The Beast at Witch's Rest

Rosaline is a wandering knight who has been hired to hunt down a mysterious beast that stalks the forest.

Rosaline pulled her hood down lower when the rain began. It was heavy, and warmed the skin for a few brief moments before soaking into the bone. Those in the village below would call this Wraith Rain, as they believed spirits traveled in a single drop. She, a knight, didn't believe in such nonsense. It was her philosophy to let matters such as gods, demons, and spirits be in the hands of those who looked for trouble. Wizards that traded a leg or an eye for more power. The mere thought of manipulating the fabric of existence caused a reflexive move to the handle that swung by her side. A smooth leather grip that had been stained by sweat, blood, and filth greeted her. It was a comforting sensation, one she had known well since childhood.

Around Rosaline was the dense Witches Rest Forest. This place was home to the last few Iron Spire trees which grew so high the branches couldn't be seen unless flying. Below those were more formidable Yellow Towers, their vibrant leaves shone despite the otherwise dull sky. A rustle of leaves reminded her of the old legends. The Great Witch Alya Tal was said to make her home among these trees. They hid grand experiments that went against any kind of deity, or so they said. Many a villager had claimed that a wolf beast stalked the treeline, one of many servants of Alya Tal. While she, Rosaline, doubted any witch could make such a creature wolf beasts were indeed a problem.

Mentally the knight ran through the facts necessary to kill this monster. Each wolfbeast had four death claws on each paw, with one retractable throat slitter. Most sported a tail of some kind, varying in length and color, depending on whomever ate the Wolf’s Blood Flower. Fur was thick but not a protection against any kind of blade. The real issue lied with the skin. When one turned into the beast it handed what should be soft flesh into a tough leather. This was used to mislead foes into thinking that a simple blade or blunt object of some kind would end it’s life. This was not the case, which reminded Rosaline to drip a few Moon Drops onto the familiar broadsword. From the pouch she methodically produced the flower. Its leaves were pale white accented by small purple veins. Hopefully this would negate the effects of the Wolf’s Blood and bring back whomever was lost.

Back at the village she had asked around as to whom may have eaten the flower. Many simply slammed doors, and closed the shades tightly for good measure. All, save one, a family lead by a slender woman on the edge of town. Her small children ran about the house performing small chores like cleaning pots or sweeping. Their faces were sullen, their cheek bones hollow. These were the faces of those left to starve. The story was like many others. Husband traveled into the forest twenty seven days ago on a mission to find whatever beasts staked the woods. His logic was sound. None dared enter the wood due to superstition, so the pickings should be greater than that of the Lovers Wood on the opposite side.

From there Rosaline could fill in what the family couldn't. He had gotten hungry on his journey and mistook the Wolf’s Blood for another more common flower. One that poisons and one that ails the stomach. Whomever he was, Rosaline decided, he was a fool. No woodsmen would be tricked by this flower, even on the verge of death. Their father’s would've told them how to spot what plants would kill. A simple skill, yet with great usefulness. If the man couldn't tell then he would be lost here. This explained the obvious tracks. Deep claw marks in younger trees, large pathways of trampled plants, and the assorted carcasses of dead animals. While a lack of knowledge made him dangerous, it was the weak mind that made him deadly. When one was overtaken by Wolf’s Blood the mind succumbs to aggression of the highest caliber. In her travels Rosaline had seen better men than this have their minds snap like twigs.

The knight noticed just now that the rain had stopped, and rather abruptly. Through the trees she could see the low red light of Light Fall. It would be dark soon, and this meant rest. Thankfully a newly formed wolfbeast such as this still needed to rest at night as his stamina can’t handle the strain of a full day. She gathered firewood while enjoying the silence of the forest. No birds sang, no cricket chirped, and the wind was sweet yet silent. The hours wore on, giving way to night. Her mind began to wander freely while she gazed into the modest fire. Flames twisted into the faces of those who had lost their lives in her travels. Orka, Bijin, Edmund, and Flora. Each one a person with hopes, and dreams. Such wishes would never come to fruition now. For that Rosaline bore the weight of their failure. That night her dreams were shapeless save for the screams of the dying. This particular night it was Orka who chanted those final bloodcurdling words;

“YOU CANNOT SAVE ME!”

Dawn broke, and Rosaline awoke to the metallic scent of blood. Before her stood the wolf beast. His muscular body tense in the fresh light. Slowly she rose from her bedroll. Her skin was slick with sweat and she cursed herself for being so careless. While her armor was in a neat pile beside her so was the sword. Carefully she moved over to it watching the wolfbeast with her every step. Sharp, yellow eyes of a killer gave her a once over. Their silence was broken by a deep growl. It came from the back of the throat providing a deep rumble. Rosaline’s skin stood up at the danger. Her nerves struggled to remain in check. Time slowed to a crawl while the wolfbeast attacked the defenseless knight. Desperately she lunged for the broadsword sheath, which was just far enough away to put her pale flesh under the razor sharp claws. With a howl he lunged forward, jaws open wide to expose large teeth lined in jagged rows.  

One swift stroke was all she needed as the blade tore through the air to bury itself deep into the wolf beast's eye. Another wild slash from the claws, this one tearing through Rosaline’s stomach. For a few brief moments the two combatants could do little more than howl. However, with a savage pull, the beast was able to free the broadsword from his skull. It landed with a bang just a few yards away from Rosaline’s now ruined campsite. Their skirmish ended just as it had began, without warning. As the beast faded from sight the knight struggled to keep herself standing up. Around her the world spun in odd directions, which she theorized was due to the large amounts of blood she was losing. Strength faded, muscles suddenly tired, and the adrenaline wearing off Rosaline found herself unable to stay concise a second longer. Her last thoughts drifted to those last few happy days with her friends. A smile danced across her face, and she whispered inaudibly that they would all be together again soon.

Author's Note

Hey there! Thank you for taking the time to read, and hopefully review. Anything will help so long as it is constructive.