#DiceGames: Day Two

My second DiceGames prompt is: “Write a love story. Blood and gore is mandatory.” I first started writing a Mr. & Mrs. Smith type of story, in which lovers try to kill each other. But then I came up with an idea that was more along the lines of what I write.

Unfortunately I can't complete the challenge because I'm going to Menorca for a week's holiday, and I didn't have time to write the third story. I'll post the story and visit the other participating blogs once I get back.

They had followed the trail of blood and prints through the woods, and found the deer in a clearing, an arrow jutting from its haunch. He watched her as she stepped lightly ahead of him, leaving shallow prints in the snow. As always, she wore a coat of grey fur with darker shades running along her sides.

A drizzle of frost fell onto her back, revealing yet another carrion bird had arrived. The crows clutched spindly branches with crooked claws. Their thick beaks opened and closed as they squawked, awaiting a true predator to open the carcass.

He snorted in contempt at the presence of the foul birds. Should any of them dare attempt to steal, he would run them off.

A ripping sound caught his attention. Skin and fur came loose as she revealed their prize. Her long face disappeared amidst the carcass of the stag. She gorged on the dark red flesh, reveling in its taste and texture. He padded over to her side and joined the feast. Once they had their fill they would call to the others; there would be enough food for the whole pack.

He watched her with pride: her belly was round with their unborn pups. They would enter the world in the den their ancestors had found decades ago. They would be greeted and raised by the ruling pack of the Weeping Woods.

Gently he nudged his mate. She looked at him, yellow eyes glinting with joy. They lifted their snouts to the sky and howled in calling to the other wolves.

Servant of Sana - Part I

The forest had fallen silent, the stillness broken only by the soft squish of wet moss under Vret’s paws. He lowered his snout down to a root; dots of red stained its rough surface. The scent of blood filled his mouth with saliva, but he swallowed and snorted the smell out of his nose. He had to keep the wolf’s instincts at bay.

Vret walked onwards, following the smell and the dots of blood. Behind him the other hunters followed, Bhair trailing right on his heels. The others had forms bigger and stronger than his; even Bhair’s hunting form, a fellow wolf, stood taller than him. Luckily his wolf form had the best nose, otherwise he would’ve been useless.

“Vret, stop.” Bhair walked next to Vret, fur bristling, ears flat. “The deer’s headed for a cursed place.”

Another hunting party had passed the area months ago and noticed the change. The feel of the woods was wrong: the wind died there, animals were quiet, and a foul stench wafted through the air.

One of the trees surrounding a little clearing now housed a demon. A summoner who served the God of Death Vixi had stamped the being there, a trap for powerful shapeshifters. But Vret wasn’t powerful.

“The demon won’t bother with me.” He broke into a run before they could stop him. Broken branches and faint tracks led him on a winding trail. The deer had faltered; he’d find it lying down soon. Then he could finish the animal and drag it back.

Silence deepened around him. The smell of rot mixed with and soon overpowered the scent he followed. Vret stopped, the green streak of fur on his back bristling. The deer had bed near a willow in the clearing that opened before him. Its sides were still, the fur matted with dark blood, a gloss had slid over its dark eyes.

Though an eerie feel permeated the clearing, nothing outright threatened him. Vret slunk nearer to the dead deer. Ears perked up, muscles tense he waited for a sign of the demon.

A rustle caught his attention. Vret froze. He drew breath, ready to call to the others, but the howl died; they wouldn’t step anywhere near the clearing.

Suddenly a bear ran from the bushes. Its eyes darted between Vret and the carcass. Vret sought the few words of bear he knew, but found only insults. Calling the bear a stumpy clawed flatfoot would only anger the animal.

The bear rose, a throaty roar bursting from its maw. Vret stood still. He looked at the deer, and then at the bear. The kill belonged to him. A growl rumbled in his throat; hackles raised he spoke to the insolent animal.

Mine.

The bear lunged forwards. Its round taloned paw arched through the air and struck Vret’s shoulder. He staggered back, tail between his legs, head held low. The bear attacked again, striking the side of his head. The edge of his sight blurred, and he stumbled backwards. A piece of moss slid loose beneath Vret’s foot, causing him to tumble onto his side.

Carrion breath filled the air, teeth pressed against his neck. He let out a whine, a plea of mercy. The bear’s jaws snapped shut. Vret fell limp and slid over the roots of a pine.

The bear sniffed his face for a moment, but soon lost interest. It lumbered over to the deer carcass and began dragging it into the woods.

Vret drew a wheezing breath. He yelped as the bones in his neck began dragging into place. His magic healed him, but too slowly. Blood trickled down his face and neck; with each beat of his heart his magic and strength fled. As his magic faded, his body reverted back to his true form. Fur slid beneath pink skin, claws softened into fingers, and jaws shrank back into a human mouth.

Vret closed his eyes. He looked inwards into a time when Enna still lived. He’d lost the scent of a boar and tracked her instead; she’d burst out laughing when he told her. Later at the village she’d sought him out.

Vret gritted his teeth as the pain of losing her mingled with the pain of dying. Tears ran down his cheeks, disappearing into the blood. He drew another rasping breath, hoping it would be his last.

A movement caught Vret’s eye, but turning his head hurt too much. Coarse hands cupped his jaw. Elongated fingers webbed over his face and lifted it upwards. A blunt snout split into a toothless smile. Above thick bark-like skin stretched where the demon’s eyes should have been. A needled, dark-green mane ran along its back to the pine trunk where the demon still connected to the tree.

I am Sana. I can heal you… if you become mine. The words caressed his fading mind. His wounds began to knit shut, and the pain eased for a moment.

Survival, within his reach.

“No.” He spoke the words quickly, the answer he had been taught to give. Doubt circled his mind; demons made shapeshifters stronger, but enslaved their victims, slowly corrupting their nature. “I won’t betray my kin.”

I can wait for another one to wander here, but you… The demon twisted Vret's head, sending pain running along his neck. Its fingers held his mouth shut, muffling his scream. You will die. I can make you powerful. I can help you aid your kin.

He then saw his village, the small buildings, children darting between them, changing their form midrun to climb to a roof. One of the children disappeared amidst the trees. The vision followed the child as she jumped over roots and stones. Midjump she changed into a fox. Her tiny feet sent up puffs of dust as she shook off her clothes and darted onwards.

The little girl led Vret’s thoughts to his daughter, a talented shapeshifter unlike her father. Inis would be alone as well as his son Deri. Reet and her partner would care for them, but—

A shrill barking jolted him back to the demon’s vision. The child had backed against a rock, wolves surrounded her. Hackles raised they drew nearer to the child who pressed against the stone.

See what you could do with my help.

A roar drowned the shapeshifter child’s urgent calls for help. Branches parted as a monster emerged. Its skin bore resemblance to the scaly bark of a pine, and a dark green mane of needles ran down its back and along a thick tail.

The monster sprung forwards and grabbed a wolf with its elongated claws. The creature’s green eyes glinted with delight as its hand grasped the squirming and whining wolf. Slowly it tore the screaming animal in two.

The other wolves had fled. The shapeshifter child stood frozen for a moment, then darted in the direction of the village.

That could be you. Your kin may scorn you, but you could still protect them. The demon’s fingers pressed against his face. Tainted magic spread from them. With each moment he grew stronger. He could change into a big wolf, a bear, even a fool’s dragon.

Vret opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue didn’t move and his jaw hung slack. Numbness coated his body. The world began to fade, colors blurring into each other. His body began breaking under the strain of his magic fighting the demon. Pain dragged him unconscious as his feeble magic became part of the demon’s, devoured by the greater power.

MarchMadness Blog Challenge 4

Wet moss squished beneath Vret’s bare feet as he walked towards the edge of the woods. The branch of a willow pressed against his arm, leaving behind dots of moisture on his sleeve. He stopped, before him opened a clearing. The one where he’d met his demon.

She’d found him half-dead, offered to heal him if he allowed her to possess him. When her finger trailed along his skin he’d felt power course through him. His wounds had knit themselves shut and the pain faded for a moment. Then his own magic had begun to fight the demon’s.

His mind had blurred from the mix of pain and pleasure, but he must have spoken for he woke with the demon beneath his skin.

“You yearned for me to end your existence as a weakling.” Her words from his mouth jolted him from his thoughts. ”We are both stronger now.”

“Yes, we are.” He’d cheated death and the strongest form he could take was no longer a mere wolf, but a nightmarish creature this world did not bear. He had to bow to Sana’s will, but becoming a strong puppet was better than being weak and free.

MarchMadness Blog Challenge 2

The weak wind carried the scent of resin mixed with rotting leaves. Vret turned his face to the breeze, its sound mixing with the steady breathing of the prisoner. Leaves rustled as the king’s man shifted in his spell-induced slumber. The thought of toying with his former imprisoner crossed his mind, but he cast it aside.

But the demon had already decided.

His skin thickened and its tone changed into mottled greens. Pieces of cloth fell off his growing body as he stepped towards his prey. Leisurely his claws grabbed the human and slammed him against a pine, breaking the spell. The man’s mouth opened and closed in a silent plead.

Maw hanging open he breathed in the fear the human exuded. He needed more. Gently his demon pushed him aside.

“Little human.” The words flowed from his mouth, in his voice, but they belonged to the demon. “My puppet shall enjoy watching.”

Thick needles pierced the man’s skin, growing trough his flesh. The screaming would alert the hunting party. They’d take him away, keep him alive for questioning. No, his fate does not belong to them. The tip of his claw rested on the man’s throat for a moment before piercing it.

Nigthgale Blog Challenge: A Final Gift

My third entry to Glitterlady's Nightgale blog challenge. Takes place in Verannia.

The earth mage plodded through the woods, fingers touching rough bark of a pine and naked limb of a birch as he walked past his old friends. Snow crunched beneath his feet and clung to his boots.

Weariness forced him to sit under a pine. The tree was old, wounded by the years and twisted by the wind. The mage studied the signs of great age with mild envy; he had lost the opportunity to grow old.

He had healed the ill and lifted the spirits of those in need for ten years now. But when the plague had come to North, he had spread himself too thin trying to help everyone, and caught the damn disease himself. It was a mistake and he had to pay the price, but he refused to die behind closed doors, surrounded by sorrow and decay.

He would die in the pure snow; his body would feed the earth and the trees which stood sentry between his home and the Ice Barrens. Gently he touched the scaly bark of the pine. Perhaps he could help the tree survive a little longer.

He reached outwards, grasped the threads of life flowing beneath the smooth bark, and began binding his body to the trunk. The predators would have to find something else to eat; besides, his diseased flesh might sicken the animals.

Tears appeared along the surface of the tree, resin seeped down onto his shoulders. The golden resin flowed down along his body until it touched the ground, where it hardened. More resin covered him, reaching up to his neck. The mage sighed out his last breath as he left the world behind. But a part of him would stay in this world, feeding the old tree.