For anyone who's confused or curious, this comes after my giant Undertale story (Undertale: A New Day) and after chapter four of my significantly less giant story (Days in the Sun). It *might* be good to have those as a background, but since it's long as frick and I don't want to uncooly assign a novel of homework to y'all, just understand that Day is basically Frisk but with a personality, and following a pacifist route, she's freed the monsters from the underground. So now shenanigans can ensue elsewhere!
(There might be a few little references back to A New Day and/or Days in the Sun, but hopefully you can still enjoy this story without that prior knowledge. Hope you enjoy!)
Something scratched Day's cheek slightly. Not enough to hurt, but sudden enough to make her jolt back in surprise— she sat up quickly.
Leaves, muddy and dead, fell away at her jostling and joined the pile beneath her. The texture made her shudder in disgust, so she stood and wiped her hands off on the fabric of her skirt— before she stopped herself.
The purple material was already stained with mud and half soaked, and checking her shirt, she found it in much the same state.
Oh no… She cringed in regret, Toriel's not going to like this.
It was like a light clicked on in her mind— Day spun around where she stood.
"Papyrus!" she called out, "Papyrus? Sans?"
…
"Hello?"
Instead of her friends, Day was met with the sight of a dark, gloomy forest. The dirt, the rocks, and even the trees were so muted and dull that they appeared grey. A white fog lingered in patches low to the ground, illuminated by the eerie blue light of the moon overhead, only visible through sparse gaps in the trees' grey leaves.
Is this… some part of Mt. Ebott? she wondered, but the thought fell flat, No, it can't be. The trees don't look right.
… Why would I be on Mt. Ebott, anyway?
She struggled to remember anything before waking up, but only drew blanks.
Day huffed, squeezing her eyes shut as if it would help.
We were at home, she reasoned, We were home, and then we left to go to…
… to go to…
…
… drat.
Day opened her eyes and scanned the area again, hopelessness beginning to seep in.
This can't be Mt. Ebott, she repeated, So I'm somewhere else. Somewhere I've never been before… and I'm alone.
At night.
In a dark and scary forest.
… but at least there aren't any talking flowers, yet.
It made her smile the tiniest bit, but only for a second.
She scoured her pockets in a last-ditch effort for reassurance, only to find them empty— she was sure she'd brought her phone, but…
Day wrapped her arms around her middle, shaking from both nerves and cold; a breeze had picked up, making the wet fabric of her clothes all the more apparent.
It's okay, she tried to reassure herself, It'll be okay. Someone will know I'm missing, so they'll be looking for me… so… maybe I should just stay here.
Leaves rustled overhead, disturbed by the wind. Smaller branches creaked in protest, creating stilted and jittering silhouettes all around her.
She was starting to like her plan of action a lot less.
The longer she waited, the more she noticed— how the trees cast inky shadows on the ground, like tall figures looming over her. Clicks and hums of insects would sound at random intervals, or skitters of small and unseen forest creatures.
Day shuffled in place, still shaking.
They're just sounds. Sounds can't hurt you. Just the wind and bugs and leaves and… and squirrels and—
Something like a series of short yowls pierced the night, making her jump.
And then suddenly, she was running. Not to anything in particular, just away. Very quickly away.
There was no distinct path, just rugged and untamed forest, forcing Day to keep her eyes devoutly to the already hard to see ground. Rocks, branches, tree roots, and brush all threatened to trip and swallow her up— she stumbled many times, but never quite fell.
Day forced herself to halt, out of breath, eyes darting from side the side. The forest looked no different than before— was she only getting herself more lost?
She held herself up against a thick tree, listening intently for the previous sound.
Instead, she heard nothing.
Utterly nothing.
The forest had gone silent.
Her breath hitched, knowing that it couldn't mean anything good.
Crunch… crunch…
Footsteps.
They came from behind her. Barely managing to withhold a squeak of fear, Day hurriedly rounded the tree she stood beside, flattening herself against the trunk. She tried to listen for more footsteps, but the hammer of her heart drowned out everything else.
Maybe it's Sans or Papyrus— maybe they found me.
But— but they would have called out for me. If whoever it is is trying to stay quiet, then…
She held her breath, straining to hear.
…
… crunch crunch… crunch crunch… crunch…
It was coming closer. Deliberately slow.
Tears stung at her eyes, unbidden, but Day didn't dare to wipe them away.
Crunch…
…
…
For several seconds, no further sound came. A minute passed, and still, all was silent.
Relief began to trickle back, but Day remained frozen, knowing it was unlikely that the pursuer had just disappeared.
… Still.
With painstaking care, Day turned her head, and slowly began to lean to one side, to peek around the trunk of the tree.
THUNK!
Something heavy whizzed overhead and embedded itself into the tree, making it shudder. Not a moment later, Day was blinded by a bright yellow light.
She screamed and fell backwards, hard, onto her back. Instinctively, her head whipped around to size up her attacker.
A girl, a young teenager at most, blinked back at her with wide eyes. She had a little red circle cape around her shoulders, with brown hair tucked inside the hood. The light came from an old lantern, silver and squarish, she held level with her eyes.
"… Oh. You aren't a deer."
Day's eyes drifted in between the girl and the axe stuck in the tree. The blade had struck only a few inches above where her head would have been.
The girl lowered the lantern and extended her free hand towards Day.
"I'm sorry— you ran off without yelling or screaming, so I thought you were some sort of forest animal."
And so you tried to cut my head off?!
Day didn't voice the question; she wasn't alone anymore, at least.
She allowed herself to be helped up, only to find herself scrutinized once again.
"What funny shoes," the girl commented, squinting at her sneakers and pink laces.
Heat rose to her cheeks, and Day frowned at the ground without contesting.
The girl seemed to notice this, and she shook her head.
"I'm not making a good first impression, now am I?"
"Um."
Her hand was extended again, "I'm Anna."
Politely, Day accepted the handshake, "I'm Day."
"Oh really?" She held out the lantern, "Hold this for me?"
She obliged, surprised by the weight of the thing.
Anna grabbed the axe by its handle, and with a boot against the tree trunk, began to tug.
"Day, why were you running through the forest by yourself, anyway?" she asked, "You know it's a bad idea to venture off the path: stay to the center of the path, avoid the forest's hidden wrath."
Day blinked at the odd rhyme, but didn't comment.
"I… I woke up there," she answered.
"What do you mean?"
"I just… I woke up in the middle of the forest," she repeated, "I don't know how I got here."
Anna tilted her head to one side, curious.
"That's… different." She gave the axe another jerk, and it came loose in full, "Where were you before this?"
Isn't that the question?
"I was at home," she replied, "And I left with Sans and Papyrus, but…" Day glanced pensively at the forest around them, trailing off.
The yowling sound returned, making Day jump.
Anna laughed, "It's just a barred owl, silly."
"What?"
"A barred owl. That sound."
"How… how do you know?"
"The sound it makes— it sounds like "Who cooks for you?" Only barred owls make that distinct call."
Day gave her a funny look.
"Here, look." Anna put down the axe, cupped her hands around her mouth, and hooted the words "Who cooks for you— who cooks for you-all?"
Sure enough, she was greeted by the same pattern of hooting. She gave Day a wide grin, which made her laugh.
"See? There's nothing to be scared of."
Anna's face changed a bit, and she regarded Day with sympathy.
"Though… you really shouldn't be out here by yourself. Especially at night." She picked up her axe, keeping the blade low and facing away from Day, "Go out in pairs, never alone, 'lest next you're named is by headstone."
That didn't help in the slightest; Day's stomach twisted into knots, and the lantern trembled noticeably in her grasp.
Anna made a low sound of thought.
"… Maybe you should come with me," she suggested, "It's easier to come up with a solid plan when there's a roof over your head. Wouldn't you say?"
Day nodded quickly, eager for the company.
Anna nodded in return, and offered another smile, "Come on, then. You light the way."
She hurried to join Anna's side, and the two journeyed through the forest.
"Don't worry," Anna commented, "So long as you've a friend and light, you'll walk unfettered through the night."
"HELLO?! IS ANYBODY THERE?!"
Papyrus waited hopefully for a response, but like the 74 other times, got none.
He frowned thoughtfully, crossing his arms.
"Well! This is… rather strange!" he mused, "I was sure I wasn't alone just a few minutes ago!"
Like before, Papyrus took out his phone and tried fruitlessly to turn it on. The screen remained black, unresponsive.
"Hm! Well, I guess that settles it!" He pocked the device, adjusted the straps of the backpack he wore hoisted over his shoulders, then declared, "I'll have to find them the old-fashioned way: through blind searching!"
With that, Papyrus strolled forward in no particular direction and began to traverse the gloomy forest.
He peered curiously up at the trees, and the mist, and the moon in the sky— faint as it was, the light still made him squint instinctively.
"This is going to take some getting used to!" he said to no one in particular, "But at least it is not completely dark! It's fortunate that on the surface, day or night, there is always a blinding light in the sky to prevent you from getting lost!" He blinked, "Even if you are lost already!"
Papyrus walked on for several more minutes, but the forest around him appeared unchanged. If anything, it was getting darker.
"Hm…" He frowned briefly, "I hope they are not afraid, given that I am not there to protect them…"
But this uncertainty passed quickly, "Nonsense! Sans isn't afraid of anything! And even if Day always seems a tiny bit afraid, she's done brave things while being scared! They'll be perfectly okay!"
He paused.
"Though they would be even better if I were to find them quickly."
"Who are you talking to?"
Papyrus searched for the voice, caught off guard.
"Hello?"
Leaves rustled to his left.
"I said who are you talking to?"
It was a girl's voice— one he knew.
"Day?"
"What?"
"Day, is that you?"
"No?"
The rustling grew louder, and out of the darkness, a small figure emerged. Her dark brown hair was messy and long, appearing black against her blue-violet poncho. It was flecked with leaves, twigs, and other adornments from the forest floor.
Papyrus' brow furrowed, very confused.
"You aren't Day."
Upon closer inspection, his confusion doubled.
"But you look just like her! Only… not at all like her! But you have her voice!"
The child crinkled her nose, matching his expression.
"I thought I had my voice?"
"Well you do! But it's— I mean, while it may be yours, it is also—"
He stopped himself, not sure where this was going.
"… It's very strange."
The girl cocked her head, "It's not the only strange thing here."
"Oh?" Papyrus turned around to spot whatever she could be referring to, "What other strange thing do you see?"
She couldn't help but giggle, a hand covering her mouth, "You, silly!"
He practically gasped, baffled at the accusation, "Me?"
The child nodded, "You're a skeleton!"
"Well, that is not a very strange thing at all!" he argued, "If anything, it is far stranger to find a human child in the middle of a dark forest, speaking with a voice you know but not being the person that you know it belongs to!"
She only shook her head, at a loss.
"Who's Day, though?"
"Oh! She's my human friend— or, since we live together now, I consider her my new human sister!" At the thought, Papyrus surveyed the dark forest again, "… Though, I don't quite know where she is, right at this very moment. Or my brother Sans!"
"Is he human too?"
"Oh no! Sans is a skeleton! He's my real brother, while Day is only my kind of sort of sister! It's all very complicated!"
The child nodded in agreement.
"What about you? Do you have any brothers or sisters— human or skeleton?"
Her face lit up, and she nodded more enthusiastically.
"Yeah! I have a sister!"
"Wowie! What's her name?"
The girl's face fell.
"… Um. I don't… really… actually know."
Papyrus blinked.
"You don't know your sister's name?"
"Nuh-uh."
"… That seems like a thing you should probably know about a sister."
"I used to know it," she reasoned, tugging at a bundle of her hair, "But… I think I forgot it." She glanced around, as if searching for the memory, "I was playing with her one day, and then… I fell asleep, I think? And I woke up here, for some reason."
Her attention returned to Papyrus, "So. I'm trying to find her now."
Papyrus felt his heart ache at the expression on her face; she was lost. And alone.
Just like him.
And that gave him a brilliant idea.
"Aha!" he exclaimed, "Never fear! I know how we can both find our lost siblings!"
She perked up, "You do? How?"
"We can search for them together! Two pairs of eyes are better than one, after all! Even if one of the pairs is not eyes, but rather eye-sockets!" He grinned his most friendly smile, "What do you say?"
There wasn't a trace of hesitation in the girl's reply; her eyes twinkled, like she'd been waiting for the invitation her whole life.
"Okay!"
She ran to his side, no more than a third his height, and beamed up at him with joy.
"I didn't want to have to look for her by myself, anyway!" she added, "At least you'll be able to scare away scary things!"
"Nyeheh!" Papyrus laughed, "I will do my very best! Though I don't know how scary I can be— I always make it a goal to be charming and welcoming, above all else!"
The child giggled, humoring him.
"Do you know the way to go?" Papyrus asked her, "To start searching?"
"Nope!" She skipped forward, "Let's go this way first, okay?"
"It's as good a direction as any other!" He bounded after her, "By the way, I should introduce myself: I am the Great Papyrus! I completely forgot to ask you what your name was, since I know you're not Day, now!"
"Papyrus? That's a funny name," she commented, "But I like it! My name's fun to say too!"
"Really? What is it?"
"Stella!"
Anna gave Day's hand a slight tug, "It's this way. Just a minute more."
Day nodded, holding the lantern before her. The trees had begun to thin some time ago, a few no more than stumps. Along with that, the ground flattened and sported less rocks, making their trek less difficult.
Soon, the trees gave way entirely, and the soil of the earth was replaced by short, green grass. In the center of the clearing, Day spotted a small wooden cabin. It shared the space with what seemed to be a large garden, all surrounded by a stout stone fence. Smoke drifted leisurely up from the cabin's stone chimney, hazy grey against the dark sky.
"Come on now," Anna urged her forward, "No use staying out here in the dark, is there?"
The girls approached the house and ascended a few wooden steps up the porch.
Anna set down her axe and raised a hand to knock on the door—
— only for it to swing open before she had even touched it.
A middle-aged man, looking on the verge of panic, met them on the other side of the door.
"Anna!" he practically stammered, "Where have you— I was just about to come looking for you— you know you shouldn't be—"
"I lost track of time," she interrupted calmly, "I'm alright, father."
The man frowned, "You really shouldn't be—"
It was then he noticed Day, and was once again stopped in his tracks.
She shrunk slightly, her hand tightening around Anna's.
"… Anna. Who…?"
"She says her name's Day." Anna released her hand, choosing instead to give her head a gentle, yet slightly patronizing, pat on the head, "I found her."
"Found her where?"
"In the woods."
His gaze turned suspicious, "Alone?"
"Yep!" Anna was either oblivious to or unconcerned by his change in tone, "I didn't want her to wind up eaten alive by a barred owl, so I brought her along!"
The man's frown didn't lift at the joke, and he eyed Day with caution.
"… Where did you come from?" he questioned, measuring his words, "What are you doing here?"
Day's mouth went dry, and she could only shake her head in trepidation.
"I— um." She tried, "I don't— I don't know. Um, sir. I was— I woke up, and…"
She shook her head again, knowing the explanation was poor at best, "Sorry."
His demeanor seemed to soften, just slightly, and he sighed. The man turned up his gaze to look past the girls, out into the dark forest.
"… Well. You'd… better bring her inside," he told Anna, in a gruff manner that signaled defeated, "No sense in condemning her to wander these woods. Alone." He disappeared inside the house.
Anna just grinned down at Day.
"Come on now. I'll put the kettle on and brew some tea— I hope you like tea!"
Day nodded meekly, but said nothing. She followed Anna inside, stopping only to peer back at the forest as the man had done. Still no sign of Sans or Papyrus. No sign of anyone at all.
She sighed, and shut the door behind her.
"What other herbs can you think of?" Anna challenged, crossing her arms in preparation.
Day pondered, balancing a teacup on her knee.
"How about… dandelions?"
Anna snapped, "That one's easy!" She began to recite: "Dandelion, dandelion, helps quite well with the stomach and liver and things that swell." After which she explained, "Dandelion tea helps with digestion and inflammation. And people call them weeds— ha!"
Day nodded, impressed.
"Name another one!"
"Um…" She wracked her brain for more, "… Ooh. I like chamomile."
Anna stroked her chin dramatically, "Hmmm… that's a tricky one…"
It only took a few seconds of pondering for her to snap her fingers, smile gleaming.
"Chamomile buds are best picked by the time the sun has risen high; for then they will be quite long dry."
Day smiled back, "That was fast."
Anna's face glowed with pride, "You have to know a lot to survive in the wilderness— and rhyming's the best way to do it."
Day nodded politely, taking the chance to peer back towards Anna's father, the Woodsman. He sat at a desk by the window, eyes fixed outside. He'd hardly spoken since Day entered the house.
Probably sensing her gaze, the Woodsman's eyes flicked over to her suddenly, and she quickly turned away.
"You didn't say where you were from."
Day returned her gaze, meekly.
"I'm from… Maine?"
The Woodsman made a sound of thought, apparently recognizing the name.
"Hm."
When he made no further attempt at questioning, Day offered one of her own.
"Where am I?"
Behind her, Anna's teacup clinked poignantly as it was set down. The room was silent except for the creaking of the wooden cabin under the night breeze.
The Woodsman turned in his chair to face her, his face grim.
"The Unknown."
"… I'm… sorry?"
"This place," he repeated, "We call it the Unknown."
Silence hung for a moment, only adding to the gravity of his statement.
"How did I get here?"
The Woodsman sighed heavily.
"I don't know."
"How did you get here?"
"I don't know that, either."
This wasn't exactly answering any of the questions she had in mind, making her frown.
"Well… what is the Unknown? I mean, what's here?"
The Woodsman shook his head, "The woods. There's nothing but the woods, out there."
"That's not true," Anna said, "You'll find a few towns here and there."
"There are other people here, too?"
"Yes." The Woodsman's voice was sharp and dark, "Among other things."
"But nothing too dangerous," Anna added, giving her father an almost stern look, "Right, father?"
His attention lingered on her for a second before drifting back to the window.
"I should hope not." He paused, "Not anymore."
That sounds… ominous.
Day glanced down at her teacup, swirling the remaining liquid inside.
"I was…" She hesitated, seeing as her voice broke the uneasy silence, "… I don't think I came here by myself."
It wasn't met with a reply, so she clarified.
"I think I was with two of my friends. I can't… I can't remember it exactly, for some reason…" She reached up to rub one of her temples, struggling to draw it out again, "But… they wouldn't have let me go off by myself, to… wherever this is. However I got here." Day paused, "I don't think they would."
Anna made a sound of sympathy, and gave Day's hair a friendly tousle.
"Of course they wouldn't," she assured, "Good friends would never leave behind such a young girl— not all alone in the woods."
Day's cheeks flushed, "I'm—"
She bit her tongue to repress the rest of the rebuttal: I'm not that young!
"If they did follow you here," the Woodsman abruptly said, sounding a bit stilted, "There's… well, there's not much left in the woods— around here, anymore— to cause great harm to… to anyone who should come across it." There was a bit of an awkward pause before he added, "That's not to say there's not an inher—not a likely danger for those who… who choose to be out, at night. Out there."
It sounded like an attempt at reassurance, but it hardly helped.
He seemed to know this, and sighed quietly.
"There's no sense in sendi— in going out again, tonight. We'll… you can stay here." The Woodsman looked at her pointedly, "For tonight. Then, I will do… what I can to help you find your way home."
Day wasn't sure how much he himself would be able to help her, given just how little he himself knew about the woods… but she appreciated the offer, nonetheless.
She nodded, "Thank you."
The Woodsman just turned back to the window, silently watching.
Anna got up from her chair quickly, "Come on, Day. You can sleep with me— I'll show you the beds!" She reached over and took her by the hand, pulling her to her feet. Day made a brief noise of surprise, but allowed herself to be led up a flight of wooden stairs.
The Woodsman's eyes never left the edge of the dark forest, scrutinizing it for any sign of movement.
"He's gone," he muttered to himself shortly, "Dead and buried. Long gone."
… still. He watched.
A stray rock nearly made Sans trip. He kicked at it, heard it clatter dully against the dirt a couple feet away.
Still no one.
He huffed a breath, having long passed the point of utter, paralyzing panic. He currently lingered somewhere in the hazy, grey, indifferent zone of everything but the emergency services of his brain.
Shit.
Again, he devoted his attention to remembering— there had to be something he was missing, here.
We were on Mt. Ebott, he recalled methodically, It was… Pap and the kid, and...
… something about rain… and…
He scowled, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.
… arguing over something. Stupid.
The wind picked up for a second, making his shoulders rise. His jacket shielded most of the chill.
His phone was dead; he'd checked. He couldn't teleport anywhere recognizable; he'd checked that too. Numerous times.
Nothing. No one.
Could be some sort of freaky dream.
The explanation didn't sit right with him, as much as he would've preferred it.
's way too real. Even the goddamned nightmares don't get this real.
Then what the hell is this?!
"Ugh."
This wasn't solving anything. Just wasting time.
Best-case scenario, I'm here by myself. And Pap and the kid aren't freaking out in the dark somewhere.
Yeah. And since when has anything ever been the best-case scenario, huh?
He rubbed his sockets with the backs of his hands, letting out another long, stress-filled exhale.
Just… keep walking, alright? Woods can't go on forever.
The fog had begun to thicken considerably, concealing patches of the earth here and there. The trees were black, sky was black, dirt was grey brown, fog was grey.
"Welcoming, I'll give it that," he muttered, "Real…"
He didn't even bother to finish the pun aloud— no point, without an audience.
… Mist-erious.
He managed a smirk at the very least.
His foot snagged unexpectedly, and he pitched forward to gain a deeper familiarity with the earth.
"Sonofa—"
Thud.
After a few seconds of debating the benefits of just staying face-down on the ground, Sans sat up and glared daggers at the area he'd tripped over.
There was a rock.
A large, flat rock. In the middle of a bare patch of dirt.
He couldn't find any sort of markings on it, but judging by the fact that it was the only stone of its kind in the area, and it didn't seem embedded in the dirt but rather set on top…
… That's interesting.
Raising a hand, both it and the rock were engulfed in a blue glow. The rock inched off the ground, and Sans floated it to the side without concern. The dirt beneath was flattened, but seemed less compacted than the rest.
He knew what that meant.
Sans rolled up his sleeves, and started to dig.
Two feet down, still nothing. But he'd come too far to quit now.
The sleeves of his jacket kept falling down and impeding his progress, so he removed it in frustration, casting it aside.
Three feet. Three and a half.
Then, a clink.
Sans stopped in surprise, and quickly freed the metallic object.
It was… a lantern?
"The hell?"
He hoisted himself out of the empty hole he'd dug, squinting in the slight light the moon had to offer.
The thing was old and dirty, either made of bronze or weathered enough to rust through in its entirety. Round and ornate, Sans was equal parts confused and disappointed.
Yeah, well what did you expect to find?
… Though, it was dark.
Sans went to open the lantern's cover, but hesitated.
… Shit, can I still do fire magic?
It had been a long time. Not like he could forget it entirely though, right?
He opened the lantern, held a finger up to the wick, and concentrated.
…
…
Come on, dude. Just a spark. You can do that, at least.
…
You're kidding me— come on! Quit screwing around and just—
A flash of white made him jerk his hand back, but sure enough, a small blue-white flame grew around the wick.
"… Huh." Sans closed the lantern's cover and stood, "Guess… I've got light, now."
The wind picked up again, stronger than before. It swept in another wave of fog, taller and thicker than the kind that already clouded the area.
Something felt…
… wrong.
Think it might be time to beat it, he decided, and reached down for his jacket—
— only to find it missing.
He swept the lantern's light across the immediate area, but it revealed nothing.
"… Oh that ain't good."
Suddenly, a chill went up his spine. He didn't think it was cause purely by the wind, which was now blowing unabated.
Sans controlled his breathing, listening carefully.
…
One step at a time, he turned around, scanning the trees. Just dark, spindly silhouettes against the moon, standing guard on all sides.
…
…
He exhaled, low and slow.
Maybe…
… just being paranoid.
…
…
It was nothing.
Sans relaxed a bit, lowering the lantern.
It was tugged, nearly slipping from his grasp.
His hand locked around the handle, and he ripped it backwards in a single motion, putting several feet between he and the silent stalker. He raised the lantern to illuminate—
Sans stiffened, visibly.
It was like a tree had sprouted in the place he once stood, spindly and jagged. A circular head adorned with branches like twisted antlers. Long, impossibly thin arms and legs.
And the eyes.
Those… eyes.
It was the only part of the creature not utterly black. They shone a bright, blinding white. Two full circles. Unshifting.
… shit.
The two faced each other without a word, deathly still.
Until it spoke.
"Give me my lantern."
Sans flinched at the voice— low, deliberate in its articulation, and directed at him like a pointed curse.
He was not a fan of that voice.
"… You know," he finally replied, doing his best to sound casual, "I think I'm gonna have to pass on this one, thanks."
Its head tilted, emphasized even more by the drastic shift in the positions of those eyes…
… Sans felt like he shouldn't have been looking at them. They made him feel… cornered.
"And why is that?"
It wasn't a threat; it was an inquiry. Curious. Baiting.
Stop talking to him. It's what he wants.
"Cause you tried getting it by yankin' it out of my hand." He faked a smirk, "Not real good as a first impression, y'know? Couldda just asked nicely."
The thing chuckled, the sound coming deep from within his throat.
"I was only trying to help…"
"You couldda helped me by digging," Sans retorted, all the while trying to plan out his best route of escape, "Besides… I'm kinda liking this little piece of junk. Does its job. And I figure since I'm the one who did all the work digging it up… I'm gonna hold onto it. Seems fair to me."
He was met with a sigh; it was tinged with regret.
"I see." The head righted itself, and Sans felt the eyes bore into him head-on, "I wanted simply to… relieve you of the burden that the lantern brings. As one who knows the true extent of its significance…"
"Yeah? Huh… don't find too many of the benevolent sort, nowadays…" Sans initially planned to stop at the comment, but he couldn't quite contain the question, "And what do you mean "burden"?"
The thing seemed to loom a little taller, and stretched out a spindly hand.
"Look closely at the flame," he instructed, "Tell me what it is you see."
Sans hesitated, but curiosity forced his hand; he glanced down for a moment, intending to keep one good eye on the speaker. Instead, his attention became fully devoted to the flame within the lantern.
It flickered from side to side, seeming to dance atop the shape morphed and shifted slowly... but it almost resembled…
"… a kid?"
"Yes," the thing confirmed, sounding like a proud mentor, "A child. A young girl. Her soul bound to the lantern and the flame within."
Sans almost dropped the lantern, but just managed to keep his grip.
What the hell is this thing?!
"So you do understand," he continued evenly, "The implications of what you hold."
Sans tore his eyes from the flame, locking them on the dark speaker.
"… Guessing you had something to do with this."
He received no response, but it answered his question well enough.
"I only wish to keep her alive," the thing eventually said, placing a hand on his chest in apparent reverence, "It is no easy task, ensuring the flame remains lit… And so, I have come to reassume my burden, rather than passing it off to another."
He held out his hand in invitation.
"The lantern."
Sans returned his eyes to the flame.
I didn't sign up for this… whatever this whole thing is. It's not my problem.
The flickering flame continued to dance and twirl, like a child in bliss.
Something stirred in his chest, rendering him immobile.
I don't even know this kid. It's— it's not my problem.
"Give me the lantern."
…
Sans took a step back, holding the lantern close at his side.
"No."
The dark shape flickered for a moment, as if subjected to a massive twitch.
"What?"
It was sharp, and a little less controlled than everything else he'd said. That alone gave Sans a boost of confidence.
"I said no," he repeated, a hint of taunting in his voice, "I'm thinking you don't just want this cause it's some sort of family heirloom. It means something to you, doesn't it?"
…
"So… I got an idea." Sans raised the lantern a bit, just enough to tease, "You want this lantern. And I got something I want."
The dark head tilted once again, eyes gleaming.
"Are you proposing a deal?"
"Maybe I am."
The dark thing stared… then, it chuckled once again. The sound was a macabre imitation of mirth.
"Go on."
Day's eyes flew open, but she remained frozen in bed.
It was pitch black.
Am I back?
She felt the bed shift to her right, accompanied by a sleepy groan. Day squinted in the dark, alarmed by the sound.
Anna's face was half obscured by her hair. Locks of it draped over into her opened mouth.
Not back. Still here. Wherever here is.
Day rolled onto her back, staring up at the wooden ceiling. The wind still made the cabin creak, and she could faintly make out the quiet breathing of both Anna and the Woodsman.
She repressed a sigh, letting her eyes slide shut.
…
Only for them to fly open again. Day sat up suddenly.
A voice.
She heard it.
Day scanned the room, but already knew she wouldn't find anything— the voice was heavily muted. It was coming from somewhere else.
Outside.
She lowered her feet to the floor, easing her weight down slowly to avoid the squeak of the wood paneling. Once she was standing, she ensured the action went unnoticed, and then inched her way down the stairs.
The moonlight spilled in from a crack in the curtains, giving Day just enough light to find the front door. She reached up for the handle, and cautiously, opened it.
Just barely, she could make out the voice; low and echoing. There were clear words to it.
Day stepped out onto the porch, straining to hear.
The voice was singing. Melodically, the words drifted from their unseen crooner and over the trees, almost hypnotizing her:
… I'll grant thee thy salvation
No higher aspiration
No meekness needed now
Like children simple-hearted
And joyful as ye started
Let ye become and be taught how!
And lastly grant thee leaving
The world without much grieving
Let easy be your death
When earth you're taken into
Eternal bliss awaits you
Lift up your soul and claim your rest!
So children, in mine keeping
Prepare yourself for sleeping
Cold is the evening breeze
Come spare yourself from ire
Let free you by the fire
And grant your ailing spirit peace!
The only thing that was able to break Day from her trance was the sudden, tight grip on her shoulder.
"What are you doing out here?!"
Day shrieked and attempted to free herself, but was spun around the face the speaker— the Woodsman.
"I was—" She timidly pointed out to the woods, "I heard… singing."
The hand on her shoulder was whipped off like it had been burned. The Woodsman stared at her with terror.
"… No." He shook his head, "No, you— it was the wind. It couldn't have been— been the—" With more insistence, he repeated the gesture, "It couldn't have been."
Day glanced back to the woods, but no further voice came to aid her claim.
"I… no, I know it was," she insisted, "There were words. It was a really deep voice, singing about… something about gaining peace through… rest? Sleeping?"
He backed up into the door frame, the color draining from his face rapidly.
"No, it— it couldn't be."
"What do you mean?"
The Woodsman peered out into the woods as if it was an approaching predator. His breathing was audible.
"… No." He jerked his head to the side, "No! It wasn't!"
He took a step inside the house, then glanced back at Day.
"I'll prove it!"
Day stuck as close to the Woodsman as he would allow, not wanting to get lost in the looming fog. The squarish lantern he held swung slightly as they walked, casting its yellow light on the overhead trees.
What's happening? she wondered, his obvious fear beginning to rub off on her, What is he so scared of?
... Who in the world goes out into the middle of the woods at night to sing?
She knew the answer to that, at least in part: no one she cared to meet.
They only walked for a few minutes before the trees gave way to a clearing— an area of nothing more than bare earth.
With a flat stone.
And a hole.
And a blue jacket.
Day recognized it long before she'd rushed over and picked it up. Her hands shook violently as they clenched the fabric, knowing what this implied.
"Oh no."
Behind her, the Woodsman was stooped over the hole, the lantern jittering in his grasp.
"No no no no no no no…" His stammering grew more frantic, "No it can't be… he can't be…"
Day could only turn to face him, tears clouding her wide eyes.
The Woodsman met her gaze, rooted in place by horror.
"He's back." It came out in a hoarse, defeated whisper, "The Beast."
She clutched the jacket to her chest, then whipped her head around to face the dense, winding forest.
"Sans!"
Before the echo of the word had faded, she was running.
"Sans!"
"Wait! Child!"
The Woodsman struggled to his feet, but she'd already disappeared to the fog. His fear only grew, and he began to give chase… but halted, knowing it was of little use, now.
"You can't go out alone!" he called after her, "You aren't safe anymore! Come back! Child!"
Day didn't hear him. And she didn't stop running.
"Der Mond ist Aufgegangen (The Moon has Risen)," Matthias Claudius (edits by AmberTheCritic)
