It was the first time Violant had entered the other march. The same was true not only for this lifetime but also for the last. Even during the great troll uprising nine and a half years from now that shook the kingdom to the very foundations she never did as much as taking a single step into the other march. She admittedly actively took part in the suppression and extermination of the trolls, but at the most she commanded her troops with her military tent as a command center. It was out of place for a queen to fight at the forefront of conflict herself. Yes, then she still had been the newly crowned King Gervase’s queen. She hadn’t been able to surmise that the suppression of the troll uprising and the resulting increase of the crown’s influence in the other march would lead to her fall from grace just a few months later, ultimately leading to the destruction of the margravial house and her own death two years afterwards.
Violant’s increased engagement in the margraviate’s business lead to her also becoming increasingly involved in matters of the other march. It had become November now and Orderic had decided to give his now fifteen years old fosterling a chance to prove herself. A request for help had come in from Count Wuldington, a long-time friend of the margrave. People mysteriously disappeared in the county and the count who knew that his fief had a blurry border with the other march suspected otherworldly powers to be at work. Violant had thus been welcomed with open arms by the man who she called Uncle Ally. She was willing to try her best. It would’ve been even better if she could have remembered details about the case but she hadn’t been involved in her past lifetime. Not that it mattered anyhow.
At present the young lady carefully patrolled the other march. She had already learned as a child how to identify the entrances to the otherworldly realm so that she wouldn’t get lost in it accidentally. But entering the much feared otherworld for the first time, she found it quite different to what she had imagined. It wasn’t as if she never had heard about it – particularly in the margraviate there were more than enough people who could tell her about the other march from personal experience after all – but it was something you had to experience yourself to understand.
At the moment Violant traversed an otherworldly forest. The trees appeared oddly insubstantial and the vegetation of the forest floor hardly made a sound when stepped on. It was quite fresh with the wind of November blowing through the trees. The whole forest was enveloped in fog, with the little light passing through being somewhat diffuse and of a greenish color although the trees had lost their leaves already. The forest was oddly quiet at the same time. There was no bird singing anywhere, not even a crow cawing like you would expect at this time of the year. The girl yet still had to meet an animal of any kind. The forest was downright eerily quiet, much like muffled, so that the sounds Violant herself caused seemed disturbingly loud to her although they definitely weren’t.
The young lady had left Huwcyn behind back in Wuldington castle. She had thought that the ceffyl dwr, or any horse for that matter, would be too conspicuous when scouting the terrain secretly. The silence of her surroundings only managed to strengthen her impressions about that matter. In fact she had informed nobody before sneaking off. Heavily armed guards clanking with metal were the last thing she needed in such a silent environment. At least she had brought her spear to defend herself if necessary.
All of a sudden a distressed sounding male voice echoed through the woods.
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“Hey! Hey!” it called “Hey! Help! Help please!”
Positive that it was one of the missing people, Violant decided to walk into the direction of the voice. There wasn’t much to be oriented towards anyway.
But as soon as the girl tried to step on a clearing completely covered with fern, a big greyish owl covered with some green spots soundlessly flew down from a knotty old spruce tree and hissed at her angrily while clawing her face.
Violant tried to cover her face by raising her spear while stepping back. As soon as she had distanced herself somewhat from the clearing, the owl landed on a low branch and observed her intently with its big black eyes.
The redhead found herself completely unharmed. Thinking about why the bird could have attacked her, she had an idea.
“You don’t want me to go there. Is it that?” the young lady whispered.
The owl nodded, its feather tufts whipping up and down. It really was a big animal, likely bigger than some eagle.
“I’m sorry, birdy.” she apologized, still with a hushed voice for she didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself in this quiet environment where you surely could’ve heard a needle dropping. “I have to go there. Don’t you hear the desperate plea for help?”
The owl seemed to shake its head in displeasure. Then it flew down to the ground. As soon as it landed, a change took place in its appearance. The by no means small owl started to grow until it reached the height of a four years old child. Its shape started to show humanoid characteristics and the feathers slowly disappeared.
Witnessing this, Violant was rendered speechless. She had heard about it that some denizens of the other march were able to change their appearance at will. This was limited to very experienced beings though.
The existence that showed itself to the human girl was by no means human itself. Its appearance was that of an age-old woman no bigger than a four years old child but appearing even smaller because of her deeply hunched back. Her grey and green body was covered in moss and lichens over and over that nobody could really tell if it was part of her clothing or part of her body. The being’s feet were covered in moss, likewise partially its greyish face whose wrinkles let it appear rather like tree bark. The hoary woman’s long snow-white hair was shaggy and it disorderly spread over her whole back. In one of her hands she held a knobby cane on which she supported herself. Scrutinizing the human before her with small black eyes, smacking the lips of her almost toothless mouth; in such manner she appeared before Violant.
The margrave’s daughter directly knew what had appeared before her. Well, at least she had heard of it because it was rarely ever seen. Before her stood a schrat, a denizen of the deepest woods rarely ever seen outside the other march. Once a century it might happen that one of them left the leaf-covered realm it dwelled in. Thus it wasn’t really known if it was so rare to meet one or if the schrats themselves were such rare beings themselves. At least she knew that they didn’t like the term applied to them. They preferred to be called holzleute, people of the woods in their language, or holzweibel, little woman of the woods, in the case of a female individual such as the one in front of herself.
“Child, don’t senselessly run to your death.” the schrat warned with a squawking voice in a heavy accent “Whoever you might look for, you won’t find him when following the voice of the hejkadlo. Only your own demise will be waiting for you.”
“But I have to find the missing people.” Violant protested whisperingly.
“Give it up. Nothing good will come from it.” the elderly advised “If the people you are searching for are those I am thinking about, then they are lost without any chance of rescue. They doubtlessly are in the clutches of the wild hunt. If you know what’s good for you, human child, leave this realm before they take you too.”
“I have to fulfill my obligations as an Avallach.” the redhead protested stubbornly.
The mossy woman opened her eyes wide in surprise.
“Oh, you are an Avallach!” she exclaimed “Certainly, that changes everything. Come, come with old Alarun. We will talk about your next steps at a safer place.”
Speaking so, the old woman grabbed the hem of Violant’s shirt and dragged her off into the distance. Or at least the girl followed willingly, wondering where the hoary one would lead her.