[IC] The Wyld Hunt

Among the small mounds of earth and stone, which appeared to be the young of the mighty Grey Hills, under a small copse of birch trees, a mind slowly lifted itself from a deep sleep. Not truly awake but aware, it spread across what men were now calling The Heart of Primal Rodecia, feeling and counting the trees, the animals and searching for humans. Slowly this consciousness probed around the edges of a clearing, in the middle of a stand of tall, old pines and found what is sought. As the sun rose, heralding a new day, there must have been over a hundred of the man-creatures on the clearing, some of the sleeping, others awaking and a handful ready to start the way.

Like a swift wind, the awareness raced back to the mountains and drove beneath the seven birches. An hour or so later, the trees heaved, the ground they stood on pushed towards the sky. A tear appeared in the interlaced roots, soil and grass, in the middle of the copse, as a hand, nut brown in color emerged from within the earth. It was quickly followed by an arm, then a head, shoulders and the rest of the body of a large humanoid, as the earth fell into a small depression around his booted feet. If one had just missed his magical entrance to the surface, he couldn’t have been mistaken for anything but a character out of a faerie tale.

Leaves and berries appeared to grow out of his flowing hair. His clothing was made from grass and leaves. His boots looked like tree bark. The body filling out those cloths was muscled, not so much like a bodybuilders but more like that of a man who had spend his life doing hard work. A pair of horns protruded from his temples, curling upwards and around a circlet of golden oak leaves. His face was strangely unhuman, having this agelessness about it. He was also tall, pushing passed the seven foot mark.

Shaking off loose chucks of soil and unwrapping a few roots from about his person, the Forest King stretched. He had been sleeping for the past hundred years, now and then drifting close enough to waking to feel for problems. He had always done so on the summer solstice, so see if the Fey folk might ride on their appointed night, to hunt the man-creature.

With a smile on his face, the Fey king strolled down from the foothills and into the tall, proud trees of the old growth forest. At the heart of the woods, there was a truly massive oak three, which had been growing since the beginning of time. Leaning against he truck were a sword in leather sheath and a long spear. Hanging from a low branch, was a massive auroch horn, bound with gold and silver. The Hunting Horn, sounded only upon the setting of the sun on Midsummer’s Eve, to signal the beginning of the Wyld Hunt.

As Erlking lifted the horn from it’s resting place, a pack of ghostly hounds appeared in the shadow of the tree. Massive and shaggy beasts, of the kind used to hunt bears or boars. White they were, save for bloody red eyes, which glowed even in the daylight. They stood there, panting, tongues hanging out as they watched their master, eager to hunt again after three centuries.

“Go” commanded the Fey, “Seek out the high lords and lady. Instruct them to gather their courts and ready themselves at sunset at the human’s camp.”

The pack split, four of the hounds racing away towards where they might find the Shadow Court. Another four ran down where the Day Court was held and a final four hurried away to the Twilight Court. One final hound remained, the largest of the pack and it’s leader.

“Icrale” said the Forest King, “Go and find Hlas.”

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The day passed, for the humans in the park, as it had everyday. Parties of students and park rangers left the camp, forging trails for hikers, rebuilding Iron Age villages and stocking the buildings with iron and bronze tools. Others worked within the camp, digging out foundations for future administration buildings or laying out frame works for once the road was widened enough for the trucks filled with building material. When the evening arrived, the parties returned, to fires already crackling and supper on plates.

As the sun began to set, the Fey King waited under a pine tree, just to the south of the human’s camp. He was mounted upon the eight-legged horse, Hlas. Around the horse’s hooves, the hounds waited. His magic shielded them from the eyes of the humans.





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“And hello there ladies, intrusive roommate.” Flynn O’Brian greeted the group by the fire he’d been working with all day. Adam, his roommate, he knew quite well, and Alicia well enough by reputation, but the blonde Aly he’d only met today, and found a pretty distraction while he was forced to be here, though she seemed oblivious or was at least ignoring his rather obvious invitations.

“And where were you an hour ago when we were setting up camp?” Adam questioned, though his blatant accusation of laziness lacked heat.

“Doing what any good iron age man does best, hunting and gathering.” Flynn said with a grin as he tossed over a grocery bag filled with good old fashion snack foods like potato chips. It was a far cry better tasting than that nasty venison jerky their project leader Pete had offered up, and Flynn watched as even Aly abandoned her plain trail mix for the salty treats.

“That’s Stone Age F.Y.I., god how are you even a History major?” Adam jibbed good naturedly. Flynn merely rolled his eyes at his friend. “D’you always have to be such a prat about details Adam?” His roommate merely shrugged before popping open a back of what looked like cheesy puffs.

“Well don’t be too sour with me, I come bearing gifts.” Flynn said taking a seat by the fire, and pulling out a wooden box.

“Say Aly, what kinds of trees do you see around the clearing?” Flynn asked the blonde across from him with a smile. She looked slightly perplexed by the relevance of the question, but she complied none the less.

“Pine trees mostly, but I saw a few oak trees back there before we set up camp. Um…”Aly took a moment squinting at the darkness before finishing. “There’s an Ash tree up ahead there, and a few Thorn trees mixed in with the pine along the edges too, though it’s kind of dark, so I could be wrong.” Aly finished.

“Oh no, you’re right, I saw them earlier too. Do you know what that means though love?” Flynn asked. Aly shook her head, a little unsure where he was going with this. “It means we’ll be seeing the fae folk tonight with a full moon like this.” Flynn answered while patting the box.

“It’s supposed to be in a grove, a grow filled with Ash and Oak and Thorn, not just a large clearing with a few here and there scattered in pine trees. We took the same folklore class here last semester.” Adam contradicted and explained to the group once again.

“Oh it’s close enough!” Flynn bit back, beginning to become annoyed with Adam. “So I stopped by the local shops and picked up a few things to be prepared to see them.” Flynn said with a false dramatic air that got a few laughs as he opened the box and pulled something out.

“That looks like a rock with a hole in the middle.” Alicia said sounding quite unimpressed.

“It is.” Flynn assured. “But it’s a special rock with a hole in the middle. It’s a river rock that the water wore a hole through, and is supposed to have the power to see through fairie glamour, woooh. Plus I paid twenty Euros for it, so someone better use it.”

“Fine, I’ll take the stupid rock, if only to mock you for your horrible waste of money.” Alicia replied taking the stone. It had a long string looped and tied to it so it could be worn as a necklace, but Alicia simply slipped it into her pocket.

Next Flynn pulled out a little corked bottle of dark yellow liquid. “How do I know that’s not squirrel pee?” Adam asked at once. “You could always have Pete sniff it for you, but personally, I’d just read the label.” Flynn replied. “It’s marigold water. You’re supposed to rub it around the eyes, not in it, the label’s quite specific about that, and it’s supposed to give you the power to see the fairies.”

“I’ll do it after you.” Adam replied, and Flynn rolled his eyes at how untrusting his roommate was. A few silly harmless pranks and he’d somehow lost all credibility. “Fine.” Flynn said, dabbing the liquid around his eyes before throwing the bottle to Adam who did the same. “This feels ridiculous.” Adam mumbled.

Then next thing Flynn pulled, even he wasn’t sure what it was for, though he did at least recognize the deity. It depicted the face of a bearded man with vegetation growing throughout his hair and a crow of leaves upon his head. Flynn had seen depictions of the Green Man hundreds of times, though he couldn’t recall ever seeing the ancient pagan deity with horns before. “Here Aly, have yourself a look.” Flynn said, tossing the wooden charm necklace to her. Aly caught it easily, and examined the intricately detailed wooden charm with fascination.

“That’s the Green Man. The fairie king of the forest. Legend says if a fair maiden kisses his charm in a forest, he’s summoned to her side, though for what is anyone’s guess. Maidens who’ve claimed to have done so though, are curiously easy to get pregnant, and the Green Man is a symbol of fertility among other things, so we could always take a wild stab and guess what was going on there.” Flynn said with a wink. And to that, Aly let out a good laugh.

“Now why do I have the sneaking suspicion you made that up?” She said with a smile before putting the necklace on. Flynn merely shrugged, as there had been old wives tales about bits and pieces of that story, but admittedly the bit about the charm had been a load of bull. Actually, he didn’t know what it was exactly, as it hadn’t been labeled, but he’d been drawn to it, and brought it regardless.

Aly felt the same way, looking the charm over, and trying to figure out what kind of wood it was. She decided it was rowan wood after a minute, as she’d gotten to examine some rowan wood carvings earlier that week and recognized it as the same.

Fein had started his day like any other, he woke up packed up a backpack of gear for the day, including a knife his camp stove, which was running low on fuel, and a fishing pole. He threw on his tunic and a pair of jeans and headed out to help the trail crews.

The crew set of towards the main trail they had needed to widen it according to the people planning the headquarters. Most of the trail crew he joined today was new people to the camp. And he didn’t know any of them, which was how he liked it while working because it meant none of them wanted to talk to him and he could work alone. He grabbed an Axe and a pair of brush cutters from the group pile and set to work a little ways ahead of the group.

Around lunch time he decided to head to the stream nearby and do some fishing for his lunch and maybe his dinner with any luck, he had never been partial to the group meals other than been able to talk to other groups about their day, and the food was always the same unless someone had been able to go hunting that day.
After a few casts however the line got tangled in a nearby tree. Cursing his luck he began to untangle his line. By the time he was done he had used up all his time for lunch and had to head back to work. “This means I have to eat with the others tonight” he thought to himself. The day pressed on before the trail manager had decided to call it a day, slightly earlier than normal Fein noticed.

The walk back to camp was more or less uneventful Fein saw a small flock of turkey and song birds as well as a rabbit running into the woods as he got closer to it “if only I had a hunting bow” he thought to himself. He had one of course but it was an antique and a memory from his deceased adopted father, and he dare not use it for everyday hunting. “Perhaps I will buy one to use when I have some fish to trade” he said out loud to the empty forest thinking maybe he would head out to the town on his few days off, there was a town just outside the woods though that was at least a full days walk from the camp

At the camp there were some locals that that came through once in a while to sell their wares and a small Store that was supplied with things like fuel for the gas stoves, matches and other things to make camping a bit more comfortable. Fein headed over to the camp store and picked up some gas for his stove than headed back towards his tent. Before getting to far he heard of the area merchants calling him over, normally Fein would ignored these merchants since he knew they normally only had trinkets, none of which interested him but he felt drawn to this one for some reason. The man showed him a pendant; it was made of some kind of wood and worked into the shape of swirling fish hook. “It’s made from the rowan wood found in this forest and is supposed to bring good luck and the favor of the fey to those who wear it around their necks” the man said. Fein never really thought it would work but for some reason he bought the item, I cost him a few dollars and he put the pendant on before heading back to his tent to remove his pack. He normally shared his tent with two others but they had left today for town and didn’t expect to be back for a few days. So he dumped his pack on the ground grabbed a set of silverware and his knife from his pack and headed to the camp fires for some food. He recognized a few people but tonight was the full moon and he wanted to go for a walk. He saw aly with a group of people and thought she might like to go but didn’t want to interrupt her at the moment and decided to wait until after he ate.

As Fein sat down with a bit of food he looked more closely at the pendant. The merchant had said something about favor of the fey. Fein laughed dismissing the fey as legend an interesting one he admitted but myth just the same. As he ate he recalled a few stories of the fey and one stood out to him, the myth of something called “the wyld hunt” it was supposed to be a game played by the fey. Fein laughed again at the myth, and figured it stood out because it was a story often told to him by his great grandfather. Fein finished his meal quickly and looked around; the sun was starting to set. He got up dropped his dishes with the cleaning crew and headed towards where he had seen aly, as he walked up to the group he recognized Flynn and Adam. Both of whom had large rings of yellow around there eyes

“What have you two gotten into” he said as he walked over and sat by the fire, “actually I might not want to know.” He said with a smile

“I was wondering if anyone would be interested in a hike tonight, the moon is going to be full and the woods are nice this time of year” he said to the group, as he looked around and noticed several strange items including a wooden representation of the green man in aly’s hand. He was somewhat curious but decided not to ask.

"Oh hey Fein. Flynn here's just been wasting his money on some tourist traps. This gunk's supposed to let us see fairies." Adam replied with a good laugh. Flynn merely shrugged, and pulled the last item out of the box. It was a bottle, still chilled, that proclaimed 'Fairie Nectar Rodecia's Finest Brew' on the front. "Just for that, I'm not sharing with you." Flynn retorted, opening the bottle and taking a swig.

"Wasn't Alcohol what got you here in the first place?" Aly asked with a slightly disapproving tone.

"Not at all m'dear. I'm a Brit, and twenty one to boot, so my drinking is perfectly legal even by your prudish country's standards. I believe it was public indecency and defacing public property that got me here." Flynn replied, taking another swig. “But the bra and nickers can right off the statue, So I think defacing was a bit strong of a word.”

“I think I’m up for that walk Fein.” Aly replied as she stood up, less comfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. “I’ve been studying up on some of the native wildlife here, but I haven’t really gotten a chance to see any of the nocturnal species.” Aly explained as the last rays of sunshine began to disappear from the horizon.

" I don't know what you think you'll see with the yellow goo but if it floats your boat" he said in Flynns direction "as for the alcohol I'd like to know where you got it I was sure you weren't supposed to drink while volunteering" Fein said "maybe you should hand it over before you get in more trouble". Fein had no time for people who drank to be stupid but he refused to let someone do do unless they truly where stubborn about it. In Flynn's case alcohol would be the only reason he was seeing faeries, it might even explain his thinking with the yellow goo. He also decided to ignore Flynn's explanation as to why he was in trouble and why he had a set of womens clothing to put on a statue, Aly had said she wanted to go and was already standing up. He was ready to leave the others behind and get going. He stood up and offered an arm to Aly, his gentleman's training kicking in instinctively, he didn't know what to say to her, other than "so where would you like to look". He was never one for interest in the living animals, though some of then where neat ad maybe she could spark his interest in them. He figured he would be fine as long as they didn't run into some of the spiders he knew to dwell in the woods. At least i wont have to go with the others he thought they are liable to make the evening less enjoyable if they actively start looking for faeries

"perhaps thee will be some creatures along the stream to the east" he said before she could respond to his first question. It was the closer edge of the clearing from where they where and Fein thought that he might lose the other if they decided to follow them.

The wind sang it's lonely dirge,song and verse the race of men would never hear, as the sun rose from it's resting place beneath the horizon. High above the lands upon the tallest mountain of this land stood a raven on a weathered structure crafted of black stone. A first guess would have dismissed the bird as nothing more then an other black feathered flier. But a close inspection of the bird would reveal an intelligence in it's eyes that no normal raven could have.

And even as that fact was processed the observer would realize the absurdity of any bird this high up let alone a raven, were the air was so thin the observer would be breathing tanked oxygen. Of course though it was only the raven upon this lofty peak, staring at the lands below with eyes not of shadow hue but of silver grey.

"And so it begins anew." A voice said, a voice that could not have possibly originated from the bird. But then who else was upon this forsaken peak if not the raven. The voice held a deep and resonate tone that seemed to echo in the ear. It held both threat and promise, a duality that would have lit a dark desire in the casual listener.

And in less time then the fact was realized the bird was gone, 'nevermore' as the saying went. Yet in it's place stood a tall man of ivory pale skin glowing with the ethereal aura no mortal could ever have. Despite divine light and ivory skin the man of height was draped in shadows that had nothing to do with his clothing. For black was his colour, from boot to raven feather cloak. In his eyes was a deep and penetrating gaze, holding for all intents and purposes the secrets of the universe. Though exactly what was the limit of the wisdom those shadow hue orbs held was one known only to him.

Sin,seduction, and enigmatic gaze trapped those who stared too long into those orbs and so none knew the secrets they held.

" Father the messenger of the King has arrived." A soft and yet alluring female voice spoke seemingly out of nowhere. That is till one spotted a raven, but unlike the one before this one bore a blue undertone to it's black feathers.

" I know my child, fly swiftly and gather our people. The King desires his sport and I am loath to risk his anger this day of all days." The raven feather cloaked man answered to the raven's words, at ease with the fact his garment was made of the bird's hide.

The blue tinted raven bowed it's head and took to the wind, angling it's body to plummet steeply down the mountain's slope. Gone from sight in but two heart beats the man smiled, the pride of a parent colouring the simple action.

Reaching out his hand the man twisted it an odd way, as if plunging a dagger into a person then pulling it out. And as his hand came to rest beside the body it belonged to a section of the air turned into colourless shadows,blacker then black was this section of the air. Stepping forth into it's influence the man like the first raven was gone from sight.

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The sun set upon the once fair lands of Rodecia, in the once fair country of Silures. But the hand of man hath wrought many things upon it's surface. Buildings of glass and steel tall as a mountain, roads that weathered the punishment of years. And most telling of all the automobile as man called it, a foul device that polluted as it did the job of ferrying lazy humans about.

And into this once fair land a congress of Ravens flew through, flying with a speed unseen in the average raven, their destination unknown and their purpose anyone's guess. Being to human eyes but a mere flock of birds they were paid scant attention.

Through the forests layering the once pristine Rodecia the flock flew, reaching a glade set with a pine tree. Setting themselves upon the edges of the glade, resting on the branches of trees they took in the sights. Leaf, fern, and water however caught little of their attention. No their shadow hue orbs had eyes only for the rider sat upon an eight legged horse, surrounded by ghostly hounds.

A single raven then parted company with his congress, blacker then black he was with a gleam of intelligence in his eyes surpassing the average bird. Flying straight up then coming down to rest upon the pine tree's lowest branch he twisted his head sideways as if finding the sight of the rider and his horse odd.

"Greetings your Majesty. I hope this day finds you well." The raven, for the rider remained silent, spoke with a bow at the waist.

The dancers span in dizzying circles, three dressed in brown twirling around one clothed all in silver, a shining mask on his face. One shining arm swam delicately in the air, raising high, its fist clenched tight in salute. Held for a lingering breath, long fingers uncurled as the hand reversing its direction, falling like an autumn leaf in ever widening circles until it stopped in front of the face of its owner. Bright green eye stared at palm, blinked, twice, an almost comical frown marring the dancers face as he span, outstretched arms taking in the three who danced around him, the two aside who played pipe and fiddle, the silent circle who stood ten paces past them, coming to rest in a crouch, arms raised towards the throne that lay at the head of the assembled court.

Standing beside the throne, Angerona, aspect of winter, glanced aside at her lord, lounging with one leg outstretched as he lay back on the seat formed from the twisted roots of the titanic willow that formed his throne, towering over the sunlit clearing, the high court of the fae, his silver eyes fixed on the dance as it played out before them all.

Two more figures stepped from the crowd, raising gold etched masks to their faces, symbolic tearlines running from the eyes, striding forward to take their places in the ritual. And ritual it was. Angerona's eyes flickered with distaste as she watched the centre figure raise himself up, until he was balanced on the point of his toes.

Reynardine, the aspect of spring. Always and ever the exhibitionist. The part he played was a figure from their past, a mere seven hundred years ago, and to whom the humans had reneged on a deal. In return, the silver dancer had taken every firstborn child as payment, and of course it was Reynard who played the lead. He did now, as he had the last six times the dance had been performed in the courts.

Unnoticed by all, four massive hounds padded through the treeline at the edge of the clearing, their eyes glowing, heading straight for the throne at the centre. A few feet in, the leading dog opened its mouth, loosing a heavy bark that echoed amongst the trees for a long moment. Bow screeched on string as the band faltered, the eyes of the musicians frantic as they almost immediately started playing again. No one else moved, not a soul turning from the dance, until Serra's eyes flickered up momentarily, glancing towards the four spectral hounds, unseen in the High Court for so long.

That was the catalyst. Like a wave, the fae closest their lord turned, then those further away, each fixed on the passage of the dogs. The dancers froze, Reynard himself stopping with one leg extended, the only sound the slow confident lope of padded feet on earth. Immaculate faces cracked, twisting into expressions of excitement and confusion as whispers sprang up between the nobles, urgent discussions on what the appearance of the Erlking's hunting hounds meant, that perhaps finally their king had awoken and the wyld hunt was to run once more.

Heedless of the dancers frozen like statues, the dogs padded to the base of the willow throne, silver eye meeting crimson as the hunting beasts dipped their front legs in what was unmistakable a bow. For two breaths, Lord and beast stared into each others eyes, until Serra closed his own, head inclining the barest fraction. That was all it took. The hounds rose, turned, paced from the circle, then broke into a headlong rush and disappeared back into the trees once again.

Murmers rose in pitch, several faces breaking into full grins, the palpable tension that had held the gathering fading with the dogs. In the centre, Reynard carefully lowered his leg, one hand rising to pluck the mask from his face and hold it in one extended hand. Dipping into a bow, arranging his face into careful expressionlessness, the noble raised his eyes to the man on the throne.

“My Lord?”

His tone was questioning, barely conveying the excitement he felt, the mask trembling almost imperceptibly in his fingers. In the time between question and response, it felt like aeons passed, nothing and no one in the clearing moving, even the wind holding its breath, as the world waited for answer.

Silver eyes blinked, then with the slowness of a glacier, Serra rose. At the corner of the throne, Angerona leant in turn to her attendants, speaking from the corner of her mouth. “Send a messenger to Lena. Tell her the King has awoken.” One of her courtiers broke from the group without sound, sliding into the trees to find the youngest of the four noble aspects, tonight hunting alone amongst the wylds, as was her right.

The Lord of the High court stared down at his subjects, his children, many shivering as his gaze passed across them, beautiful and terrible, and then, finally, Serra spoke.

“Prepare yourselves. Tonight. We hunt.”

- - - - - - -

Darkness took the camp, those inside unaware of the watchers, the man who stood under tree of pine and the raven that plummeted from the sky to roost above him. Overhead, a star winked out, the grass stirring as if blown by unfelt wind, tentacles of mist pouring from the forest to curl across the plain, and the legs of the horses that stepped from the trees.

Twelve riders and one, their lord at their head, all clad exclusively in grey and white, faces sharp, a party of shrikes on the march. The group stopped a respectful distance from their ruler as Serra rode on, his own steed stopping beside that of his lord. Face impassive, he dipped at the waist, voice low.

“My King. Long has it been since we have spoken.”

Rising again, he turned, looking sidelong at the raven sitting above them both.

“Childe Huginn. Mayhap you should be standing beside your king.”

It wasnt a question, arrogance twisting each syllable, and Serra had already turned back to the Erlking, his last statement hanging in the air, inquiring.

“And the Lady?”

The night lay cold and close upon the land, drifting flakes of snow adding festive confetti to the twinkling lights of the Great Circle. Music and laughter flowed, dancers swayed and swirled, each more glittering than the last. Though temperatures plummeted well below freezing, the Dancers of the Twilight Court clad themselves as if for a midsummer night's romp, silks and satins, sheers and lace, the cold of no consequence to the races of the fey. Upon heavily laden tables spread a great feast with food of every kind and great fountains of sweet wine and blood laid out in elaborate displays of artistry.

A visitor to the revelries would likely be hard-pressed to imagine a scene as gay and frivolous anywhere in the world, but Lady Irridhwe, Danseur of the Darkest Dance, Daughter of the Six Silvery Serpents, Chalyce of the Night, Twilight Lord, Ninety Times and Again Winner of the Wylde Hunt and Dearest to the Hearte of the Forest King, that last a self-affected title, was not fooled. A displeased pout plumped her wine-red lips as she surveyed the night regale. As with the gala before this and the one before that for further back than she cared to remember, the same fey performed the same dances to the same music, laughed at the same risque jests as if each telling were the first and, in general, made merry with such an air of jaded boredom that her own fun was already quite ruined. This simply would not do.

The Court must have a diversion, something new to breathe new life and livelihood into her people, something to stay the Long Decline. She was not ready to join the Great Hunt Beyonde just yet, if indeed ever, and woe upon her arrival to any Unseelie who dared pass over first. Long ago she had vowed to be the last one standing in this morbid game of Lords.

She considered her current problem, thinking back to a time when her gatherings were lively and exciting affairs filled with abandon and the promise of tomorrow. Now tomorrow's promises were forlorn and listless things barely worth the effort of speaking. What had changed?

The answer was obvious. Children. So long had passed since the last Sidhe had given birth that there were no longer any among the Dark Dance, or indeed so far as she knew, among the Day or Shadow Courts. With the exception of Boggarts, who still bred like bunnies down in their twisted warrenholes, the cycle of birth and death had ceased among her people.

Her lip curled. Little more than animals they were, but their young brought a freshness and vitality to their clans lacking elsewhere among feykind. Among feykind. Something in that thought set off a vague premonition of an idea, though nothing full-fledged enough to grasp and examine. Fearing to act in haste and lose the thought completely, she became still as moonlit pond and just as reflective, holding the thought loosely in her mind while allowing it to wander where it will.

A servant, seeing late the signs of disquiet within her, rushed forward to offer a tray of bespelled hors d'oeuvres. With a sharp glare she waved him away, planning torments to heap on his head should her fledgeling have died due to his distraction. At first it seemed it had, and she was working her way towards a spectacular temper tantrum when a question insinuated itself in her thoughts, a question so quiet and unassuming she almost missed it. Who else exhibited that kind of vitality?

Animals, of course, she answered herself dismissively, but their sheer stupidity made them poor sport. And...

The Dance faded away to insubstantiality as the answer hit her. So obvious! Completely in her own little world now, she chortled with glee, clapping her hands loudly so that the orchestra struck up the next dance a full seven minutes early. Heads turned her way and murmured speculation began as to the origins of this most recent spell of their Lady's burgeoning madness. If she only knew how her own irrational behavior provided much interest and gossip among her people, her own warped vitality infusing her lackluster people with the same. Unknowingly, she had done much to breathe small gusts of life into her dying culture, but she was blind to the fact, her mind whirling on possibilities.

So many plans to make! So much to be done! And hanging heavy in her mind as a backdrop to her twisted scheming lay her answer.

Humans.



Seasons passed, but that night marked a change, subtle at first, that swept through Irridihwe's Court. A sense of change in the air grew, sparking conversation, gossip and speculation. New life breathed into the revelries, variations in dance that hadn't been seen in ages, genuine smiles and even true laughter. All knew their Lady was up to something, some grand diversion was a foot and they grew excited waiting for her to reveal it.

At last the day came, when the ghostly hound slid its way through the throng to nose her hand as she mediated a dispute. Her heart thrilled. He had awakened! Her efforts to bring humans to the forest at this, most important time of year had been noted by her Erlking. With soft murmured words and a gentle pat on the head, she thanked the fey beast, “Hello, old friend. Hast the time come at last again?”

A lick on her hand was her answer. With a soft yip it turned and raced away, eager to rejoin its master. The assemblage fell silent, the grand hall filling as word spread of the arrival of the Fey King's hound. Enjoying their suspense, Irridihwe kept her own counsel as she finished meting justice in the case presented before her. Even the petitioners seemed to have lost interest in their case, unspoken questions shining in their eyes.

A sly smile curved their Lady's lips, finding much amusement in both their curiosity and in the reluctance of each to be the first to ask. At last, she rose and addressed her people. “Your King is arisen! Tonight we Hunt!”



“The Lady is here.” Though she replied to her brother's question, Irridihwe's words were directed to the Forest King as she broke from the trees, riding in lady-like fashion upon an eldritch hind. The great beast, fully several hands taller than its mundane kin, bore her with pride, the jeweled fetishes adorning his horns glimmering in the fading light. Fanning out behind her rode her favored Hunters, first among them her Champion, Lord Illisar.

“Greetings, my king. I trust thy waking finds thee well rested from thy slumbers?”

Flynn’s eyebrow rose a bit at Fein’s suggestion and rather prudish, though well disguised, scolding. He looked the other man over and decided nature boy was serious. He wondered briefly if Fein had realized he’d been joking about the bra and nickers bit (one of those urban legends that gets tossed around with university chums) before replying.

“I’d say it’s more a glaze than a goo, but whatever floats your boat Fein. As for my rather expensive bottle of locally brewed ale, I’ll give it some thought.” Flynn said with a tight smile and took another swig.” And with that, Aly left the campfire with nature boy, whom Flynn was already beginning to dislike.


“That could be a good start.” Aly replied after politely refusing his arm. Aly liked Fein as an intellectual friend to talk to, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, nor was she really comfortable with that kind of thing. She’d grown up in a Midwestern home filled with boys where it was get tough or get out of the way, so she’d always been more comfortable in a situation where she was one of the guys.

“Some of the nocturnal animals in this area I read about though are predators, so we’ll need to be car-” Aly continued, only to be interrupted by a gruff deep voice from behind them.

“And where do you think you two are going?” Pete Milakovic asked from behind the pair, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Um…nature walk Sir. We thought we might see some of the native wildlife here.” Aly replied nervously, like a child caught with a hand too close to the cookie jar.

“Oh you’ll see them alright, but a great deal more than you’ll probably have wanted. I don’t want anyone in this camp wandering off on their own after sundown. It’s too dangerous without a full staff of rangers or enough outposts yet, and I don’t fancy the idea of postponing a day’s work to mount a search party to look for some lost college kids that wandered off from camp. Understood?” Pete said with a look that left no room for argument. Pete wasn’t overly fond of being put in charge of the volunteers, but he’d be damned before he made a total mess of things either, which meant he played this thing by the book. That meant no one smoked (legal substances or otherwise) in his woods, no co-ed tents, and no one left camp after sundown.

The Hound of Darkness, the shrieker in the night, the champion and enforcer of the Dark Lady Irridhwe had long been bored. For far too long he had sat at a table near the lady he owed his allegiance too and simply feasted upon food that could never truly quench his hunger. For too long the true food that he hungered for had been cut off from him. For too long his tasks for the Dark lady had been things of little import and in enforcing her will against her own people he had been forbidden from killing them. The Lord Illisar did understand the reasoning behind that prohibition, if he was to feast upon those who served the lady then with their inability to reproduce he would eventually consume them all and Illisar did understand how that would be a negative. Though the hunger that burned eternal held its own attraction even in the face of reason nonetheless Illisar obeyed and for the long years since the last true hunt the Hound of Darkness held his hunger and desire to feast in check.

Even the devotion that the hungry one felt and owed though had it's limits and it had been approaching the point when it would have become a double edged sword and begun to demand the true food or at least others of the fey to kill so that its hunger would be sated. In fact during the very revel that the hound had come to and revealed that the hunt was to be called Lord Illisar had decided that if the hunt did not at last come he would slake his hunger upon those of the court. After so long without what came next had become of almost no concern. Fortunately for both the Hound of Darkness and the Court of his lady the Wyld Hunt was at last called.

Such were the things that Lord Illisar reminisced upon as he rode upon his shadowed reflection of a horse behind the Lady of the Dark as she had arrived. The Hound of Darkness' immense and intimidating helm swiveled about slowly as if despite the eyeless expanse of cold metal that covered its face it could somehow see. The eyeless gaze that somehow still seemed to be penetrating and sharp slowly passed over each of those gathered several times as his lady spoke in response to the insolent question that the foolish and arrogant lord of the day court had dared to ask.

There were perks to being considered insane the Lord Illisar knew this intimately and after cultivating the image of a lunatic carnivorous thing well one had to maintain the image which he was certain his lady understood, after all she had never instructed him not to do so on the times before. After his lady had finished speaking a voice that sounded harsh, gasping, and somehow sibilant much like the hissing of a snake all at the same time issued forth from behind the metal slabs that covered the Hound's hideous maw as his head turned first to the Crow lord who claimed to be a fallen god.

"The feasting time has come, feasting times. Lord crow. Have you tasted. Your own? Such pleasure. Almost. It's nearly a human. Taste." There was a slithery hissing laugh. "But children, Parents eating. Disgusting do. No truth. Father lies. Taste no lies. FEAST no lie. Human weakness your kind. In my way. In hunt. I feasted past. And now." The barbs hidden in what would sound like a madman's rambling might go unnoticed or might be noticed Illisar cared little. He had done such before

The great metal helm slowly swung so that it faced towards the Lord serra who had thought to question his lady's presence at the hunt. And the slithery bestial voice gasped and rasped forth once more. "Females thin. Lord stick. Thin. Lord Stick. Your feast. Be more. My Lady. Lady Darkness. FEAST. Much better. Title less. More. Eat. Better. When FEAST in. Hunt. Lord Stick. Blagh." The plates that covered Lord Illisar's mouth slid open for a second as it spat upon the ground before they slid shut over the hideous teeth and diseased hole in his face.

And the head turned once more before it lowered and the great helm that covered the Lord Illisar's head rested against the armored black and red robes of his chest. The voice now sounded far more respectful as the creature within it spoke to the Forest king. "King Forest.Your Call. I FEAST for Lady Darkness. Thanks given. Great King Forest." And with that final statement the Hound of Darkness, right hand of Lady Irredhwe, the one who hungers fell silent and remained with his head bowed down in respect to his lady and the king, but not to the others.

Fein put his arm down and walked next to Aly for a short bit before they heard a gruff voice from behind them“And where do you think you two are going?” it was Pete, the"leader" of the volunteer camp. He was an older man and was Fein was never very fond of him, his rules were always to strict ad Fein was never one to follow rules if he could get away with it.

Fein was dumb founded that Pete was just now yelling at him, he had been going into the woods almost every full moon since he got here. He had to think of something quick otherwise e would have to find a way to sneak out later. Fein had debated throwing Flynn under the bus to try and distract Pete while Aly and him snuck away, but he figured Flynn already probably didn't like him so there was no need to make it worse, instead he settled with lying.

"sir, we were only planning on going to the edge of the woods, not even leaving view of the camp" Fein replied to Pete. "In fact, i was mostly going with her to make sure she didn't get into trouble, she really wanted the Opportunity to study the nocturnal species as part of her schooling"

he had hoped Aly had pick up on the white lie and would jump in to back him up. if this didn't work h panned to invite her over for a game of cards and the opportunity to sneak away after words. either way he intended to go for a walk no mater what Pete had to say about it. mostly just because Pete never seemed to know anything about fun.

i wonder how Pete would handle some fire works out side his tent Fein thought afterwords, then continued the line of thoughts coming up with several easy prank to pull on Pete later.

As the different courts gathered to his side, the Erlking had remained motionless upon Hlas's blue roan back, The eight legged horse bore no saddle nor bridle and would not suffer such indignation not that the great Fey needed such things to control the stallion. The pair, when together like so, had a connection, which allowed them to work in perfect harmony. He didn't need to touch the flanks of the horse prince, to make him run faster, nor did he need any signal to inform the great animal they needed to change direction.

"A good Midsummer's Eve" said the Forest King, as the Lady Irridhwe arrived last and made her introduction, "My fair lords and ladies of the Fey. While my slumbers were restful and this day is fine, it has been much too long since we have gathered together. It moves my heart that we may do so again, on this most important of nights and in the bond of most friendly sport."

A broad smile split the beard, which covered his face and a soft laugh escaped, at the irony of the statement. Not only were they going to ride out and do there best to cut down the man-creatures but even among themselves, the spot could be rather unfriendly. When last he had heard the list of titles the High Lady of the Dark Fey had either earned or given herself, there was listed the number of times she had won the Wyld Hunt. The lesser lords could be quite competitive, eager to win the glory for their court and the favor of the High Lord they served.

"Come my friends" continued the Forest King, "We shall make the bargaining."

As he rode forwards, flanked by only the High Lords, he dropped the magical shield, which had hidden the gathering from mortal eyes. Around the human's encampment, as the last ray of sun, from the longest day of the year, kissed the ground, walls of a terrible darkness appeared, seeming solid. All but one fires died and the artificial lights flickered out. An oppressive hush fell over the humans, as they something was preventing them from talking, leaving only the ring of the hooves in the hair. All eyes seemed to be drawn to the four inhuman beings, as they traveled to the center of the camp.

"Children of Man" called the Erlking, in a booming voice, commanding in every way, "Long have you forgotten us but we, the Fey, have not forgotten you. By ancient law and hoary bargain, sealed by gods, immortals and mortals alike, we hunt thee upon the night of the summer solstice. Survive till the sun's return and be rewarded with gold and favors."

SMiling, the great Fey lifted the auroch horn (for it had been he, whom had won the last hunt, near three hundred years ago), its metal workings glittering in the light of the single fire and blew a long blast, which seemed to echo across the vastness of the forest. The walls of darkness shattered, allowing the twilight to sweep into the camp and fire to burn once again. Back at the edge of the camp, thirteen hungry howls sounded and the park of ghostly hounds came racing from the growing gloom, red eyes glowing with lust to hunt. The humans panicked.

A raven's form held many advantages, the least of which was flight, but it to held any number of disadvantages. The most pressing was an inability to punch a man in the face, as some deserve. The arrogance in Serra's voice made this inability all the more pressing, and the Lord of Shadows was on the verge of considering if the joy of putting the insufferable Lord in his place was worth the no doubt war it would spark. Such pleasurable day dreams however were disturbed by the arrival of the last of the great courts, and more pointless opulence you could not find.


Shadows, the dominion of this Lord needed no jewels or pointless protocol such as the other two indulged in. Laying either upon the Shadows would be as gold plating platinum, t'would only hid the true glory of the thing in question.

The insane ramblings of the Lady's champion did little to help the black mood of the raven." Irridhwe,keep your dog on a chain or I will have a new cloak of his hide before this hunt is over." Huginn said addressing Irridhwe as there was little point in directly speaking to the champion. He said it with as much of a smile as a raven's beak allowed and with a jesting tone, though you never could be too sure of it's true intention.

Further words were stillborn however as their King spoke up, a rather lofty title in Huginn's mind for a person who slept as they went about the actual job of ruling the fey. Still he could not deny the joy he found in the hunt. Unlike the other two no foolish joy did he find in the hunting of men, no pointless title like Irridhwe or Royal past time like Serra. For him the hunting of men was a personal thing, enslavement of a race killing the world and the reason his hands were stained with the blood of his sister and mother of his children. That was the only reason he was here, putting up with the stench of humanity and the other foolish fey. If his race was going to die he'd take a few humans to hell with him.

So it was they marched into the human's camp bold as could be, for what sort of hunt would it be otherwise. As they walked Huginn flew, disdaining to join them physically in a normal form. So it was as a raven he entered, taking careful action to ensure he flew about a foot higher then the king seated upon his horse.

The king's words rang out, informing the sons and daughters of Adam what their fate held this night. The look of terror and confusion as they witnessed mere fable become reality was priceless. The horn rang out and the king's hounds leaped to their duty.

Well Huginn was not about to be left out of the fun.

"Murder." He whispered but with the true voice of a raven it was spoke in none would understand him but perhaps his own.

As soon as the word left the beak the cawing of angry crows were added to the barks of the hounds and general yelling of the humans. Their ghostly bodies and shadow hue eyes alight with the fury of their master as they swooped down upon the general confusion.

Aly wasn’t quite sure what to think of Fein’s quick ability to lie, but she wasn’t about to sell him out either. She’d opened her mouth to assure Pete There wouldn’t be going into the woods, but no sound came out. All at once, it seemed the world had gone dark, and the deafening sound of hooves was all she could hear. And then, the world went mad.

"Children of Man" called the Erlking, in a booming voice, commanding in every way, "Long have you forgotten us but we, the Fey, have not forgotten you. By ancient law and hoary bargain, sealed by gods, immortals and mortals alike, we hunt thee upon the night of the summer solstice. Survive till the sun's return and be rewarded with gold and favors."

The things the giant said were concerning, and his horse easily the strangest creature she’d ever seen, but for some reason it was his face that truly made her shocked mind grasp who he was. She knew that face, she’d seen it before. Pulling the wooden charm from her pocket, she glanced at the charm of the green man and back to the Giant, disturbed by the resemblance. Then the horn blew, the fey charged, and her world was filled with screaming people. And Pete and Fein were suddenly gone, pushed in different directions by the sudden mob of people trying to get away. She had no choice but to run or be trampled, so heart pounding, She ran, looping the charm necklace around her neck so as not to loose it.


“Where’s Alicia?” Flynn asked Adam a little breathlessly after they’d separated from the mad panicked group of people they’d fled into the forest with. It had seemed so surreal at first, but after the horn had blasted, the fey descended. Had anyone told him he’d actually be seeing the Fey tonight, he would have laughed, but the situation ceased to be funny the moment he heard the first screams, saw the first blood.

“I don’t know…she was there. God Flynn, those things are real! They’re huge, and they wanna…God we’re gonna die!” Adam’s voice shook, and his eyes held a glazed kind of unseeing look to them. Flynn recognized the first signs of shock, and slapped Adam across the face and shook him by the shoulders.

“No, we’re not.” Flynn said with a confidence in his voice that belied his own fear, as he tried to make Adam focus on him. At the moment, he was avoiding coming to terms with the existence of his boyhood bedtime stories, by focusing on the more deadly aspect of their current plight. Whether really fey or not, he wasn’t willing to just around debating the impossibility with himself. Those things were trying to kill them, and the blood had been real enough for him. “You’ve got to focus alright.” Adam nodded, and Flynn could see he was trying to calm himself down. Good, he needed Adam, he was like a human encyclopaedia sometimes.

“Water…” He said to himself, grasping at straws for the old tails his elderly nursemaid used to tell him when he was younger. Fey weren’t supposed to be able to cross running water, kinda like vampires he thought blandly. He hoped those blood sucking bastards weren’t supposed to be real now too. “Where’s the nearest creek Adam.” He’d always been better with directions and Geography than Flynn had.

“Um…” Flynn could see the cogs moving in Adam’s head. They’d be lucky if he even knew where they were, they’d left in such a panic. “We left towards the west so…if we head Northwest, we can hit the banks of this side of Sharrondale Creek eventually.” Adam said weekly. It wasn’t great, but it was a start. They started to run again.

As the Lord of the Dubh Sidh spoke of making a coat of his skin the Lord Illisar's mouth plates had again slid back and the hideous mouth opened in an almost feral seeming snarl. Before anything more could happen or there could be any intervention the Erlking had spoken and the high lords had rode or in the case of the much disliked by Illisar crow lord who had flown out before the humans still in the form of a crow rather than riding as was proper. Still the Hound of darkness did not feel much need to dwell on such things, for the hunt was nearly upon them and he would at last be able to feast again. For so long he had been denied and at last he would be able to indulge himself in that basest of his appetites. The sliding mouth plates that covered his hideous maw slid back and forth in anticipation as he readied his ancient hunting spear of human bones and prepared to charge when the horn was blown.

A blowing that seemed at least to him to take a long time to come to pass. One would think having waited nearly 300 years to be able to hunt the pitiful humans the hungry one would have little trouble waiting the few moments that the Erlking's speech would take to deliver, and yet it appeared that the last few minutes were the hardest by far, from the clicking of his mouth plates moving and the jerky movement of his spear as he held it at the ready.

"Yes" the guttural and somehow sibilant at the same time voice whispered to itself as the Forest king lifted up the horn. "Let the feast begin" And the whispery voice might have said more but if it did the sound was lost as the great horn sounded and the wall of darkness around the human camp collapsed as suddenly as if it had never been. Though it was the briefest second of disappointment that the lord Illisar noticed that the fires had come back when the wall of darkness shattered. He of all the fey it could be said loathed fire the most for he alone could be banished by the hateful flames that sought to devour him as he had for so devoured the pitiful mortals.

Thoughts of fire though faded in a virtual instant and the plates that covered the hound of Darkness' mouth slid back fully. His head angled back up towards the sky and he kicked his dread mount forward, down the hill and towards the human camp. The sound of crows cawing and hounds howling was joined then by another great noise as the Shrieker in the night, let loose one of the things he was known for. A bone curdling shriek that sounded of death, despair, and an ancient hunger, A shriek far in excess of anything a mortal could ever utter, a sound that filled those who heard it with pure terror, well those mortals in any case.

The dread mount, shadow of a horse made from purest darkness rushed down the hill and into the human camp, carrying upon it's back the source of the terrible shriek. The great metal helm and black and red armored robes, the spear made from the bones of long ago humans, all something once dreaded by the humans and now mostly forgotten. The Lord Illisar wasted no time in claiming a kill as on the first breakneck charge into the human camp he drove his spear through the back of a fleeing woman and lifting her up as she screamed in terror and pain the shriek cut off for a second as the terrible teeth closed around and ripped off the woman's face. The now faceless and dying woman was dropped to the ground as the Hungry one's mouth worked quickly before it swallowed and raised its head to shriek once more.

Blood ran down from the open and shrieking mouth as he speared a second human and once again lifted them up. The terrible teeth and mouth snapped shut a second time and a second body tumbled to to ground in his wake. Such was the mark of Illisar, a faceless corpse or one pierced by his weapons, or marked by his teeth, claimed for his consumption later. With the initial concentration of humans scattering into the woods the Hound of Darkness pressed his mount to give chase to a small group that had split off from a larger crowd that ran. The Shrieking ceased once more as the whispery, hissing voice yelled out to the pair of humans fleeing the distance. "Feasting time. So long. Waiting. The Hungry One. Ride I. FEAST upon." The voice would carry to the humans fleeing even though they were still a distance away.

Fein saw Aly open her mouth but it didn’t concern him because at that moment everything went dark and a monstrous Eight-legged horse came galloping towards them bearing a rider, the giant big, burly, and covered in hair. He had a beard that looked like snarled twigs and the rest of his hair was wild and long the man looked familiar but Fein couldn’t place him

"Children of Man" called the man riding the horse called , in a booming voice, commanding in every way,

children of man? Fein thought

"Long have you forgotten us but we, the Fey, have not forgotten you. By ancient law and hoary bargain, sealed by gods, immortals and mortals alike, we hunt thee upon the night of the summer solstice. Survive till the sun's return and be rewarded with gold and favors."

At the conclusion of the small speech this being, this Fey, and several other began killing people, the camp broke and ran for their lives. A small mob and separated Fein and Aly but he could barely see her for a moment before more people push him to the ground, he could feel their feet kicking him, he refused to die this way and pushed himself up and began pushing thought the crowd, he had to get to Aly if he could, it was his fault she was out here. He pushed through a few more people he was almost there he saw her, she was looking at a charm in her hand, then he thought about the one he bought, Good luck my ass! he thought as she turned and ran, he had no choice because even as he blinked she was back in the crowd, Fein Ran for the woods as fast as he could, he made it to the woods and hid behind a tree and watched the scene at the camp unfold while trying to think of what just happened.

The horse thing had said they needed to survive, did that mean that he meant to kill everyone? The thing said it was a fey, what? There’s no way they actually exist. Fein had heard stories but never believed they were real. OK Fein, he thought lets assume they are really what they claim to be, what are they, how can I survive? There has to be a way to survive this he thought and spent the next few minutes waiting to see if where everyone went, h still wanted to find Aly and her friends, he might have a better shot at this then, but they were killing people I can’t believe this is happening Fein thought. It can’t be real thought as he closed his eyes and pinched himself

Serra's head moved only a fraction as Irridhwe's voice rang strident in the stillness. Careful never to turn his back on the king, the lord of the High Court twisted in the saddle to face the last arrival, paying absolutely no heed to the creature who rode with her, which clearly believed itself above its station, joining the four lords in their conference.

“Irridhwe.”

A hand rose from his lap in lazy greeting, blonde curls shivering as his head lowered the tiniest degree, eyes boring into her face the entire time. The thing at her side, her 'champion,' Illidar, spoke, insulting first Huginn, then turning to him. Serra could have laughed. To think a Lord of the fae would care the merest iota what this thing, this malignant cancer that walked their courts as if it thought itself acceptable, believed to be correct. Illidar's reputation for butchery, its hideous appearance and uncontrollable unsanity had travelled the courts on its appointment, first as rumour, then back again when it was confirmed. Not only did the thing shame itself by the simple act of its existence, its actions brought shame upon its mistress. Actions most would not have tolerated.

True to form, its words to him were nothing but insults. They fell on deaf ears. Serra merely continued to gaze at Irridhwe, sitting sidesaddle on her steed, the look on her face almost mocking, as always damningly beautiful. Serra's lips spread in a wan smile that didnt reach his eyes.

“Always a pleasure, my Lady." The hand raised in recognition dropped back into his lap. "I must confess, however, it saddens me greatly to see you like this. I can only imagine how having a court full of such graceless animals must hurt you so.”

The smile vanished, fast as it came, and he was just to turn back to their waiting king when the creature spoke again. Silver eyes widening in shock as it addressed the Erlking directly, and Serra felt rather than heard the collective intake of breath from his entire hunting party. Amidst the party, hands tightening on weapons, their owners shifting in saddles at this massive breach of protocol. Incredibly, their ruler barely registered the creature, laughing almost to himself as he called them onwards, turning and riding down the hill.

Into deepening darkness they rode, campfires guttering and dying as they closed. The night air itself seeming to thicken, clinging at the figures moving around tent and flame, warily grouping together as the riders approached, an animal instinct that would serve them badly this coming night. As the Erlking called out the ritual challenge, Serra's mind cast itself back to hunts previous, remembering those chosen few who had proved difficult prey for his hunters. It was always those closest in manner to the fae, those who would cheat, lie and stab their fellows in the back for a chance at glory, who came from these nights alive. Even those who struggled and fell but impressed his hunters enough would be rewarded, their servitude less harsh than those who clung to foolish things like compassion and altruism.

The blast of the aurochs horn broke him from his revelry, and the humans from their glamour. Any hope this was an elaborate prank, or perhaps a set piece put in place by the park organisers fell apart as the hunting dogs leapt forward, trailing saliva, followed by the thunder of hooves as the hunters fell upon their quarry.

Plucking an ashwood javelin from its sheath, stabbing it upwards in salute as he cannoned past his lord, Reynardine stormed into camp ahead of the rest of the day courtiers. Snatching at the reins of his horse hard enough for it to rear back, its hooves beating at the sky, and bellowing with laughter, he swept the spearpoint across the fleeing campers, voice carrying above the anarchy.

“Let them run! The sport will be all the greater for it.”

His men instantly came to, readying spear and bow, watching the carnage with amusement. All except one. The dark shape that slid from the back of its horse had spied a pair retreating into the trees, and grinned a coyote smile. Nimble, catlike, it danced across the campsite, form shivering in the darkness, features trailing and swimming together. Running far faster than a human could, it leapt clear over a half collapsed tent, landing on all fours outside the camp, and all at once the shimmers surrounding it snapped into place.

Brushing long, dark hair out of its eyes, the figure rose, the guttering light from the last fire illuminating a slim, feminine figure. Looking down at her body, the shapeshifter smiled. There would be repercussions for such flagrant disobedience to his counterpart lord later, no doubt, but Jack the mask, aspect of autumn, cared little for that. Not when an opportunity for such fun as this presented itself. Fixing a look of absolute terror on her face, the fae-in-girls-skin sprinted after the two men, shouting loud.

“Hey. Hey, wait for me!”

Back in the camp behind her, something gave an unearthly howl, followed swiftly by the thundering of hooves. It seemed Jack wasn’t the only one with his eye on these men. Teeth shined as the girl grinned in the darkness. The night only got more interesting.

Whether bitter irony or the cruel shackles of fate, the young child had been spared, at least for a singular, haunting moment, the fate of many poor souls in the "Camp Site" or rather "The Killing Grounds", as history dictates the land earn their names by the events placed upon them

Saved by cowardice, but not of the rampaging Divine creatures whom began their "Hunt", nor the horrifying screams belonging to the damned, those forsaken souls whom blades fell upon.

Phobia of "humans" saved her, her timid nature forcing her to vanish in the twighlight, hours before the rangers felt urge to satisfy their god complex by declaring the relatively untouched woods, "Unsafe".

Her pathetic, dark green kakhi dressed form was wrapped in a fetal postion around a dark red backpack. Body stunned as the voice of the Erlking projected through her thick, studio headphones, blowing out both speaker and eardrum alike. That felinsque wide eyed expression her feature, those deep green eyes glimmering in the fading twighlight.

“Hey, Hey wait for me!” Flynn heard the shout come from behind him, and turned towards the voice. He didn’t recognize he girl, but then he didn’t know half the people who’d been a part of their volunteer group. Adam dropped his pace slightly, and Flynn followed suit, allowing her to catch up.

“Are you alright? I’m Adam, and um... sorry I never caught your name?” Adam asked sincerely to the girl, having always been raised the gentlemen.

“Exchange pleasantries later Adam, now what else do you remember from that bloody mythlore class you took last semester?!” Flynn bit out, adrenaline still racing though his blood, and putting him in no mood to listen to his friend’s gallantry.

“Um…oak wreaths in doorways keep pixies from stealing babies…brownies like milk and honey…boggarts don’t like salt…” Adam rambled, and Flynn lost his temper.

“Did those things look like brownies, pixies, or bloody boggarts Adam?! For god’s sake, filter your mouth and try for something useful.” Adam was silent for a moment as they ran, before he thought of anything else to say.

“They’re not supposed to like iron…” Inwardly Flynn groaned, but it was a start he supposed. He knew where to find steel, a byproduct of iron, but there weren’t many places outside an antiques shop he knew where to find iron.

Then he heard the shriek, and he involuntarily felt icy fingers of panic creeping up his spine. The sensation was terrible, and it took all his strength to fight the mind numbing fear it was producing. Adam looked worse, and Flynn couldn’t tell if he was hyperventilating or simply breathless from running. He couldn’t even see the girl’s face, but, somehow he didn’t sense the same kind of fear rolling off her. If Flynn thought it was odd, he didn’t show it, too intent on escaping that horrible voice