ASHE
does the wolf apologize when it stands on top? should the lion say grace when it takes its mark?
It would be a bold-faced lie to say Ashe wasn’t curious about the Greatwood, but her steps were infinitely wary as she traversed the unfamiliar woods of Mort’s Herald. Her sense of wonder was hampered, her shoulders tense, her eyes sharp. Her steps were silent, her hand running over the smooth, red bark of a tree as she considered a lantern just ahead…
And the lantern was moving.
Someone with any concept of self preservation might have turned around. Someone with even a single grain of sense would have seen a bobbing light through the trees of a haunted god-wood and turned the fuck around. Not Ashe, of course. Ashe was a fucking idiot.
In a flash, it was the paws of a wolf that padded after the light, ears forward and golden eyes gleaming. She could hear it faintly -- unintelligible whispers that beckoned her forward. Her pelt prickled with unease, but she wanted to know. As she approached, the voices became… familiar.
’Ashe.’ She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes going wide. Kalt? But it couldn’t be him. There was still only that howling, empty wind between her soul and his, the bond consumed with agonizing silence. ’Ashe,’ he called again, and she swore a knife twisted in her chest. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t. Then there was a shrill giggle -- Theea. Her heart started to race in spite of herself, and she launched after the voices.
The she-wolf let out a soft, whining bark as more of those lights appeared. What were they? Their voices hurt, the mockeries of her soul-bonded and their daughter. Shut UP! she snarled toward the lights, snapping her teeth at one that wisped by her jaws. Other voices joined them -- Northaveners and Northwinders she would never see again. And then ---
’Ashetta.’ Her blood ran cold, her paws skid and scrambled through the leaves to stop. The warped, dark voice hissed along her bones, twisted into her chest. The Master of Assassins. The bobbing lights moved in closer around her, dancing to and fro, and a savage growl rose in her throat. Her head swung around, searching for the source, for that dark mask that haunted her every dream, but there were only the lights dancing away, and she gave chase again. She couldn't see the sharp drop into a rocky ravine they were trying to direct her to.
’Very good, Ashetta, the warped voice of her Master said again, and she spun to snap her jaws down around another light. This time it hit, and she flinched back with a yelp as a blood curdling scream shattered through the air, sounding too familiar, like it could be anyone she loved.
And the lantern was moving.
Someone with any concept of self preservation might have turned around. Someone with even a single grain of sense would have seen a bobbing light through the trees of a haunted god-wood and turned the fuck around. Not Ashe, of course. Ashe was a fucking idiot.
In a flash, it was the paws of a wolf that padded after the light, ears forward and golden eyes gleaming. She could hear it faintly -- unintelligible whispers that beckoned her forward. Her pelt prickled with unease, but she wanted to know. As she approached, the voices became… familiar.
’Ashe.’ She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes going wide. Kalt? But it couldn’t be him. There was still only that howling, empty wind between her soul and his, the bond consumed with agonizing silence. ’Ashe,’ he called again, and she swore a knife twisted in her chest. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t. Then there was a shrill giggle -- Theea. Her heart started to race in spite of herself, and she launched after the voices.
The she-wolf let out a soft, whining bark as more of those lights appeared. What were they? Their voices hurt, the mockeries of her soul-bonded and their daughter. Shut UP! she snarled toward the lights, snapping her teeth at one that wisped by her jaws. Other voices joined them -- Northaveners and Northwinders she would never see again. And then ---
’Ashetta.’ Her blood ran cold, her paws skid and scrambled through the leaves to stop. The warped, dark voice hissed along her bones, twisted into her chest. The Master of Assassins. The bobbing lights moved in closer around her, dancing to and fro, and a savage growl rose in her throat. Her head swung around, searching for the source, for that dark mask that haunted her every dream, but there were only the lights dancing away, and she gave chase again. She couldn't see the sharp drop into a rocky ravine they were trying to direct her to.
’Very good, Ashetta, the warped voice of her Master said again, and she spun to snap her jaws down around another light. This time it hit, and she flinched back with a yelp as a blood curdling scream shattered through the air, sounding too familiar, like it could be anyone she loved.
I do what I need to, what I have to, to survive. Closer than your friend, I can be your enemy.
