Completed The Butterfly

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty looked back at the people behind him. Profane? They looked like people to him. Scared people. He’d attacked Willem because he’d had a sword and was attacking someone he liked. That was reason enough in his mind for a death. He’d made it quick enough, and the man wasn’t wasted. If she were concerned about the profane, the priest was dead. He shook his head again and stamped a foot. How could he make her understand? They were unarmed.

He bent down and picked up Frederick’s sword in his teeth. With a hard flex of his jaws, he shattered the steel and spat out the pieces. No weapons. He stamped a paw again. There was no reason to kill them. He approached Hahnah and touched her with his nose. The humans, especially the mated pair with a babe, he hoped had the good sense god gave a duck to get moving and moving quickly.

He waggled his tail appealingly at Hahnah. They’d hunted the threat, and claimed territory. These humans wouldn’t come here again. This was the sort of memory that came and visited in the night. He knew this. He grunted at Hahnah. Humans weren’t particularly good. They were panicky and made terrible weapons. But if they killed them so, they only invited greater retaliation.

He couldn’t fathom Hahnah’s needs. He looked briefly to Frederick’s body and yanked an arm neatly off the corpse, offering it to her. If she was hungry, there was meat aplenty here.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah watched the strange bear pick up the sword of the man she had just slain and break it with his powerful jaws. Yes, that was a good idea--humans without armor and without magic and now without weapons were weak. He shook his head (from excitement?) and stamped a foot. Hahnah stomped her own foot to show solidarity, flashing an encouraging smile. They were one. They could kill all of them.

Edward and Reginald pulled the terribly pale Valeria out of the pond and onto the far shore away from the monsters. Reginald held her old, shivering hand in his own. Edward, abstaining from following through on his earlier exclamation with Reginald, took off his belt and started to tear sections of his shirt--it was all he had. "Reginald. Your belt, Reginald! We have to stop the bleeding!"

Fiora had gone from shaking Raphael's floating body to hugging it closely. She had her face pressed into his back, her wails muffled.

"Hans!" David called to his brother.

"Don't worry about me! Take Andrea and Michael and GO!" Hans called back. Hans had the shortsword in hand, was walking cautiously out from the pond's water, and he saw the monster bear viciously rip Frederick's arm clear off of his body. He swallowed nervously. Fuck, fuck, fuck! But he had to protect his brother and his nephew from these monsters. As a man, he had to.

Hahnah looked at the arm offered by the strange bear. He was offering it either as a weapon or as food. It was a poor weapon. It was likely an offering of food. She shook her head.

"There will be more."

And she stepped off to the side, and with a flick of her wrist, bid the Knives of Elemental Hatred to launch.

Hans jumped toward them, trying to take the magic himself, but he fell short and splashed down into the shallow water of the pond. David turned and grabbed hold of Andrea and threw himself over her and together they and little Michael that she held were all dunked beneath the water's surface. The Knives peppered the far shore, one filtering through thin cloth and cutting Reginald's arm, another into Valeria's gut, two missing entirely, and the final Knife boring through Edward's exposed neck. Edward clapped at his neck with both hands, blood leaking through his fingers, and toppled onto his back.

Hahnah was pleased. The close man with the sword (Hans) the strange bear could kill. It fell to her to ensure that the others did not escape and go on to spread their profanity, to sin further. For, if they were good, then they and Hahnah would never have crossed paths.

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Foolish humans why didn’t they run? He had bought them precious seconds of time to get into the tree line and out of sight, to at least give themselves a fighting chance, but they wasted it trying to save the dying woman and shouting at one another! Goats weren’t this stupid! Pretty swallowed down the arm and roared in sheer frustration at the humans. Idiots! They were going to die because they were idiots.

Pretty picked up Hans straight out of the water by the arm, and squeezed until the idiot had let go of the sword. Not that it would do much good. Peasant weapons like that would slice the top layers of Pretty’s fur but fail to get to anything critical. He didn’t quite know what to do with him. If he was dumb enough to charge a devourer with no armor and a pig iron sword would he be smart enough to stay down? Pretty dropped him back into the water, and broke the sword with his teeth.

While Hahnah eviscerated the fools on the shore, he worried around in the water for the mated pair. There! He found David and gently grabbed him straight off Andrea. This was about to hurt. A lot.

Pretty stuffed him into his mouth, but shifted him under his tongue, and down into his throat pouch. One human could fit comfortably. He could breathe as long as Pretty kept his mouth open and his tongue up. Now for the female. She had to sit still. She definitely wasn’t going to do that. He aimed carefully and thumped the top of her head with his. There. Out cold, and he was able to carefully put the babe on the shore. Into the pouch she went, and he simply held the babe in his mouth as carefully as he could.

Well, he was a good father. He’d handled Cassia’s newborns like this, and they were about the same size. He came out of the water awkwardly, his pouch stretched painfully over his neck and chest.

Now if they had any brains they’d be still and quiet, and he’d help his female to breathe. Hopefully. The pouch could be frightening the first time around. His last rider had been comfortable enough in it to use it as a sleeping bag while he travelled. He betted this was...going to be anything but that.

Pretty looked at Hahnah and the other humans. They were going to die. Perhaps rightfully given their stupidity. Pretty sighed at them. Well, he’d bought them time and tried to help. It wasn’t his fault they were dumber than a pack of chickens he’d once sat on by accident.

The devourer moved toward the treeline, holding the babe aloft out of the water. So stupid. He’d let Hahnah take care of the others. He shook his back feet like an annoyed cat.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

"AAAAAHHHHH!" Hans cried out as his arm was crushed in the maw of the monster. The sword tumbled from his grasp. It was all he could hope for now that his brother, Andrea, and his nephew could get away. He thought himself dead for sure, but if it purchased for them the time to escape then it was worth it. But Hans was dropped back into the shallow water, his blood joining the spreading red murk obscuring the Pond's former pristine clarity.

David popped out of the deep water clutching Andrea--little Michael was gagging and coughing and gargling loudly, spitting up little bits of water. David saw the monster bear coming. "ANDREA! GO!"

But she could not. Her body was absolutely paralyzed with fear. And she watched David struggle with his bare hands against the monster bear. Watched him fight as fiercely as he could--her husband, fighting to protect her and the child they thought they might never have together. She watched him fight but be swallowed whole anyway. Trembling half-words escaped her lips. And her eyes rolled up into the back of her head as she fainted a mere second before the monster bear bashed her on the top of her head. Little Michael, though placed on the shore, was choking--he had tried to cry when thrust under the water by his father to evade the Knives and had inhaled a lung-ful of pond water.

Hahnah was pleased again. The strange bear had waded into the pond and devoured two more humans. She even did not mind the small human being placed on the shore. In her hand she conjured another Orb of Elemental Hatred, and she eyed the crying teenage girl hugging the corpse of the priest.

Hans stood up in the shallow water. Saw what Hahnah was about to do. He rushed out toward her, and with only one good arm tried to tackle her. The strands of her Living Armor around her waist lashed out, stretching out like a suddenly formed fifth limb, and smacked Hans away and down to the ground of the shore and knocked the wind out of him.

He rolled over onto his back. Hahnah looked down at him with disdain.

"You're a monster," Hans hissed at her meekly. This as he steeled himself for what was to come. "May you burn in every hell beneath Arethil."

Hahnah flicked her arm and her wrist and with that cavalier motion threw the Orb down at Hans' head. Her sorcery consumed it entirely, his head seemingly disappearing in an instant and leaving but the stump of his neck. His body spasmed, fingers twitching, a futile reaching for her own arm which once held the Orb in a desperate and belated bid to save himself--the last impulse sent to his arm, and then it fell flat across his chest.

Reginald, across the pond, watched with a restrained horror as Edward's own struggle ceased. His legs went still, and then the whole of his body. Reginald looked down to his wife. Saw that her eyes were glassed with death. And though a forlorn dismay overcame him--his wife, dead, his daughter, eaten, his grandson, about to be--he knew what he would do. He gently and lovingly closed Valeria's eyelids, and bent over and kissed the old wrinkles on her forehead. Sat up straight again, clutching her hand in both of his.

"I'm here with you, Val. I'm still here," said Reginald.

Hahnah entered the water of the pond. Walking through it slowly and approaching Fiora, who was still hugging the dead priest with her face buried into his back, sobbing, sobbing.

* * * * *​

David, meanwhile in the pouch, did not sit still. He had seen this monster eat Willem whole, and he was determined for that not to happen to him and his wife so long as he could help it. He kicked with his feet and pounded with his fists, maintained a hold on the unconscious Andrea beside him, and tried everything to get the beast to cough them back up.

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty winced as the man inside the pouch kicked. It was designed to take a lot of punishment; it was meant to carry around wiggling pups who were figuring out how to sheathe their claws and were growing tusks. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Pretty could feel there was something wrong with the babe in his mouth. It was making noises that weren’t at all normal sounding. He set the babe carefully down and looked at him. He was...choking?

He’d had pups choke on milk before. He lifted a paw, turned the baby on his stomach, and lifted his back end. A few firm taps with his nose, and the noise started back up. He scooped the child back into his jaws, grunting in pain as one of David’s flailing limbs kneed him in the manubrium. That was about enough of that. He sat up and gave his pouch a bit of a thump with his wrist, hitting David in the gut.

Pretty watched Hahnah kill the young male whose arm he’d broken. Well...he’d tried to get him to stay down. The bloody water would have made excellent cover if he could have gotten to the reeds. No, instead he’d fought and died. His head was consumed in a ball of magic, and he was no more. Pretty snorted at them. Foolish. He shifted the crying babe in his mouth, cradling Michael delicately among sharp teeth. If he hadn’t had pups before he might have been unprepared, but he was well versed in this.

Pretty headed for the treeline and rolled his shoulders. That kick had hurt. The pouch acted like saggy, calloused armor when it was unoccupied but the occupants could really hurt him. Rather bloody ungrateful. He made sure they were surely out of sight and put the babe securely on top of a mossy stump. First he vomited up the mother, then the father.

He looked at the male, and rolled his jaw to get his mouth oriented again. He looked down at the dirt and scratched a word. QUIET. ESCAPE.

Pretty eyed the mated pair, and lumbered back toward the pond. He shook himself as though he’d just had a particularly satisfying pee, and went to take care of the bodies. He’d eat well. Hans’ headless body went first, crunched down with contractions of his throat. He was too full to eat the rest. Pretty eyed the priest and grabbed the body away from Fiora with his teeth, shaking it like a toy. He didn’t like priests. Priests called him demon, monster. He shook the rag doll body violently, tossing it in the air and grabbing it by a leg or arm, only to throw it around again like a terrier with a rat.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

David grunted when he was struck in the gut through the pouch, and his body seized up for a moment as the pain of the impact spread and he fought desperately for tiny sips of air. But something he did must have worked. Andrea's limp body went sliding down and out of the beast, and then David himself shortly after. He heard the loud and pained cries from his son, his baby Michael, somewhere.

David immediately gripped Andrea, presenting more of himself to the monster than her. By Nykios, even if he stood no chance, even if there was not a single thing he could do to this infernal monster, he would protect his wife in whatever meager way he could. He would not die a coward.

But something that David could not explain happened next.

The creature, the very creature which had eaten his lifelong friend Willem, which may have even killed his brother Hans, wrote something in the dirt.

QUIET. ESCAPE.

David let out a single, exasperated, incredulous, "What?" but said no more. He did not know why the monster had decided not to eat them, and he did not care to know. All he wanted was to get away from here now with his wife and son. The town of Strathford could hire professional Monster Hunters to avenge his brothers, his friends, his father and mother in-laws, Raphael and the poor orphan girl, and to make the Pond safe for everyone again. That could be done later. There was nothing left for him here and now but to save who he could.

He tried briefly to rouse Andrea back to consciousness, but for now she would not. A thin stream of blood trickled from her nose. She had been concussed by the savage blow to her head.

David swore. Carrying both his limp wife and baby Michael would be difficult, but he thought of a way. He stood, holding his stomach briefly and wincing, then limped over to Michael. Picked him up. Tried to shush him on the way back to Andrea but his baby kept wailing loudly. He placed Michael down on Andrea's stomach. Knelt down. Scooped her up under the knees and behind the shoulders. Stood.

"Come on...come on..." he said to himself.

And he started walking carefully. Not knowing how far he would be able to get before his arms gave out.

* * * * *​

Hahnah stopped before Fiora and Raphael. Looked at the priest. Looked at Fiora. And she tilted her head, wondering about the peculiar behavior of the human girl.

"You are a father to me, Raphy," said Fiora, her voice muffled into his back and strained by her sobs. "You are my father. You are. You made life better for me. I'm sorry for all the times I made you mad. I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean it. I'm...I can't..."

Hahnah heard the distant wailing of the baby. Saw the strange bear emerge from the treeline and enter the pond. Fiora, however, did not.

And Raphael's body was yanked out beneath her. Fiora fell forward into the bloody water for a brief second, then stood up and emerged. So distraught was she about what had happened to Raphael and what was happening to him now, that she focused solely on this one thing to the exclusion of everything else. Even her own safety.

"NO!" Fiora yelled, her face creased with hysterical sorrow. She reached in vain for Raphael's body as the monster bear tossed him about. She reached this way, that way, sobbing uncontrollably. Raphael's wet robe was tearing more and more with each bite, his nakedness exposed through the rags. "Give him back! Please give him back! Give him back to me, please, give him, he's everything to me, please, please, give him...!"

Hahnah held her arm out to one side. A Tendril of Elemental Hatred began to worm its way out from her palm. She was behind Fiora, orange eyes upon her.

* * * * *​

Reginald sat calmly on the shore. Valeria's head was rested on his lap. His arm was bleeding, and the redness was spreading down the rest of his sleeve.

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty growled and bit the priest in half. The goal was fairly simple; he wanted to simply shred the body into nothing but meat, rags and hair. He ate bits occasionally, picking out treats like the liver and heart. Otherwise it was just making a mess, stomping it into the mud until there really wasn’t anything discernable there. Just a flattened mass of gelatinized meat and bone.

Pretty eyed Fiora. The priest was dead. He had been dead. Why did she cry so? He had mourned when Cassia was dying, but once her spirit had left her body his howls had ceased. There was no changing death. Death came for everyone.

He saw Hahnah behind Fiora and sighed. Foolish panicking girl. He leaned over and quite simply plucked her head from her shoulders like a horse would pull an apple off a branch. The body collapsed into the water, and Pretty swallowed the head. There was a loud crack in his throat as the bone plates caught the head, gripped, and popped it. He could digest the bone and hair.

That left the last human mourning his mate. He was bleeding, and would likely bleed out just like she had. Pretty ignored him. He wasn’t a threat at all.

Gods what a mess. Pretty rinsed off the blood in the water and pulled the bodies away from it. The pool would go fetid for a while, but flies would drink up all the blood. Hopefully the pond would return to normal in five or six seasons. Pretty stretched, shaking water from his short fur.

He approached Hahnah and lipped at her hair affectionately. He wasn’t exactly sure why they’d done this, but it had filled his belly and if they camped the night here, would do so for another day or so. He lazily sniffled around the bodies, finding things he liked like hearts and livers. Healthy things to eat. He was quite full, however. He brought a liver to Hahnah, stretching out his lips to offer it to her so he didn’t puncture it.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Fiora held onto a severed leg of Raphael's that she caught. Held it dearly, that last remnant of her adoptive father that she could touch. She whispered some words to it as her head disappeared into the strange bear's maw. She held onto it still as her body sank backward into the water.

The sorcerous Tendril extending from Hahnah's palm snapped back inside of it, the magic dispelled. She watched the headless body of Fiora sink briefly, and then come to bob at the surface of the water, and then slowly--as water flooded down into her exposed throat--sink gradually and for good. Bloody bubbles of trapped air rose to the surface for a short time. And ceased.

Hahnah tried counting them. Those bubbles. Imagining each one to be an elven life saved by this human girl's early death.

The strange bear licked at her hair. She smiled, allowing herself this slight pause in her purpose to indulge. She placed a hand on the top of the strange bear's muzzle and rubbed it back and forth. This she knew from Kylindrielle, who would run her hands through Hahnah's hair when she was small and it would be calming, peaceful, good and warm. It showed caring.

"You have done well. The elves of Falwood would rejoice if they knew," she said.

Hahnah turned her attention over to the last remaining human in the area. Reginald. He was exhibiting the similar behavior to Fiora. Why? Hahnah did not understand. And in this her curiosity began to spin, like a wheel of a wagon going downhill.

The strange bear brought Hahnah a liver. She looked at it. Smiled. Took it in both hands and started to eat it. She ate and slowly waded through the pond whose waters had almost entirely turned red and dark. Slow enough was her gait and fast enough did she eat that by the time she reached the shore she had finished.

Hahnah stood beside Reginald. He did not acknowledge her. He knew she was there, but he did not acknowledge her. He only continued to hold his wife's hand and stare down at her. Hahnah gradually crouched down onto her haunches. She extended a forefinger. Reached over and poked Reginald's forehead. The old man did not respond.

"Why are you not fighting? Why are you not running?"

Reginald swallowed. Looked up actually at the strange bear first. Then crossed his gaze over to Hahnah. "Fifty-one years," he said, with a calm and resolved tone. "Fifty-one years I have been married to my beloved Valeria. And I will not abandon her now."

Hahnah canted her head in a slightly avian manner. "Do you know why I have found you?"

Reginald shook his head. "I do not know why you have done this, and, I think, I do not wish to know." He wet his chapped lips. There were tears building up in his eyes. "You look like you could be a granddaughter of mine. A sweet girl. Not this."

Hahnah cast a glance to the strange bear. Then looked back to Reginald. Said flatly, "I am very different from you."

"Do you have a name?"

Hahnah said nothing.

Reginald looked to the strange bear then. Asked him, "Him? Does he have a name?"

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Oh. Oh this was nice. His other rider had petted his head or shoulders but hadn't dared get near his mouth. He groaned and leaned into her fingers when she rubbed his lips. That felt so nice. He lipped at her fingers happily, encouraging it in gentle play so close to those intimidating jaws. The elves of Falwood? Was this why she hunted humans? Had these humans done something to the elves? So many questions, but not enough time or nearly the best way to ask them. But she took the liver and began to eat, and he made a small and pleased noise.

He did follow her over to Reginald, and tilted his head at the man. He wasn't that injured, not enough to go into shock or stop moving. He was grateful Hahnah poked him, for he didn't have gentle enough digits to do so himself. The stranger asked them their names. Hahnah didn't answer, but Pretty didn't see a reason not to. He sat next to Reginald and slowly wrote in the shore mud with his claw. Pretty Boy. He didn't sit next to him as he had with Hahnah; he got up and returned to her.

He did tilt his head at Hahnah. Why had she done this? They had been startling like a flock of geese, but they hadn't actually attacked until Hahnah had killed their priest. He grunted to get Hahnah's attention and wiped out his name. Why? Hunger? Honestly he understood. Humans tasted good, had very few defenses, and didn't have any hard horns or hooves. It might take him a few days to fully digest an elk but even Willem's gambeson would be gone within hours.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

"Pretty Boy," Reginald said as he looked at the scrawl in the mud. He let out a small exhalation of surprise, neither expecting the bear to be able to write nor, once seeing that he could, such a name for him. "Isn't that something? Isn't that just something?"

Hahnah looked a small hint of realization from Reginald to the bear. "Pretty Boy," she repeated. And then she looked to the old man again. "You can read. You can read what he writes to me."

"Yes," he said, not so impressed by this himself. "I can. And he--Pretty Boy--can understand what I am saying. And he can write. That...In all my years..."

Pretty Boy grunted, gaining the attention he sought from Hahnah. She peered over at the new letters he wrote into the mud. She pointed to them, gaining a new enthusiasm for this arrangement. "I want you to read that to me."

Reginald looked at it. To Hahnah. "I believe he is writing to you. He has written: Why? Hunger?"

Hahnah replied to Pretty Boy, "Yes. I ate the liver because I was hungry."

Reginald, rocking his slain wife lightly in his lap, said to her, "I don't think that your friend was talking about the liver."

"Then I do not understand the question."

Despite all the circumstances, Reginald kept a near saintly patience. "I may be wrong. But perhaps your friend has asked why you have come to the Pond of the Goddess, and why you have done this to us. To my wife. To my daughter. To everyone."

Hahnah looked to Pretty Boy for confirmation. But she had no qualm in answering the question, and answering it earnestly, "I was hungry, but I did not do this because I was hungry." And she turned her eyes back onto Reginald. "If you had not sinned so grievously, then your gods would not have left you to me. I am your punishment. Your sin is profane. Of profane things I am the cleanser."

She ignored the distant wails of the baby from deeper in the grove.

Reginald slowly dragged his gaze over to Pretty Boy.

"Do you feel the same?"

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty Boy crowhopped. She finally knew his name! He waggled his head, lifting his front feet up off the ground in a little bouncing motion. This human was brilliant! So why hadn't he run? That was definitely something to think about, but right now he was just thrilled that Hahnah had figured out his name. He snorted and shook his head when she pointed out that she'd eaten the liver. That wasn't what he meant. He had meant all of the deaths. He nodded emphatically when Reginald pointed this out, crowhopping again. Yes!

Things took a turn for the confusing when she pointed out that she had done it because they had sinned. He had no idea what sin was, or why it was so important to kill people over it. He wiped out the letters. The gods had left the humans to her? What in the world did that mean. He sat down for a moment, staring at the ground as if the letters were difficult to form.

What sin? What punishment? Unclear. He stamped a foot for emphasis. No like weapons. He gave his own explanation. He'd only killed the men who were armed, and the female because she'd made too much noise. He looked at Reginald. He wondered if he should mention that the baby was with his mother and father? Perhaps this male would want to go to them. He didn't seem concerned about the fading squeals of the baby at any rate.

Elves? He wrote, looking at Hahnah. She'd mentioned elves but she wasn't one.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Reginald was not perturbed or made wary by the hopping motions of Pretty Boy, despite the creature's bulk and closeness. He had accepted what was going to happen here, and knew that it might well be very sudden when it did come.

"Read that to me," Hahnah commanded. And she pointed at the other letters as well. "And read that to me also."

Reginald looked to the first batch of words. "It says here: What sin? What punishment? Unclear. And there he has written that he doesn't like weapons. That must be why..." But Reginald, thinking of what happened to Willem, could only shake his head.

Hahnah leaned in a bit closer to Reginald, the orange of her eyes reflecting in his own. "You know what sins you have committed. I want you to tell us. Answer Pretty Boy, and I will also hear it."

A moment's recollection, and then Reginald started. "We are all imperfect. Some, I will admit, more than others. I was a slovenly young man. Constantly letting my brothers do much of my work around the fields and then taking credit for the honest work they had done. I was wrong. And it took meeting Valeria to see just what--"

"How many elves have you killed?"

"What? None. I haven't--"

"Then include in your sins lying also."

"I am sorry that you think this of me, but I haven't killed any elves. Only game animals. I do hunt, but that is not--"

Hahnah pointed to the new letters written by Pretty Boy, ignoring Reginald's reply. "Now read that to me."

"It is a single word and the mark of a question: Elves?"

Hahnah looked to Pretty Boy. She did not follow what his question meant, exactly. Did he not know what elves were? Did he not understand why they would rejoice, as she had said earlier? Or was he wondering why she cared about elves? She would tell him that.

"When I was small, I was in a place made of stone. I could not escape. I had no more food. I was going to die, and then two elves, named Elurdrith and Kylindrielle, opened the stone place. They found me, and they became my caretakers."

She turned her head to regard Reginald with contempt. "I loved them. And then they were slain by humans who sought to kill me."

Reginald, with a genuine tone of condolence, said, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

Hahnah looked back to Pretty Boy. "I see myself as an elf. I am a strange elf, but I am an elf. I do not know what else to call myself."

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty listened to the exchange. Most humans didn’t kill elves, or so he thought. There just wasn’t any reason to. Did they have some sort of rivalry? Pretty sighed and looked at Hahnah. She seemed overly eager to kill them, but now he understood why. She had lost her adoptive parents to bad humans. He wiped out his markings. Lost mate. Babies. Humans did. He made a sad and soft whine and nibbled at her hair. He understood more than most.

He eyed Reginald. Mated pair alive. Baby too. Pretty took to woods. Join them. He wrote simply. He hoped the man wouldn’t just blurt it out. How to make Hahnah understand? He dipped a tusk to the soil and drew a large circle around them, all three of them, and sat in it. Loss. He wrote. They were all joined in it.

If killed elves, honest? Pretty wrote to Reginald. He wasn’t sure he believed him. Humans were excellent liars, but this one wasn’t begging for his life or trying to bargain. He hadn’t even brought up letting him go. If he was a liar he was a good one.

Maybe mercy? He wrote, looking at Hahnah.

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah was about to command Reginald to read the latest letters from Pretty Boy, but the whine and the nibbling at her hair took her by surprise. She stood stunned for a moment, not knowing the true meaning of the written letters but feeling the (unconsciously familiar) pain they conveyed.

"Please read what he has written."

Reginald inhaled. Said, "He wrote: Lost mate. Babies. Humans did."

Hahnah said no words to Pretty Boy. She did not understand what a mate was or even the implication that he had fathered the babies, but she did understand one thing clearly: that he cared about them. She stood, draped her arms around Pretty Boy's neck as much as she could, and hugged him.

Just held him for a while.

And let go. Crouching back down by Reginald as Pretty Boy began to write new letters in the mud. A lot of letters this time. Hahnah was watching Pretty Boy's claw work, and did not see the small flash of relief and hope in Reginald's eyes. For Reginald could hear the now faint wailing of baby Michael from the grove, but he had thought his daughter and his son-in-law to be dead.

"What has he written?" Hahnah asked him.

And here Reginald hesitated. His calm demeanor cracking a bit as the weight of the present choice came down upon him. Pretty Boy, the large one, clearly had no intent to kill David or Andrea or Michael--he had in fact saved them. But the little one, the girl with the orange eyes, seemed as though she would, right after she was through with him. She would if she knew.

"Read what Pretty Boy has written. Now."

Reginald met her eyes. And he remembered the young boy that he had been, lying to his parents about the chores he had done. "He wrote: Wish you well. Sorry for elves. I know pain."

"I know the pain also," Hahnah said to Pretty. Then back to the human, "And read that to me."

"Loss," Reginald said, relived that it appeared to back up his lie. "It says loss. And we are all inside the circle."

"You are here because your gods are as cruel as you." Hahnah pointed to the new set of letters, saying her command curtly. "Read."

Reginald lifted a hand to his mouth. A quiet tear ran down the right side of his nose. He was quite alright with his own death, with dying here with Valeria, but no, not with David's or Andrea's or Michael's. Not when they had a chance. But Pretty Boy knew that he had lied about what he had written earlier. Even though Reginald had not killed an elf, a human, an orc, any folk of Arethil at all, it would not matter. How could he be seen as honest in this question when he had lied about that?

Hahnah reached over, and closed a fist around Reginald's ear. Squeezed down on it hard, enough to make him whimper and hitch his shoulders. She spoke slowly, "I want you...to read it."

"He asked...he asked if I was honest about not killing any elves." Reginald pinched his eyes shut and let out a shuddering wince.

"I know the answer."

"I did not kill any elves..." He said meekly.

"Are you a liar." She asked the question flatly, without inflection.

"Please..."

"I want to hear you say it."

The girl was convinced, but more so Pretty Boy had heard his earlier translation. He had no choice. "Yes. I am a liar."

Hahnah let go of his ear, her face stern and severe. Reginald gasped, groaned in stinging pain, and brought a hand to his ear to gingerly touch it. "That is the truth." She pointed. "Read."

Reginald--taken aback--stumbled over his words for a second when he saw it. "Maybe mercy. He wrote: maybe mercy?"

Hahnah returned Pretty's eyeless look. "No. Mercy is not for the profane." She cast a brief, sideways glance to Reginald as she spoke further to Pretty. "I did not want to become as I am. But I embrace my purpose now. Humankind has done this to themselves."

Hahnah returned her gaze fully to Pretty. A touch bemused. "They killed the ones you love. Why would you show them mercy?"

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty held back a sigh of relief when the man lied. Good. At least he had the good sense not to reveal what Pretty had done. He knew she would likely be upset. She had thought he’d eaten them. He put a paw around her when she hugged him about the neck, and enjoyed his hug. He liked Hahnah, and he’d met many like her. Consumed by rage and pain. He had been the same for a while, killing any human blindly in his path. Time hadn’t healed those wounds, but it had made them easier to think about.

Pretty watched her twist the man’s ear. That didn’t seem right to him. If he beat a creature until it gave him what he wanted, it didn’t mean that it was a gift. He hesitated and wiped away his words, pondering her question. He knew these people hadn’t killed his Cassia. They’d never seen a devourer before. They’d never seen him before. Her killers would recognize him as the sable bull who had slipped their ropes and fled.

This one didn’t. He wrote, and looked at Reginald expectantly. Will kill guilty humans. Human with evil weapon.

His quest wasn’t an easy one to explain. He would recognize his mate’s butcher by his blade, and his scent, and the way he would treat Pretty if he saw him. This man was clearly unfamiliar with his kind, and was therefore innocent. Gods are judge. Not Pretty.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah commanded Reginald to read Pretty's responses, and dutifully he did. She waited for Pretty to write his letters and for Reginald to speak them and for Pretty to erase the previous letters in the dirt and mud and to write the new ones. She waited until he was done.

"Every human I see is guilty. I would not cross paths with them if they were not. Their gods have judged them, and they have left them to me, because they know what will happen."

Hahnah reached over with her hand and clutched the gash on Reginald's arm. Casually squeezed it, deigning not even to look at him as she did so. Reginald let a small gasp and a prolonged groan as some blood leaked out over Hahnah's fingers. Red rolling down black.

"Say the name of your god," Hahnah said to Reginald, while looking still at Pretty. "Say the name the priest spoke earlier."

"...Astra," Reginald said with a strained voice.

"Why has she left you to me."

"I'm sorry for your caretakers. And I'm sorry for your mate and your babies. I truly am. There are bad--"

"Why has she left you to me."

Reginald's eyes were pinched and he was panting. "That is...not mine...to know."

"It is because you are a reflection of your gods. You are cruel. They are cruel. You commit your sins, and they abandon you to me."

Though she hated all mankind, she did not speak with hatred either seething or subtle in her tone. She spoke plainly, as if stating facts as mundane as the color of sky in a clear afternoon day. She let go of Reginald's arm and gave her hand a perfunctory wipe on Edward's tunic, the man's body close beside her.

To Pretty specifically, she said, "This is how I know. If there is such a thing as a good human in the world, then that human is kept from me. All the humans that I find are evil and profane."

A look of concern came over her. "I make one exception. Humans waited until I was not small until they tried to kill me, and so I wait until they are not small before I kill them," she said. "But...humans killed the small ones you cared about. Should I no longer make this exception? They did not make it for you."

Reginald--who could still just barely hear the cries of Michael distantly in the grove--paled.

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty frowned. He didn’t like the idea of just dismissing the fact that not all humans were bad. He shook his head, and wiped away his words. No kill pups. Ever. He stamped a foot. He definitely would not kill children. Pups were innocent. They didn’t know their parents or what they had done, if anything. Pups were pure creatures, and Pretty liked them regardless of species.

He looked at her, then at Reginald. Maybe he could save him? He didn’t really mind this human now that they were talking to him. He was clearly concerned about the pup, and Pretty was worried the male wouldn’t make it dragging his mate and babe out of the woods. Not everyone was as advanced as a devourer.

Pretty rubbed away his words. Eat him now? He asked. He felt a bit bad trying to save a bunch of humans, knowing what Hahnah had gone through. At the same time perhaps he could begin steering her to truly evil humans. Was there a god around to guide her? Was she guided by fate? Was he subverting the will of a god by deceiving her? Only time would tell.

He sat down and looked at Reginald, then at Hahnah. Are you mistress now? He wrote, tilting his head at her.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

When Reginald read Pretty's words to her (doing so without prompting), Hahnah respected Pretty's stance, but she did not understand it. In Hahnah's view there was a kind of fairness in abstaining from killing the small humans, because they had not tried to do so to her. But with Pretty they had. He cared for small ones, and humans killed them. To Hahnah that made it equitable for him to regard mankind with the same standard. Yet he did not. It was peculiar.

"If you will not, then I will not. I will continue to make my one exception."

He wrote new letters. Hahnah pushed Reginald's shoulder, and commanded him to read. And he did, saying the three words and collecting about himself as much peace with the inevitable as he could.

Hahnah said to Pretty, "I do not want to kill him yet. I like talking to you."

A soft exhale left Reginald's nose. Hahnah looked to the man and asked, "Do you know how to make the thing which ties around a wound?"

"A bandage?"

"Do you know how to make one?"

Reginald, lacking a knife along with Valeria and Edward, and knowing well that he also lacked the strength to tear a strip of cloth from Edward's tunic, said, "I don't think I will be able."

Hahnah glanced at his bloodied sleeve. "Then you will go without one." She pointed to the new letters that Pretty wrote. She told him to read and he did, and she had another question for him. "Tell me what the word 'mistress' means."

Reginald, considering the context for the most appropriate definition, said, "It is like a master--another word for it, for females. A master or mistress is someone who is above another in some way. It can, as well, refer to the owner of a domesticated animal."

Hahnah's eyes slid away toward the grove. She noticed that she could no longer hear the cries of the small human, though she did not know that they had been diminished to nothing by increasing distance. In her head she kept a rough idea on the direction.

Then she looked to Pretty, "No, I am not your mistress. I am not higher or lower than you." She eyed Pretty for a moment, then added, "I am lower in height than you, but that I do not think is important."

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty Boy nodded his head. He liked talking to her too. He laid down on his stomach and looked at Reginald’s wound. He had seen humans make bandages before. He looked at Valeria’s clothing, grasped it in his teeth, and tore off a considerable strip. He offered it to Reginald, and wiped away his marks. He was pleased to hear that she didn’t see herself as a mistress. Devourers were made to serve masters and mistresses. Though they liked their own kind, not a one of them could deny the strange and incredible feeling that was bonding with a two-legged. He’d only met a few Devourers who staunchly disagreed with this line of thinking.

He extended a claw. Keep human? Teach how to read. He wrote hopefully, looking at Hahnah. If know read, no need human. It was a clever plan. Reginald would stay alive as long as he was useful as a translator, and he could teach Hahnah to read his scratches. Once Hahnah could read, they could either let Reginald go or Pretty could eat him.

Either way, Pretty was for leaving the area. In the opposite direction of the mated pair and their child. Should leave. Bodies attract hunters, attract more humans. These humans would be missed. He looked at Reginald, thinking. He could carry him in the pouch while she rode. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing for Pretty if he had to actually run, but it was the safest spot for a prisoner.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Reginald made a small, pitiful sound when Valeria's clothing was ripped--he wished dearly that he would not live to see his beloved Valeria's body mangled like Raphael's. He looked to the strip of cloth. Took it with all the energy of a beleaguered man in a forced march. Tied it around his arm slowly, making no effort to make it tight enough to do anything of substantive value.

Hahnah commanded Reginald to read the new letters, which were--as it would so happen--about reading. "We can make use of him for a time. My caretakers tried for months to teach me how to read, and I did try to learn. But it was something that I could not do."

More letters in the well-used dirt and mud of the pond's shore. Translated by Reginald.

"Yes. We should leave. My purpose here is done." Hahnah stood up in a smooth, languid movement. She was specifically facing the direction where the small human's cries had faded. Down to Reginald she said, "Stand."

Reginald didn't look at her, and didn't obey.

She said it again, "Stand."

He let out a frightful sigh, knowing that he could not delay the girl with the orange eyes longer for Andrea's sake, and said at last, "No, I do not think that I will. I know what is coming is inevitable. So go ahead." He entwined his hand with Valeria's once more and squeezed, desperate not to leave her side in the final hours. "Do what you will."

Hahnah cast a slow glance to Pretty Boy.

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty gave Reginald a look. He wasn’t tying that tight enough. He was concerned that Hahnah was headed toward the cries of the baby. He didn’t want her to find that mated pair, but they’d been talking with Reginald and killing the others for over an hour now. Surely the woman had awakened or the pair had managed to find a road with people on it? Pretty made a soft noise of distress and looked at Reginald. No. If Hahnah killed the mated pair the baby would need someone to look after him.

Pup. He wrote to Reginald. Carry you in pouch. Is safe. Not eat. He was trying to explain to him what he was about to do. He picked up Valeria in his mouth and moved her aside, pulling her away from Reginald. He quite easily put his mouth over the man’s head much like Willem, but his tongue plastered to the roof of his mouth. Those great jaws were gentle as a mother crocodile, and he scooped Reginald inside with a lot more gentility than he’d been able to do with the man and his mate.

He waited until Reginald settled. It was definitely a weird experience for humans the first time. A pouch of velvet softness and warmth, lined in similar fur to Pretty’s hide. The sounds outside were muffled, and his only air supply was the flap above his head. He could hear Pretty’s breathing.

Pretty lipped at Hahnah’s hair and opened his mouth to show her Reginald was very much alive and fine. He rolled his shoulders, and settled carefully onto his front to invite her to sit atop him again.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah thought that was it. If he did not stand up and walk with them, then what were they to do? It appeared as though Pretty was going to finish the matter. She did not even command Reginald to translate those last letters. Pretty had a voracious appetite--Hahnah had not specifically been counting, but he had eaten a lot of the humans here.

Pretty opened his mouth and showed her, and she could see both Reginald and the body of Valeria--he was literally full. "You ate too much. You will have to wait," she said, reasoning this to be why they had not been swallowed.

Reginald, despite having read the brief description, was aghast at his current predicament--it was so foreign to his experience that he was made numb by it. He did not struggle and kick as David had.

Pretty lowered himself down, and Hahnah knew what it was that he was offering. She nodded. And then pointed out toward where Michael's cries could last be heard before fading away entirely with distance.

"I want to see how the small human escaped on his own. Will you take me?"

Reginald, inside the pouch, tensed slightly.

Then Hahnah sat atop Pretty's back as she had before. She was in no great hurry. Even if the small human was retreating to Strathford then he still had two days worth of travel ahead of him. They could catch up to him easily.

But the thing which drove her interest was that they should have to catch up to the small human at all. She had encountered them before, the small ones which were carried and did not walk on their own. Had it been a trick all along? Was there something that Hahnah did not understand about humans?

Or.

What if the ceremony the priest performed had done something? Caused the small human to change? Like the butterfly? That Hahnah was keenly interested in finding out, if true.

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Pretty pushed himself up when Hahnah mounted him and readjusted the pouch. Reginald alone there wasn’t nearly as full as it had been with two people. He eyed Valeria’s body but thought against it. He’d had quite a bit to eat today. Any more and he might not be able to run. He stretched and ambled along, purposefully going slow. He headed toward the treeline. He felt Reginald tense but at this moment....he’d done all he could for the young couple. Hahnah was much faster on her own two feet but didn’t seem bothered by the pace.

Pretty kept his mouth open; Reginald was fed fresh air every time he breathed in. The pouch expanded slightly to suck in fresh air, and pressed a bit to expel the bad air with Pretty’s exhale. The devourer waggled his tail a bit. A full belly was about the best thing. He took his time, lifting a leg near the tree they’d initially hid behind and relieving himself. Then he headed in a direction toward the noise. The cries, he hoped, had been silenced by the mother. If she’d awoken that was. The couple would need a bit of luck to survive this.

Pretty calmed a bit further when he realized Reginald wasn’t about to start kicking or panicking. He was doing quite well in there. Pretty rumbled his approval to him, a thunderous purr he could hear just on the other side of the pouch.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

"Just a little further," David said.

But that was a lie. One meant to encourage, to keep Andrea going one step at a time. She had woken up, but her balance was off, her vision a touch blurry, and she had a sharp headache. She could walk, but not well. She leaned on David and he helped her along, and together the two of them held baby Michael. He was still making tiny, mewling noises of mild discontent, but he was no longer wailing as he was earlier.

They were out of the grove and back on the road, shuffling along back in the direction of Strathford. Yet their home was at least two days worth of travel out, and to make matters worse all of their traveling gear was back by the Pond of the Goddess. No food, no tools, no bedrolls, no waterskins, nothing. It was all they could do simply persist, to walk for their sake of their lives and that of little Michael.

And behind them, David feared that the monsters which killed their friends and family would be close.

* * * * *​

Pretty loped along at a slow pace. That was good. Hahnah did not need to press herself flat against him. It was fun and exciting when he went fast, but she did not get to see much.

And Hahnah did like Falwood. While she had difficulty in learning how to read and write the scripts of Common and Elvish, she had no trouble remembering the lay of the land where she traveled. It happened by second nature, like a map in her mind slowly unfurling to reveal more of itself as she explored. She knew her way around to places she had been without the aid of tools and tricks. But she did need to be slow, to observe everything and absorb those minute details.

In so doing, she had come to appreciate the beauty of Falwood. Though the Allir Reach was much like it, to her it was not the same. She had traveled briefly to other places with Alden, but Falwood was and would forever be her home.

She thought that, perhaps, if every human left Falwood and never returned, then she would be content. But she knew that would never happen.

The slight uphill slope was beginning to level out, and the tall and mighty trees of the grove were thinning out and giving way to the smaller, naked ones. With the grove mostly behind them, the sky overhead was visible through the canopy once more. Breaks in the clouds had come, and the morning sun peeked like a curious child through the gaps here and there.

"It is a beautiful world," Hahnah said, musing aloud. She patted Pretty on the neck. "And it is filled with cruelty. This cruelty I wish to cleanse for good."

Pretty Boy

 

[Pretty Boy]

Though Pretty was purposefully giving the humans time to hide, he actually liked the slow lumbering pace. He hoped the rocking would lull the human in his pouch to sleep, as it had with so many pups. He liked Falwood. There weren’t nearly enough of his kind there for his liking, but the browsing was good. He caught the scent of cranberry and browsed a bush. While his ferocious fangs and crushing throat worked for meat, his dexterous lips were the best at berry picking.

He looked a bit like a horse as he nuzzled through the brush for the tart berries, offering a bit to Hahnah. He had to close the pouch to eat, but kept it short so the human didn’t suffocate. He’d eaten well but he couldn’t resist fresh fruit. Devourers were fond of sweets, and would tackle beehives and berry prickles for get their fill.

Satisfied with a short snack, he continued on his way. She spoke of cleansing the forest. Of humans? He leaned into the pat on his neck. Cruelty was a good thing to extinguish. He huffed his agreement, and passed by the area where he had put little Michael. He looked at the stump briefly. He hoped the pup hadn’t been too shaken by the experience.

Hahnah