Chronicles of the Black Forest
The Southern Reaches, 75 A.D.
Summer came around again, as it had for the last three fourths of the century, and with it, it brought the promise of the malice, the despair, and the sorrow that had used to belong to the dread tides of winter.
Evening was beginning to fall upon the land. In the west, the sun dropped low beyond the mountains, casting the sky in shades of crimson as it descended and gave way to its cousin, the moon. Long shadows were cast from the sun's last vestiges of light, the last embers of the day before night took its place.
One shadow moved in the evening light, slowly along the twisted and winding road where the light fell. The figure was riding atop a horse, a well-built steed carrying numerous saddlebags upon its brown form. Its hooves clipped clopped along the road, the horse exhaling a nervous snort as the darkness began to grow.
The figure riding atop the steed stroked the animal's throat, whispering words under her breath to calm the animal. The horse shook its head but proceeded onward, calmer now and allowing its rider to lead it forward. The traveler gripped her mount's reins, casting her gaze westward, her eyes narrowing as the sun dipped further into the west.
She was a woman, young in age, barely out of her teenage years. Her form was clad in dark leathers, black as the feathers of a raven. A cowl covered her face, leaving only her green, sharp eyes visible along with the barest hints of skin. A long cloak billowed from behind her, lined with warm furs. Strapped to her back was a quiver, two arrows sticking from it, sitting side by side with a well-worn bow. A belt lay around her waist, a single sword tucked into it.
The woman spurred his horse forward, twisting forwards, her cloak flapping behind her. Her horse began to move faster, moving from a trot into a full-fledged gallop. The wind whistled past the girl as her horse raced along the path, the last gasps of light almost gone, nightfall mere minutes away.
The traveler bounced up and down on the horse, completely silent. But her eyes betrayed her. They were full of fear. She had grown too bold after her week of travel, where nothing of particular note had occurred. And now, she risked being caught out at night, with no fire, no shelter, nothing to protect her.
She road on, her horse's thundering footfalls echoing across the landscape. She gritted her teeth, knowing the noise could attract things from the dark but there was no choice. She drove her steed harder, the animal's hooves kicking up clouds of dust in its wake.
She turned, her eyes scanning the landscape around the rocky path. Towering around the path were hundreds of trees, towering high, shadows in the growing dark. She could hear the creak of their branches even above her horse's pounding steps. She could feel her heart beating faster. Her mind conjured images of beasts emerging from the forest, bursting free of the gnarled branches in an explosion of teeth and claws. She saw herself being torn from her horse, screaming as they dragged her into the trees and-
She suddenly caught a glimpse of something ahead. She cursed and pulled hard on the reins. Her horse screeched to a halt, the woman bouncing unsteadily as it came to a sudden and abrupt stop. The girl coughed, raising her head and blinking through the dust as she looked at what lay ahead.
There was a lone house standing at the road's edge, just before the trees. Lights were burned in its windows, casting its form in an unearthly glow. A sign dangled from its upper roof, showing a faded painting of a sheep with an apple in its mouth. Written in crude script below the image were the words: "The Sheep's Supper."
An inn, The woman thought. Her eyes narrowed. Or so it appears...She took a long sniff and smelled a myriad of delicious flavors. Cheese...ale...meats...Her stomach growled as she took in these scents. It had been days since she'd last had a decent meal. She'd been living off rations for days, too fearful to enter the forests and pursue wild game.
She didn't hear any of the noises she'd often associated with taverns. The soft hum of music, the laughter of men, and the clatter of silverware as food was eaten. But this place seemed inhabited by folk nonetheless. Beasts could not cook...this was no domain of the Wild.
Still... Her keen eyes went to the forest, the trees uncomfortably close to the inn. It was a sign of the Wild's influence here. The wilderness was mere feet from this scrap of civilization. At any moment, beasts could come from the trees, tearing through the flimsy wood the house appeared to be made of and slaughter whoever lied within. The girl's hands clutched her steed's reins tighter, the nightmarish image of beasts feasting on her returning to her mind.
The woman cast her gaze about. She couldn't see anything beyond the dim light of the inn, but she could still hear the horrible creak of the trees. She thought for a moment then may up her mind. Wandering into the dark was a death sentence. The inn may not be trustworthy but it was shelter, despite its proximity to the forest.
Taking a long breath, the girl dismounted her horse, her boots crunching as she stepped down onto the road. She gripped her horse's reins and led it forward, her horse breathing hard from the ordeal she'd just forced it through. The girl spoke a soothing word to it, promising food and drink.
She stopped in front of the door, a small lantern dangling over it. She tied her horse to the inn and rubbed its face a final time, speaking a few words of calming, before the woman pushed open the inn's door. It swung before her easily enough and she moved inside, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her sword.
The inside of the inn was small, humble, but it might as well have been the quarters of a king to the woman after a week of hard travel in the Wild. A few tables were arranged about the room, almost all unoccupied. A bar sat in the right hand corner of the inn, a man standing behind it. Across the room was a fireplace, burning heartily. The smells of food the girl had caught whiffs of filled her senses. Her stomach growled again, louder this time and it was all she could do to stop herself from ransacking the place.
The man behind the bar was an older man. He had a potbelly, which her father had affectionately nicknamed a 'drinker's stomach', which stood in contrast to his burly arms. Even through the sleeves of his tunic, the woman could tell those arms were that of a workingman. He was probably a farmer.
The man looked at her, his eyes blinking in surprise. His face was wrinkled, showing the signs of age although he was not truly elderly yet. He put down a glass he was polishing, thumping it down on the counter. The noise echoed through the small room and the woman's hand tightened around her blade.
A moment of awkward silence passed before the man finally spoke. "Ah..." He said, leaning forward and laying his great hands on the counter. The edges of his fingers were callused, while his knuckles bore the remnants of bruises. "You'll excuse me, ma'am. I ain't seen your like before and you took me by surprise..." He bit his lip. "Was is it you be wanting?"
The woman hesitated. Was he to be trusted? Even though he appeared a simple peasant, he could be much more. But she did not wish to make an enemy either. She resolved to tell him only what she had to get what she needed: food, water, provisions, and a place to sleep. Everything else she would keep close to her chest.
"Food, something to drink, and a room if you have one to spare," The woman answered, trying to sound as neutral as possible. Her words sounded muffled through her cowl, which she hoped enhanced her intent. "I can pay, naturally..."
The man eyed her for another uncomfortably long moment. The woman kept her grip on her sword. She was ready to do what she had to at a moment's notice. Already she was studying the bartender, her eyes flashing to his jugular, his bloated belly...she was quicker than him and could finish this in an instant-
"Alright then," The man finally said with a nod. He gestured at the counter. "Please sit, ma'am."
The woman relaxed, sighing inwardly with relief. But she kept her emotions controlled and gave the pot-bellied bartender just a curt nod in response. She approached the bar, relaxing her grasp on her blade, her boots making the floorboards creak. She seated herself and leaned against the counter, still watching the man carefully.
"What would you like?" The man asked, taking a step back from the bar. "We're well stocked...visitors often come from the village over. Fresh meats, plenty of bread, cheese, fruits..."
"Bread, some cheese, and a few cuts of salted meat," The woman said. She thought for a moment before she added. "And some water as well." The bartender nodded and moved to the pantry, beginning to rummage around.
The woman raised her head, examining the inn in more detail. Everything looked relatively mundane, but she noticed something that caught her eye. It was a small thing, a little object easily overlooked. But she knew it when she saw it. There were few who would not. A stick, carved to resemble a person, placed upright against the window. Shadows spread by the crackling fireplace danced across the thing.
The woman's blood ran cold when she saw it. Her hand shot to her side and she barely resisted the urge to draw her weapon. She barely resisted the urge to hack that bloody thing to pieces. Her hands trembling, she slapped them against the sides of the chair and gripped the handles hard, not taking her eyes off the thing.
She could see them. Out of the hills they came, howling and screaming. They came as one, flooding over the pastures and fields. She stared in horror, unable to move, unable to cry out, barely comprehending the scene before her as they flooded through the gates...
A clink pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up and saw a plate of food placed before her. Several slabs of beef dipped in almond milk sauce, a large slice of bread, and numerous fine cheeses. The bartender dusted off his hands before he carefully placed silverware beside the meal before finishing it off by handing the woman a cup of water.
The girl took the cup. The glass shook in her hand. It took her a moment to realize it was not the cup shaking but her own hand. She swallowed before tightening her arm and taking several breaths. Her hand stopped shaking, mercifully.
The bartender gave her a quizzical look. "You alright there, miss?" He questioned. The woman slowly set her glass down and straightened herself up in her chair. Biting her lip, she just nodded, unable to find her voice.
"Well alright then..." The man said, turning away. The woman stared at her food, her eyes flicking back to the foul thing resting on the windowsill. She shook her head and decided to try to ignore it. It couldn't harm her...it was just a symbol. A damn symbol...
The woman pulled herself closer to the counter, her chair loudly dragging on the floor. The bartender shot her another look and one eyebrow raised but he returned to whatever he was doing after a moment. The girl decided she was drawing too much attention to herself. She took another breath and spoke to herself the calming words she often used on her horse.
So, she focused on the food. She had to admit, it looked good. The woman peeled off her gloves and set them aside, wiggling her fingers. Specks of dirt and hardened mud clung to her hands but she didn't care. She then pulled down her cowl, taking a breath before snatching up a fork. The girl stabbed into a piece of meat and took a bite.
The woman's eyes bugged out and despite herself, she made a noise of pleasure as she gulped down the meat. Gods, it was delicious and the sauce only made it better. Licking her lips, the woman attacked the food, shoveling meat down her throat and tearing loose pieces of bread. She barely stopped to breathe, devouring everything in front of her as quickly as she could.
Finally, the woman halted, panting hard. She felt bits of food dribble down her chin. She licked her lips again, her belly stuffed to the brim. The girl leaned back in her chair, her cloak falling next to her ankles, and let out a satisfied burp.
The bartender laughed. The woman looked at it, smacking her lips. The plate was mostly empty; she'd left behind a few crumbs and a piece of cheese. The man approached her and took the plate away, continuing to chuckle.
"You must have been starving," He said as he plopped the plate in a sink. "How long were you on the road for? The farthest town is only ten miles away...did you get lost perhaps? Sometimes all these paths do look the same to me, I admit, and the lack of signs doesn't help."
The woman was silent. Through her food-induced delirium, she tried to focus again, to give him an answer that wouldn't call attention to herself. You've already done a fine job of that though... She thought angrily, cursing herself mentally. Attacking that meal like some wild animal! Idiot!
"My business is my own," The girl said, fixing the bartender with a stern look. "I am traveling and my venture will take me far. Does that satisfy you?"
The man blinked at her and repeated, "Satisfy me? Well...no, milady, it doesn't. But I ain't aiming to pry, so I'll leave it be." The woman nodded, sighing in relief mentally, before taking a sip of water. It was good, nice and cool, just the thing for her parched throat.
The bartender went about his business, arranging items on the shelves and polishing glasses. But after a few minutes of quiet, he spoke up again, to the woman's chagrin.
"At least tell your name, ma'am. Beggin' your pardon, of course, but a black clad stranger who arrives in the night and ain't willing to engage in conversation doesn't sit right by me."
The woman pursed her lips. Damnit, She thought sourly. He's right. That does sound suspicious...damn! Damn... She exhaled, lowering her cup. She locked eyes with the bartender. The man continued to polish his glass but met her gaze and raised a bushy eyebrow.
The woman thought for a moment. Obviously, she couldn't tell this stranger her real name. But she had to say something now or she'd look even worse to his eyes. She racked her mind, thinking before coming up with the blandest possible name she could.
"Mallory," She answered the bartender, trying to appear nonchalant about it. She took another sip of water. "A boy's name, I know. But my father wanted a boy and named me before I was born. He was too stubborn to change it, so Mallory stuck."
Not a half-bad story. I hope he buys it.
The bartender cocked his head then smiled. He nodded. "Mallory then," He raised an empty glass to her. "Pleased to you, Mallory. As for me, I'm Jonathan Rerinch. I'm a farmer in these parts; this inn is just something my family built seasons ago in order to provide the folk of the nearby village a place to unwind. I work the fields during the day and tend the inn for some hours into the evening."
'Mallory' wasn't particularly interested but she made a non-committal grunt, feigning some enthusiasm as she took another gulp of water. Jonathan returned to polishing his glass, his great fingers working the cup until it seemed to gleam. He gave a smile of contentment before returning it to the shelf.
The silence lingered again before Jonathan piped up again. Mallory groaned inwardly. Can't he shut up and leave me in peace?
"Been a good crop this year," Jonathan said to her, raising his head. He beamed brightly, his cheeks glowing in the light of the fireplace. "Potatoes, corn, cabbage...been growin' in great numbers! The town lord says we might have to build a new place of storage, just to house all this extra food..." Jonathan laughed and gestured emphatically. "The Lord of the Forest has been good to us this year, oh yes He has! Oh, I wish I could see him, so I could invite him in and give him the biggest mug of ale I got!" He paused. "You think he drinks ale?"
Mallory felt her blood run cold at the mention of that name. It was all she could do to stop her hand from trembling again, even as she felt her breath quicken, her heart beat faster, a cold feeling coming over her despite her warm cloak.
"I..." Mallory swallowed and gulped down the cup of mug, gulping the liquid down. She chugged the entire glass, water splashing down messily onto her clothes. She lowered the cup, finding Jonathan staring at her. He raised an eyebrow again. She bit her teeth together before practically snarling out, "...I wouldn't presume to know what He is like, sir." She said the last word like a curse, unable to fully control herself. If she could, she would've crushed the cup.
Jonathan narrowed his eyes. There was no mistaking it; he'd sensed the hostility in her tone. Mallory met his eyes, trying to appear calm, but she could feel her anger building despite herself. She waited, willing him to make the first action, ready to drop her cup and draw her blade.
But then she heard a noise outside. It split the silence, the cry making her jump up. Her chair fell backwards, smashing hard onto the floor. The cry split the air again and Jonathan cringed backward.
"What the hell was that?!" He cried. Mallory didn't answer. She knew perfectly well what it was. The terrified scream of her horse outside. She'd heard that noise before but only...
The woman grabbed her weapon and unsheathed it. Gripping it firmly, she ran to the door, ignoring Jonathan and yanked it open. Her horse was in a complete panic. Illuminated by the inn, the terrified steed was writhing and twisting, its hooves stomping about. It shook its head back and forth, letting loose another frightened cry of panic, its eyes rolling in its sockets, its lips curling backward.
Mallory grabbed the reins with her free hand, hastily trying to undo them. But as she tore them free, the horse bucked backward with another fearful scream of terror. Its reigns were ripped from her grasp and the animal turned tail, kicking up dust.
"No!" Mallory screamed, making another grab at the horse's reigns. But she missed and fell forward, unable to stop herself. She crashed down hard, her sword clanging against the rocky path. The woman raised her head, catching a glimpse of her horse charging away. It fled down the path, turning around the bend and was swallowed up by the night.
Mallory stared at the blackness for a long moment, blinking in shock. Then she heard a noise. A nightmare sound. A sound that caused her heart to skip a beat and her skin to break out into a cold sweat.
The howl of a wolf.
Mallory rose quick as a flash. Panting, she stumbled back into the inn, nearly tripping over the hem of his cloak. She grabbed the door and slammed it closed before latching it.
Another howl echoed from outside, this one closer. Mallory latched the door closed and began to look around, scanning the inn for heavy objects. Her eyes alighted on one of the tables nearby and she staggered toward it. But Jonathan suddenly stepped in her path.
Jonathan was shaking, red-faced, as he looked at her. A carving knife was clutched in his right hand, so hard muscles were bulging from his skin. Mallory stared at him and raised her sword, twisting it an offensive stance.
"Move aside," She snarled. "Unless you want those monsters to get in."
Jonathan's eyes bulged and he glared at her, his expression a mixture of rage and disbelief. "Monsters?!" He barked, his voice cracking. "What's out there are the servants of the Lord of the Wild! What you've just said...its heresy! You..." He gritted his teeth. "I knew there was something wrong about you. You're an enemy."
"Stand aside!" Mallory hissed. The howl of a wolf echoed from outside again, sounding so very close. "I won't tell you again, old man."
Jonathan swallowed. His throat bulged. But he gritted his teeth and growled, "You're an enemy. A bringer of winter. I have to stop-"
As soon as he said that, Mallory lunged forward. She jabbed her sword at the bartender's neck. Jonathan twisted backward, yelping. He tripped backwards over a chair and the blade cut through the side of his cheek, sending blood flying through the air. The heavyset man crashed down hard on the floor and a loud snap echoed through the inn. He howled in pain, dropping his knife.
Jonathan struggled to rise, clawing at the floor. But Mallory struck his head with the flat of her sword and he fell back, his skull bleeding. He moaned but the woman ignored him, snatching up a fallen chair. She dragged it forward and pressed it against the door, before twisting, moving toward the table. She was about to grab it and shoved it against the door, where she heard a voice speak. A voice outside, sounding like it was right beyond the shut door.
"We smell you," The voice said. The words were drawn out, punctuated with an inhuman growl. The voice itself sounded raspy, strained, as if a dying man was choking the speech out. "We have your scent, human girl. You are an intruder in these lands. You have broken many laws...so very many." The voice descended into a bout of laughter, a noise that sent chills down Mallory's spine.
"You are ours now," The horrible voice continued, growing louder. "Come out and face us! Let us taste your flesh. Let us drink your blood. Your body is ours, every last morsel of it. We will feed and you will be forgiven. Do not draw out our appetites...the longer the hunt goes, the more our bloodlust shall rise and the more you shall suffer."
Mallory stared at the door. She let go of the table and looked at her sword. She swallowed and pulled up her cowl, her heart racing. She was surrounded. But there had to be a way out. There was always a way out.
She stepped backward. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet. A snarling, vicious growl came from behind the door and something slammed into it. The hinges buckle and pieces of wood cracked. The chair wobbled but held firm...for the moment.
No time! Mallory twisted, her eyes zeroing in on the bar. She ran toward it and vaulted over the counter, her cloak flapping behind her. She landed hard but rolled with it, getting back on her feet. The shelves rattled, a few hanging chunks of meat falling to the floor.
She heard a groan from across the room. Mallory turned and saw Jonathan, rising up. He gripped his bleeding head, swaying unsteadily on his feet like a drunkard. The door was struck again, a piece of wood knocking loose. The chair was knocked away, falling on its side. Another blow would knock the door open.
Mallory hesitated. But she rose up and extended a hand. She called to Jonathan, "Over here!" Jonathan groggily turned in her direction, blood spilling through his large fingers. Mallory gestured emphatically. "Quick, Jonathan! Before-"
There was a resounding crash and the door was knocked open, slamming into the wall. A shape burst inside, landing on the floor. Mallory froze. She backed up, holding out her sword, her words gone and her body shaking in terror.
The thing that had burst inside the inn was a wolf. It had a dark grey coat, its fur bristled and standing on end. Its claws clicked loudly as it moved slowly into the room, slinking towards Jonathan. Its lips flared, revealing rows and rows of sharp yellow teeth. Its eyes burned the color of red, its ears flattened against its skull.
Jonathan paled at the sight of the animal. He raised a hand as the wolf approached him, a horrible growl echoing from the depths of its throat.
"Please..." Jonathan sputtered, waving his hand. "I have...have been a devoted servant of Him...I have been a good man! Please...please...don't..."
His words were lost as the wolf sprang forward. The animal tackled Jonathan to the floor and fell upon him in a fury. Mallory could only watch, horror struck, as the wolf tore him into the poor man. Claws raised, teeth bit hard, and Jonathan screamed.
In seconds, it was over. The wolf buried its muzzle into Jonathan's neck as his body writhed beneath its form. With a twist of its neck, the beast tore out the bartender's throat, splattering its face with the man's blood. Mallory clapped a hand against her face, a small squeak coming from her throat. She felt sick. Her legs had turned to jelly. Her body screamed at her to run but she was rooted to the spot and couldn't move.
The wolf turned in her direction, the remains of Jonathan's throat clutched in its jaws. It growled at her and dropped the piece of bloody flesh, which landed on the floor with a sickening splat. It then began to move toward her, growling, its whole body tensing.
A second growl came from the open door. Mallory gasped as she saw a second wolf enter the room, slithering inside. The second wolf glanced at Jonathan's mauled corpse and let loose what sounded like a snort before it turned its eyes upon her.
"So young," The second wolf spoke. Its mouth didn't move when it spoke but a guttural voice rumbled from the depths of its throat. It began to stalk toward Mallory, its form tensing as well. "I'm starved. I want her liver. I want to tear it from her and feast."
"Take what you can," The first wolf rumbled, nearly upon the bar. "Except her heart. I want that. It belongs to me. I found the scent of this law-breaker. Her heart is mine, mine to feast on."
The first wolf barked and lunged at her. Mallory was too slow and the animal slammed into her. Mallory was knocked to the floor, crashing down hard. She screamed as the wolf's fangs snapped in front of her, splattering her face with spittle and blood. Its claws ripped into her shoulder and she howled, feeling numbing, vicious, burning pain assault her.
She swung her sword wildly. Its pommel cracked against the wolf's head. The animal staggered back, yelping. Mallory kicked at it, her boot thumping against its throat. The wolf was knocked off and she crawled backward, her blade clanging on the floor, feeling warm blood flowing down her skin.
The wolf twisted backward to her, letting loose a savage cry. It moved backward, its eyes flashing, blood oozing from its teeth. Its claws scraped against the floor, leaving marks in the wood.
Mallory raised her sword with one hand, the blade shaking in her hand. She gritted her teeth together, glaring definitely at the savage wolf. The beast growled back at her, not attacking yet. They stared at each other, before a sudden crash echoed from Mallory's side.
The woman turned, too late remembering the second wolf. The other beast landed on top of the counter, knocking aside her abandoned cup of water. Mallory quickly twisted around, sword flashing, knowing the second monster was probably a distraction-
She was right. The first beast charged her, launching itself for her throat. Mallory quick reaction resulted in the sword slashing through the wolf's shoulder. The animal yelped and landed on its side.
Mallory spun around, a surge of pain going through her injured arm. The second wolf howled in rage and threw itself at her. The woman swung and the animal backed off, the blade cutting through the air between them. It snarled at her, baring its fangs.
The girl panted, her injured arm hanging loosely at her side, the pain getting worse. She could hear the first wolf behind her, clawing at the floor, no doubting writhing as it tried to get up. Mallory was sandwiched between them, trapped, her strength beginning to fade. She had got in a lucky hit but she couldn't keep this up for much longer.
"You dare strike my pack-brother?" The second wolf growled at her, its tongue lolling out, its eyes slits of malice. "Human cur! I will enjoy tearing the marrow from your bones!" Behind her, Mallory heard the first wolf snarl and a thud against the floorboards.
There had to be a way. There had to be something she could-
Mallory's eyes widened. She gazed past the snarling wolf, her gaze alighting on the flickering shadows cast by the fireplace.
Fire.
With a surge of renewed energy, Mallory lunged, slashing wildly at the wolf. The animal yelped in surprise and jumped back, narrowly avoiding being cut by her frenzied strikes. Mallory ran past the beast and jumped over the counter. The animal lunged at her, its teeth snapping a few inches short of her legs.
Mallory hit the floor. Her legs gave way and she fell forward. She crashed face first onto the wood, her nose cracking against it. Her vision went blurry, as pain racked her skull like a wild man with a hammer. She tried to rise but the world tipped sideways and she followed it, slumping onto one arm.
She heard a crunch behind her. She managed to raise her head and through her unfocused eyes, saw the two wolves stalking toward her. The one with the bloodied maw was limping from the wound she had inflicted on him, his pack mate leading the pair.
"Look at it," The injured wolf thundered angrily. "It thinks it can defy us. It thinks it can defy the will of the Wild. It thinks it is more than our dinner."
"Let us prove it wrong," The other wolf growled in response, stalking around Mallory to her face. It leaned close to her, until their faces were inches apart, the animal's fangs right in front of her nose. Drool spilled from the wolf's mouth and the beast licked its chops. "Take her heart. I want her face."
The wolf's jaws opened wide. Mallory gazed down the depths of its throat. It looked like a hollow void, fangs giving way to an abyss that was about to swallow her whole. Behind her, she felt a paw pressed against her backside and heard the other beast chuckle darkly.
Her nightmare was about to become reality. In a moment, these beasts would tear her apart, limb from limb. Mallory trembled then tensed.
NO!
She dropped her sword. She reached back and grabbed an arrow in her quiver. She wrenched it forward and stabbed it at the wolf, just as the animal lunged for her face.
The arrow rammed into the wolf's upper jaw, skewering itself into the animal's skin. The beast screamed, a horrifying, all too human noise. It staggered backward, the arrow lodged firmly into its head. Blood went flying as the monster shook its head violently, snapping, biting, and pawing at the weapon stuck through its jaw.
Mallory quickly turned, seeing the other wolf on atop of her raise its head towards its flailing companion. She kicked the monster in its leg wound and the beast cried out, falling off her.
The woman scrambled to her feet. Panting, she hurried over to the fireplace. She searched for an item to light aflame but found none on the shelf. The wolves behind her roared and she began to panic, slapping the shelf, knocking aside books, cups, and-
Her eyes fell upon the stick effigy. She paused, freezing again at the sight of the horrid object. Mallory momentarily forgot where she was as she stared at the thing. She could hear them. She could hear the screams. The cry of beasts drowning them out, as one by one, they were snuffed out.
Then she snapped out of it. She gritted her teeth and snatched up the effigy before shoving it into the flames. The stick figure caught fire immediately, its head engulfed. Mallory spun around, meeting the wolf with the bloody muzzle. The animal's eyes went wide at the sight of the burning effigy, the fire reflected in its eyes.
Mallory shoved the flaming effigy at the beast. "Back!" She screamed. "Get back!" She took a step forward, the stick figure burning bright in her hand. The wolf snarled but this time, it sounded less fearsome and more scared. The other wolf continued to wrestle with the arrow lodged in its head, continuing to howl in agony.
Mallory snarled, a vicious noise that sounded more animal than human. She swung the flaming effigy at the wolf like a sword. The animal screeched and turned tail. It fled out the door of the inn and disappeared into the night.
Mallory lowered the burning effigy, panting. She took a moment before she turned toward the remaining wolf. The animal had slammed into a table, knocking it over, and was clawing at the arrow, its eyes rolling mindlessly, blood seeping from its maw.
The woman dropped the flaming stick figure. She then snatched up her sword and gripped it with both hands. With a cry, she swung as hard as she could at the wolf. Her blade rammed through the back of its neck, the force of the blow sending shockwaves up Mallory's arms. The wolf gave a final, pitiful cry before it crumpled to the floor. Its limbs twitched and then lay still, Mallory's sword planted in its throat, its head nearly carved from its body.
Mallory stared at the corpse. She could smell the blood in the air. It churned her stomach. She turned, feeling lightheaded and found Jonathan's ravaged corpse lying nearby. Her eyes widened at the sight and she clasped a hand to her mouth, feeling her stomach do a flip- flop.
It was then she vomited. Mallory doubled over and managed to yank off her cowl before she puked. She emptied her stomach before raising her head, her throat burning. Her vision swam again and she closed her eyes, her lip quivering.
But she pulled herself out of it. What she'd just done...there would be consequences. She grabbed her sword and with a mighty tug, managed to turn it free. Uncaring of the blood for now, she sheathed the blade and did the same for her arrow.
Mallory then staggered, slowly, over to the open inn door. She pushed it closed and despite the damage done to it, it swung shut.
The woman laid her face against the wood. She closed her eyes. The sounds of the night echoed from outside. Mallory shivered as she listened to the chirping of crickets and the call of owls. What she had just done…the weight was only beginning to hit her. She felt a great weight on her shoulders, as her mind slowly began to register the entire world was her enemy and it would seek swift retribution for her actions this night.
She stood there for a long time.
