My Heart Doth Wander

Chapter 24 : A Witch's Resolve

I know there was love here before, and will be again

Yes, I know there was hope here before, and will be again

Just takes our angel to help us see it all

And then there'll be comfort around as we fall

And then there'll be comfort around as we fall.

I have fallen to troubled waters...where are you now?

Where are you now?

But there is a deeper river where I won't drown, where I won't drown

If I rise up, I will conquer...for love is all, for love is all

I will find you...and I will hold you.

When you fall. When you fall.

"Deeper River" – Dusted

A/N: For warning, there is some sex stuff in this chapter. Nothing really explicit, but enough so hopefully you know what's going on. evil laugh You can skip it if you want ;P Just go to the next line break. XD Anyhoooo....
The first thing Snively noticed when he stepped out on the balcony was the cold. With the fall of night and loss of sun, the chill crept in like a fog, blanketing him in its ice grip. He wondered if it might snow again.

He shivered, but braved it, stepping out boldly to the railing. Darkness encroached the air beyond and below. He could almost imagine the blackness to be liquid and this span of metal under his feet a raft. He and Casssar were all alone in the inky sea – the only living creatures for miles...for thousand of miles, maybe.

"They finished fixing it?" Casssar stepped out almost gingerly, as if she expected the floor to give at any moment.

"Last night. Don't worry, it's solid. I was out here this morning. Oh, look, Cass, we can see the stars from here too!"

She followed his pointing finger and Lo, there was a gap ripped in the smog, and through it she could see the dots of light.

She had to force his words out of her mind – 'I was out here this morning'. Yes, he was out here, n her dream. Was he out here, drinking coffee at the exact time her dream-self heard him saying horrid things? Or was it one and the same? Had it even been a dream at all?

'Don't be foolish – dreams are dreams and nothing more.'

Mother's advice. Even though mommy had thrashed often enough from her own night terrors.

"Are you alright?" Snively asked. "We don't have to stay out here, if you don't want..."

Yes. she was alright. Perfectly so. Dreams ARE dreams, Casssar. Let them rot in the corner of the mind, in the reaches of night. Reality was so much more...rich. Black Flower was standing before her in his grays, with his porcelain face turned towards her, waiting, big blue eyes blinking. And he wanted her, here in reality...he LOVED her.

The balcony was big – she had room to move freely. She danced out to him, the slow sensual movements she had dubbed 'Shadow Dancing'.

His pulse quickened. She had named the dance right – she was a shadow. If she had danced like this in the gloom of the forest, he would not have been able to discern between her and the night. Here, the city was lit up with its twinkling soulless light and it fell soft upon the flowing curves of her body. Every motion made those curves sing; they spoke to him in their own tongue...and his body responded.

"You are so beautiful..." he said it like an oath, well, perhaps it was a crime for any one creature to contain such dark lush beauty.

The slightest hint of a smile tugged her mouth's corner... she lifted one lazy hand, moving it in a line down her chest....trailing between breasts and down the stomach... he watched intently, the railing cold against his back. And that was not all that was cold! Sudden chill struck his chest and he looked down, realizing his shirt had just come unbuttoned. Now she was moving both hands across her shoulders, the fingers curled as if grasping and pulling. The shirt pulled backwards, taking his arms with it. He let them go and the shirt floated off his body and towards her.

She laughed heartily as the shirt landed in her outstretched hand, before dropping it in a wad on the floor.

He chuckled, but he knew before long he was going to be wishing for that shirt back. The cold was caressing his bare skin...and his scars...they were showing. He crossed his arms across his chest, suddenly self-conscious, his cheeks flaring.

"Don't be silly, Cast." She could read his mind sometimes. She kneeled solemnly before him. His teeth chattered... she had extended a finger and was running it along the scars, following the path of each one. Her touch was warm, leaving lines of heat on his body. Her eyes met his. "They are a part of you, Black Flower, and I accept them."

"But I hate them..." His voice came out whiny, child-like.

"They are a part of you," she repeated and when he opened his mouth to protest, she would not allow his words to escape. Her mouth was suddenly there, swallowing them up, kissing fiercely. The shock drove him back against the railing, his hands fluttering, moving his lips weakly in response. His breath was harsh when she pulled away.

"This night is about pleasure..." her voice was a low growl. 'Not pain." A malicious twinkle was in her eye as she bent towards his neck. "Though there may be some pain...but it will BE a pleasure..." She kissed...oh yes...and he trembled...But then he yelped, for her teeth had nipped, stingingly hard, drawing blood on the junction of neck and shoulder. Oh Gods, it hurt, but the feel of her hands, caressing his sides...and her tongue swiping his skin... it made him wild.

"Alright, Cass..." He struggled to push her away; he wanted to see her. Ah, there she was, smiling wickedly at him, her eyes alight. He grinned. "Bring it on..."

A purr rumbled her throat and she pushed him to the floor, laying atop him. Her thick fur was luxurious against his bare torso...and so very warm. It drove away the cold and brought sweat to his brow. "Mmmmm..." She breathed moist against his skin and her tongue moved across his chest. Such a simple touch had him panting already and he slid his hands up her sides, loving the feel of the plush fur...moving further up to cup her full breasts in his hands. A warm weight they were, heavy and soft.

He grasped her hair gently, urging her head up. He wanted to taste her again, to feel the enamel of her teeth, the sandpaper of her tongue. The kissing grew fevered, lips and teeth and tongues meeting savagely, sometimes messily, but always invoking further lust. He thought of SpyEyes floating by, recording them silently, and unlike the thought of eyes watching from the forest, this made him even more riled. He wanted to play it back now, so he could see her beauty from all angles.

The thought, and all others, fled his mind as her hand traveled his stomach. It did not tease...it went straight to its desired destination. The belt and button undone, the hand sliding in under cloth to hardened skin... it made his eyes squeeze closed and a whimper tremble his lips.

"You like my touches, do you?" Her mouth brushed his ear. She bit her teeth onto the curled cartilage and flesh, very different from her own.

"Ummm...yess..." His back arched slightly; his fingers clenched harder on her breasts uncontrollably...wanting to hold onto something. Or else he might float away. He might fall right off the balcony and never get back to his body.

"Then you'll love this..." Softly whispered. He felt warmth from her hand... a tingling... Magic. Her groping became a rhythmic motion, making him groan and squirm...and then...the magic. It enwrapped him; it brushed like dozens of feathers over sensitive nerves. His entire body jolted from the shock, the sheer overload of sensation. Toes curled harshly inside his boots and he could barely make a sound, just a breathy whimper. His eyes were dazzled...he was staring straight up, but he knew it wasn't the stars blinding his vision.

A memory, blurred and jumbled, and incredibly hard to grasp at a moment like this, flashed into his mind. It was the time he'd first come into contact with Cu Chulainne and how it had tempted him with a snare of pleasure-magic. That had been incredible.

That had been nothing compared to this.

"Oh Cass..." he could barely speak coherent sentences... "You'd better...b-b-better stop...or else..."

Her lips did not respond with words. She merely kissed his neck, her moist nose nuzzling against his jawbone. He could barely stand it, shivering, wiggling under her hand, his little hips jerking sporadically, his breathing erratic and pulse beating wild.

Oh, but my, she loved to see him in pleasure. It was wonderful. She wanted to give him more.

He gasped. He tried to move away from her, his hand grasping at her wrist. He was afraid to abandon his logic...afraid to get too caught up in the ecstasy – to lose his sense of self, because he was already forgetting who he was, who she was.

She put her mouth to his and whispered a command (or a plea perhaps): "Just let go."

A kiss from her... he kissed back clumsily, moaning. She drew away...her face was blurring – fur of coal, bright green sparks of eyes...some kind of feral goddess. But what was her name?

"Let go..."

So he did.

He fell, or maybe he flew. He really couldn't tell. A weak noise escaped his mouth, like the mew of a newborn kitten. He could feel someone nipping his neck, feel her hand clenched sung around him. He was releasing. But this was far more than a climax, well beyond simple sex. It was an exclamation point on a screamed sentence – exhilaration.

'I'm alive!' His heart thumped – how amazing. Ears beheld the white noise of blood rushing through veins, arteries, capillaries. Skin felt the shivering touch of her furred fingers, nostrils breathed cold thick air, scented with her wild forest musk.

"I'm alive," he mummered, as he came down, as if descending from clouds. Every nerve thrummed like a plucked guitar string, but the echoed strumming was fading away now. He eased his eyes open. "Cass..."

"Yes," she laughed softly, kissing his forehead. "You certainly are."

He blinked. One hand drifted to wipe sweat from his face. He saw everything with sudden clarity. Here he was, Snively Kintobar, leaning against a balcony railing over a city that HE ruled. Here he was, his cheeks flushed and his body still singing and there was a beautiful woman smiling at him, pulling her hand from his pants. 'Holy shit', he realized...'I have EVERYTHING!' His uncle was dead, his father was dead, the city was his...he was in love with her...she was in love with him... he had things that he'd never even attempted to dream of. He'd been too drowned out, too apathetic to believe he could ever have anything like this.

"I love you, Cass," he blurted, grabbing ahold of her wet hand.

"Of course you do." She seemed amused. "Some say a man's heart is through his coc-"

But he cut her off, voice urgent. "No, not just because of that....though that was amazing...not just because of that. Because you are... you are everything I need." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Because you...make me feel alive in other ways than just hate... or vengeance. I mean...that was my only fuel for so long. Without you here, I would be fighting the Freedom Fighters still, but I'd be fighting them as an incomplete man. As a half-alive man."

She shimmied away from him to lean against the closed door to the balcony. He felt a twinge of panic – she was leaving him...she was offended... But she beckoned to him. He dragged himself over, hand and knees across the cold metal, and she cuddled him in her arms.

"I feel safer over here," she confessed, staring out through the gaps of the railing. Her tongue flicked out, licking the rim of his ear. "Have I ever told you the meaning of my name?"

"No," he sighed, blissfully content in her embrace, his head nestled into her arm. He felt warm and lazy, like he might fall asleep.

"It means 'the desired one'."

"How appropriate."

"My mother gave it to me. She knew from my birth that I would be beautiful. It was only natural, since I was her daughter. I remember her...before the beatings and scars (Snively felt a sick lurching of his stomach) She was divine, Cast. She was so carnal and passionate. She didn't believe in holding back sensuality."

Her hand was on his stomach, her fingers tracing his scars. "Don't think she was a whore. It was nothing like that. She was just...natural. Free-like. She was a Shadow Dancer and lusted after by the men in town."

"Wasn't your father jealous?"

"No, why would he be?"

One bony shoulder shrugged. "I don't know...it's just natural."

"She loved him. She had chosen him. They were each other's. He was secure in that."

"He must have been very trusting." Snively tilted his head to look up at her, but he could only see the bottom of her jaw; she was staring upwards at the stars.

"She loved him," Casssar repeated. "It was very simple."

"Was he jealous...afterwards?" Snively asked, tentatively.

"She loved him still. I think she still loved him, even when she died." Casssar put a hand to her head; the nonchalant gesture of flipping hair from her eyes. But, even in the darkness, he could see her eyebrows flinch. "She was not allowed to go out. But nobody noticed, because of the war. All the men who watched her dances went away. Daddy wasn't jealous. He always knew that she was his, forever. It was different though. Before, they were bound together by their emotions, each one tying the other. And now...it was that he simply owned her. She was just another toy. He was not jealous."

Her embrace was going stiff. Snively twisted around to face her. Two pale hands went to cradle her cheeks and he kissed her, tenderly. Two faces were together, breathing close, eyelashes nearly touching. He retired to her neck, pressing his face there, his hands burying into the dark tangle of her hair.

She ran a hand down his naked back, a soft purr in her throat. She was warming up again. "I am secure," she stated. "I know I have you."

He confirmed. "You do. Always."

"I am glad of that." Her voice was a rumbling growl; it shook through him. His nerves shivered; he drew in a sharp breath. His hands traveled her body; over breasts and stomach, hips and thighs, down to the junction of her legs, up to curve of her cheek and the tufts of her ears. His breath was getting heavy again. She laughed.

"Oh my, Cast...it seems like you're ready for some more fun."

He grinned. "Indeed."

Miles away from the city, under the trees that Snively feared, a couple was walking hand-in-hand. They settled upon a bed of soft moss under towering spruce and gangly birch. They could barely see the stars through the canopy overhead, but there were other wonders to behold.

Sonic and Sally had come out here to be alone. It was just like the old days – when they would steal away to a spot of forest or simply hang out in each other's huts.

'Or maybe not quite like the old days..' Sally thought wistfully, twiddling a pinecone between her fingers. Sonic was unwrapping a snack (a chilidog, unsurprisingly) from his backpack, chattering happily, but she was only half-listening.

"...missed hanging out with you, Sal...mmmm...you want some?...Sal?...ok, fine...mmmmyummm...ain't it a nice night...?"

It was the same, in the sense that it was things they had done before. It was the same in the sense that Sonic was the same. It was the same in the sense that...she still loved him just as much.

But she was the factor of difference. She felt like she shrunk just a little bit, shriveled inside just enough that her part in the jigsaw puzzle didn't quite fit anymore. There was too much space around her. The things inside her that had been alive and thriving had died....yes, they were coming back again, slowly...and someday she knew she would fit in perfectly again. Her picture would be complete and unmarred.

She knew it would be.

She HOPED it would be.

"It's a beautiful night..." she said, softly. "And I missed being with you, too."

He turned his green eyes on her in earnest. When they were alone, he sometimes dared to drop his bravado. "I'm really glad you aren't sad anymore, Sally...I mean..." He took off his gloves because he had spilled a piece of chilidog on one. His bare hand sought hers and squeezed. "I know you still are...a little...but..."

"I'm getting better," she said. She returned the squeeze. "I'm close to being the same old Sal again..."

It was a lie – she could never be the same. But that could be a good thing. 'Pain can change a person – but it can also breed strength, compassion, and wisdom.' Rosie had once said. So although she couldn't be the same, maybe she could be better than she had once been.

He smiled. "That's great. But you know you're cool with me, whatever way you are."

She poked his nose. "And you are with me...though I would prefer your breath not smelling like chilidogs constantly."

"Hah," he snorted, "You can't fool me..." He leaned his face towards her, "That's the only reason you like to smooch!"

She was glad to be kissing him again. It always felt so good, like their mouths fit together perfectly. It was a simple joy. They parted for air, then connected again, just silently enjoying one another. But as the kissing grew longer, her joy began to seep away. She had to squeeze her eyes closed tight, trying to block the tears.

'I want it to be simple and clean between us again. I want to sweep the dirt and lies out from under the carpet and show them to you!'

She felt a sob welling in her throat and mercilessly, she forced it down. 'No, I told him I'm healing...so I have to! Even if I'm just pretending to heal...maybe pretending it will make it real.'

'Don't be so upset about it', her father had said. 'You're not upset about Sonic not knowing our family credo, are you? This is just another family secret.'

Oh yeah, like the secretive phrase 'to rule with honor' was anything compared to what she hid from Sonic. 'This is the real reason I killed Robotnik...and why everything is so messed up.' Daddy's reasoning had been just plain ridiculous, and he knew it. But she knew he was right in other regards...how they needed to keep the Source a secret...to avoid it being tainted by the wrong hands. 'Everything about the situation just plain sucks', she thought.

They took a break. She laid down on the moss, on her side, propping her head up to look at him. He leaned lazily back against the tree, locking his arms behind his head. "And how are you doing?" she asked him. Sonic was even more reluctant than her to spill out deep feelings. But when they were alone...Sonic proved he was deeper than a high-speed cocky hero.

"I'm doing ok," he said.

She eyed him.

He shrugged. "I'm glad you're better. Now that you are, what's been bugging me lately is Lupe. Quack says she doesn't seem to be getting anywhere."

"She's not getting worse..." Sally spoke half-heartedly. "I guess we should be glad for that."

"Yeah," said Sonic. He picked up a pinecone and, after examining it for a moment, hurled it away into the forest. "But it isn't fair!"

'And was it fair for Bernard or Caddy or Rosham?' she wanted to say. But that didn't even matter, she knew that; Sonic knew it too. They were dead. Their chance at life was gone, along with their pain and fear and hopes, along with any potential they had. There was no use mourning for lives that could no longer be.

But Lupe was still alive...she was still in this world. And yet, she was not...she was barred from the pains and joys of living. And so, yes, it wasn't fair...it was so much more unfair than what had happened to Bernard. Sally thought maybe it was wrong for her to think that...to think that someone dead was better off than someone alive.

'But it IS true.'

She stood up. A breeze had kicked up through the forest and she was suddenly very cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her vest closer, but the blue piece of fabric was no help. Sonic stood seconds later and silently, they began the walk back to the village. As they approached, seeing the huts through the trees, Sonic touched her arm. She looked at him.

"Whatever happens, Sal...we'll get through it. We always do. We're fighters."

She nodded. They parted ways. After a few feet, she stopped and looked back, but Sonic had already dashed out of sight. A few leaves, stirred up by his passage, were settling back down to the earth. They were brown and crumpled...dead. She cast her gaze up to the balding trees and sighed.

Sonic was always positive. That's how he was...it wasn't a front like she put up sometimes. He was never saddened by the falling leaves or the onset of winter, because he saw the fun in jumping in leaf piles and sledding down hills...he saw the joys of living even when the world was temporarily dead.

'I'm ultimately hopeful too.' A few days ago she would've scoffed at that thought. Even now, she wasn't sure of its truthfulness. 'A few days ago, I wasn't even myself.'

Her feet bore her closer to her home. The fur on her neck bristled; she became aware of someone walking behind her.

"He's right, you know."

She turned. Geoffrey was there, the smell of cigarette clinging to him.

"What are you doing – spying on me?" Her tone was light-hearted; her suspicion was not.

"Nah, I was nearby smokin'...you two didn't even notice me."

"I'm sure..."

"You believe him, don't you?"

The question was weird; it took Sally off guard. She raised an eyebrow. "Of course I do."

"Ah..." He took off his beret and ruffled his headfur. "But you still aren't sure, are you?"

"What's with all the questions?" She was getting annoyed. "Are you practicing to be a therapist? I heard Dr. Quack was looking for one."

"No, no," he shook his head. His rakishly handsome face was grinning, but in an instant it had dropped into solemn lines. "The thing is...you have to believe it."

"And why is-"

"Because when you believe it...you're strong. You're probably the strongest of us all." His voice rode on the chill wind; it cut right through her. She didn't know why.

Two villagers walked by, a man and woman, arm and arm. They both stole glances at her...her gaze openly accusing and his a mistrustful glare. Friends of Bernard's. Supporters of the witch theory. She didn't feel like meeting their eyes; she kept her gaze on Geoffrey. Her fingers itched to reach down and grab a rock off the ground...there was a hefty gray one, right there by her boot. She wanted to take it and hurl it at those people.

Geoffrey moved past her as if to walk away, but he stopped beside her, leaning his mouth close to her ear. She felt shivers rush through at the proximity; she could smell the cigarette smoke and the musk of his fur...and he was close enough to kiss. "You're the strongest..." His voice was a low rasp. "You're our light."

He said something else as he walked away from her...it could've been 'goodnight' or 'pleasant dreams' or any of the standard parting comments a person could make. It was whispered so quiet she could barely hear it.

She rubbed one hand over her eyes, suddenly very tired. It seemed everyone around here knew her better than she knew herself, or apparently they thought so. She was a witch, she was a fighter.

She could, as Geoffrey had said in parting, 'Bring lost souls back home...'

Sally reached her hut. She didn't go in the door, instead, she circled around to the side, where the accusation of witch had been written. It had been painted over by the indignant team of Sonic and Bunnie. But she could see it glowing through, like bones under illuminated skin. Every stroke had been made hatefully, in harsh black sweeps. The brush had been overloaded, so that the excessive paint dripped down like blood.

'Maybe I deserve that stigma.'

She had killed, after all. The stain would never leave her. No matter how much paint she smeared over it.

She smiled wryly. 'So, I guess I should've killed Snively too. Two for the price of one...once a killer, always a killer.'

She went to the wall, pressing her cheek to where the word had been. She could hear their whispers... 'witch...killer...killer...witch...the 'esteemed princesssss...' Snively's voice finished in full mocking glory. He seeped into her mind like some creeping black disease.

She scrapped her cheek across the hard gritty surface....imagining...her fur peeling off, and skin...layers of translucent skin rubbing away...now the muscle was disintegrating. The white skull, caught in its perpetual grin, crumbled into chalk-dust. And finally, her brain was exposed and feasted upon by night owls and ravens and the scuttling beetles in the soil underfoot.

Dear Journal...

Is that the only way to get these voices out? To rot them out? I don't know why I'm having such odd thoughts. I'm not depressed anymore...

I'm not happy, but...I don't know. I have my hands hooked on the edge of the hole. I can see light now...I can smell life. Yeah, but part of me is still dangling into the darkness where their whispers abound, and those whispers still float up to my ears. Snively's is in there too.

Yeah, I'm still writing his wretched name in here. He's like that one gray cloud in an otherwise broad blue sky. He hovers on the edges. But...

I'm probably going to come back later and cross this part out with a marker!

I'm still disgusted by Snively's weakness...his inability to embrace good. Or his refusal. Whatever. I'm still so very ANGRY at him...that will never ever change. Even if he said 'maybe' there could be an end to all this fighting...he's still done so much wrong I can't forgive him. Ever. The thing is, Journal... is that I...

I don't HATE him anymore.

Argh.

I can't dredge it up...maybe it's still in my heart somewhere. But...I felt his fear...you know...I felt his pain? He still has no right to take it out on us, but I can...understand him better now... and now I can't even be proud of being stronger than he is. Because I succumbed to weakness too. It's so easy...

Someday, I'm going to look back at this paragraph and think: 'what the hell was I thinking when I wrote that?!'

Geoffrey said something so strange to me. He said 'You're the one who can bring lost souls back home.' What the hell could that mean? I'm so tired. I don't think I can ponder on it for long. Tomorrow, I think I'm going to take a paint-can and paint over my wall outside where they wrote 'witch'. I have to bury it further... 'out of sight, out of mind.' That's true in some cases.

When she took off her boots, Sally noticed they were quite dirty. There was mud caked on the bottoms and she shook her head disgustedly. Yuck. She'd probably dragged it all over her floor.

Something was stuck in the arch of the left boot. A feather, brown with a white tip. She guessed it had come off one of the Wolf Pack's outfits... they had many accessories that were feathered. Bags, hats, necklaces, and hairpieces.

A shiver went through her.

The little girl, Nadie, had feathers just like this tied up in her braids. She had mouse skulls tangled into the dark tresses, and large wood beads strewn around her sturdy neck. A violent frown met her brows. Nadie was such a strange child...the way she scrutinized...the vague statements she made. 'Shaman-in-training' was her designation.

A thought hit her like an icepick between the eyes, stunning in its intensity. She dropped the feather and it wafted see-saw down to the floor.

'You can bring lost souls back home.'

She heard her own voice, talking to Bunnie. A few days ago. They had been in the stark white of the infirmary. There had been flowers. She could smell them. She could see Bunnie's lime eyes sparkling, her small pink tongue moving across words.

'What did that child say about her...?' Sally had asked. She could see herself asking it.

And Bunnie had answered.

She had spoken words so creepily similar to Geoffrey's...

No, it was the other way around. Geoffrey's words were creepily similar to Bunnie's. He hadn't even been there. Nadie hadn't been there.

Sally's bare foot came down on the feather, covering it from sight, suddenly fearful...and yet enthralled...strung with adrenaline. She wasn't tired anymore.

"She said Lupe's spirit was...lost and couldn't find its way home."

That's what Bunnie had said.

The door slammed. Sally had gone out without her boots, without a jacket, into the chill night air. There would be frost on the stalks of grass tomorrow.

She didn't care... she ran past the wall that had read 'witch.' She turned her head, just briefly, to look at it...and like bones under illuminated skin, she saw the word screaming back at her... and this time... she embraced it.

'They want me to be a witch... and so I will...'

For you, Geoffrey, Bunnie, Nadie, Sonic, Daddy...

Lupe.'