Vermin

The Beginning

Little Elara treads softly through the secluded frost-covered woodland, her boots pressing a symphony of gentle whispers from the brittle leaves carpeting the earth. Following the tender chirping of woodland birds as the first rays of dawn caress the enclave of trees with tentative fingers, Elara weaves between still-slumbering trees, her eyes attentive to the fluttering blurs of bright aspen wings.

"Long ago," begins a voice, smooth and rich with age, "there were spirits that danced upon these very leaves." Elara pauses, resting both palms on the bark of a birch tree listening curiously to her grandmother's words as she watches the birds fly away. Her words carry a tinge of foreboding, whispering tales of a time when the veil between words grew thin.

"Long ago?" echoes little Elara, "how long ago?" Wonderous eyes as bright and rich as the fallen leaves settle on the old woman. The chirping of birds seems to quell all too quickly, leaving Elara's pulse thrumming in time with the heartbeat of the wood.

"Long enough for the woods to remember, and child, they do remember." Elara inhales deeply, the scent of old winter settling in her bones as she listens, imagining phantom silhouettes leaping from shadow to light, their ethereal forms etched against the backdrop of the forest's embrace under the rise of the surreal full moon.

"These spirits were not to be trusted, no matter how kind and gentle they appear. Yet victors cloaked in mystery would rise to meet the challenges set forth by the capricious Fae, victors that could not be so easily controlled." Her grandmother rests a firm withered hand on the top of her cane. Her other hand extends towards her granddaughter, fingers splayed in a silent command. Elara returns to her grandmother's side despite being drawn by the allure of the unknown beyond the boundaries of their home in the woods. Elara's gaze dances with a flicker of curiosity, a reflection of the warm rays of sunlight dappling through the branches of both pine and the bare deciduous trees. The stories, rich with unanswered questions, beckon her deeper into the forest's heart. They speak of spells woven in the hush of twilight, her very soul thirsts for the enchantment they promise. Yet her grandmother's warnings hinder her movements, urging her to stay with them because it is safe.

Meandering down the trail hand in hand, a rustle captures Elara's attention -a squirrel, its fur a mottled array of autumn hues, scurries across their path home. She halts, entranced by its nimble ascent up a gnarled oak before witnessing the tiny creature pause, its small paws clutching an acorn treasure.

"Child, tread carefully," her grandmother warns, "let us return home before your mother arrives." She squeezes Elara's hand, breaking the young girl's trance, and at the same time, the squirrel vanishes inside its hollowed-out den.

"Tell me the story of the Labyrinth again, Grandmother," Elara asks, her heart beating in rhythm with the forest's own pulse, a silent drum that echoes through the soles of her feet, "and the beast of Howlure Hill."

The old crone huffs, but does not refuse, "Very well," she squeezes the girl's much softer hands again before continuing, "The Beast of Howlure Hill has flesh like blue ice and teeth as white as frost. The Beast of Howlure Hill is a wolf that can stand like a man who wears an imperishable collar that controls him. But who is his master? The Beast of Howlure Hill has captivating eyes and a melodious voice he uses to lure dames to their deaths. The Beast of Howlure Hill lives in a mansion surrounded by a labyrinthine far from the towns hidden deep in the Dire Woods. He is a wolf draped in midnight, forever prowling his keep under the gaze of an eternal full moon.

One cold wintry night, as the full moon cast an ethereal glow over the Dire Woods, a young woman from the town found herself lost amidst the dark trees and soon stumbled upon a vast Labyrinth where strange sculptures made of ice loomed from every corner. She had heard the tales of the Beast of Howlure Hill and shivered at the mere thought of encountering such a creature as she wondered further into the maze of towering hedges. But fate seemed to have other plans for her that night as she stumbled upon the winding path that led up to the mansion atop the hill.