Emmeran lurched up straight as the events of yesterday hit him in his stomach. He rolled over, heaving, not that there was anything left in his stomach to get rid of. Yesterday he ran. Blindly ran. He was totally undeserving of the luck that lead him to the safety of his solitary hollow by the spring.
His aching back and parched mouth reminded him of his situation and he stumbled towards the clear water that had so many times before assuaged his thirst. As he reached towards the pool he froze. Staring back at him was a complete stranger.
Her fine features contrasted with the coating of the dirt, picked up from the unforgiving forest. Big, wide eyes stood above a sea of freckles making her look rather cute. A small head framed by auburn tresses sat on a perfectly proportioned body fitting of someone who spent many hours training their muscles. If it weren’t for the silver horns gently curling from her head and the mahogany wings poking above her shoulders she would almost look human. Her tan,wiry arms extended toward Emmeran as he reached for the water. He felt the cool liquid greet his hand as the ripples destroyed the image before him. All that remained was the hand. Her hand.
With a start the previously heavy feeling on his back became a millstone as he lurched away, eyes bulging. A numb feeling started in his extremities and crept up as he stood there dizzily, unable to process what his eyes told him. He was that. That thing. He was her. His stomach felt hard. This couldn’t be. How could it be. Backing away from the liquid mirror, his feet felt heavy and his mind raced, trying to make sense of what his eyes told him.
He remembered little from yesterday. Waking up to smoke - demons - running through the haze - bodies - the alley - running - more running - darkness…
*Aaahwooooooo*
His heart skipped a beat. He knew that sound. When times had been easier, his father had taken him into the forest to teach him the way of the woods. Back then it had only been a wolf, but his father had inculcated into him the danger of waiting to see what followed when something confidently announced its presence.
Scrambling out of the hollow, his new wings caught on a branch that used to be above his head, though he could tell he was shorter than he had been. His gait was off and he had to take special care to mask his presence, struggling to avoid the many sticks that littered the forest floor.
Exiting the bramble he looked into the mist flowing between the dark trees, listening intently for any sign of company. A stick snapped behind him. Emmeran spun around, clipping a tree with his wings as they were flung from his body by the speed of his turn. These would take some getting used to. Backing away from the sound, off to his left the mournful cry came again.
*Aaahwooooooooh*
It sounded closer now. It didn’t sound like a wolf and, whatever it was, Emmeran decided he didn’t care to make its acquaintance. As quietly as possible, Emmeran backed away from his sanctuary, deeper into the woods.
He’d been walking for a while now and he could swear that he felt eyes watching him, though the fog rolling between the trees made it almost impossible to be sure. Every time he turned to look back the way he came, he would jump at the unexpected sight of the two appendages sprouting from his back. Looking down incredulously at the modest mounds attached to his chest he felt the numbness threatening to overcome him again.
The trees of the dark forest were closer here, their gnarled trunks making it impossible to see very far in any direction. He was reasonably sure that he knew where he was as he had spent much of his childhood in these woods, but that familiar terrain had ended long ago and at the beginning of the rolling hills, and uneasy feeling rose up in his stomach. His only solace was in the songs of the birds. They wouldn’t sing if they felt threatened.
Everything felt so surreal. In less than a day he had lost all that he knew. His town, his family, himself. It was gone. A sigh forced itself from his lips as he closed his weary eyes; a pained expression on his face.
Emmeran was forced from his reflection with a start. A deafening stillness pervaded the forest. No birds. The feeling of unease, greater than before, grew in his stomach. Something was out there, and if it threatened the birds in their trees, it would find him to be easy prey. A branch snapped behind him and he spun around. A dark shadow with a pair of glowing eyes peered out of the mist followed by two black silhouettes. Emmeran didn’t wait to meet his stalkers.
Dodging gnarled oaks and low hanging branches, he tried to put as much distance between the specter and himself. Its hunting cry further increased his speed as he recklessly dashed through the forest. Throwing himself over roots and leaping off boulders, he found himself staring into the deepening shadows, looking for any threat that could emerge.
As he jumped over a particularly large root, his foot was caught by a pale hand. Falling to the ground, he uttered a scream of terror. He pawed at the claws firmly fastened around his leg that had snared him from under the roots, his wings splaying out behind him.
A figure followed the hand and a creature with red wings jumped on him, covering his mouth, and dragged him back under the tree. Hidden under the roots there was a vernal pool, surrounded by a strip of mud. The creature dragged Emmeran into the pool and whispered so quietly that he thought he may have imagined it. “Not a sound.”
Never one to disobey an order from someone so obviously in control of the situation, Emmeran sank into the mud on the bottom of the shallow pool, smearing it over his body. Hopefully his scent was adequately hidden.
Nothing moved.
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could just make out the shape of an agile creature hiding with him in the pool. Its wicked claws spoke of its ability to kill and its red eyes looked full of a bloodlust that chilled his skin more than the water. Its fearsome figure was only partially marred by a long flap of tissue hanging uselessly from one of its muscular wings. Anything that could injure a creature such as this was truly worth avoiding.
An oversized canine jumped over the root covering the opening to Emmeran’s hiding place, trotted a few steps, then froze. Its wolf-like head pointed to the sky as it sniffed the air, its black hackles raised - displaying its intent for all to see. As it turned around slowly, Emmeran could see an orange glow coming from the inside of the wolf’s chest, as if a burning fire powered this monstrosity in its reckless pursuit. Two phantoms followed shortly behind it. Their powerful figures were blurred by the miasma that covered the forest, making it impossible to see more than the shape of their bulging muscles and the pair of swords strapped across their backs. They wordlessly watched the beast as it searched the air for a scent, turned, and ran in the direction it came from.
A few minutes later, Emmeran sighed with relief. The red eyes of his protector snapped to him with a glare that made its displeasure all too apparent. He met its gaze for a moment, then turned away, unable to meet such a piercing stare for more than a second.
The seconds dragged into minutes. It felt like an eternity and still the creature said nothing. Emmeran found his mind wandering over the change that had overcome him. He had gone from a poor young man from a village in the middle of nowhere to a lithe woman with mahogany scaled wings and cute silvery horns. Thinking back to the image seen in the spring he supposed he had a distinct girl-next-door look. What would he do now? Humanity’s track record didn’t give him any hope that they would accept his change without complaint.
His jaw clenched tighter as he ground his teeth. Those damnable demons ruined his life. If it weren't for them, he would be back in his village, not huddled under the roots of a tree.
Who was the person next to him anyway? Were they holding him captive, or protecting him? Surely he wouldn’t have survived without their aid, but could he trust their motives?
“It’s Catlia.”
“What?” He responded, questioning if he had heard it right.
“My name. It’s Catlia.”
“Oh.” Her pure, feminine voice barely broke the silence and Emmeran’s pulse increased at the thought of the conversation to follow.
An awkward silence followed between them. It lasted so long that it began to ease when the creature's soft, husky whisper queried, “And yours?”
Emmeran didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to give his name to this thing. Who knew what it even was. Information like that required a measure of trust and he wasn’t about to trust anybody. Not to mention a name like Emmeran certainly didn’t match the form of a young woman. He whispered the first thing that came to mind.
“Ilandru”
“Like the legend of the dragonkin?”
Oh how could he have been so stupid. Of course she would connected the girl in front of her to the name from the legends. Why had he even said such a thing. Maybe he subconsciously saw the similarities between the dragonkin of legends himself, though it would be impossible to tell now, covered in the muck of the vernal pool.
“Similar.” He responded.
“Are you dragonkin?”
How do you answer that? ‘No i've just been like this for a little less than a day.’ He could never say that. Though a partial truth is easier to maintain than a lie.
“I don’t know. I was adopted as a baby.”
“Oh.”
Silence reigned supreme for an uncomfortable time as the two of them tested each other with their eyes.
“So what are you?”
“A succubus.” Catlia stated in a barely audible voice.
Emmeran recoiled from this revelation. This is one of the demons who had aided in the slaughter that had taken place back home. He shuffled backwards out of the pool, his wings clipping the roof as his back hit the wall, his unease obvious in her presence.
Catlia sighed.
“You are wise to be wary Ilandru, but I had nothing to do with your people.” Catlia started with a tinge of remorse. “I came across that by accident.”
“So why are you hiding from them?” Emmeran asked, leaning forward as he forgot a part of his fear.
“...”
Catlia’s silence spoke volumes, though he had yet to understand what it said.
“If you want out of this forest alive, you will come with me tonight.” Catlia’s blunt statement was an offer, not a threat. Yet it reminded Emmeran of his fear and his face paled, though after a moment's hesitation he nodded his agreement to follow the demoness into the unknown.
Ooo what fueled the change exactly I wonder, and will they manage to find a place of safety?
Just gonna have some popcorn. This is great.
Thanks for the chapter.
Emmeran could have tried something similar to his old name like Enma for example. After all, it would be easier to get used to being called by a similar name, right?
Thanks for the chapter