A journey begins - OPEN

If there was ever a place as miserable and god forsaken as the forests surrounding Escar, Alwyn had never heard of it. Aptly named, the Dark Woods set a dreary backdrop for her travels. Foreboding and unwelcoming, it was becoming a setting more and more appropriate for her ever darkening spirits. Twelve days she had been wandering. Twelve days since she awoke from death and was unceremoniously cast aside like garbage, left to fend for herself in the wilderness. It was a wonder that they hadn’t just killed her outright, shoved a sword through her chest and let that be the end it. That would have almost been preferable to this slow demise. It was only an ingrained sense of self preservation that kept her moving, a desire to keep herself alive that had pushed her through the first few days alone. That desire and a whispered memory of a place where she would be accepted. It was nothing more than a rumor she had picked up somewhere along the way, , a makeshift town where the plagued- her people now- had begun to set up roots.

She stomped through the underbrush, her once fine dress in muddy tatters and her hair matted mess. She was sure she looked every bit as savage as she had once been led to believe the plagued were With the thought, there was a slight flash in her mind, a memory sparking, an old woman telling her that if she didn’t behave, the plagued would kidnap her. As quickly as it came on, the image faded in her mind, retreating back behind the veil that seemed to cover everything inside her head. She let it retreat peacefully. It was not the first time she’d been assaulted with a sudden glimpse into the past, but she had learned quickly enough that no amount of coaxing would make the memory sharpen, and all that her attempts left her was a killer headache.

Whatever her left previously held, it was not something that had left her prepared for a full on wilderness trek. Her feet were covered in blisters, and her muscles ached after a day of walking. She knew she had survived as long as she had because of the kindness of strangers. The small settlements on the edge of Escar were few and far between, and there were not many travelers making their way through the overgrown paths in the forest. She had been able to gain shelter and meager food early on, keeping her shoulders well covered and hiding the fresh and painful brand that was scabbing over on her shoulder. It was a short lived reprieve however, and as soon as she began asking about where she could find the settlement she’d heard of, people grew wise and shunned her, forcing her to continue along what was rapidly becoming a fruitless quest. She had finally received a lead of sorts when a old woman, regarding her with a look of both disgust and contempt, took pity on her, pointing for her to head east.

That had been five days earlier, and she had seen nothing to support that she was heading in the right direction, and had no contact with anyone since. She sustained herself on what little water she found collected in puddles on the ground and a by collecting berries she had seen animals eating, hoping that if the squirrels ate without being poisoned, it would work for her as well. It was thus far working, though she knew she couldn’t survive for long on the diet. She felt herself growing weaker every day. Each hour she moved slower, covering less and less ground.

She stopped walking, her breath laboured and her pale skin dripping sweat despite the cool weather. It was hard to determine the time of day, the heavy canopy of trees made it always seem like a shadowy dusk, but her legs were shaking, and she doubted she could walk much further, even if it was only midday. She eased herself to the ground, resting her back against a tree. When you had no way to set camp, every spot became an ideal place to rest, and this was as good as anything she was likely to find.

As soon as she stopped moving, the sweat began to cool against her skin, leaving her shivering. She cursed under her breath, pulling her knees up against her chest and looping her arms around herself. Her stomach cramped, an unnecessary reminder that she needed to eat. At this point, she would take rest and heat over a meal. She had of course heard the stories of the plagued being granted strange powers. Magic of sorts. She had always discounted those stories, written them off as nothing more than hearsay. She was loath to admit that they may be based in truth. She had felt a growing pressure inside her, a feeling she couldn’t quite put into words, a itch that refused to be scratched. She sat huddled against the tree, her skin chilled.

Some of the stories she had heard were of people who suddenly found themselves able to control fires. Perhaps her new found skills would be of that sort. She stared at a spot in front of her, willing the underbrush to burst into scorching flames. She felt a fool, but there was no one around to mock her attempts. It seemed a exercise in futility, but still, it was worth a shot. She closed her eyes, trying to tap into that alien force trapped within her. Unconsciously, she pulled her hand into a fist, and as though she was grasping something, pushed it out in front of her, visualizing herself throwing out power. She felt something leave from her outstretched hand, and it was as though a sieve opened, that inexplicable gathering pressure was gone, expelled out from her finger tips. She opened her eyes, expecting to see a raging fire in front of her, or at the very least, some outward sign of the force she’d exerted.

There was nothing. Not even a rustle in the still air. She let out a huff of annoyance. So much for the supposed mythical powers of the plagued. She lay herself on the hard ground, curling up on her side, trying to hold in as much of her body heat as possible and let herself drift into a fitful sleep.

She awoke a few hours later, cramped from being on the ground, but warmer than she had felt in days. Eyelids heavy, they remained closed and she snuggled closer against the source of warmth pressed to her back. Her nostrils were tickled by a musty scent, and the cloyingly sweet smell of decay. It served to rouse her, and blearily she opened her eyes and sat up. It took a moment for her mind to make sense of what her eyes were seeing. Her makeshift bed was surrounded by the decaying corpses of animals. She clamped her hand to her mouth and nose, trying to block out the smell that had seemed so gentle as she woke, but now was over powering, rising bile in her throat.

Her eyes were wide as she took in the bodies arranged around her, all showing clear signs of being attacked from predators, the obvious tracts of teeth and claws covering the blood matted fur that moments before was keeping her warm. How or why they were there was a mystery but one that was easily overshadowed by her desire to get as far from the macabre scene as possible. It was at that thought that the body of what had once been deer seemed to shift. Her eyes wide, she watched as the animal raised it’s head, a head that was attached to it’s body by a neck that had clearly been torn to shreds, and regarded her with a blank dead eyed stare.

Alwyn let out an ear piercing scream, the shrill sound echoing against the trees. She scrambled back away from the living body of the deer, her hands crawling against the dirt as she hurried to her feet. She turned to run, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between herself and the horror that was watching her impassively. She had only taken a few frantic steps when he foot caught on root, sending her sprawling across the ground. She felt her ankle wrench painfully, and as she tried to stand again, it gave beneath her weight agonizingly. Tears sprang to her eyes as she tried to get up, shooting panicked looks behind her to the deer. “No, no, no!” her voice came out in a panicked burst. The deer seemed to sag, the head hitting the ground with a thump, having apparently decided to go back to being dead, but it did nothing to stop the surge of fear that was screaming at her to run as far and fast as she could.