For him to live, a witch must die.
Driven out of his village for the curse he possesses, Tavor is alone. With nowhere else to go, he must venture into the Eylderfell to hunt down the witch who cursed him.
But the forest is dangerous, wild with magic...
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Dread.
Tavor had felt it before, but never quite like this. Something about the forest felt unnatural. Every instinct in his body told him to run. Each way he turned, his neck prickled, ever conscious of something creeping up behind him. A rising unease bubbled up within him; he shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting left and right through the dark.
"Unbelievable," the crow squawked, good wing flapping in Tavor's arms. "Unbelievable. Of all the bone-headed, idiot-brained things—"
The bushes cracked and rustled close beside him. "Shhh," Tavor muttered, backing away.
The crow was having none of it. "Now you want to be cautious? Can't you see you've already doomed us both, boy?"
Tavor wasn't listening; his attention focused on the undergrowth, on the urgent cracks and rustling bearing down on them.
Something was coming, fast.
Tavor's hand reached for the dagger. Branches snapped and a shape burst through the brambled: small and dark, fur fluffed up and tail pointed high.
Tavor breathed a sigh of relief. It was just the cat, following them into the forest. For a moment, he thought he glimpsed moonlight through the gap she'd come through — soft, long grass wafting in the breeze.
Then the brambles coiled and tangled and tightened, shutting out the light.
The crow spluttered in disbelief. "You followed us?"
"You left me alone out there!" The cat wailed. She pressed close against Tavor's ankles, tail flicking in the dirt. "You know I hate that!"
"You think I had a choice? Dragged here by this vapid imbecile—"
Tavor scowled. He'd been trying to be nice, catching the crow after he'd been shot, in the vague hope that the act of kindness might help negate everything he'd done before. But he was getting tired of the familiar's constant insults.
He spread his arms and let the bird drop to the ground. The crow thrashed in mid-air, landing in an ungainly heap in the dirt.
"Well, I—" He snapped, hopping indignantly to his feet. "I'm an invalid! Watch what you're doing, boy!"
"I don't need you to come with me," Tavor said. "Just go back to the village."
The crow barked a harsh laugh. "Once again, your ignorance confounds me. None of us can leave."
"What?"
"Once you cross the threshold, you belong to the forest. Didn't they teach you this in school?"
"I didn't go to school," Tavor muttered. Nobody in the village wanted him near them. He'd spent much of his childhood tiptoed on a crate outside the window, trying to catch as much as he could from outside the schoolhouse. "We're trapped here?"
