Night Witch

Chapter 8

The snaps continued, farther and farther away. Karina lifted her skirts and ran after the figure, watching the stumbling efforts of the person. Her breaths grew shallow and thorns tugged at her skirts, but she continued onwards. If her suspicions were correct, that spooklight-trail-following being was her blue eyed companion. 

"Hans," she called, her breaths growing ragged, "what are you doing?"

The figure stopped for just a split second at her scream, turning around before letting out one of its own. Every hair on Karina's neck stood on end at the bloodcurdling sound that pierced through the chill air. She ran even harder, lifting her skirts to an inappropriate length. Vines whipped around her boots and thorns bit at her calves. Branches jabbed her and began to twist around her waist, and she struggled against them, pushing forwards into more thorns. More pain. More violence. Another strangled scream emerged from the figure, and Karina's feet pounded against the earth even harder. Hans was thrashing in the dim moonlight, and as Karina got closer she could make out thick, dark vines that bound his body to the trees. 

"Hans?" she asked. The creature's head lolled to the side and it moaned. She stepped forwards cautiously, stumbling over the ground. "Hans?" she asked again and took another step forward. "I--I need to know it's you. Give me a sign, you bastard!" 

The figure groaned once more. "Shut up...'Rina..." it muttered, and instantly waves of relief crashed onto Karina, slowing her rapidfire heartbeat and relaxing her shoulders and nervous fingers. She rushed forward towards him and gave him a once-over.

He was in a bad state. Though his golden hair still gleamed in the moonlight, it was matted with dirt and blood. His cotton shirt was wrapped in crossing Forest vines, which were known for their thorns and toxic quality. He was going to have bleeding all over his torso. Not only that, there was the possibility that the puncture wounds would become infected. Karina gave an involuntary shiver and looked again at Hans's helpless figure.

Was saving him worth it?

She could easily turn back. Save food, save breath. Save screams and arguments. Leave him to rot. Leave him to scream his head off. Maybe his precious Duras would come back at his screams. They weren't too far from Moracia, after all. Maybe a mile. Thank you, spooklights.

Maybe they would come and kill him. Spear him with their farmer's pitchforks and burn his body with iron. Hang him up like a flag on their gallows. And then...

What would they do next? Would their bloodlust ever be satisfied? Would they stop with Hans?

No. The word was a whisper in the dark, a murmur from the back of her mind. They wouldn't stop. They were never satisfied with their work no matter how much blood drenched their hands and spattered their clothes. They would never be satisfied with her until her head was on a pike, her auburn hair was burned short, and her face was twisted into something barbaric-looking. Karina unconsciously touched her marked cheek.  They wouldn't stop their rampage of death until nobody was left.

So she carefully got to work, meeting Hans and trying to tease the vines off of his chest and legs. Instead of freeing the warlock's son as intended, her fingers ended up bleeding and burning and a few vines began to twist around her wrists with no positive result. As soon as she moved her hands backwards, however, the vines detracted. Interesting. Perhaps the reason that Hans was bound at all was because he was trying to exit the Forest this way--the way
he'd come in.

Karina did her best to grab two fistfuls of Hans's shirt and to pull them back. As she did so, the vines started falling back, twisting back up their respective tree trunks. "C'mon, Hans," she
grunted as she tugged him towards their spooklight path.

It was no use. He was too heavy and too injured. Every move she made endangered him and risked infection and Forest vine poison spreading through his body. She had to do something to save him if she wasn't going to leave him.

Or...

She could kill him. A quick, easy death. A rock to the head. Her hands pressed around his throat. A sick smile curled about her mouth. That would save her any trouble. Save him any more suffering. Like he had said, everyone died.

No! She shook her head, trying to think rationally. The Moracians wanted them to die. To be tortured. That was their goal. And she couldn't help them accomplish it. She and Hans would survive no matter what the odds. They had to. To smite Moracia. To follow their dreams. Freedom. To live.

Even if it meant the most desperate of measures.

Karina released Hans's shirt and plunged her hand into her pocket. Her fingers brushed against the inky feather, reminding her of the Night's words: Be careful of your cohort. But she shoved the thought aside. Hans had to live. For them both to live was the perfect revenge.

She felt no regrets as she grabbed her most reliable friend for the past eight years and sang her a song and fed her so she would come to life. No regrets as she stared into Lilith's bottomless black buttons.

"Lilith, can you heal him?"

Hullo, hullo, hullo! New update! Hopefully it was as exciting as you hoped (and exciting enough to celebrate 1K reads?! Thank you all so much!). I know there was a lot of internal monologue here, but there wasn't really anyone for Karina to talk to. So! What did you think? Of the chapter, of the Forest of the Dead's strange power, and of Karina's darker side? Please tell me in a comment! I really love hearing from you all and I try to respond as quickly as I can.

If you liked this chapter, please leave a vote and tell me why you enjoyed, and if you didn't please explain so I can make this better. Thanks for reading! Bye!