Distraught after the death of his father, Toki had run back into the woods in the moments after he died. None of the bandmembers had been particularly surprised - Toki handled stress in very random ways - but it was still a pain in the ass to track him down. It was damn cold, and they were all tired.

"Wes don'ts needs him," Skwisgaar had said. "Wes shoulds leaves him."

Nathan had sighed.

"We came this far, and Charles will be, like, super pissed if we leave him behind."

"Er, yeah, Nathan's right. Let's just go find him, then we can leave," Pickles agreed.

Murderface groaned, not wanting to spend more time outdoors walking around. Skwisgaar said nothing.

"I think he went that way," Pickles pointed to a set of tracks leading into the forest.

"Let's try it."

Nathan led the way, the others following behind.

00

Toki had run as far as he could - it felt like it had been miles. His lungs burned.

He'd killed his father. Not intentionally, but… He'd killed him. His father's last moments had been of fear and pain while his lungs filled with water and probably burst. The thought made Toki feel sick.

He stumbled towards a bush and began to vomit, tears running down his face as he emptied his stomach.

Soon, nothing came up but bile. Then he began to dry heave.

"Ohs, gods," he cried, wrapping his arms around himself. He stumbled a few steps farther. Up ahead was a clearing.

At first, Toki thought that he was hearing voices in his head. It took a few minutes, but he slowly realized that the voices were real.

They didn't sound like his bandmates. No, whoever it was was speaking Norse, loud and clear, their voice booming almost like Nathan's did.

Toki walked further. The voice was coming from the clearing.

"Hear me, Freyja! Bless these women with -" Toki zoned out after that. Instead, he stared at the blood that had stained the snow. His eyes followed the trails of red up until he came to their source - several dead rabbits hung from a large fir tree, their throats slit. The sight made Toki cry out, and suddenly, the man's speech stopped.

"Who comes here?" He called out.

Toki slowly poked his head out from behind the tree he was standing near.

"Who are you?" The man asked, glaring at him.

Now, Toki could see that the man - who was dressed in some type of white, priest-like ceremonial outfit - was not alone. Several women were with him. They, too, were dressed in similar outfits. Rabbit blood dotted their skin where drops had fallen on them.

"My name is Toki," the guitarist replied softly, speaking his native language. "Why did you kill the rabbits? They are so sweet and cute and harmless!" He had begun to cry again. The women stared at him, an angry look on their faces.

"You must leave here! You have interrupted us, and now we may not be able to -"

"-Why does everything die? Why does everything I care about die?!" Toki continued to wail.

The priest sighed.

"I am trying to secure Freyja's blessing for these women, and you have interrupted us! Please leave!"

"Not until you take down the bunnies! That's not fair! They didn't deserve this!" He walked over to one of the rabbits, untied the knot holding it up by the legs, and let it drop into his hands. Then he dropped to his knees and began digging a hole in the snow. He was frantic, really. Not thinking clearly. All he could think of was the bunnies, and his father, and how everything he loved seemed to wither and die.

The priest was scowling, now.

"We will continue," he said, loudly. "There should be more than enough sacrifices."

The women nodded.

The priest began begging Freyja once again, asking that the women's barren wombs become fruitful, that their lonely lives be filled with the light of a child.

Toki wasn't listening, though. He was busy burying the second bunny, all the while wondering how angry his mother would be when she heard the news of what had happened.

He was so focused on his task that he didn't notice the beam of light pouring through the trees, nor did he notice when it hit him, along with the women. He didn't notice the look of shock on the priest's face, either. All he felt was a sense of warmth in his stomach, but it lasted only a few seconds.