse, much to Goldilocks¡¯ annoyance. She looked and studied and looked some more before tilting her head admitting she did not know what was happening.


    ¡°Awwww, now I gotta go tell Red, and she''s going to have the look, I don¡¯t like the look,¡± She began to pout.


    The ¡®look¡¯ was an apt nickname. Red would roll her cold blue eyes up into her skull while pulling the corners of her lips down a face that can only be described as¡­What was that word again?


    ¡°Huh,¡± Goldilocks began piecing together letters to make words. ¡°Started with an ¡®E¡¯ hmm¡± mumbling to herself, fighting to summon up the word in question.


    And just like that, Goldilocks Ursus, last child of the bear gods, lost her train of thought. Walking haphazardly around an undefined path, feet squishing along now forgotten pools of tar that had yet to dissolve.


    ¡°Enamorous, doesn''t that start with an A? Ephemeral? No¡­¡±


    She paid no heed to silly things like, direction or footing while toiling away to discover her lost word. Instinctively she leapt over branches and roots, that most others would surly trip over; as easy and natural breathing was to all. She could never nor would ever get lost in a forest, jungle, or bog of any kind.


    ¡°Erudite, no, but, she is that¡­WAIT, EGREGI-¡±


    The whole world turned on its head and spun like a child¡¯s toy. Knocked off her feet and sent flying, such speed and ferocity easily precipitated her body exploding through a tree; a process that somehow didn¡¯t slow her in the slightest. Collision with another took more momentum away, enough for Goldilocks to begin bouncing across the forest floor as a stone would across still waters. Only when her back slammed into what felt like a third tree did she know stillness, an impact that crushed its bark and left her embedded at least a foot deep within. Groaning, Goldilocks peeled herself free, a process that saw her neck and back popping like cracked knuckles. Gazing out to see just how far she¡¯d gone, because while it felt like three trees, upon closer inspection, revealed much more. Those three were just what she¡¯d noticed, in fact her form splintered many an oak creating a thick cloud of dust and debris, but no amount of smokescreen could hide what blind-sided her. A silhouetted frame slowly walked forward, small trimmers with every step it took, a body that could rival a boxcar both in height and length, a pair of wicked pitch black antlers jutted out from its head.


    ¡°Is that a War-Elk where did you come from?¡± Goldilocks breathed in awe, so taken by its magnificence ¡°where¡¯d you come from fella?¡±


    Despite its sheer size, which would normally stop a creature like this from being able to navigate through a dense forest, it blazed a straight line unmolested. Trees snapped like twigs on its antlers, such was a War-Elk¡¯s right by virtue of its strength alone. Trees uprooted, trampled and bulldozed through with a frightening ferocity, it literally reshaped the land as it charged. If this forest had an ecosystem to begin with, it would forever be changed. Goldilocks, an impressive specimen of human physiology, stood at an imposing seven feet. Factoring in every species on Cresea however, she was but a pin prick in comparison to her aggressor, and yet she never moved, confident and ever smiling. Talking to those twins, pretending to be guardians was strong, confusing and all in all it made her head hurt. But this? A good old fashioned tussle, was more her speed. Palms out, legs positioned in a horse stance ready for its next charge. Palms met a single antler attached to an animal whose strength could in fact rival being hit by an actual train; having attempted to wrestle a moving train before, Goldilocks had to be the leading authority in train fighting.


    In a show of prodigious strength, she grabbed its antler and brought it down in a twisting motion. The Elk¡¯s gargantuan body spun, flattening everything in its wake. Dust settled, Goldilocks now stood in a makeshift arena, and the Elk on its side in complete shock of having been handled so casually. It wasn¡¯t everyday that a War-Elk was put in the place of a child by anything other than a member of its own kind let alone some human.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Ooo tough little guy aint ya,¡± She smiled from ear to ear.


    Finally getting a good long look at this absolute behemoth of a creature, a real beauty of the natural world; not to mention one of the largest animals at least in the lower part of the top ten. A thin hide of short brown hair gave an easy look at healthy, bulging muscles. A young male just reaching adulthood.


    D¡¯aww, you¡¯re so cute, just became a man haven¡¯t ya¡± Goldilocks said flexing her own biceps. ¡°Well, why are you out here, no cows around these parts to mate with¡± she chuckled before realization settled ¡°Or is there?¡±


    That realization stuck home, Goldilocks to take a more invested look at her surroundings. The scent of lush healthy grasslands slick with morning dew cut mingled with the rotten smell she¡¯d come to associate the area with. It emanated from the Elk. It didn¡¯t smell like its surroundings at all or to be more accurate, it didn¡¯t smell like these surroundings.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t come here, did ya champ, someone brought you here, somehow. Magic, maybe¡±


    A high-pitched scream resonated from the animal¡¯s throat with an undercurrent roar that made her blood run cold. It managed to teleport to its feet. No, it just moved so fast it gave the impression of teleportation. Shaking its head from side to side in a threat display. Densely packed muscles bulged out even more, turning an angry red that ran across its body, as steam emitted from its pores.


    ¡°Oooh no, no, no, no. Not good not good at all,¡± she chanted, getting ready to receive another charge looking far more tense now.


    It wasn¡¯t just that this Elk was entering maturity, it was also male, with a howl like that she now understood he was rutting and this might be his first mating season, meaning, he was looking for a mate. An already irritating time for any animal, but moments ago, Goldilocks tossed him around like an unkempt child, creating in his eyes at the very least a challenge to his status as a bull.


    Such things were a normal phenomenon where he came from, and happened every mating season, however, this ecosystem has never housed an animal of this magnitude. Letting him roam free in a frenzy would put himself and everything around him in mortal danger. Even though no wildlife seemed to exist here, she knew for a fact a village happened to be nearby. Goldilocks¡¯ stomach churner, her chest tightened, she wanted to cry. The poor thing was confused and frustrated. This wasn¡¯t his fault! But what could she do? Without magic to send him back or banish his hormones, killing him was the only option.


    Another charge. So much stored up potential energy turned unstable and ignited into a bodily kinetic lung straight forward. A one animal stampede, such a beautiful demonstration of the species namesake. Thankfully, she was expecting the change in tempo. Readying her hands to once again catch an antler, only this time pivoting her body upward as if to perform a handstand. Instead of being run over she was catapulted skyward. Flipping up and over, with two tightly balled fists, Goldilocks torqued her body to deliver a devastating hammer fist to the Elk¡¯s skull. A collision, like cannon balls exploded rocking the Elk head back to earth cratering the ground on contact.


    She landed steadily on her feet opposite her opponent. Green iridescent energy began to pool around her, small drafts that spilled outward, forming into thin tendrils. Poking. Prodding. Searching for life. Each tendril, a connection to the natural world, all searching for boons to feed their mistress¡¯ already brutal strength. All things born of nature exuded a power. An energy. All one needed to do was ask and the planet will provide if able, sadly only dregs returned. Minuscule and anemic. These things were concerning but there was no time to examine them further, for now Goldilocks took what she could get.


    ¡°Manageable, too cold for everywhere, but just right in one place,¡± she muttered, willing each tendril to pull back, taking command of what little they collected.


    Infusing one''s entire being with nature¡¯s blessings would be ideal, however, with what little turned up, the only viable option was to condense it all into one area, her arm ¡°No gotta keep pushing, not arm, all in fist, one good punch, end it quick, easy, painless,¡±


    With the energy so tightly convinced a chain reaction occurred. From an emerald to azure, it gathered around her fist and changed again. Simmering. Bubbling like water left on an open fire for too long. A violent eruption shifted its hue from blue to a molten red that radiated its intentions. Demanding to destroy. A heavy thrum radiated in all directions, lashing out randomly, almost dragging her fist to punch a nearby tree, like an unchained animal whose only instinct called for brutality.


    So much cataclysmic potential forced in such a small area felt almost sinful.  There was no need to look up to check on the Elk, he was fine. She knew he was up just like before, had turned around and charged again; moving so fast it left after-image imprints of its passing. At this point, no matter how fast he could move, predictable was still just that. Goldilocks threw a wild haymaker, no proper technique other than engaging her whole body into one strike, carrying every bit of force she could bring to bare.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡±


    There was no struggle, no tussle for dominance. In one moment at the point of impact they gave birth to a sound that could humble thunder. Filling the air with raw unfiltered power enough to make trees bow to its command. In the next moment, all was hushed, still, mute. The War-Elk¡¯s body slumped, head caved and death came in an instant. Pain started at her hand and lanced up to invade the arm in its entirety. A sprained hand, pain meant she was alive but he felt nothing, a candle snuffed out before it got to truly shine ¨C dead.


    Tears blurred her vision. They ran down her rosy cheeks, dripping to the ground in the unbearable silence around her. In a dead quiet forest a young woman openly sobbed, cutting through stagnation. Loss. She hadn¡¯t even known his name. So young, in the prime of his life and ready to sire so many young. To have such a viral life cut short for being in the wrong place at the wrong time...No. Being brought to the wrong place, but the right time for someone else.


    Goldilocks hissed, looking around frantically; he was spirited here by someone or something, likely because she¡¯d attacked that fake guardian earlier.


    A silhouette shimmered on the far side, in a vague approximation of man, in a full rage, she didn¡¯t care what it was. Humanoid with digitigrade legs that ended in hooves and a head topped with antlers. A Satyr. Part man, part creature. She sprang into motion. Arms pushed into sleeves that bore claws, smashing down on her target area with a substantial amount of force. She didn¡¯t need her instincts to know she¡¯d missed, the lack of a body at her feet was telling enough. Scanning around, she needed to find it, to kill it, to make it pay.


    The silhouette was there again trying to blend in with the shadow of a snapped tree, further away this time.. It didn¡¯t move faster than her, but rather transported from one section to another; armed with a superior sense of smell, she could confirm it wasn¡¯t actually moving physically. Displacement magic or its more potent sibling teleportation. It disappeared again, this time for good, but she¡¯d seen enough to memorize its build. Not many satyr still lived and walked the world, even less with that kind of magic, next time there wouldn¡¯t be any running, only a debt to a pound of flesh.


    Goldilocks looked back at the carcass, leaving it to rot and go to waste just wouldn¡¯t stand. A War-Elk could feed a village for a week; thankfully thanks to Red¡¯s note she knew exactly where such a village was.


    ¡°She really does think of everything.¡±


    There was no way she could carry the thing, even Papa would have trouble, meaning this was going to be a very straining walk. A plan of action settled, Goldilocks grabbed her hundred-ton burden, and set off, dragging it behind her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do the other thing Red asked after I take a nap, and eat, and bathe, and¡­¡± she continued to rattle off, mostly to distract herself from yanking this behemoth through a forest.


    Breaching the forest line felt like it took forever. Not to boast, but Goldilocks was quite confident in her strength and endurance. Even with all her gifts and tenacity even her muscles were beginning to burn, strain and give out under such heavy use.


    Dragging dead-weight of this size and weight was one thing, but adding onto having an area where every ten seconds it could and would get snagged on something did not make it any easier. Despite it all, she managed to move out onto a medium flatland, some natural but most smart deforestation; newly settled townspeople were typically warned from taking too much of a bite out of the natural world and advised to replant what they took as to avoid any local deity or guardian¡¯s ire.


    People were already lining up cautiously around their town¡¯s entrance. With all the lights and sounds she caused since coming here, they couldn¡¯t be blamed for being stirred and taking an interest. Heaving ever forward, marching over rolling hills, pulling her bounty. Sweat dripped from her face, rolled down her back, got in her eyes, all in all a miserable experience. Exhaustion coursed through her muscles from overuse in oppressive waves.


    ¡°Mama always did say I was stubborn,¡± she chuckled.


    Goldilocks made it halfway to the village proper when a man met her, probably to evaluate a potential threat. Being seven feet tall herself, it was hard to discern whether he was considered tall or average, when standing over a certain height everyone looked short. He had a beard once, now nearly trimmed stubble decorated his square chin. A muscular barrel chest bulged out of a flannel shirt spoke of long hours of hard work to build and maintain that physique; he didn¡¯t just work outside as a living, he lived to work outside.


    ¡°My name is Adam Woodsman, I¡¯m the Mayor of this town,¡± he greeted.


    Mayor Woods looked her over in awe, confirming what she was dragging, like a child who refused to drop their favorite teddy bear. An Elk corpse had been stubbornly forced through every trial the natural world could throw at it, taking a beating, even after death. Goldilocks chuckled between heavy pants, a massive mop of obscenely curly hair covered her face as she pressed hands to knees and sucked in massive lungfuls of air.


    ¡°A mayor of a logging town and his name is Woodsman. That''s funny. I¡¯m...Goldilocks Ursus. my friend Red asked me to come and¡­¡± She stopped, losing her train of thought. Whether due to exhaustion, or she just plain forgot was indeterminable. A note produced itself. ¡°Investigate strange occurrences,¡± she read aloud. ¡°And things are strange here, things that should never be here are here,¡±


    Now it was his turn to chuckle. ¡°A girl with gold hair named Goldilocks, now that''s funny,¡±


    They both laughed, right before she fell over in a heap and immediately drifted into sleep.

 R&R in a...

    Slurping, chewing and the bowls constantly clanking together played like an orchestra that echoed throughout the open air. Every villager sat outside at long tables made by shoving multiple smaller dinner tables together while several pots boiled with stew over open flames. Rows of people all sitting together enjoying a hearty meal, likely the first in many days. Next to the mayor sat a newcomer, she¡¯d come at request of their savior and now they¡¯d been saved a second time.


    A giant of a woman whose stature towered over every resident, some by several heads. A solid body of fine compacted muscle created a vision of an amazon bred for combat. Watching her muscles flex and relax with each movement captivated and demanded to be appreciated. She¡¯d passed out a few hours prior and it came as quite a surprise that she wore nothing under that bear pelt of which now hung on a post outside of town. Now she wore a white cotton tunic and matching pants, heavily modified to accommodate such an imposing size. Impossibly long curly hair like spun gold spilled out around a face of lovely ivory, dotted with a small button nose. Snow blue eyes that told stories of innocence and nativity, and a constant infectious smile brought light to the world.


    Her name was Goldilocks and she¡¯d come baring gifts to stave off a slowly growing concern.


    ¡°Alright, let me see if I¡¯ve got everything here, so whatever forest guardian I think we struck a deal with was some kinda fake because somehow that''s possible. Theirs no wildlife or game out there, not even berries to harvest even though it looks healthy, and a saytr that can summon monsters from across the world?¡± Mayor Woodsman ticking off each point on his hand, sweat dripping down his forehead.


    With a mouth full of Elk meat and broth she made an attempt at clarifying ¡°Hmmmm, War-Elk aren¡¯t monsters, and I¡¯m not completely sure if you met the actual guardian or not buuuuutt, yep that¡¯s about it¡­ Red was right, as usual, things are indeed strange here¡±


    Mayor Woodsman spluttered ¡°Ms.Red went to investigate herself why didn¡¯t she at least warn us.¡±


    Goldilocks proceeded to drain her bowl of broth in one fluid slurp ¡°mmmm, apparently her family isn¡¯t on good terms with any forest deity¡­ I think. She told me its something that goes all the way back to the first Red, sooo she might have been afraid it was just some bad relation and nothing malicious on their part¡­ also that Elk wasn¡¯t here before,¡±


    Woodsman nodded sagely and seemed to understand coming to his own conclusion ¡°That explains a lot but doesn¡¯t solve anything,¡±


    Tilting her head to one side ¡°How so?¡±


    Ticking off each problem one by one Mayor Woodsman listed his village issues ¡°I know why there''s no game now, doesn¡¯t change the fact we need to eat. This War-Elk, won¡¯t last forever even if we chop it up, preserve as much as we can, then stretch it out as long as we can, we¡¯ll eventually run out,¡±


    Goldilocks tilted her head one way then the other in thought ¡°Wellll you¡¯ll waste energy hunting, so don¡¯t do that maybe? Red¡¯s note said something about a ferry that comes here sooo maybe buy four of every animal they have and breed them?¡±


    The Mayor ran a hand through this short graying hair ¡°That could work if we use the Elk as a buffer then breed the animals as much as possible. I gotta must say, I¡¯m surprised you sailed here alone, not taking the ferry yourself must have been rough,¡±


    ¡°Sail? Like a boat? I don¡¯t know how to do that, how would that help your problem?¡± She looked at him, completely confused, wondering if he had some brilliant idea that involved a boat.


    ¡°What. No. Its just, this island is water-locked, how¡¯d you get here if not by ferry or boat?¡±


    ¡°Oh, easy, I swam¡±


    Woodsman bore a face of complete incredulity ¡°You have to be joking, closest mainland to this island is the central Veikrea continent, easily over two thousand miles,¡±


    Goldilocks just stared back slightly lost, trying to divine meaning from his words ¡°I don¡¯t know miles, but it took me four days, thankfully my pelt kept the note and map dry otherwise I¡¯d have gotten lost.¡±


    Until said ferry could make it back to their little island, the villagers would have to chop up, seal, and preserve the elk as much as possible. Things would be touch and go for a while but Mayor Woodsman was confident they could bounce back with enough grit. What really surprised him was Goldilocks, given Red¡¯s prickly nature, it stood to reason whomever she personally sent would bare those same traits, but Goldilocks was an absolute peach complete with pinch-able cheeks.


    ¡°We should try making a border wall as well, if there is some rouge satyr out there that can just summon animals from places far off we¡¯ll need some type of protection,¡± So saying he called over some villagers whom Goldilocks had to assume were the craftsmen.


    ¡°Ooo I can help with that, long as we replant what we cut down I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be fine, those ¡®guardians we¡¯re fake anyway, if the real ones come around I¡¯ll make sure they understand¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d appreciate any and all help you can spare miss, for decency sake we always replant. Theirs a half elf trader that sometimes rides the ferry, usually pay him to speed up growth of each seedling to preserve the natural landscape¡±


    ¡°What type of Half-Elf?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a willow tree, skinny lad but hard worker and worth his weight in gold when he comes around,¡±


    True to her word, Goldilocks did render assistance with the construction of a town barrier post. Mostly her job consisted of hauling chopped down trees and positioning them or uprooting stubborn stumps. After all that energy used swimming to the island, fighting a giant wild animal, then dragging said animal through a forest, it was nice to cool down with light exorcise. It took three days but in that time, she got enough sleep, food and healed that sprained wrist, ready to take on the world all over again.


    Walking up to her pelt, which hung on a post that denoted the village entrance she traced her hand along that tough bear hide. It was an unnerving thing to behold, claws on its sleeves and three bear heads stitched together to form a hood. Resting on a post made it look more like a looming killer at night, villagers gave the thing a wide birth. Truth be told even without that visage, something about that pelt seemed, otherworldly. Simply looking at it made Woodsman¡¯s hair stand on end, when Goldilocks wore it she¡¯d engaged something primal, a sense of fear.


    ¡°By the way, do you know where the temple or shrine is?¡± she asked starling Woodsman out of his introspection.


    ¡°No idea, they never asked for tribute so we never went looking for it¡± fingers moving through a growing beard that would need a good shave, he thought on that.


    ¡°Hm, that¡¯s was probably for the best anyway, I¡¯ll just have to find it myself¡±


    Goldilocks smiled, such an infectious and warm thing. Just the fact she was going herself somehow made Woodsman believe everything was going to be alright just like how Red. Flinging her pelt around to slip it on, a green translucent energy bubbled up around her feet then climbed up her legs, torso and arms. Winds picking up and blew a comforting breeze throughout the village, it brought a freshness not felt in this wood for so long all of them had forgotten what nature was supposed to smell like. Goldilocks grew, not physically but in presence, being seven feet already demanded attention from those around, but now, the whole world needed to turn in her direction to acknowledge a titan.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Jumping in place from one foot to another, giving her arms a good, much needed stretch, every muscle in her imposing body rippled and flexed with ancient power, sending out waves of color that washed over the village. Flashes of blue turned to red only to returned back, each transition interval becoming shorter with streaks of violent lightning arcing upward into the sky to signal a mid point between each. Energy ebbed outward, sinking deep through each blade of grass, uplifting and enriching the field itself. Woodsman watched in awe as all around dead pastures returned to a healthy green. Grass reached for new heights, taking on healthy vibrancy in their differing shades. Colors became so much more vivid, like he¡¯d been living life with such a malevolent fog over his eyes that sought to distort his view of how magnificent the natural world really was.


    Such as a tide may ebb outward, it too must flow back. Energy reached up to grasp heavens it could never claim before cascaded down to crash upon Goldilocks herself. Those changing colors of reds and blues became less distinguishable, blending together into a translucent iridescence. Bending down low, she leapt forward with such a force it shook the very ground, and off she went.


    ¡°A girl with golden hair named Goldilocks, man alive, times sure are getting interesting,¡±


    Land blurred by underfoot, every leap sending her body hurdling ever forward. Faster. Arms stretched out snagging nearby branches to pivot her body and change direction. Faster! Low to the ground, moving at such a pace she could have out ran a bullet, trying to get back to that starting clearing then push even deeper. She radiated with vibrancy and health, flowers bloomed in her passing, hard soil softened for her feet, even pushed upward to help her body along. Winds brought about by her passing brought a blessing of healthy glow. While short lived it was clear even a forest with so little energy to give as this one would still muster it all and give in to her subconscious demands.


    A familiar melodious odor assaulted her senses causing her face to scrunch up in indigence. Unpleasant it may be, but that scent acted like directional signs; the worse the smell the closer its source. After-all, that little tussle left scars on the land that would never heal without a guardian or shaman, getting deep enough meant following her nose was unnecessary. A straight line wasn¡¯t hard to follow. And finally she¡¯d managed to find it again smell and all. To call it pungent or acrid wouldn¡¯t give enough credit to just how raw it actually was. A scent one could actually taste. It invaded the nose, mouth and down the throat. Goldilocks wanted to hurl.


    Bending over, grabbing her knees, Goldilocks resisted the urge to give back what she ate, it was right then the wild-woman discovered something. Black sludge just like from those fake guardians, oozed from piece of broken trees that littered the ground. Trees that were broken off but a stump still remained had tar spilling free like white pus form an infection.


    ¡°Stygian-Petra¡± She breathed


    Suddenly, everything more or less fell into place. Black stillness or Stygian-Petra, a sort of disorder wayward spirits can develop, then transmitted to plants. Animals and mortals were completely immune. Goldilocks whirled around and took off at a sprint deeper into what she now understood was an immensely diseased thicket.


    ¡°No no no, I got so caught up with the guardians, I didn¡¯t think, no no what if the shrine has been corrupted¡±


    Guardian¡¯s could not be corrupted by Stygian-Petra as they were extensions of their chosen nature deity, and thus were immune to all diseases, spiritual or otherwise. However, a shrine was essentially the heart of any given domain. Be it forest, ocean, mountain or otherwise; a shrine provided a tether that linked its respective daemon to the mortal plane and translated its essence into energy that circulated throughout its territory. While both guardian and daemon were immune, the same could not be said for a shrine. A sickness originating in spirits could insert itself and use any given shrine to transmit infection rapidly throughout the soil.


    She did not wish to entertain a frightening reality that a shrine could be corrupted. Move faster! She pumped her legs harder. Energy that coiled around her body branched out, questing just like before looking for strength, a magic only found in an ecosystem that normally would saturate the ground. Quickly, she discovered it would only yield near non-existent results. Having nothing to draw upon, Goldilocks was forced to utilize her own personal storage. A railing, unrelenting force, impossible to control without guidance from mother nature due more to her own inexperience and lack of a teacher.


    Without help, wild magics exploded from her core, like a dam bursting and its waters crushed everything under an unstoppable wave. Flashes of red and blue lights fought for dominance until finally, red won. Very bad! Either color winning was bad, she needed a perfect marriage of both. Her body still shone in a faint aura of green, but red encapsulated a vast majority, muscles rippled, bulged out and even began to grow in size. Her stature swelled at to an extra foot. A face once fair an innocent with a smile that could shame heaven in its beauty, twisted up into a snarl, bearing elongated teeth, sharper canines giving an impression they could rend flesh from bone.


    Added muscles meant added mass, combined with already natural born super human strength creators began to from each foot fall. Surrounded by such a chaotic aura, no healing took place from her passage. In this state, heaving forward with such reckless abandon, despite shame blooming from lack of control, it only took minutes where at a normal more controlled pace would have taken hours. Eventually, she slowed from a sprint to a jog and finally stopping. Goldilocks stood right atop a literal line divided the land itself. Further ahead, no color could be seen, the final stage of Stygian-Petra, an achromatic visage twisting in upon itself like a macabre painting.


    Swirls of spilled ink reached out with hands of void to grasp and strangle plants, devouring the landscape one blade of grass at a time. Oozing from trees in grotesque globs of sludge that splattered with a wet thwack. Originally a spiritual illness, it caused unsettling changes in the mortal world like this, from one shade of gray to another. Only exceptions being those formless blobs, no smell, even with her senses, nothing but stagnated air in a poor caricature of sterility. Brushing ones fingers along an infected piece of foliage felt like lifeless plastic, everything felt wrong, like it shouldn¡¯t be and indeed it shouldn¡¯t.


    ¡°If it weren¡¯t for Red I¡¯d have never known,¡± she thought, gazing upon an unearthly landscape.


    Her hairs stood on end and goosebumps formed, seeing something so unnatural, utterly divorced from any conceivable notion of what one consider nature. It brought a deep, primal fear in all beings, mortal or otherwise. That first step. That first breath, always the hardest. To ignore ones instincts of survival is no easy feat, even for one as strong as her. Pushing forward. One step. Two steps. Inhale, exhale. With calm nerves and an iron resolve slowly beginning to stride forward. She was Goldilocks Ursus, and nothing could frighten her, although, she wasn¡¯t running anymore. Back straight, a confident pace, a brisk walk, red aura pulled back, diminished as if cowed and sent fleeing like a dog back to its master.


    Cresting a particularly large hill gave her more information on her surroundings. While everything looked similar due to infection, one thing that couldn¡¯t be denied was that even at this set pace she¡¯d run out of land pretty quick. Long stretches of land were turning into small hills that curved down into beaches of gray un-shifting sand.


    ¡°I would have noticed something if I were close, maybe its on the edge?¡± Goldilocks talked, mostly to keep her own company, she found strength in it.


    Casting around. She tired to catch some kind of trail, a path, anything that would divine the location of a nearby forest shrine. Some were in caves or constructed above ground, but even then she¡¯d have noticed, something. Every turn yielded similar results, a twisted landscape with an anathema stillness, more resembling a disturbing painting than lush greenery. Her nosed twitched, catching a whiff of salt, mixed with a sulphury undertone; that was the ocean; eventually even that would die down as those smells drifted further onto land. Going from a steady walk to more of a trot, she made it to the beach and looked out at what lay before her.


    The vast ocean flowed as nature intended, however a noticeable line of still waters stretched out to encompass not only this island but its neighbor as well. The islands in this area were grouped closely together making it difficult to consider them separate entities. Something even the sickness seemed to agree with. Following that line of still water, she could see where symptoms of Stygian-Petra had over taken the other landmass.


    ¡°And I just bet the shrine is on the last island,¡± Goldilocks swore and jogged closer.


    Upon seeing what type of task laid itself out and realizing what would have to happen for that task to be complete, her face screwed up in a phenomenal Red impression. She¡¯d rather do anything that sim through that filth. Granted she couldn¡¯t actually contract Stygian-Petra, but that didn¡¯t mean she would get in line to take a dip and swim through what was essentially blighted liquid. The mere thought of submerging into that anemic cesspool brought a body wide shiver.


    ¡°I could just¡­ swim around make a large semi-circle¡± then smacking her cheeks ¡°No no, straight line no wasted time just¡± Goldilocks dry heaved, this was akin to swimming in sewage ¡°At least sewage is has some life this is just¡­ wrong¡±


    There were certain things mortal-kind regardless of aptitude, upbringing, experience or otherwise was never meant to interact with. Such things gave an otherworldly sense of wrongness, as if ones very soul were engaging a flight or fight response that didn¡¯t exist. Fey touched or spirit cursed things were very high on a short list of things Mortals stayed clear of.


    ¡°And here I am about to swim through it, Red would call this a new record of stupid, and id say its only lunch time, I¡¯ll top this before dinner¡± So saying, she dove in.