Wren drags herself out of the swirling icy waters onto the muddy river bank on her hands and knees as pebbles and sharp stones dig into her flesh. Out of the reach of the frigid waters, Wren finally collapses shivering onto the cold hard earth. Plenty of time passes by before she regains her strength and raises her gaze to her surroundings, failing to find any signs of civilization nearby.
Wren numbly takes in the morning sights as the morning sun rises over the horizon. Wren closes her eyes as she sits up and allows the warm ray to bathe her face and body. A tear slowly drips down her face at the missing figure at her side. Wren’s shoulders begin to shake as tears stream down her face as she silently weeps for her terrible loss.
Wren anger and sorrow peaks and wildly shouts into the sky, “You stupid, Ogre, you could have jumped into the river with me! I don’t want to forgive you for dying on me, but I will because I am a magnanimous person. But you said, you would always be with me-.” Wren’s voice breaks as she softly says, “So you better keep watch over me or this time or I defiantly won’t forgive you!”
Wren hopefully stares into the sky looking for some impossible sign of being heard. And in reply a gentle like breeze tousles her hair in a very familiar manner, before fading away. Tears creep out of the corner out of her eyes as she bitterly mutters, “Show off.”
With the sun over the horizon Wren dries her tears as her stomach grumbles in hunger. Wren smiles sadly as she recalls her father’s words, “Even if you are angry or sad, you must always eat only then will you have the strength to act.” But most important of all, Wren had been so simple remined that she had promises to keep and only with strength would she be able to fulfill them.
Unsteadily rising to her feet, Wren wrings her clothes dry before wiping her face clean with her still damp sleeve. Feeling somewhat refreshed Wren slaps herself away awake as she mutters to herself, “Get yourself, together, Wren.” There was no more time left to mourn, she had to prioritize her survival over everything else.
Miraculously, against all odds, Wren still has her and her father's travel packs. Rummaging through her bag, Wren pulls out a small water canteen and slowly toddles over to the river. Wren curses out loud as she almost slips and falls on the wet rocks before finally reaching the river. After filling the canteen and fulfilling her thirst, Wren slowly limps her way back up the river bank onto the grassy over hill.
Exhausted Wren tiredly reaches into the bags to check for any missing items and to her great delight the inside of both travel bags is soundly dry. Wren carefully removes a compass and map out of her father’s bag to attempt to find her current location. After several minutes, Wren concludes as there aren’t any nearby farms nor settlements, she must have been carried away at least twenty leagues, but no further than forty leagues as a large town lay at that distance.
With care, Wren retraces the route chosen to reach the Tessa Mountain range. Her finger stops mid-way in unhappy realization that she is unable to take the previous route planned as large towns lay in vicinity of the route. And that was a problem as she was a young unaccompanied female child and even if no one has any ill intentions towards her, she would be seen as a suspicious traveler. But even more so, if Wren was to resupply in town she would surely be robbed if she pulled out her gold coins.
Wren sighs in frustration at the unexpected complication. Pressing her lips together in a grimace, Wren searches for another route to take to the Tessa Mountains. Her brows furrow at finding a perfect route with little towns or villages on route through the Misty Woods. And though the Misty Woods are famous for being deadly to lonely travelers, Wren had no other choice as a long traveler this was the best and fastest option for her.
Wren roughly calculates how far the entrance of the Misty Wood forest is and surprisingly finds she is roughly 30 leagues away. If Wren traveled from sun up to sun down, she should be able to reach the Misty Woods in a few days’ time. Wren smiles at the first bit of good news that she's had all day.
Carefully refolding her map and returning to its place, Wren takes the compass from the grassy floor and confirms the direction needed to reach her destination, East. Certain of her direction, Wren rummages for dried jerky and contently munches on it. Wren enjoys the possibly last relaxation moment she will have for some time to come and enjoys the moment for all it’s worth. The birds cheerfully sing their hearts out in the morning light as the grass stalks dance to an unseen morning breeze.
All too soon, Wren mournfully eats the last morsel, before taking a sip of water to wash down the taste of the jerky. Letting out a soft burp, Wren wipes her mouth clean with the back of her hand. Had her father been here, he would surely frown and berate her for her lack of manners.
Wren stiffens at the unexpected pain, but like a tooth ache the pain slowly dulls away as Wren busies herself. Fishing out two small green healing potions from her bag, Wren gulps them down one after another. Wren’s face twists in revulsion at the taste and wonders if they’re poisonous? Surprisingly, Wren doesn’t fall dead to feet, but given the revolting taste maybe she should have.
Returning the emption vials into the bag, Wren stretches as she rises to her feet. Her muscles let out a silent happy sound as Wren experientially places her right foot in front of her. The right foot is still a little sore, but now movable. Wren kicks her feet together in joy causing her foot to ache, but it was worth it.
Glancing around, Wren spots a long pointed thin branch lays near her and takes the branch into her hands to use as a walking stick. Putting her bag on, Wren excitedly straightens up and steadfastly begins her journey. With her first step and the next, Wren soon disappears over the next hill. By the end of the day, Wren had traveled a bit further than she had thought. But it was all due to failing to meet any travelers on the winding road. Seeing the day come to an end, Wren exits the road in the gloomy darkness and searches for a camp site. Starting a fire was out of the question as it would only serve to attract the attention of people and who knows what else.
Wren finally spots a dead tree with uprooted roots that created a small nock and cranny large enough for someone of her size to comfortably curl up inside. Wren swiftly gathers a large pile of dead leaves to use as soft bedding and softly pats them down to make a soft, but noisy bed for herself. Using the travel bags as makeshift pillows, she pulls out a thin flannel blanket from her bag to cover her from head to toe leaving only her eyes peeking over the edge.
Wren tries to not flinch at every creak heard in the woods as she clutches her pendant in comfort. To distract herself, Wren counts the stars to pass the time until her eyes close shut and only the faint sound of her breathing can be heard. In her dreams, Wren dreams she is a small child again as her father protectively cradles in his arms and promise her all will be well.
Wren awakens to the sound of chirping birds in the cool morning air. Sleepily stretching her arms over her head, Wren twists her body from side to side as her back and neck pop in relief. Shaking the leaves from her hair, Wren rises and brushes the rest of the leaves out and off her clothes.
Carefully putting her pendant back in its place, Wren rummages in her bag for a small brush and re-braids her hair. She may be a dirty, homeless traveler, but at least her hair will be presentable. After all, her father had instilled a sense of cleanliness into her as he loved cleanliness to the point of it being an annoyance. Wren shivers as she remembers failing to do and as her father was a mischievous creature by nature, he was quite creative when it came to punishments and revenge. There was a time when her father enlisted her help and by enlisted, she meant forced.
A male patron had taken to regularly hurting the girls. Usually, such an action, would cause the Madam to immediately expel the patron from her house, but in this case, the patron in question was a very wealthy and powerful Viscount. Zarris absolutely hated to see any of the girls being horribly treated and so the ghost of the brothel was born.
On the day the Viscount was to visit, Zarris bought a crate from gods know where filled with large, poisonous snakes, spiders and other creepy crawlies. Her father had her climb up into the attic with crate to release the creatures into the bedroom of the girl. Well, Wren did so, but in doing so the creatures did not take well to her handling them. And as some of the larger snakes were as large as her small self, they quickly attacked.
Enraged, Wren’s second set of teeth popped out as Wren bit the snakes in retaliation. Soon Wren became soaked from head to toe in blood and was covered in gore. Not to mention with her pronounced pale skin, Wren looked just like a ghost.
Yet one of the largest snakes gave a run for her money as the Viscount opened the door to room. At that exact moment, Wren fell through the attic trap door onto the bed. All the Viscount saw was a ghastly being suddenly appear and devour a large snake into its mouth with a loud slurp. To the Viscount’s utter horror, the terrible apparition fixed its hungry gaze onto him causing his bladder to weaken. Wet and afraid the Viscount ran out of the pleasure house shrieking about a ghost. After that, the Viscount never returned to the pleasure house of Madam Norialise.
However, at the time of the Viscount’s escape, Zarris stood roaring with laughter in the doorway instead of rescuing Wren from the vermin on the bed. It wouldn’t be until he caught his breath that he would rescue a very sullen Wren. Though as a result, the house was temporarily closed until all the creatures were caught and killed. As usual Zarris was never caught, but Wren was certain that the Madam must have suspected he was the culprit. But without proof what could the Madam do? And besides the Madam was better off pretending she did not know the culprit responsible for the even as Zarris always got even, and even the Madam had fallen prey to Zarris’s schemes.
Wren quietly muses to herself, she couldn't help and wonder if her father was a proper villain? But that didn't really matter though, after all an Ogre is always the villain in storybook. Grumbling to herself, Wren takes a small trip to the woods. Upon her return, Wren shakes out the blanket and neatly refolds it back into the bag.
Finished, Wren uses a large root prostrated in the air as a makeshift chair. While traveling yesterday Wren had come upon an apple tree and had gorged herself on the sweet fruit for lunch, before packing some up for later. Wren happily eats the crunchy apples including the core, before once more going on her way.
Wren pauses at the edge of the road as she scans for figures on either side of the road, before emerging onto the road. “What a wonderful way to start the day,” Wren thought to herself as she set off into the road once more. This cycle continued for several more days until Wren reached the Misty Woods after almost a weeks’ worth of walking.
Wren arrives at the entrance of Misty Woods at sundown and abruptly halts thereon. The quickly fading sunlight does not reach into the depths of the woods as thick trees stand imposingly in the way and within a few meters into the woods, the woods turn pitch black. Wren, uneasily peers into the dark woods while clutching her pendant through her clothes. It almost seems as through faint shadows are peering back from within the murky woods causing her to take a step back.
Many lonely travelers are known to disappear inside and never to be found. Some are attacked by bandits and others by strange creatures roaming the woods in search of quarries. While, others fall prey to the Misty Woods itself: unexpected ravines, caverns and fissures that unsuspecting travelers fall into, and the soil that appear to be soild but once trodden upon swallows the unwary traveler whole not even leaving any traces behind. But worst of all, the trees seem to move causing travelers to wander off the path never to find their way back.
However, the woods are even more dangerous after dark. At night when the full moon rises, the woods are bathed in silver clouds of mist descending onto the woods and hiding away the traveling pathways. The terrible woods become that much terrible and impossible to traverse with such a limited sight. And worst of all, the use of a lantern or light spell only serves as a flare for the inhabitants of the woods.
Wren stares at the forest knowing full well how dangerous it was, but it was just as dangerous to camp out in the open. But at least the forest offered some protection, while out in the open there was none. Certain of her decision, Wren reluctantly reaches into her bag and pulls out a small dagger in a matching sheath. Attaching the dagger to her waist, Wren grimly hopes she made the correct decision and steps into murky forest.
Wren quietly makes her way into the woods as each step brings her deeper into the gloomy woods. Soon, the entrance is out of sight and she is engulfed into plunging darkness. Wren uneasily waits for her eyes to adjust until once more she can see. It was not much, but for once Wren had sincere gratitude to the woman who birthed her and gifted her the ability to see in the dark.
Wren regain her bearings as she listens to the woods, but nothing can be heard but eerie silence. There is no chirping of birds nor the soft sound of buzzing insects or the rustling of lively animals, absolutely nothing. The uncanny silence settles deep into her bones as if asking her to maintain the status quo.
Wren licks her dry lips as she continues on the path debating how far to continue before searching for a camp. The skin on her neck suddenly prickles at sensing something observing her from the trees. Wren peeks in the direction of the gaze, but absolutely nothing appears in her line of sight.
Wren’s hands become sweaty as they tighten their grip on her walking stick. Moving forward, Wren listens and watches but nothing is still seen. Yet the further she goes down the path, the unnerving gaze does not disappear. Ignoring the unseen watcher, Wren continues for a candle’s mark, before deciding to make camp.
Wren takes a step off the road, when her skin begins to tingle. Wren recalls her father’s words, "Always trust your instincts an ogre’s skin will always tingle when danger is nearby.” Without hesitation, Wren bolts into the woods as she frantically searches for refuge to make camp or if need be a final stand.
With her heart pounding in her ears, Wren finally glimpse a large red oak tree with large enough branches for her to spend the night on without having the fear of falling off. Sprinting at full speed Wren readies an ice spell, before leaping up the trunk and climbing at full speed. Branches scratch and pull at her face and clothes, but Wren does not let that stop her as a snuffling like sound draws closer and a foul carrion odor assaults her nose.
Energized by fear, Wren climbs faster than ever until she reaches the highest branch that can support her weight without her having a fear of falling off. Wren holds in a breath of relief as she intently listens and remains still as the snuffling is heard even closer. Urged by some unknown survival instinct Wren releases her strongest Ice spells on the tree branches below. The branches instantly freeze and with a loud crackling sound break off under their own weight.
The tree branches smash into each other as they plummet into the ground below causing a large dust cloud to rise as the loud crash resounds throughout the forest. As the minutes pass by the dust cloud settles as tiny baby branches continue to tinkle down below until the silence reigns through the forest once more.
Wren anxiously peers below waiting for a glimpse of the creature as she stretches her sense to the limit. Out of the corner of her eye, Wren glimpses something large and hunched over moving leisurely among the trees. The snuffling sound is soon heard further and further away as the carrion scent lingers in the air until it slowly fades away.
Wren slowly releases the breath she had been holding in as she leans against the tree trunk. Right on cue her stomach grumbles that it is hungry again. Reaching into her bag, Wren grabs three apples to appease her hunger. Wren gulps them in seconds, before satisfyingly curling up for the night. Despite leaning against her bags and with a stick in her lap, Wren tiredly falls asleep against the tree trunk.
But the night was far from over as several times during the night Wren is awoken by the sound and smells of something drawing near. Each time the strangely shaped creatures would only pause to sniff at the tree before finally moving on. And each time, Wren would let out a sigh of relief and slowly relax against the tree in gratitude for its protection.
A candle mark away from dawn something large rapidly draws near and roars. Wren awakes with a start to find her skin tingling like crazy and the hair on the back of her neck standing on edge. Wren’s stomach clenches in unease as she holds her breath and searches for the source. From amid the trees a wolf-like beast appears carrying the stench of dried blood.
Its fur is splattered with new and old gore as it sniffs the area eagerly. It sniffs hungrily as it smells food nearby but is unable to see it. It lets out a huff of dissatisfaction and circles the tree. Raising its malevolent gaze upward its black eyes lack pupils and appear as hollow black holes in a skull. Its lips curl up in a sneer at finding its prey hiding on top of the tree.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Wren meets its dreadful gaze and forces herself to not stare away from its dreadful gaze as the weaker animal always stares away first. Wren steadies herself by clutching her pendant to keep herself from trembling in fear. She knew the monster would smell her fear and entice it that much more. Wren had to control herself as quick as possible, but that was easier said than done.
It howls triumphantly announcing its discovery of its next meal, before leaping at its prey. However, it misses by more than a more than a few meters. It lets out an irritated grunt and leaps higher, but each time it unable to close the gap. It angrily claws at the read oak tree tearing chucks out of the tree bark, before retreating back into the woods.
Wren slowly eases out her breath has her pulse slows back down and the trembling starts. Suddenly a vibration is felt as Wren turns in the direction the monstrous creature disappeared to. A rushing sound is heard as something large charges at full speed towards her. Wren presses her lips together in gloomy resignation as she sees the creature gallop towards her. Digging her nails into the tree Wren braces herself for impact lest she fall below.
It digs its gory claws into the earth gaining momentum and slams its entire body into the tree. The red oak tree trembles frightfully each time it smashes into the tree for what seems like a lifetime. Wren desperately hopes the tree will withstand the attack and that the creature will quickly tire itself out and leave. But it does not and angrily roar’s in challenge.
It growls at the tree for daring to defy its attack and resist. It furiously claws again at the tree tearing dreadful chunks out of the tree, before defiantly howling at the night sky and retreating into the woods. Wren breathes through her nose and glances down at her chipped nails. Her fingers are bloody with wood splinters from her tight grip. Before Wren can remove the wood splinters from her flesh a similar sound causes her to angrily digs her nails into the tree.
“Oh, this is just plain ridiculous,” Wren thought to herself as she curses the creature in her mind. Wren calls the annoying creature a flurry of choice words that would have gotten her thrown into a prison in the capital. Tired of being afraid or maybe just irritated by the creatures repeated antics Wren readies water and ice spells and begins to plan on how to counterattack.
It dashes at full speed at the red oak tree and at the last second it hurdles itself at the tree. It lands a few meters below its prey as it digs its claws into the tree bark. It eagerly sniffs the air scenting its next meal only a few meters above it. Its lips pull back to reveal a hideous grin, full of bloody fangs and teeth. The nauseating smell of rotting blood wafts up and clogs the very air as it digs its claws into the tree and slowly begins to climb upwards.
Wren flinches in disgust at the rotting smell as the creature’s face opens its jaws and laughs at her in silent triumphant laughter. Furious Wren narrows her eyes at the creature and growls, “Ogres don’t get eaten by woodland creatures, it’s the other way around!” Wren reaches to her side for walking stick and shuffles closer to the ledge of the branch waiting for the creature to be in reach. She was going to show it just what she was made of.
It licks its teeth in anticipation and eagerly climbs closer. It snaps its jaws eagerly already tasting its next meal. About a meter away from its prey, it stops and howls gleefully.
Wren cautiously leans her head over the edge of the tree branch and smiles back at the creature below. The creature is still a bit out of her reach for her plan to work and there recklessly Wren motions with her hand for the creature to come closer. The creature eagerly heaves itself closer just as Wren uses all her strength to ram her walking stick into its left eye.
Blood spurts out from its eye as it shrieks in pain and claws at its own face. It falls to the ground with a crash making a small crater into the ground. It angrily rises from the small crater and tears the stick from its oozing bloody eye socket. It focuses its one good eye on her and furiously growls showing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth. It vows to not rest until it has killed and eaten this meal.
Wren smiles and waves cheerfully at the creature from her tree branch, before launching weak water and ice spells on the tree trunk causing the tree trunk to freeze over with a layer of slippery ice. Wren watches as the creature retreats again causing her to smirk, “It looks like I’m tougher than it thought.”
It stomps its way back into the forest once again, before once more repeating the tactic from before. However, this around it is unable to dig its claws into the tree as it finds the tree surface is slippery. Its lips curl back as it maliciously snarls at Wren, before trying again.
Wren smiles wearily at its fading figure, before recasting the same spells again. This irritating cycle is repeated time and time again with both parties becoming exhausted on both ends. Wren bites her lips as she finds her magic pool is rather depleted at this rate she would be defenseless during the day. Wren anxiously glances at the sky hoping that the day break would come soon.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the new day breaks and the sun beings to rise over the horizon. As the sun rays begin to illuminate the dark woods the creature is forced to retreat into the woods. It howls in anguish and rage at its prey’s escape, but marches away with anger and the promise of vengeance in its eyes, before vanishing into the shadowy depths of the woods.
At its departing grotesque figure, Wren victoriously stands with her hands on her hips and clenches her right fist at it in show of her triumph over it. Once certain it was gone, Wren gleefully dances a little jig in sign of victory. Exhausted Wren falls back against to the tree and slides down onto her knees. Hugging herself Wren shivers as she realized she had survived all on her own.
Smiling tiredly in satisfaction to herself, Wren’s stomach rumbles remind her of its first priority. Wren pulls out the last remaining apples and a small dried fish for breakfast. After breakfast, Wren does her daily chore of braiding her hair. Although the entire time her fingers sting in constant reminder she needs to remove the splinters. Finished, Wren begins the tedious task of removing each splinter until she is at last done.
Staring at her bloody, injured fingers Wren grimaces and reaches for a healing vial. Swallowing as quickly as possible Wren’s eyes water in disgust as she wonders, if alchemists purposefully created healing potions to taste foul to dissuade people from being injured.
Glancing around Wren scans the area for any nearby creatures but fails to see anything or anyone moving in the nearby distance. With care, Wren climbs down the red oak tree, before dropping the last fee feet onto the ground. With glee, Wren happily spots her lucky, but slightly bloody walking stick. Wiping the blood on a pile of leaves nearby, Wren finds her walking stick as good as new if not a bit battered.
Before departing, Wren pays her respects in sincere gratitude to the red oak tree as her father had taught her to be polite and specially to show ones thanks to nature. Wren gratefully bows to the red oak tree and says, "Thank you for providing me with shelter and protection during the night. But most especially thank you for your great valor and strength in withstanding the creature’s attacks."
Wren bows once more and turns to leave before recalling one more matter. Turning back and apologetically bowing, Wren says, “I almost forgot, I apologize for my lack of consideration. I hope you can find it in your tree bark to forgive me for destroying your tree branches." As Wren lifts her head the red oak tree branches seem to sway and dance to a non-existing breeze. Wren smiles and chuckles at its actions rather pleased that the red oak tree accepted her apology. Bowing one more Wren returns to the pathway and halts; Wren turns back and bows for the last time to the red oak tree, before continuing on her journey.
Weeks later the gloomy Misty Woods are dead as usual as Wren stretches her arms over her head and tiredly yawns. Wren idly wonders, if she will ever make it out of the Misty Woods.
Wren yawns again and covers her yawn with her hand as dark eye shadows can be seen under her eyes and her face has grown thin with hunger. In the weeks since her first night, Wren has taken to sleeping in large trees and repeating the same tactic of the first night. One could literally trace Wren’s path based on the strange, lower branch-less trees left in her wake.
However, that was not the cause of her lack of sleep and hunger. The reason was that every night strange creatures would awaken her by passing nearby or launching attacks at her campsite. To be frank, Wren hadn't had a full night's rest, since she had entered the Misty Woods. And as for her loss of weight, Wren was down to rationing the few morsels of food she had left. Water as not a problem with her magic, but she had yet to find a source of edible food that she could consume. Wren was so hungry that she was actually considering on whether attacking a night creature and eating them for food. And with each passing day that idea was starting to sound really good.
Wren's stomach grumbles angrily causing her to sigh miserably in agreement. Wren sadly pats her empty belly with both of her hands in a comforting manner as she tries to remember the last time her stomach was full. For an ogre to be hungry was quite shameful and Wren certainly was hungry.
Trying to ignore her stomachs insistent protests Wren hears a loud rumble from overhead. Wren scurries to the nearest maple tree and begins to climb. Upon reaching the upper branches a strong gust of wind slams into Wren almost causing her to fall. Steadying herself, Wren glances in the direction of the fierce wind to the west. A fortress of dark clouds swiftly encroaches on the forest with potent thunder sounding in the distance as lighting gleams brightly in the distance.
Wren pales as she recalls that the Misty Woods are particularly hazardous during thunder storms. Fierce lightning strikes caused random fires, while the forest caverns became inhabited with all manner of creatures seeking refuge. To make matters worse not all beasts feared the weather but thrived. Not to mention the flash floods that would occur from the higher grounds and pour down to drown any living being caught in the lower grounds.
Wren anxiously glances all around for a nearby haven to spend the night in. In the distance a large hollow oak tree can be seen in the distance next to what appear to be a rock cavern. Wren twists her mouth in displeasure at the sight of the cave but staying in hollow tree was the safest she was going to get for now. She was just going to have to risk it for now.
Not wasting any precious time, Wren darts back onto the ground as the wind picks up and almost flattens Wren. Fighting against the wind, Wren heads into the West as quickly as she can. Still the wind does it’s best as dust, leaves, and branches are sent hurtling into the air at her. Dodging a branch, Wren realizes her eyes begin to smart as the faint scent of smoke is carried on the wind. Wrens fears are soon realized as smoke fills the air with the trees burning carrying the added fear that the fire may be carried towards her and entrap her.
Soon Wren finds she is unable to breath as she coughs desperately trying to breathe the hazy air. Reaching for her left sleeve Wren ruthlessly tears it off and ties it around her face to cover her mouth and nose. Able to breath once more despite her eyes watering at the smoke, Wren presses forward.
The woods darken as the storm finally arrives as lightning flashes overhead outlining the silhouette of the hollow tree in the distance. Wren sighs in respite and dashes across the remaining distance and heads inside the hollow oak tree. The rain bursts from the heavens as Wren pulls down her makeshift face cover as her lungs greedily breath in the clean air.
Wren enjoys the quiet sound of rainfall as she painfully recalled that her father loved rainy days. When she asked him the reason why, Zarris replied, “Do you that the best thing that ever happened to me was you and you came to me on such a day.” With laughter in his eyes, Zarris pulled the struggling form of Wren into his arms and covered in her wet, icky kisses.
Wren sadly sniffs quietly herself, before busying herself by wetting her makeshift sleeve in the rain and wiping the soot off her face and neck. Clean and tired, Wren leans against the inner tree trunk and watches the rain fall. The downpour soon transforms into torrents of rainfall until muddy water begins trickling into the hollow tree.
A familiar tingle unexpectedly awakens Wren from her peaceful trance. Wren uneasily tries to peer through the rain and is unable to see anything approaching. And yet, movement can be seen from the depths of the nearby rock cavern.
Wren’s stomach clenches as Wren lets out an exasperated sigh at her luck. Recognizing the familiar feeling, Wren grimaces as she eyes the hollow tree. If she was lucky the tree would hold but given the wet ground that probably wouldn’t be the case.
Stepping out into the rain, Wren eyes the slick tree bark as thunder roars ominously overhead. Placing her walking stick in her mouth, Wren leaps onto the tree and begins to climb as fast as possible. Several times, Wren almost slips, but manages to dig her fingers and feet into the tree to gain a foothold. Panting Wren wearily reaches the top of the hollow oak tree as she gazes down below.
Lightning flashes overhead illuminating the muddy scenery as Wren narrows her eyes in the direction of the cavern. Raising her face, Wren sniffs the air and finds that a trace of blood can still be smelt despite the rain and mud. Wren crouches in waiting as she waits for the creature to come.
It sniffs the air tentatively, before gingerly stepping out into the rain and howling at the turbulent sky in defiance. Its blood-splattered fur is wiped clean by the heavy rain causing rivers of red to run off its fur creating a bloody canal at its feet. The creature sniffs at the air and with a gleeful smile recognizes the insufferable scent. It raises its one good eye at its prey with a gaze burning with animosity and snaps its jaws hatefully at its escaped meal. This time it will not let its prey go.
Wren watches it slither around the tree trunk several times in taunting. Rather than let it out of her sight, Wren cranes her neck to keep an eye on it. Seeing it act so Wren experimentally casts an ice spell at its fur to weigh it down. Wren’s eyes widen with disbelief at seeing her spells be nullified upon contact.
It sneers at its preys’ spells and sticks out its tongue at her in a panting dog fashion. Finished with its taunting, it creeps right up to the trunk and digs its claws into the tree in front of it. Its two hind legs burrow into the muddy ground as it begins to push with all its strength against the roots.
A quarter of a candle mark later, slowly, but surely, the hollow oak tree began to tilt. Wren clutches her dripping wet, walking stick in her damp hands in frustration. There is nothing she can do with her magic as spells are useless against this creature. The only way she can attack is for the creature to come within short range, but even so, she will still be at a disadvantage due to the creatures longer arm reach.
It stops its course of actions at cunningly having found another way to reach its meal that much sooner. It withdraws from the tree and creeps a short distance away and burrows its claws into the muddy earth. Tilting its head back it howls at the sky, before grinning sinisterly and charging at the hollow oak tree.
Wren promptly reaches for the small dagger at her waist and unsheathes it. Having guessed the creature’s course of action, Wren braces herself as best as possible against the tree. The creature slams into the tree and with a loud groan, the tree slowly tumbles to the muddy ground. A few seconds before impact, Wren leaps to the ground and rolls to her feet. Grunting in pain, Wren is momentarily disoriented as she tries to regain her bearing.
It had rushed into the woods to scrutinize its meal hungrily from within the woods. It absolutely loved to toy with its food as it inches its way into another direction and howls, before doing the same thing in another direction. Fear always gave the meat the best flavor.
Wren's gaze comes back as glances into her empty hands. Her walking stick had slipped out of her grasp when she had landed as Wren reaches down and hastily grabs it from the muddy ground. Wiping the mud onto her clothes as best as she can Wren can hear the creature howl from what seems in every direction. Lighting flashes illuminating the forest as Wren whirls her head around trying to spot it. Unable to find it, Wren’s instincts scream at her to keep an eye towards her undefended back.
Pride finally satisfied, it stops howling and prepares to have a feast. It slinks closer through the foliage and crouches waiting to pounce. Lightning flashes revealing his next meal as it pounces out of the foliage towards her.
A branch breaks behind Wren as she automatically ducks to the floor. The creature leaps over her and soars snout first smack into a root from the hollow tree. The creature is dazed for a moment walking unsteadily on its feet. And using the opportunity, Wren vaults onto the other side of the hollow oak tree keeping the tree's trunk firmly between them.
It savagely shakes its fur sending a splatter of mud all over the tree trunk as it helps clear its mind from the impact. It crossly searches for its meal and finds it nearby on the other side of the trunk. It speedily bounds over the tree trunk and launches itself at its meal with claws sprung out and a wide-open mouth. It suddenly and rather abruptly skids to stop on the muddy ground as it tilts its ears in surprise as its meal isn't there.
Just as the creature leapt over the tree trunk Wren used her walking stick to vault over onto the opposing side. But that would only work as long as the creature played by the same rules. This was repeated thrice more, before the creature paused in understanding.
It licks its teeth in annoyance at its meals lack of cooperation. It taps its nails against the tree trunk in thought and grins in delight at its brilliance. It hops directly onto the hollow tree trunk.
Wren having expected that dives into the hollow oak tree. Wren crouches close to the roots entrance, waiting for the creature to enter the hollow trunk. And though she had no real strategy to deal with creature Wren would have to think of one to survive.
It shrieks in frustration as it claws at the trunk shredding the tree bark in fury and quite easily its claws pierce through the hollow tree trunk. It grins with glee, and glides towards where its meal location. Without warning, it punches through tree trunk and grabs its meal by the leg. It ignores its meals futile attacks and widens the hole with its claws until it is able to forcefully drag its meal out of the tree. It holds its meal up by the leg as it gently and rather leisurely licks it’s meals face. Satisfied at its meals taste it lowers its delicious face to its eagerly awaiting jaws.
Wren helplessly dangles in the air and rather than panicking her mind races for a solution. Her heart involuntarily speeds up as the creature slowly lowers her to its awaiting jaws. Almost in its jaws Wren rams her walking stick down its throat and slashes with her right hand at its one good eye with her small dagger. In shock the creature’s claws withdraw from her leg and fling her onto the hollow oak tree trunk causing Wren to hiss out in pain.
It screams in pain attempting to dislodge the stick from its mouth by crushing it in its jaws. But the action only serves to further shove the stick into its flesh. In fury, it howls at the stormy sky swearing a bloody vengeance.
Wren lays dazed for a moment, before crawling to her hands and knees. Wren shakily glances down at her left leg throbbing in pain. The rain that drips from her soaking pant leg is crimson as red drops drip down in tiny little red streams. Seeing her leg bleed out, Wren removes her rips off her remaining sleeve. Clenching her teeth in pain, Wren binds her leg as tightly as possible all the while keeping an eye on the creature only meters away.
A faraway roar is heard in the distance and increases steadily as it approaches them. Wren turns her head towards the roar and her eyes widen in horror at the rapid approaching flood. Honestly, Wren did not think that her circumstances could get any worse, but the world had proved her wrong yet again. The sound of fierce waters destroying everything in its path is heard. The trees crumble and splinter into pieces at the floods ruthlessness. Boulders are floating in the water as though light paper sailboats tossed and turned in the breeze.
It finally tears the walking stick from its wounded mouth and throwing the stick as far as it can muster. It blindly sniffs the air trying to find its meals scent through the pouring rain. After a few careful sniffs it finally finds its preys scent, but a strange dangerous roar begins to fill its ears. Its instincts scream at it to run as it bounds away in panic for higher grounds.
Wren hastily unsheathes the dagger at her waist and plunges it into the hollow trunk. Wren holds on for dear life as she takes one last deep breath as the deafening wave swallows her. The flood sweeps into the valley and carries everything away. After a few minutes, the flood waters recede and slow down to a gentle stream trickle. The entire lower valley's landscape has been instantly changed as streams trickle to a stop and a ravenous howl can be heard in the distance.