The Hollows

Chapter 8 - What Lurks Within the Forest

           Although death was not abnormal, the few numbers that had been lost in the Black Crest struck the whole group like a rusty nail. Eleven had journeyed to the forest, only eight had grovelled through. Heather felt their unease when they approached the Lands that had taken their comrades. Would they come across new foes? That did not bother her. What struck her nerves were the beasts they could come across. She had seen a Panther-like monster that had already suffered mutations. It was unnatural, but in this forest, the unnatural was common. They were the anomaly. She caved to the occasional cough that her lungs and throat pleaded for, remnants of the incident from the previous day. There had been news on the runaway Elvin: he had conveniently cut himself, preferring his blood to pour out instead of words. She gritted her teeth, her jaw clenching at the action. They had arrived at the borders of the midnight forest, gathering their strengths to enter the jaws of its trees and silent whispers. Reluctant to enter, Cassius reminded his men and women that behind the vastness of the path that laid ahead was a place they called home. Home. She relaxed her jaws and softened her eyes. If only she could feel the same enthusiasm as the rest when that simple word had resonated in the air. They went into formation, and pressed forward.

           The walk was quiet with the occasional sigh, heaved breathing and the crunching of leaves and greenery, though you couldn't exactly call it that, under the boots of the Black Crest. The most laboured breathing and doubt-crept eyes belonged to the two servants. They had somehow survived the assassination attempt and surprisingly exceeded her expectations. They did however, try to bargain their way out of the mission, seeking refuge and work in Moondelar. Naturally, their pleas were refused. Although understanding had crept onto Cassius's expressions when he cancelled their bargain, his composure noted a singular tone of disappointment. Her gaze lifted, finally snapping out of her daydreaming. The two servants became frantic as the order to rest had been given. They retorqued and sly words bent on their tongues, careful enough to not anger anyone. Everyone was exhausted and had no sense of time. They all knew it was day-time, but the thickness of the trees reminded them of the desolation it held upon them. Day, it reminded them, does not exist here. A sort of humming through the leaves.

           Erulia walked off to stretch herself away from the unease of the servants, She remained in sight, though still difficult to notice. She turned around and rushed towards Cassius and whispered hushed news in his right ear. His eyes grew a little wider. He stood and ordered the Black Crest to march a little forward and to follow Erulia. A knight shifted uneasily behind everyone. Heather caught him and regarded him with caution. Something felt off with him. As if he were a charlatan. They walked through the bushes and stomped their way through the tough thorned ground before facing a body of ruins. An old home estate maybe. Vines of varied colours intertwined on the walls, seeping through the cracks and damages caused by time. The remaining stones were the only proof of life that had once been. Some plants nearby looked like Digitalis Purpurea, more commonly known as Foxglove. In essence, they looked hauntingly similar but some powder... No. Smoke. Heather observed it as much as she could. Neither of those options. Gas. That was the correct answer, a gaseous form gathered from inside the tubed flowers and overflowed out. Most definitely dangerous.

           A crack. Everyone's attention turned to the sound. Cassius stalked forward and one Knight drew out his bow. Heather took out a dagger, choosing closer combat if needed. She tiptoed over as everyone's eyes stared in awe and horror. A deer with more canines than it should have. Its antlers were laced with green, purple and gold linings, a few cracks in them showed previous battles for territory and mating rights. Its fur was thick, grey, brown and golden. There was no sunlight to make it shine and yet it was posing, sublime in its own majestic form. It was grazing on a dead bird, crunching away it's carcase. A deer mutated to become carnivorous. One of the servants panicked and let out a shriek. The deer turned its head towards them and made a loud snorting noise, air fuming out from its nostrils. The Knight also let his emotions cradle up his senses and let lose an arrow, piercing the dignified monstrosity through its skull.