I.
The darkened oaks are my only shelter
Red leaves are blown by the wind
An ebony raven now catches my eye
Sitting in calmness
Before spreading his black wings
Reaching for the skies
- Opeth
The moon hung like a pale sickle in the ocean of the midnight sky, cradled by wisps of ashen cloud. Smoke rose to meet the light of the moon in billowing tendrils from the forest below. Embers glowed hotly, outlining a cloaked figure amongst the trees. There was a dull flash in the dark; a sound much like bird wings beating out a steady rhythm with the accompaniment of the gentle ringing of many little bells. A handful of greenery was thrown onto the embers and quickly burst into flame, sending a plume of fragrant white smoke to the stars above.
It was quiet at first, like the sound of the wind caressing the trees. The voice slowly grew louder, a voice feminine but thick with purpose and desperation, chanting along with the sound of beating wings. She was fanning the red-hot coals feverishly, willing them to burst into flame. Sweat beaded on her forehead with her exertion; her brow creasing as she leaned into her task, voice rising in pitch.
"...I pray you to be present with me in this Nemeton." She flicked her wrist, the feathers of her fan hissing through the cool night air. "Let Your gaze fall upon this Sacred Ground. Great Hart, Holy Stag, Lord of the Earth. Grant me your blessing…"
There was a distant rumble, like the sound of the tides rushing in and crashing against the scarred face of a cliff. A great wind weaved through the trees, tugging at the figure's heavy cloak and igniting the coals into a raging flame. The woman stumbled back as the wind struck her, but she quickly steadied herself and fed wood to the flames.
She wondered with bewilderment if the God had heard her, or if it had merely been coincidence that there was a gust strong enough to start her fire. A part of her doubted, and another part wanted to believe. She had come here to this forest to call upon Him; the Stag-horned Lord of Celtic legend. He was the keeper of in-between places, and thus not only a God of endings, but a God of beginnings as well. Her purpose here was clear; she did not plan to leave this place.
A heavy sigh sliced through the air as the woman readied a simple cot to sleep upon. She had brought a tent with her, but the night was late and sleep was beckoning her. It would have to wait until morning. The soft chirping of crickets blended in with the gentle ebb and flow of the wind breathing through the trees. The woman lay down in her cot, wrapping herself in a thick blanket, her eyes looking through the flames as memories played like a silent film before her eyes.
A pain in her heart. Her body aching. She cried… A hand around her throat. The sound of glass breaking. "You are worth less than nothing". Ink bleeding on water-warped paper. All alone.
A small sob escaped through clenched teeth, and she clamped her eyes tightly shut against the tears, golden light dancing against her eyelids. His name written backwards and forwards and backwards again; in hushed whispers... "stay away from me". The paper blackening and curling as the flame devoured it. The smoke sends her plea to the heavens.
A log popped and shifted in the flames. The wind gently pulled on her blanket and filled her ears with gentle lullaby. Her lips moved in a silent prayer before sleep claimed her.
A chorus of birdsong greeted dawn's light as it broke through the lush crown of the forest. Fog rose from the cool earth, curling about the roots of the trees and enveloping the underbrush in a pale cloud. The air smelled of charred wood, fragrant sage, and petrichor.
She had risen when she heard a distant, hoarse trumpeting echoing through the thick fog; the familiar call of an elk greeting the cool late October morning. The embers of her dying fire hissed as she poured water onto the ash, and she stirred the mixture with a stick until it was a thick grey soup.
Retrieving a bar of honey-and-rose soap from her canvas backpack, she shrugged off her heavy velvet cloak and knelt in front of a plastic bucket filled with water. She vigorously scrubbed the dirt from her body until her pale skin was pink and clean.
Another call reverberated through the sentinel-like trees, and the woman looked up as she towelled herself off. Many large shadows weaved through the tree line, though she could not hear their movements through the leaf litter.
Her pulse jumped in her throat as she hurried to dress herself in fresh clothing; a loose wine-coloured peasant-style top with bell sleeves, dark suede pants with matching handmade boots laced up to her knees, and a dark knitted scarf tied around her neck. She folded her used clothes and stuffed them haphazardly into a waterproof drawstring bag, desperate to follow the creatures before they disappeared into the deep forest.
Shouldering a backpack filled with provisions to see her safely through her trek, she rushed toward the tree line. The herd had already been swallowed by the cloying darkness of the forest, but she was determined to find their trail. She was sure she received a sign From the God. What else could it have been? The elk were elusive, and wary of people. It was a shock to see a large herd navigating through the forest so close to her camp.
She parted a thatch of highbrush, her dark curls snagging on the tender branches. She tugged her hair free and carried on, pulling out broken twigs and leaves from her tangles. The woman could not hear them, but they left little hints of their presence; cloven prints in the damp earth, chewed leaves, fallen branches. Every once in awhile, she would glimpse the tines of a great buck through the foliage, and she would hasten forward to get a better glimpse of the beast, but her struggle through the undergrowth would drive the hart away. Defeated, she would sigh and pick her way carefully forward, tying ribbons to the trees so that she may find her way back to camp.
The sun had reached its peak and began to slowly descend towards the cradle of the earth. Soft golden light managed to push through the foliage, casting the fiery fall hues of the leaves into pale shadow.
The dark haired woman sat on a fallen stump, chewing thoughtfully on what was left of a heel of homemade bread and cheese. Her moss-and-bark coloured eyes seemed to focus beyond the forest, soft and shining in the afternoon light.
She had been following the hart and his harem for many hours now; she guessed she was at least six hours deep into the forest, since the sun rose around eight in the morning this time of year and it was now early afternoon. She was sure she would be able to get a view of the full herd soon; she had tracked her position on a worn map and was confident they were close to a lake. She hoped they would stop to drink before continuing their journey.
Despite her confidence, a feeling of uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach as if she had swallowed a stone. She had traveled far from her camp and in a few hours time she would have to look for shelter for the night. If she did not catch the herd now, she was sure the beasts would keep moving in the darkness while she slept.
But it was not only that. Elk primarily rested from late morning to late afternoon, as they preferred to roam in darkness to avoid predators. This buck and his harem seemed hard pressed to carry on, and she wasn't sure if it was because they knew she followed, or if they were being hunted by something more sinister.
Shivering at the thought, she swallowed down the last bit of bread with a mouthful of water and stood up from her perch on the log. Swinging her pack over her shoulders after putting away her bottle of water, she thoughtfully considered her next course of action. She figured she had supplies for three more days with her, if she was careful and rationed them out properly. It was more than enough to see her safely back to her campsite, and there she had tied the rest of her food high amongst the tree branches and out-of-sight from bears and other scavengers. She had prepared for a lengthy stay.
The trail was easy to follow now that she was more familiar with the signs. A clump of fur caught on the bark of an enormous elm, freshly chewed leaves ripped from a still-green bush on the forest floor, a set of cloven prints in the damp earth. The path snaked around the sentinel-like trees in a way that might have confused her if she was not paying attention.
The woman paused a moment to untie her scarf and tuck it away in her pack. The forest was eerily still, and she cast her eyes around her, cautiously taking note of her current surroundings. Inhaling an uneasy breath, she found a thick, low-hanging branch and tied a fluorescent ribbon to mark her way. Sweat traced it's way down her spine like a cool finger, the hair standing up on end at the back of her neck. She swallowed, feeling her pulse thrumming in her throat as her anxiety spiked. An uneasy feeling hung thickly in the air. Impulsively, she rubbed her collarbone where a protective stave-rune had been tattooed, muttering a prayer to the Gods that she would be kept from harm.
Her pace was swift now as she carried on through the forest. Her brow was creased with trepidation, realizing that the herd's path was dwindling and it was becoming more difficult for her to track them. With shaking hands, she considered her map, her pointed finger following trail she had penciled in as she moved. She cursed sharply, realizing that in her haste, she forgot to mark off the last place she ribboned off on her map. To compound that, it looked like the herd intended to bypass the lake completely, which thoroughly complicated her plans.
The thick paper of the map crinkled in protest as she laid it on a nearby stump. She scowled to herself, digging into her pockets for another ribbon to mark her place. It was close to her previous spot, but she felt it would be faster to make another mark than backtrack to make sure her map was labelled correctly. She looked around for a suitable tree, eyeing a beautiful weeping willow before settling for a sturdy oak with large, low-hanging branches. A gentle breeze stirred the crowns of the trees and carried fallen leaves across the forest floor as the dark-haired woman stood on the tips of her toes to tie a ribbon on the narrowest portion of a low hanging limb.
With satisfied sigh, she knotted the ribbon and settled back onto her heels, swaying with the wind and taking in a lungful of the fragrant autumn air. The familiar sound of leaves crunching underfoot caught her attention, and she swung her gaze toward the sound.
A single wolf pushed it's face through the withered curtain of the willow tree, watching the woman with eyes like chips of pale topaz. It blinked slowly, a small whine cutting the silence as it stepped forward, nose twitching as it caught her scent. She froze in place, her eyes bulging as the massive creature drew closer. The veins on her neck jumped out and she trembled with panic as she slowly drew her backpack in front of her to protect her body.
The wolf's fur bristled, it's lips pulling back in a deep growl to reveal a set of dagger-like teeth. It lunged forward, jaws snapping, and the woman staggered back, a scream tearing through her throat, her arms crossing her chest defensively.
The wolf backed her deeper into the brush; branches grabbed onto her hair like many tiny hands and she thrashed, panic overtaking her. Broken wood gouged into her flesh, leaving her forearms in ribbons as she turned and pushed through the undergrowth. The beast growled, it's spittle hitting the back of her arms as it rushed her to snap at her backside. Her cries reverberated through the wood, taunting her, reminding her that she was alone and that this was very likely how her life would end.
She rounded on the wolf, eyes stinging with tears despite the anger rising in her. She had come here to ask the God for rebirth; to leave her broken life behind and start anew. She sought spiritual revelation, but instead she was confronted with a primal symbol of death: the wolf. She felt foolish, afraid, and naive all at once, and the emotions bounced around inside her like a wild thing trying to break free from it's cage.
Gripping the arm straps of her bag, she swung it at the wolf, determined to at least fight until the end. The beast grabbed onto the sack and shook, the fabric tearing in it's powerful jaws. Dark hair clinging to her face, the woman pulled back on the bag, and drove her heel downward on the wolf's shoulder with all of her weight. A high-pitched whine stung her ears, and the creature fell back, favouring it's now injured shoulder.
She could hear her heart beating in her ears, and for a brief moment hope bloomed within her. She swung her bag around again to connect with the wolf's shoulder, a war cry rolling off her tongue.
The air was knocked out of her lungs and she gasped hoarsely, the world spinning around her in a whirling vignette. Pain shot down her left arm like burning flame and darkness blotted her vision as the sensation spread down her side. Somehow she was now on the ground, her body refusing to move.
Suddenly she realized that she was being dragged, and not of her own accord. The crushing strength of powerful jaws tore into her upper arm, and at her lower left calf. She felt the warmth of her blood as it splattered against her cheek from the wolf who lacerated her arm. Another wolf tugged at her lower leg, silver eyes glowering down at her as she looked on in dread. She could do nothing but watch as the rest of the pack closed in around her, eight ravenous wolves in all.
Desperation filled her and she cried shamelessly, countless prayers for help drowning in the triumphant howling of the wolves. They were dragging her deeper into a clearing, most likely to make it easier for them to devour her. With horror, she noticed her blood leaving a dark trail across the earth, and her pleas became more frantic.
A figure of a great white stag seemed to appear from the darkness of the trees, it's ears twitching. The woman recognised with both relief and sadness that the end was indeed close, and the God had come to guide her to the summer lands. She let out a shaky breath, her lips calling the name of the Horned God, begging for release.
The great stag stepped out from the trees soundlessly, lowering it's great antlers and turning it's head to look at the ravaged woman. The proud hart snorted, plumes of hot air rising into the sky as it pawed the ground. Other shapes joined the massive creature; a great herd of elk drinking in the bloody scene before them. The stag keened and charged toward the wolves. His kin followed; first the young bucks, then the wizened does.
A wolfish scream rose from the tumult as the sharp horns of the great hart pierced the side of the beast which had latched onto the woman's arm. A doe struck with it's cloven hooves at the wolf by her feet, connecting with a sickening crack. The herd circled around the stag, who stood over the woman, it's rack lowered against the pack. Trails of blood coated the lush grass as the herd trampled the wolves who did not escape the onslaught, their yowls lost in the dirge of the elk.
The woman lay on her back, her dark hair a halo about her head as she stared up at the hart. Her hands were clasped over her chest, shaking, as her lips moved in husky whispers. "Cernunnos, Lord, keeper of the summerlands, great and merciful: you who in all beginnings end, and all endings begin. My prayer goes to you to open the passage, to clear the threshold, to carry me to the world beyond…"
The Stag turned it's head to consider her with it's soft, wet gaze. Muzzle twitching as it inhaled her scent, the benevolent creature huffed at the delirious woman before raising it's head and walking over her. She rolled onto her side, crying out as sharp pains shot across her body. "Please… Do not leave me here…"
She could feel herself on the precipice, her vision rimmed with black and studded with stars. The agony was so great her stomach turned and she heaved, expelling what was left of the meal she partook what seemed like hours ago. She wept, knowing despite it all this was the end. She rolled back onto her side and closed her eyes, listening to the song of the wind flowing through the leaves, sighing like many small voices. The sound grew louder; a litany of comfort as she faded into unconsciousness:
The Children of the Gods are Wild and Blessed.