1 Lady of the Wood

Stirrups slapped wetly against the steed's flanks as she and her rider galloped through the pouring rain. Far as they had travelled into the night, they had yet to come across another traveller. Unsurprisingly, as no-one should be stupid enough to ride in such horrid weather.

In disregard to the dark and foreboding clouds the ranger had observed in the afternoon, he had been certain it would not rain. Else, he would have set up a tent and slept soundly, sheltered from the downpour.

The ranger shivered beneath his soaking cloak, methodically cursing himself for being such an utter dingus. At least he would be making great time... if he actually had somewhere to be.

No; the only reason for pelting through the woods at this time of night was to distract him from the cold, the hunger and the guilt.

His steed would not tire; she would run all through the night, all through the day without breaking a sweat. If her rider collapsed from exhaustion and died (which was not far from happening), she would continue running forever. No beast would dare hunt her.

The ranger had enough of this. He slowed his horse to a canter, then to a brisk trot. They had gotten deep enough into the forest that the rain had been tampered down by the trees. Still, the rangers drenched clothes stuck to his skin, and the gnawing hunger in his stomach made him feel cold all the way through. He was ready to tether his horse to a tree and sleep on the forest floor.

Orange light flashed ahead. He heard the whining of horses and the shouting of a man. They trotted onward to investigate. Someone's carriage was being ransacked by a thief.

The ranger could taste the evil; bitter like bile. Like a scratch he needed to itch. Like a mosquito he wanted to slap. He turned his horse around.

Don't look back.

Never again. He kept his eyes forward.

Only... he could still hear them shouting; a crash as the thief threw their lantern at the carriage and set it ablaze. He clenched the reigns.

Chill out, chill out.

He relaxed his grip.

–And charged at the commotion, rising in his seat, his fingers sharpening into claws; his teeth into wicked fangs. He leaped from his horse like a tiger and tackled the thief to the ground. He clamped his jaws over the man's neck; the tendons and ligaments squelched as the head was severed from the body. The ranger swallowed the soft neck-flesh, before devouring the rest of him, as the carriage driver watched in horror.

The mighty steed and the thief's horse fled in terror. The carriage horse tried to follow them but was shackled by her breeching. All she could do was shriek until she fainted.

The ranger paused from his grotesque meal, realising he was being watched. He looked up at the fellow. They locked eyes.

The carriage man stared fearfully at the monster; its' skin was like a shadow that consumed light. Its eyes were yellow and feral, like a cat. It blinked at him, dumbly, while chewing on a man's liver. It swallowed, slowly. In an astonishingly human voice, it said:

"Sorry, old habit."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"Do you mind if I finish this?" The ranger asked, not wanting to waste a perfectly good meal.

The carriage man stayed silent.

I'll take that as a no.

The ranger thought as he continued to eat the mangled corpse.

Don't get it twisted; the carriage man had seen some crazy shit in these woods. However, this creature he had only heard of in fables.

"Are you... Deserik?" He asked.

The ranger couldn't talk with a mouth full of intestines.

"One of the Five Champions of Lady Azalea, Annex of Mortal and Faerie?"

"Disgraced from her company for committing treason-?" The man continued to spit exposition.

"-Yes." Deserik finally answered him.

"-Condemned to roam the night alone, hunting those of tainted heart and rotting soul?"

"Okay."

The man gasped, "is my soul rotting?" He shook slightly, "were you hunting... me?"

The ranger sighed "no, you're a good man."

"Oh, that's a relief." He looked confused, "how can you tell?"

"Dunno – I might be wrong. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Oh." The carriage man said. Then, after a spell of silence, "if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here?

"I'm wandering; going town to town-"

"-Eating criminals."

Deserik blinked at him, "yeah."

"Cool, cool... Do you want a ride to the next town over? I noticed your horse ran off..." The carriage man offered.

"I wouldn't want to trouble you..."

"Oh, not at all." He assured the ranger. "You did just save my life."

I guess I did. "What's your name again?"

"Jerry."

That's a nice name. He thought, wiping the blood his face with his sleeve.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After the jittery carriage horse had awakened, they rode the rest of the night and through dawn, until they arrived at a ghostly little village.

The carriage pulled up at an inn named Lady of the Wood.

Interesting...

Jerry saw his curiosity, "I named her that because she's on the verge between the world. She connects different peoples. Like Lady Azalea."

"Oh, cool, cool, cool..." Deserik chanted.

The door creaked as they entered the old inn. It was midday; the only patron in the bar was an unconscious old drunkard.

"So... you own this place?"

"Yeah, it used to be my father's house. Since it's on the edge of the Faerie realm, he kept getting visitors. Eventually, he just decided to make it an inn. He died, and my sisters moved out, so I'm all that's left to take care of her-"

The old drunkard jerked awake. "Jerreh!" He slurred, "back so soon...?"

"Hans, it's been three days."

"Oeh." The drunkard looked slightly disgusted with himself.

"Anyway... Deserik, you can stay upstairs if you want."

"In the attic...?"

"Yeah, it's kind of a room-"

"No, that's great! I love attics."

The ranger rushed upstairs.

"Did you just call him... Deserik?" Hans said, suddenly sober.

"Yeah, it's a nickname, I think." Jerry lied. The old man nodded, as if that made sense.