Houndsworth itself looked dead in terms of nature, with all of its dry trees dotting the infertile dirt, but not far to the east, engulfed in fog, a forest lay mostly quiet. Some people claim that if you went far into the pines could you hear the faint sound of a girl's voice, singing, but none of the villagers themselves had gone that far away from their home, so everyone dispersed it as a rumor when it would start up again through whispers on the street. Ironic, I think, considering they worship a demon mutt that kills everyone that disobeys the town's leader. In all of my visits to the town, I had never seen anything that matched the description of a demon hound, but I have managed to witness plenty of dog fights that made me crinkle my nose. Houndsworth's citizens had no respect for life.

Sadly, all of the other major towns were too far for me to reach on foot, so I was stuck bargaining with the villagers, and therefore giving them some form of profit. For all I knew, I was aiding them in their little schemes.

In case this wasn't obvious enough, the Houndsworth people aren't the smartest to ever grace the earth with their presence, though there's a chance they may be voted the most gullible. I do not directly live in the village, so when I started putting up with their antics and going into the town for supplies, I received countless threats that I would be torn to shreds by their beloved, yet feared, demon hound. There's a phrase I take to heart: Fight fire with fire. So what could've been better than to fight a stupid rumor with an equally stupid one?

I had been very young when I first needed to visit the Houndsworth village. If I had been calculating right, I had been around 10. Beforehand, I had other sources, but those ran dry. I got into the village with ease, passing an eerie tree littered with forgotten chains and matching collars, and found the village center soon enough. I received dirty looks, which I matched with an indifferent look that made them turn away after we had a mini-staring contest for no more than a few seconds. I knew it couldn't have been my clothes, for those matched the dreary tones of the village, and my hair was hidden underneath a handkerchief that was tied neatly around my head. They still managed to know automatically that I wasn't one of them, which screamed paranoid. I had continued until I found a small shop that was run by a fairly young man, who didn't seem like he would deny me as a customer. I took my time picking out what I needed, making sure I didn't miss anything. I didn't want to have to come back here for a while; the townsfolk had been creeping me out, and it would've been a waste of time to make another round trip over here.

As I went over to the counter where I was to pay, I noticed that he was thankfully planning to treat me as an actual customer, so I decided to push the small boundaries they had already established for me. I leaned forward on the tips of my toes, my feet showing underneath the frayed edge of my dress.

"Why are your people staring at me like that?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. The mort innocent I seemed, the better situations tended to work out for me.

His eyes widened, and though he wasn't aggressively glaring at me like the people I had passed on the walk here, I could tell he was just as wary.

"You're an outsider," he said, talking to me as if I had several heads, "If you're not careful, the demon hound will get you." At that time, the back door was opened, and a boy peeked his head inside the shop, glancing at me with curiosity filled eyes.

The man glared at the boy. "James, I've told you before. Stay out of the shop when I'm with customers."

James looked down at his feet, eyebrows together in a frown. James couldn't have been more than a few years older than me, just with a slight build. He nodded quickly, returning to whatever lay behind the door.

The man behind the counter turned his focus back to me. "You should leave and never return."

When I still lived with my parents, my dad always said I had a creative imagination. I said, purposely naïve, "I thought you said it was a demon hound?"

He was suspicious by that point. "Yes," he nodded, looking down at me, "It is a demon hound. And anyone who is a bad dog will die at its claws."

"But how can someone that's already dead die again?"

He took a step back, looking me up and down. "W-What are you talking about?!"

I had shrugged, leaning on the counter. "Well, technically dead. That's what being a demon does to you. Plus, demons don't hurt other demons. It's like a contract." I was making things up as I went along, but with the straight face I was managing to keep, he seemed to believe me fairly easily.

He made a squeaky noise at the back of his throat, eyes widening. "Why has Sir Barrymore never told us of you before? What is your name? Are you here to punish the other bad dogs?"

My eyes glinted; I knew I was winning this. "I don't know why you haven't heard of me before; it's most likely because I am new to this area. And as for my name, I go by Bloodroot. And no, I believe your demon hound can handle the punishing perfectly fine by itself. I'll have to meet it sometime," I mused.

He stepped out from behind the counter, leading me to the front door. "Your items are free, Ms. Bloodroot. But…" he looked hesitant, "You don't look like a demon."

I frowned, giving him a sharp look. "I prefer to look human, thank you very much. But, if you are to insist on proof…"

I reached up, undoing the handkerchief that held my copper hair in place, smoothing the curls down the best I could. He opened his mouth, before closing it again.

He opened the door for me, allowing me to walk out before him. I began to head back onto the path that led out of Houndsworth, but the man stopped me, stuttering. "P-Please, Ms. Bloodroot, would you go see Sir Barrymore? I'm sure he would be honored to meet you."

I kept my face neutral. "If you think it would be the right thing to do, then I have no objection."

We reached one of the biggest houses in the town in no time, and it resembled a mansion. I looked up, and my mind had automatically recalled the only other mansion I had been familiar with in life. A mansion that no longer stood. A mansion that I…

I shook my head slightly, forcing the memory away. Instead, I focused on how we were now being led through enormous halls, only to stop in a sort of formal office/ living room, where a brutish appearing man stood. He looked ready to yell at the maid, but stopped when he saw myself and the man.

"Thomas," he nearly growled, "Why is there a ginger mutt in front of me?"

'Thomas' was about to reply, but I stepped forward, holding up a hand, palm facing to the ceiling. My hand was slightly callused from all of the rough bark I had gripped when I climbed trees in years past, but, oddly enough to people who don't know me, no burn scars were visible. Why that was odd became very apparent to Barrymore, Thomas, and the maid in the next few minutes.

Holding my fingers close together, it was fairly easy for me to start a fire on my fingertips.

Barrymore looked ready to yell, eyes bulging; the maid was quiet, but eyeing me suspiciously; Thomas just looked solemn, possibly thinking what I said earlier was beyond-a-doubt true.

Barrymore broke the near-silence, for a few moments the only sound had been the crackling of the flames that I had let engulf the surface of my hand. "W-What are you?!"

I smiled slightly, "A demon, and I go by Bloodroot," I stepped closer to him, flames burning on nothing, burning an unnatural shade of orange-red, and no one bothered to stop me, "I have some questions, and a few offers to make." The man nodded slightly.

I smiled wider. "Great! Well, I would personally appreciate it if I would be able to have access to a few things. First, your demon hound cannot harm me. Second, I would like to be able to receive supplies from this town, since I live away from townships in general. In return for those two basic things, I offer your townsfolk protection. From what I've seen on my way here, I do not agree with a few things," I felt them pause, scared, "But I promise that I would not stop them. Only offer protection if you dearly need it. But keep in mind I live far from here."

He seemed to mull over the offers, then nodded apprehensively, putting out his hand for me to shake. I extinguished the flames, and felt my palm cool instantaneously. He braced himself for a burn, and hesitantly shook my hand. I giggled when he flinched. I knew that the more innocent I seemed, the better this would work out for me.

I turned as soon as that was cleared, and began making my way to the door. He stepped forward, half-heartedly putting up an arm. "Ms… Bloodroot, where are you going?!"

I looked back at him, bag in the crook of my elbow. "Home, of course." No one moved to stop me. For effect, I walked a few feet into the hallway, where the door was clearly out of reach, and slammed it behind me. I heard one of the two males let out a high pitched squeak.

I laughed, heading towards where I thought I recalled the way out was. It was no harm done if I had been wrong.

I smiled fondly at the memory. To this day, I relied on Houndsworth, and I had grown as well known as the demon hound, except people knew I was real. They had seen me and my work in person, unlike the evasive demon hound they claimed ruled the land. The only thing the people didn't know about me was that what I told them that day was a lie. As far as I knew, demons didn't exist, much less was I one. But they seemed to be into that. I don't know what I was, maybe some freak of nature, but not a demon of all things.

It was time for my bi-weekly trip into Houndsworth, and I couldn't keep the smile off of my face as I began the hike there. I hadn't lied to the townspeople when I had told them I lived away from towns. I lived in the vast forest that began several miles away from the town's limits, spending my nights high in between the branches, my days practicing and singing. The townspeople weren't wrong when they claimed to hear a female singing deep in the woods.

I began up one of my favorite tunes, the lyrics I had come up with myself.

Watch her kneel

Watch her keel

Over, charred to the bone

See her lament

At her failed attempt

To hold onto

Those she loved

See her tears

See her fears

Running, down her face

Not for long

For the sun brings dawn

Permanently

Drying them away

The song itself was solemn, but I was still smiling, because I knew what awaited me in Houndsworth, and on the journey there. It was a long walk, normally, but it gave me a chance to practice controlling winds. That was essentially what I was able to do. Manipulate my surroundings, limited to water, wind, and, of course, fire. Only things with a low concentration level. I'm sure I could manipulate solids with a certain level of experience, but it was too difficult to even consider right now. Wind came easy, on the other hand. It took a lot of concentration and energy, but it was worth it in the end. Sending myself flying through the air, doing flips and tricks above the tree line before plummeting back down, bracing my fall with an updraft. I could do these things close to home, but once I got a while away, it was easier to use the winds to glide quickly, weaving in between trees.

I didn't do this for long, because I wanted to save my energy for Houndsworth. Specifically, for James. I lit up at the thought at him. He was a few years older than I was, but he had always been there for me, and we had grown very close. Close enough where he would've been courting me if not for my silly rumor. He was the only one who knew what I consider to be the truth, my thoughts on the 'demon hound', and myself.

I picked up the edges of my dreary dress as I stepped over a particularly large tree root, picking up the tune to the song again. In a few minutes, I didn't bother trying to hide it, I was singing loudly without care. I was still far out from the village. No one was close enough to hear.

I reached the town's limit at nightfall, since I had left so late, and to no surprise the chains still ornamenting the dying tree, and it still brought back bad memories of witnessed dogfights, but it also had a sick sense of comfort, knowing I lived because of these twisted people. I paused, squinting through the fog and dark. An old, familiar, woman was nearing me. I knew she was crazy, but she was one of the townspeople, and I was obliged to protect her. I tilted my head to her. I had a, now much larger, grey handkerchief tied around my head, knotted on top, but by now everyone knew how I looked.

"Is everything okay, Miss?" I asked, smiling politely. She stopped humming the town's old tune when I spoke.

"There are strangers in the town," she said, before continuing her walk, this time down a different road, one that led back to the center of town. I frowned. Visitors were rare. I should probably pay a visit to Barrymore and see if it's time to call in my offered protection. I looked down at the wagon imprints in the ground, and decided it would be better to stay away from the main road.

I jogged for a moment, catching up to the odd old lady. I might as well keep her company, especially this late. She was continuing to sing her little hymn, and I turned to her, trying to distract her from the creepy melody.
"Have there been any bad dogs lately?" I asked, cringing at my own words. I didn't approve when I first laid eyes on Houndsworth five years ago, and I didn't approve now.

She nodded absentmindedly, and I looked down. I hated the deaths. Deaths that didn't need to happen whatsoever, but I wasn't going to break a promise that contributed to my well being.

"Were they killed? And who was it?"

"No, no. The bad dog hasn't been killed yet, as far as I know. Though he will be soon. You know him, little demon girl. Your pet James?"

My mouth opened, and I froze. No. "NO," I screamed. The old lady started laughing, and I began sprinting full out towards town, cursing my dress, and didn't hesitate to let the wind carry the blows of my feet. I reached the building outskirts a few minutes later, and saw the crowd gathering in a circle, and I knew it was too late. No one here had been close enough to hear my scream, and I decided to keep my presence unannounced. How… What did he do, that justified his murder?... What had anyone done?

I didn't cry. I just felt empty all over again. "See her lament, at her failed attempt, to hold onto, those she loved," I sang softly, but loud enough that I know my voice carried to the crowd. Everyone had heard my song enough to know what it meant. Only if I had ever been truly mad at the town would I sing it near here.

James. James. James James James James. I began hurrying to the crowd. They were all murmuring, looking back and forth at each other with frightened eyes. Good. I was running at that point, feet on the ground, and reached the base of the crowd.

"Move," I said, and everyone immediately did so.

I arrived just in time to hear Sir Barrymore say, "So James was the bad dog?"

"What have you done, Barrymore…?" I asked, looking at him with a neutral face he had seen a few times before, and a sweet voice I never used.

He hadn't looked scared before in front of the crowd, but now was clearly an exception. He glanced down at James's body, horribly mutilated, and glared up at me. "I have done nothing. James broke the rules, and he was punished by the demon hound."
I walked forward until I was less than a foot away. "Hnnn. So it seems. But, Sir Barrymore, what would you do if I said I didn't believe you? Or if I said that I would have preferred James not have died?"

He said nothing, so I continued. "No, nothing?" I turned to the crowd, "Well, does anyone know any necromancy? Anything that would bring my James back? Any voodoo?" No one answered. "No? That's a shame, then. I really liked James."

I lit my hands on fire, and didn't bother to stop the flames, which were harmless to me, from consuming my whole body. You would think the dress would be a problem, but it wasn't, since the flames seemed to be at my beck and call. If I didn't want something to burn, it didn't. I did have a backup, a special fire proof dress, but it was clingy, so it was just that: a backup.

I turned back to Barrymore. "Well, now that it's official that you've broken my trust, I revoke any previous offers I've given to Houndsworth."

This made him panic. "That shouldn't be a problem, though, should it, Barrymore? I mean, you do have your demon hound to protect you."

He was gaping. "Relax, Sir," I said, slightly mockingly, "I'm not going to hurt you. Just let you fend for yourself. Indefinitely."

I was still alit, and was ready to leave, when he made me paused. "B-But you can't live without what we give you!"

I laughed, truly, "Want to bet?"

I walked towards where James's body lay still in the dirt, countless bite marks marring his skin. I extinguished the flames in a moment, and knelt by him. He was all I had known in the past year. He was the first person I trusted since I left home. I told him everything, I trusted him, and now he was stolen away from me. The only condolence I had was that this time it wasn't my fault.

I felt a hand tentatively touch my shoulder, and saw it was James's father. "I'm sorry for your loss," I said, standing. James was gone. I couldn't stay here. Besides, I had to get back home so I could start packing what little belongings I had away.