The time following the party of misfits’ ultimatum was about as unpleasant to watch as I’m sure it was to experience firsthand. After a disgruntled exit from Marlon’s office, at which point several of his recently acquired unwilling workforce swore to ruin him by any means necessary, the group was reequipped with their belongings. Though this was done so outside of the building and under the watchful ocular sensor of the institute’s stone golem, and the all but empathetic staff previously caring for them.
After the party’s meticulous inspection of their various instruments of violence, and in Satori’s case music, the party was swiftly sent on their way with one final parting gift from the district’s medical institute: means of transportation. At least I’m sure that’s what it was intended to be at some point. Realistically, what the group saw before them was a decrepit wagon, the wood long worn and rotted with a fitted tarp hanging above in a stitched state of disrepair. An obvious musty odour emanating from the less than viable mode of transportation. Affixed to the front of the carriage via ill- attached reins was a horse befitting such a carriage. Strained beyond its years, with a deep chestnut coat and matted mane the horse wearily awaited its company of travellers. It became obvious to some in the group that there was a reason they had been afforded little more than four barely working wheels, and an anything but noble steed.
A unanimous and all familiar echo sounded from the party, ‘Shit.’
Each member of the group settled in for the journey ahead. Ara stepped up the wagon, grasping the reins while Satori settled in next to them. Mac and Cairngorm loaded packs and rations to the back of carriage along with themselves and with a whip of the reins, the adventure began.
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The world outside of Market Haven was a fresh and welcome experience. So much so that the threat of death via suicide mission fell to the back of some minds. Hills rolled like green waves stretching onward towards the horizon and as farmsteads and fences grew more and more sparse, the party found themselves in increasing solitude and silence as they encroached further and further to dense woodland. That is, except for Satori, who for the past hour had been plucking gently at the tight strings of her violin. The instrument itself was deceptively intricate and surprisingly well tended. Where typically one would expect to see levels of wear throughout such a well loved item, instead the wood polishing seemed as fresh as it would have been the day it was crafted. Rather peculiarly, the scroll of the violin seemed much wider than necessary, leaving enough distance from the pegbox to grasp comfortably in one hand. Though why that would be useful in playing was unbeknownst to even myself.
Each note that sounded out was followed by a precise twist of the appropriate peg. At first there was a noticeable difference in the sounds that gently accompanied the group. However, after the first ten minutes of constant tuning and retuning, I had to wonder whether the impossibly small readjustments were meaningful in any fashion. As I soon found out, it wasn’t just me that was curious.
‘Are you done yet?’ Ara’s question was rhetorical, yet somehow she felt that would go unrecognised in this instance.
Rather than respond verbally Satori replied simply by plucking once more at a string before gazing up at Ara whilst barely twisting the corresponding peg, a small grin creeping over her face.
Exhausted, Ara spoke once more, her eyes fixated on the path ahead as she guided the wagon onto the forest path, ‘You’ve been playing that for an hour now. We’re going to be riding for several more. It’s annoying.’
That broke Satori from their trance-like state, ‘Annoying? You said, “annoying”? Would you call a painter’s brushstrokes annoying? Would you call a sculptor’s chisel annoying?’
To her credit, Ara considered the retort a moment longer than I thought she would before replying, ‘Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes.’ A faint grin crept onto her face as her eyes remained steady on the path ahead.
Satori, as taken aback as she was, also couldn’t help but smirk as she set her instrument to the side and leant back in the bench she shared with her driver to bask in what little sun shone through the canopy above.
Behind the two art critics, Mac and Cairngorm sat opposite each other, cross-legged, with several cards fanned within their grasps. Mac sat comfortably with a focused, stale look on their face, eyeing Cairngorm’s features while he glanced back and forth between the five haphazardly held cards in his hand. Tentatively, he loosed one card from his hand and placed it onto the pile of sprawled face up cards stacked between them. Mac followed confidently by placing her two remaining cards upon the same pile before declaring themselves the victor.
‘I’m still not sure I’m getting the hang of this. I thought you said you can’t place two cards at once.’ Cairngorm wearily began reshuffling the deck in the face of his seventh loss in a row.
Obviously ignoring the passive accusation levelled against her, Mac jumped to her usual speech, ‘No, no, no, don’t be silly. It’s just kind of a learn-as-you-play situation. Besides, you’re gettin’ better. I mean I’ve played with almost everyone in Market Haven, and to be honest, you’re pickin’ in up quicker than anyone else. In fact, why don’t we wager a bit on this next game? Somethin’ to really keep your focus on the cards!’
‘What would he even wager? We’re all broke. That’s why we’re riding out to fuck knows where in the first place.’ Ara couldn’t help but be sucked into the clear shakedown behind her.
‘Well, if you feel so strongly, Ara, I’d love to deal you in! C’mon it’s easy enough!’
Ara simply grunted before whipping the reins as her focus drifted once more to the forest road.
‘No? Satori? No. Well then, how does two gold sound to start? Don’t worry I’ll keep a tab for you.’
Cairngorm feigned his arrogance with practiced precision, upping the wager, ‘Two’s a little light?’ In that same instant, Cairngorm’s face began to shimmer with a violet undertone. Like a horizon-lit wave lapping at the sand, his features began to draw back as though they were being wiped away and erased from his appearance.
Before she could even register the peculiar, and frankly haunting, process words sounded from her new card buddy’s blank, lipless face, ‘How about five gold to start? And don’t worry about the tab, I’ve got an excellent memory.’
‘Fuckin’ magic.’ Mac snatched the cards in front of her before turning over the top one from the remaining deck. ‘Satori, d’reckon we could get something for the background? A ditty perhaps?’
Now I knew better than most, save for Satori herself, that she didn’t play ditties. After all, it wasn’t the size of her instrument that mattered in the slightest, it was – well I’m sure I don’t have to explain.
‘Playing ditties is for second rate, lute plucking, coin scrounging, hole-in-their-hat wearing sad sacks. Honey, I perform. And I only perform when I party. And I only party when I drink and as far as I know, there isn’t a drop in-’
‘Quiet.’ Ara’s voice was harsh but not loud. Rather focused on something. The wagon had eased into a stop during Satori’s monologue and Ara had taken a stand as she gazed out into the forest.
The sound was almost imperceptible. High pitched. A whine of some kind. Pain perhaps. Ara stepped down from the front of the wagon carefully, and without another word to the others as they began whispering amongst one another. As intriguing as I’m sure their conversation was, Ara’s curious determination was not something I was going to pass up on.
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The sound was only a couple of paces away now, still hidden within the underbrush of the forest around Ara. I didn’t know her well enough yet to guess why she thought veering off the wagon trail was a good idea, but perhaps it wasn’t the fact that it was a good idea. It was simply an idea born out of curiosity and spurred on by the slight possibility that something could be helped. It was a noble notion, but something I certainly couldn’t endorse. And while our heroes were far from deserving that title just yet, it was promising to say the least.
The vibrant green of the scrub and thickets seemed to blend and layer atop one another, making it increasingly difficult to discern one branch from another. This would have made Ara’s skulking attempt at reconnaissance challenging, had she not been quite literally born for this. Each step was practiced and deliberate. I couldn’t help but think back to Mac’s expedition into the bowels of the care centre they had all met in for the first time. Though the space, risks and presence were entirely different, they served as expert demonstrations of hunters in their element. Ara was low to the ground. Despite her build, she moved precisely, with the motions and instinct of any predator. Until with one final shift through the brush that seemed to last an eternity, her sight emerged onto a small clearing within the forest. Not empty by any means as vegetation crept in small part into the circular area, but seemed to almost recede a certain distance from the centre point of the space. As her eyes adjusted to the details of her surroundings, presented like an actor on a stage, a mound of grey and brown fur covering a lean canine body stood… shivering? As though the wolf in front of her couldn’t feel the warmth of the summer, it stood facing away from her as its body trembled and, through seemingly great effort, released a series of small whines to nothing in particular.
To claim Ara was confused would be an understatement. A literal lone-wolf, positioned like some sort of prop. Ara knew the animals of the area. She was well versed in the behaviours of most creatures, but this was something different. Curiosity was an excellent motivator, however curiosity without caution was perilous. And so, she waited. As moments transitioned into minutes the creature remained as still as she had found it. It’s sombre symphony sounding out again and again. Finally, Ara seemed to come to something resembling her senses, and acted on what I’m sure most people would be thinking in that moment.
Fuck that.
And what an excellent final thought on the matter it would have been, if not for the sharp snapping sound below her foot as she took one less than exact step backwards. What followed was instant as all Ara had to react to was the thudding of paws behind her and the snarling jaws of another creature lunging towards her, as the uncanny whimpering of one wolf turned into a discordant, guttural, cacophony of several barks surrounding her.
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The sudden barking had interrupted a less than stimulating debate on the nature of the recently acquired horse’s philosophical beliefs – trust me I neither want to, nor am I going to expand on this – as the heads of our remaining passengers span in unison to the sudden sounds emanating from the path their companion had just travelled. Little time was wasted as Satori collected her violin from her side and launched from her seated position.
Mac, collecting her coat, shouted out towards Satori as she took off after the barking, ‘What the fuck do you plan to do with that?’
Satori, spinning briefly on her heels to address the question, simply responded, ‘Perform, darling! Sounds like there’s a party starting!’ before leaping into the forest ahead.
One after another each individual drove themselves deeper into the woods and through the canvas of thickets before them. The harsh barking and baying grew louder and louder. Finally emerging into the clearing, the sight before them was one of brutality. Ara stood panting heavily, yet seemingly controlled and less than phased by the gushing bite wound on her right arm. In her hands she grasped a finely crafted, leather wrapped shield, no larger than her own torso, as well as slightly crude and curved blade now stained lightly with a deep crimson. Now positioned between Ara and the others stood two tortured mockeries of wolves. As one of the creatures twisted its head back impossibly to face the three would-be saviours. The wolf’s jaw seemed to hang loose as though it had been bashed out of place, however it seemed entirely ignorant to its own injury. Its eyes seemed glazed over with a pale sheen like clouded glass, and a green stain seemed to seep from its mouth to the surrounding fur if its face. A sickening crunch reverberated from its spine as its head rotated once more to address Ara.
‘Couldn’t just be a normal wolf, could it?’ Cairngorm gave an exasperated sigh as he loosened a large hammer from the fixture on his back, gripping it tightly in both hands.
Like a second trap being sprung, the remainder of the pack bounded from the woods launching jaws first towards Cairngorm and Mac. Taking a backstep Mac deftly shifted out of the way of the snapping beast before swifty unsheathing two short blades from within their cloak. Taking only a moment to steady their stance, they sent both daggers soaring into the flank of their attacker. The impact staggered the wolf briefly though it showed no sign of pain as it reared around to launch itself once more. Meanwhile, Cairngorm wrestled another wolf away as its teeth came crunching down on the haft of his weapon. Steering the beast to his left, he kicked off the creature with a heavy boot to the head, and followed with a deceptively powerful swing with the hammer to the side of the skull. With a sickening crunch that echoed around the area, the wolf swiftly fell limp, save for its legs which still seemed to try and carry it towards its quarry.
Satori watched on with mild horror and admiration at the effectiveness of her companions. Mac danced around the lunges of the wolf attacking her, resembling that of a pugilist as she responded to each missed bite and pounce with a jab or slash of a new pair of knives she had loosened from her boots. Turning her attention to the duel between Ara and her twin attackers, Satori whipped her instrument around holding it firmly opposite to how it would be played. With the head of the instrument in her hand a subtle click sounding from a hidden trigger within the intricate design, Satori’s beloved instrument snapped into a new form. The sides and upper bout of the violin swung out towards the chinrest forming an irregular cross shape. Cairngorm found themselves lost in a moment of wonder as Satori, with adept accuracy, slotted a slender bolt into the decorative fixture she gripped onto. A moment later the same bolt sank deep into the neck of one of the remaining wolves as it frustratedly pawed at it, slowly losing momentum in its motions as it also fell limp.
Ara’s eyes tracked the path of the bolt and upon examining the covert weapon in Satori’s hand she cried out, ‘Your fucking violin is a crossbow?’
Fuelled by a level of exasperation at the absurdity of Satori’s weapon of choice, Ara braced herself against another pounce from the wolf before her. However, now being afforded the opportunity to riposte, Ara instead took the weight of the creature upon her shield. Her arm pulsed with pain not dissimilar from her leg injury earlier that day. The wolf’s teeth had ripped into her arm before she had a chance to ready her shield. It was a foolish error, and one that she was sure she would pay for. Although, in this moment, her focus was centred on driving the blade in her other hand into and through the underbelly of the wolf pushing against her. Again and again, she plunged her sword into the soft tissue, bracing less and less against the weight of the animal until it too eventually slumped to the ground with one final push of her shield. Immediately her attention switched to the remaining member of the pack. However, with one last brutish drag of her blade through her target, Mac dispatched the final wolf, cutting through the muscle of the neck as bilious crimson spilled onto the grass below.
A moment was taken to listen and wait by all except Cairngorm who hurriedly made their way to Ara.
‘Hold still. It’ll be a rush job but this will stop any bleeding.’ he said as he began pulling clean rags from a small satchel at his side while mumbling under his breath.
The bandages brought some comfort but upon the culmination of his utterances, Ara’s arm began to heat unnaturally. Not painfully, but a brief sensation of discomfort washed over her as Caingorm pulled away. She eyed him suspiciously before nodding in thanks.
‘We should head back to the wagon. It’ll be getting dark soon and we need to find somewhere outside the forest to settle for the night.’ Ara stowed her shield to her back as she started in the direction of the trail.
The remainder of the group silently agreed as each of them started back in the same direction.
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Night was fast to approach after the group’s encounter with some of the less than savoury fauna. Another hour or riding accompanied by a watchful silence eventually led the group out and away from the forest as they returned to the open plains. Camping out here for came with its own risks. The area was open and visible from the trail they had veered off. Though with a noticeable lack of canopy to hide under, and the treeline still visible from their chosen spot, the chances of anything approaching without being perceived was low.
I must say I was impressed not only with the earlier performance but also with the mending Cairngorm had performed on Ara’s arm. It seemed almost impossible to have soothed and repaired her arm with such little time and resources. As it appeared, I was not the only one suspicious of this act.
‘Cairngorm, can you lend me a hand. I’m preparing a few snares for the morning in case our generous rations run low.’ Ara glanced over her shoulder to see Mac and Satori struggling with the small bundles of sticks they had collected for a fire.
‘Of course. Actually, I was hoping to ask how you were. Before we left, I was curious about the wolves to I actually collected a small tissue sample from the one you had, well gutted, and I found something pretty weird-’
‘What did you do to me?’ The pair were enough of a distance away from the other two for her to afford to address him in such a blunt manner.
Cairngorm was taken aback for a moment before inquiring, ‘Excuse me?’
‘My arm. You didn’t just bandage it. You fixed it.’ Ara began loosening the wrappings around her arm to reveal the large gash bitten into her forearm was little more than a faint scar, as though it had healed over several years.
‘Ah. Well, the bandages were more of a cleanup job. The wound itself needed more of an immediate solution so… you’re welcome.’
‘Your magic, is it a secret?’
‘The magic? No. The source, a little more so.’ Cairngorm felt a pit open in his stomach but quickly steeled himself. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Not at all. I’m not unfamiliar with the divine.’ Ara pulled at the undershirt beneath her tunic to reveal an ink portrait of a raven. The image towed the line between scrawling and intricate needlework. It was personal. Its wings open and splayed across the flesh above her heart.
Cairngorm felt his hands begin to sweat as he pushed himself out of a slouch to his full height, still shorter than Ara, in a faux attempt at confidence. His brow immediately heated as his stomach sank deeper into himself. Symbols were more that pretty pictures. Symbols carried a lot of meaning, both to the individual and the wider world. They were messages, warnings, oaths, and one’s history wrapped up into one. This tattoo was a symbol he had hoped not to see again.
‘I don’t need to tell you to be careful who you go around showing off to. But I will tell you to be careful doing that shit to me again.’ Ara pushed past Cairngorm and left him there confused and unsettled to say the least.
Back at the camp, still within eyeshot, Mac and Satori’s joint efforts whispered to life as a fire began to crackle, and Cairngorm started back in the opposite direction of Ara.
Time passed and as rations and painful small talk was shared amongst the chattier members of the group, a watch schedule was settled. Ara explained her lack of a need to sleep. Rather than rest like her companions, she insisted that a few hours to meditate would suffice. The others thought to inquire then considered the benefits of a few more hours sleep. It was decided that Cairngorm would begin the night’s watch and sleep once Ara had sufficiently recuperated. And so, the group bundled up for an uneasy night’s rest. Mac had laid her expansive collection of knives out and under a small blanket after counting and tending to their blades. Satori checked the spring mechanism of her rather intricate instrument before following suit. Ara knelt down with her back to the fire, her shadow casting off into the night. Before her she placed a small inky black feather alongside the weathered skull of a large bird. After her short ritual, she settled in to a trance-like state and sank from the world around her.
Cairngorm sat for hours. To say he kept watch was a minor exaggeration. Rather he found himself staring off into the fire as he tended it occasionally to keep it from burning out. Between his gentle stoking, he found himself attempting to sooth his nerves. An unconscious act but an effective one, he had rolled up his sleeve slightly to reveal a lean forearm. Similarly to the card game with Mac, a faint violet shimmer waved over his skin as black streaks snaked across to the centre of his wrist. The ebony tendrils surged and twisted amongst one another as after some time, an image of a raven constructed itself upon his body. He ran a tentative finger over the image brushing at it as though he wished to erase it. Instead, however, the image morphed as the black streaks emboldened and thickened as they changed shape. The image now presented was much less intricate and resembled something more akin to three intertwining triangles before another pass over the magically presented tattoo returned it to its original design. This process repeated one hour after another, as Cairngorm sank further into himself and the night.
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Somewhere not too distant, something else was stirring this night. She had awoken in a dark room, with no voice to cry out and no memory of how to. Her limbs ached and creaked like the wood below her. Eventually dragging herself up from the ground to a seated position, she twisted her head to examine her surroundings. With each approximate inch her head twisted an accompanying crunch followed but did not phase her. She began mentally listing the things in her vicinity:
Stairway. Sachel. Plants. Knife.
Her hand drifted slowly and deliberately to the blade on the ground. As she grasped it in her palm, there was an uncanny fashion in which she gripped it, as though she had never held one before. A curious note she examined was the numb sensation radiating through her body. She saw the item in her hand, she knew she had picked it up and yet there was no sensation. Her fingers took in no texture. It was as though everything in her body remained unconscious as she moved. Her eyes strained in the darkness just barely able to make out the mounds of parchment that surrounded her. Unceremoniously the knife fell to the ground as she reached out once more for one of the pages. The dark ink blended and smudged into the paper. It was almost completely illegible, save for the header of the page. She brought it closer to her face as she sounded out the name in her head.
Dr Lily Ceris – B.L.E.A.K
Monster of the month 
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