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Description

In retrospect, the fire branch had been a horrifically bad idea.

Tenebrae coughs harshly as the fire roars up behind her, spreading almost too quick to follow; she hadn’t mean for this to happen. She’d thought as long as they were careful, it would be fine! The grasses were too high though and caught too easily; she’d almost believe something else were at work in the flames if she could bring herself to blame anyone but her own stupidity.

She strains briefly to see if Fiction is still running, the flaming branch held high above the grasses in her teeth – they should have done that in the first place. A crack and a sizzle; her fur burns as the fire gets too close, and Tenebrae yelps, turning, letting the flames herd her towards the trees. The forest will be a death trap if the flames spread too quickly, but there was no way around now – she gags on smoke again, coughing in panting fits before trying to lower herself closer to the ground, away from the haze of smoke rising eerily through the lower branches of the trees.

The smoke is thick and black and the fire is loud -cracking and roaring like some sort of wild thing, and Tenebrae can hear nothing over it. She can’t scent anything over the smoke, her nose running black soot, and her head is spinning. She does not know which direction she’s gone, or for how long she has been running. Her paws ache, the heat licking at her tail blistering the pads, burning the tips of her fur. Her pale coat is nearly dark as Fiction’s now, and she feels incredibly alone.

“Hello?” She calls hoarsely, futilely, into the flames. There is, of course, no answer over the roaring crackle that seems to be pushing in around her. “Spirits,” she half-swears, whining, desperately wishing she was home with her pack. “You’re going to die here,” she whispers to herself, angry that it was her own fault. “Aga forgive me,” she adds, ears flattening against her head as she pushes forward, jumping sideways and rolling in the dirt when a burning branch falls from somewhere on high. Even if she was going to die here, she was hardly going to stand still and let it happen.

Another branch falls and she yelps, ducking back just in time to avoid it, the heat nearly searing her skin. She hopes Fiction has made it somewhere safe, away from the flames and takes a moment to close her eyes and pray to the spirits, whispering Nagruk’s name, before crawling forward on her belly, trying to keep out of the smoke. A line of flame shoots across the foliage in front of her and she whimpers, pulling back, turning to the side only to find another wall of fire blocking the way.

Turning quickly, she finds herself blocked in, hope quickly fading as the fire creeps every closer, the roar of it nearly overcoming her as she crouches in the dirt. And then there’s a hulking, dark shape in the smoke just ahead, and for a moment she fears another dark spirit has found her.

The creature steps forward and Tenebrae sees pupilless eyes of warm yellow-green and her own blue eyes widen in response.

“Great Aga,” she manages, her hoarse voice barely a whisper. The great forest spirit’s expression is unreadable, her gaze reflecting the flames until those around Tenebrae sizzle out, extinguished by the spirit’s power. It is…A relief, to watch the fire extinguish, though she knows she does not deserve the spirit’s mercy. She pushes herself up to her paws to face Aga properly, shaking out her mane, soot falling from her fur.

“I am…So sorry,” she starts, a whine threaded through her words. “I should have been more careful,” she shakes her head, her pale fur an unseemly sight, darkened by ash. She has no thought of asking for help from the forest spirit – she has caused this mess and has no right. Instead, she inches closer, head bowed in respect and submission.

“Please,” she coughs, the hacking wrack of it making her curl briefly in on herself, her ears pinned back to her head. “What can I do?” How could she fix this? It seems like such a huge thing, but she would do anything the spirit required of her to make it right.

“What have you done, my child?” Aga asks, a sigh in her voice. Tenebrae sees recognition dawn on the spirit’s face before she exhales a long breath, putting out the fires around them. Tenebrae looks around to see the blackened skeletons of trees and the smoldering ash on the ground. She’d come so close – she turns her eyes back to Aga. “That the chosen one of my ally Nagruk could be the cause of all this…,” she shakes her head. “You have much to learn.”

Tenebrae whines low in her throat, and Aga sighs again, her voice going low, soothing, and sad all at once. “You are like a little seed, though; there is so much potential for good in you,” she explains softly, “and so you will come to no harm by my paw.” There is that sense of relief again, though Tenebrae had not thought the great spirit would hurt her; if she had, it would have been deserved.

“Tell me, child – you have no doubt encountered other, lesser spirits on your journey?” Aga asks, settling back on her haunches.

Tenebrae takes this for the invitation to sit up, though still keeping her submissive posture clear – she may be an alpha, but Aga is a great spirit, and so is owed submission by all. She nods in response, remembering vividly the strange creature that had frightened her and Fiction so badly – the reason they had decided to take a torch in the first place.

Aga nods, a knowing look on her face, as though she had expected such an answer. “There will be many more of them before the end – not all as forgiving as I,” she explains, fixing Tenebrae with a stern look. “Meelanik, the Devourer – you have heard this name?”

“Yes, I know it,” Tenebrae confirms, thinking of the dark, deep hunger the year after Lee died, and the haunting, double-jawed face that haunted her dreams.

“He seeks to cause great upheaval in the world,” Aga says, looking Tenebrae over carefully as though measuring her. “I hate to burden you with such a heavy task, child, but Nagruk has chosen you, and we need your help.”

Tenebrae swallows, her dry throat burning as though the extinguished flames had found their way inside. She reaches out a paw and shakes her head. “If the great spirits have need of me,” she manages, “then I will take up whatever burden you ask of me.” It is the least she could do for the destruction she’s caused here, as well as all the years Nagruk has walked beside her.

“Sikrinerk, the guide of lost souls, requires our help,” Aga finally explains, nodding to herself as though she’s perhaps found what she was looking for in this soot-stained, regret-filled tokota before her. She lifts one paw from the ground and the world seems to stop, holding its breath.

Tenebrae doesn’t quite notice that she stops breathing for a moment, looking down at Aga’s feet. She had noticed before that vines of ivy had sprung form the earth, twining around Aga’s paws and snaking between the bright flowers slowly growing through the ash. Awestruck, Tenebrae watches a large bud push up from the earth, swelling and swelling until the petals fall open, revealing the most beautifully made lantern she’s ever seen. The twisting roots and bright leaves are a sight for sore eyes among the field of ash and burned trees. It glows warmly, small fireflies buzzing around within the bulb of it.

“This will allow you to capture the spirit Sikrinerk seeks – it is drawn to living tokotas like you,” Aga explains, carefully placing the lantern before Tenebrae. “Seek out your guide – Nagruk will tell you what to do next,” she pauses, her form starting to fade away, though her eyes are still bright. “If you need anything at all, dear child, call on your spirit guide. And please, be careful.”

And then she’s gone, and Tenebrae looks around to find herself alone in the forest, only the lantern glowing warmly between her paws.

Description

In retrospect, the fire branch had been a horrifically bad idea.

Tenebrae coughs harshly as the fire roars up behind her, spreading almost too quick to follow; she hadn’t mean for this to happen. She’d thought as long as they were careful, it would be fine! The grasses were too high though and caught too easily; she’d almost believe something else were at work in the flames if she could bring herself to blame anyone but her own stupidity.

She strains briefly to see if Fiction is still running, the flaming branch held high above the grasses in her teeth – they should have done that in the first place. A crack and a sizzle; her fur burns as the fire gets too close, and Tenebrae yelps, turning, letting the flames herd her towards the trees. The forest will be a death trap if the flames spread too quickly, but there was no way around now – she gags on smoke again, coughing in panting fits before trying to lower herself closer to the ground, away from the haze of smoke rising eerily through the lower branches of the trees.

The smoke is thick and black and the fire is loud -cracking and roaring like some sort of wild thing, and Tenebrae can hear nothing over it. She can’t scent anything over the smoke, her nose running black soot, and her head is spinning. She does not know which direction she’s gone, or for how long she has been running. Her paws ache, the heat licking at her tail blistering the pads, burning the tips of her fur. Her pale coat is nearly dark as Fiction’s now, and she feels incredibly alone.

“Hello?” She calls hoarsely, futilely, into the flames. There is, of course, no answer over the roaring crackle that seems to be pushing in around her. “Spirits,” she half-swears, whining, desperately wishing she was home with her pack. “You’re going to die here,” she whispers to herself, angry that it was her own fault. “Aga forgive me,” she adds, ears flattening against her head as she pushes forward, jumping sideways and rolling in the dirt when a burning branch falls from somewhere on high. Even if she was going to die here, she was hardly going to stand still and let it happen.

Another branch falls and she yelps, ducking back just in time to avoid it, the heat nearly searing her skin. She hopes Fiction has made it somewhere safe, away from the flames and takes a moment to close her eyes and pray to the spirits, whispering Nagruk’s name, before crawling forward on her belly, trying to keep out of the smoke. A line of flame shoots across the foliage in front of her and she whimpers, pulling back, turning to the side only to find another wall of fire blocking the way.

Turning quickly, she finds herself blocked in, hope quickly fading as the fire creeps every closer, the roar of it nearly overcoming her as she crouches in the dirt. And then there’s a hulking, dark shape in the smoke just ahead, and for a moment she fears another dark spirit has found her.

The creature steps forward and Tenebrae sees pupilless eyes of warm yellow-green and her own blue eyes widen in response.

“Great Aga,” she manages, her hoarse voice barely a whisper. The great forest spirit’s expression is unreadable, her gaze reflecting the flames until those around Tenebrae sizzle out, extinguished by the spirit’s power. It is…A relief, to watch the fire extinguish, though she knows she does not deserve the spirit’s mercy. She pushes herself up to her paws to face Aga properly, shaking out her mane, soot falling from her fur.

“I am…So sorry,” she starts, a whine threaded through her words. “I should have been more careful,” she shakes her head, her pale fur an unseemly sight, darkened by ash. She has no thought of asking for help from the forest spirit – she has caused this mess and has no right. Instead, she inches closer, head bowed in respect and submission.

“Please,” she coughs, the hacking wrack of it making her curl briefly in on herself, her ears pinned back to her head. “What can I do?” How could she fix this? It seems like such a huge thing, but she would do anything the spirit required of her to make it right.

“What have you done, my child?” Aga asks, a sigh in her voice. Tenebrae sees recognition dawn on the spirit’s face before she exhales a long breath, putting out the fires around them. Tenebrae looks around to see the blackened skeletons of trees and the smoldering ash on the ground. She’d come so close – she turns her eyes back to Aga. “That the chosen one of my ally Nagruk could be the cause of all this…,” she shakes her head. “You have much to learn.”

Tenebrae whines low in her throat, and Aga sighs again, her voice going low, soothing, and sad all at once. “You are like a little seed, though; there is so much potential for good in you,” she explains softly, “and so you will come to no harm by my paw.” There is that sense of relief again, though Tenebrae had not thought the great spirit would hurt her; if she had, it would have been deserved.

“Tell me, child – you have no doubt encountered other, lesser spirits on your journey?” Aga asks, settling back on her haunches.

Tenebrae takes this for the invitation to sit up, though still keeping her submissive posture clear – she may be an alpha, but Aga is a great spirit, and so is owed submission by all. She nods in response, remembering vividly the strange creature that had frightened her and Fiction so badly – the reason they had decided to take a torch in the first place.

Aga nods, a knowing look on her face, as though she had expected such an answer. “There will be many more of them before the end – not all as forgiving as I,” she explains, fixing Tenebrae with a stern look. “Meelanik, the Devourer – you have heard this name?”

“Yes, I know it,” Tenebrae confirms, thinking of the dark, deep hunger the year after Lee died, and the haunting, double-jawed face that haunted her dreams.

“He seeks to cause great upheaval in the world,” Aga says, looking Tenebrae over carefully as though measuring her. “I hate to burden you with such a heavy task, child, but Nagruk has chosen you, and we need your help.”

Tenebrae swallows, her dry throat burning as though the extinguished flames had found their way inside. She reaches out a paw and shakes her head. “If the great spirits have need of me,” she manages, “then I will take up whatever burden you ask of me.” It is the least she could do for the destruction she’s caused here, as well as all the years Nagruk has walked beside her.

“Sikrinerk, the guide of lost souls, requires our help,” Aga finally explains, nodding to herself as though she’s perhaps found what she was looking for in this soot-stained, regret-filled tokota before her. She lifts one paw from the ground and the world seems to stop, holding its breath.

Tenebrae doesn’t quite notice that she stops breathing for a moment, looking down at Aga’s feet. She had noticed before that vines of ivy had sprung form the earth, twining around Aga’s paws and snaking between the bright flowers slowly growing through the ash. Awestruck, Tenebrae watches a large bud push up from the earth, swelling and swelling until the petals fall open, revealing the most beautifully made lantern she’s ever seen. The twisting roots and bright leaves are a sight for sore eyes among the field of ash and burned trees. It glows warmly, small fireflies buzzing around within the bulb of it.

“This will allow you to capture the spirit Sikrinerk seeks – it is drawn to living tokotas like you,” Aga explains, carefully placing the lantern before Tenebrae. “Seek out your guide – Nagruk will tell you what to do next,” she pauses, her form starting to fade away, though her eyes are still bright. “If you need anything at all, dear child, call on your spirit guide. And please, be careful.”

And then she’s gone, and Tenebrae looks around to find herself alone in the forest, only the lantern glowing warmly between her paws.