Chapter 3- Salvation
The girl dreamed as her mind slowly faded into ephemeral consciousness, long after the crack of the stone and the blackness it brought. Wild wolves ravaged her dreams, slashing bright red across vaguely familiar faces in the darkness… no, it was in the light, and not the wolves killing, but the familiar faces, ripping off fur and tails with blood everywhere… No, there was no difference, there was but one mass of beings. Hurting, slaying each other, themselves, the world around them, all crumbling to ash. She too was dying, her head blazing, her vision blurred red as she looked on the dark plain… She watched a wolf with her father's face ripped apart by a strange man with a boar's head, twisted and deformed children she knew dancing in the fall of red as they killed and were killed… the girl tried to cry, but no sound came out as the dream faded into blackness. As the darkness began to return, she stared into the eyes of a being gazing towards her; a majestic lupine creature, giant and pure silver with twin blood-soaked tails with the face of her mother. In the fullness of her slumber, the dream decayed. By the time she awoke, it had vanished entirely from her waking consciousness, leaving no trace.
As the girl slept, her brown hair wet with the wound her watcher had caused, Moro gently carried the girl in her mouth. She could feel the girl's weak heartbeat, smell the girl's youth, and taste the iron dust on her clothes and skin. She could hear the girl's quiet breathing, sensing her life teetering on the edge between Moro's great fangs. So easy to kill her. So easy to snuff out any chance of her succumbing to her human tendencies of destruction and desecration.
But no. She had sworn to the fox that the girl's life was not hers to take, but the Deer God's. And unlike the bastard fox, she kept her word. She made her way through the woods towards the inner sanctum, where the Deer God, the all-powerful kami who ruled the forest, made his home. Of course, Moro chided herself, to say he 'ruled' wouldn't quite fit. The Deer God was the forest, as the great spirits of the glade and the vitality of the wood were mere reflections of the Deer God's power. He held both the powers of life and death, and would judge all who came before him. Some, he healed for the good of his home. Some, he killed, for their time has come. He was no mere god such as Moro was, but a powerful existence that simply was.
Moro wound her way through the thick wood, ignoring the faint calls of greeting and questioning by the spirits around her. She dislikes explaining herself, even if she dared to carry a human into the inner sanctuary of the glade.
She eventually came to a series of ponds, deep in the wood. Though shallow, these ponds teemed with life, and glowed as if by an inner radiance. Many sounds pierced the night air, but it was no cacophony; it was as a masterful symphony of water gushing, of birds calling, of branches cracking under the paws of an unseen predator, all perfect and nothing out of place. However, the scents were a different story. Different scents swirled on the wind: sharp fish, sweet pear, cool water. For all that, the girl's scent cut like a knife, of hard iron and cold metal. It was a tranquil place, far from the reaches of human idiocy. The girl was unwelcome, jarringly out of place and startling to the spirits and animals residing there. Moro gained many a baleful stare and curious eye as she waded through the shallow pools towards a lone shimmering isle in the middle of the greatest pond. On the isle, a lone, shimmering tree stood in the soft inner light of the ponds. As she reverently walked towards the shimmering isle, fish swam out from under her paws, and dappled moonlight shone fitfully through the dense canopy to dance on the water. It was surreal, truly worthy scenery for the doman of such a powerful kami. Careful not to step on the isle, Moro gently set the girl on the mossy shore. Moro could no longer touch the girl, so she turned to leave, a sense of completion and finality in her soft gait through the shallow pond.
If the Deer God willed, the girl would live and be healed.
If the Deer God willed, the girl would die and be no more.
Of course she would die, Moro thought. Her kind is unwelcome in the forest, with their smell of sharp iron and defiantly sacrilegious hands. Nothing good ever came of dirty humans, she thought as she washed the stench of blood from her thick fur. Let the girl die, she thought. It would be no true loss.
Yazu returned to his abode, a cave deep in the woods, wound healed but fur still soaked in his own blood. He breathed in, he breathed out. She, the wolf queen, got him. She never had before, but even lumbering wolves can be quick sometimes, he supposed. If only she had said his name, his beautiful name, if only he could hear it, just once more… It had been a hundred long years since he had heard his name, Yazu, on the tongue of another… Always fox, or demon, or trickster, or some wildly uncouth variation, all so ridiculous. Why skirt around absolute truth? He was Yazu, and Yazu meant him. It was his name, his name, his precious name! He smiled a fanged smile, tasting the name on his lips, rolling around his tongue lovingly. Someday Moro would speak it again… he swore on it...
He did not notice, of course, but the cavern he lied in was burned and blackened by the blue flames Yazu was often burning with. He rolled into a puddle, rinsing his amber fur as he let the foxfire subside. As he stood once more, the moonlight struck in from the distant opening, illuminating a glaring scar winding from his face to his tail where Moro tore through his soft skin under his fiery coat… and he rejoiced, for he knew it would be with him the rest of his life.
Moro slept in her forest hollow, her three sons curled up around her. Her great heavy breathing sent a rumble through the ground, dependable as the sun and moon, her existence proving the wood was alive and well. And so she slept, one with the trees around her, and awaited the dawn of a new day.
The people of the village slept peacefully in their homes of wood as the ever-burning iron furnace in the center of the town blazed, fueled by the living forest now dead. They slept full of pride, sharing a strong faith in their walls and warriors, knowing not of the horrors that had occurred that night. So they slept in ignorance, and awaited the dawn of a new day.
The girl's father slept outside the heavy oak barricade around the town of iron. He was weighed down by nothing but his loincloth and a rusty sword; all else had fallen off or caught on a branch during his mad dash for freedom from the demons of the wood. Overcome by a half-drunk, half-hungover stupor, the full weight of what he had done had not come yet. That would come with the cold sobriety of morning. In time, he would come to realize that he had killed his daughter to merely save himself. Be that as it may, he lied down by the hard wall on cold stone, huddling in fear and awaited the dawn of a new day.
Yazu slept in his burned cave of darkness, his mind enraptured by fever dreams of red and black and white. Figures were dancing, dancing, dancing on the edge of his consciousness, just out of his mind's comprehension, he could sense them, smell them, taste them… He tossed and turned, but none noticed, for he was alone. Always alone, always forsaken… except by the Deer God… who was, is, and will be Yazu's true savior and master until Yazu's long life reached its end. As he slept in darkness and solitude, awaiting the dawn of a new day, a wonderful brilliance entered his dream.
The world slept that night. All was still, for even the long-held hatreds of man and beast were forgotten while sleep overtook them all. The land was utterly tranquil as it had been thousands of years past, as it always was in the dead of night. And so it was that the forest slept, and awaited the dawn of a new day.
The girl too slept on that shimmering, surreal isle, deep in the forest glade. And as she lay, unconscious on the soft grass, a beautiful light came into her dream. She trembled as she felt. Harmony. Peace. Fate. Healing and light. What a wonderful brilliance… The beautiful dream faded as the presence departed, and the girl awaited the dawn of a new day. Indeed, the coming daylight would decide her fate.
Yazu woke the next day in the early morning, far before the sun rose, eyes bright gold with rapture as he recalled his wonderful, brilliant dream. Oh, the joy, the joy, the great savior had spoken to him! He was to be used once more! Yazu rolled around, chest heaving in great laughter, shaking from the happiness he felt. Just as he dreamed of the Deer God's wish for the girl, and prevented Moro from killing her, he would happily obey these new directions… He shaped beautiful sapphire flames in his hands, twisting that which is and is not into grand illusions, ripping and folding the fabric of reality with his immense power. He cast out the enchanted foxfire into the forest, and the entire expanse of his side of the glade fell under his control to shape and mold until he released the illusions… He licked his lips, his languid form and soft azure eyes playful as he waited for his prey.
Long after the fox made his preparations in his secluded corner of the glade, Moro woke to the sunlight and the songs of birds. She tasted the air, the lush scent of fern and feather mixed with the enticing smell of deer and elk, all flowing by her on a gentle western wind. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting at the reflected sunlight from her sleeping sons' silver fur. She turned her great head to avoid the glare, looking instead out of the hollow. Of course, dense emerald foliage blocked her view, and nothing before her had changed in the slightest nor interested her in the least, so her gaze wandered back in time into her memories. Vivid flashes danced through her mind. She recalled her slaying the three proudest warriors, remembered the feverish chase through the forest. It was all tinged with the crazed excitement of the hunt, and she smiled a satisfied grin to herself. With savage pride, she remembered her encounter with the fox. Oh, how she'd been trying for so long to mark him, strike him down… how she hated him… Of course, it wasn't enough, but she had marred him. Smile fading, she remembered the human child. She would be dead by now, killed by the almighty hand of the Deer God for her future sins against
The forest. She would be lying motionless on the isle, body slowly decaying, becoming part of the great wood. Moro grimaced, imagining the horrid smell that must be coming from her body. The sanctuary was no place for decay. Moro stood and quietly padded out of the hollow, leaving her three sons to sleep. They had fought well, Moro remarked, protecting their home and family with a loyal vigor Moro loved. So unlike their father… Moro paused, snarling and shaking. May the gods burn and blacken them and let him suffer in the eternal fires of hell. May she be the one to finally kill him, once he finally returns, kill him for what he did. She shook her head, clearing it of the specter of her once-mate. So irrelevant.
Meanwhile, the girl woke, burning with life. It was as if she had stiffed after being bedridden for years, and everything was as sharp as broken glass to her mind. Her vocal cords, destroyed by a mighty blow to her throat when she fell as a child, vibrated softly as she hummed, damage healed. She knew who she was, a name, a name, repeated again and again by a golden voice in that golden dream. She stood, and gasped in amazement as she opened her eyes. She was in an impossible paradise of strong ancient trees and tranquil ponds. She stood on an isle that was set apart from the forest by a great basin, and as she looked around she noticed that it was not a bed that she had risen from but moss so perfect she did not feel the cold stone underneath. She spent a short eternity just listening to the birds and creeks, tasting the beautiful smell of herbs and wildlife, living a transcendence known to none but her. She stood there enraptured for a long time, basking in herself and her surroundings. On a conscious level, she knew she must go home. But her identity, that golden name, the very fibers of who she was, rooted her to the tranquility of the forest for just a bit longer.
Moro neared the sanctuary, considering where to bury the girl after Moro dragged her off of the island. She disliked disposing of corpses, but the girl was innocent, she had done nothing yet. And Moro disliked the idea of a dead human child in the sanctuary. As she stepped out into the first of the ponds, however, her nose piqued her curiosity. There was no smell of rot, no scent of decay. It was the nature of the sanctuary to air the flowing of life and death, the Deer God's twin dominions. The smell of the girl's body should be at least nominally present on the air… Moro hurried her pace, jumping over familiar roots, muttering hurried greetings to passing spirits, until she burst through the brush unto the shore of the great pond. She reverently raised her emerald eyes to the great sacred island, and saw an impossibility. The girl stood tall and strong, staring defiantly at Moro with deep sapphire eyes that cut into her very being.
As the girl stood there, reveling in her name, she turned sharply as her keen ears detected a large rustling in the nearby brush. As she stared out across the waters, she met the cold emerald eyes of a murderer. Her mind blazed as she told herself what she had to do… run, run, RUN! Before the wolf killed her! She fled, burning with fear, blazing with a will to survive as she had never felt before. She took to the water like a fish as the wolf, seeming startled, raced towards her, climbing ashore and sprinting into the woods, seeing none of its beauty as she had before through her red-tinged gaze. She just ran, and ran, following nothing but pure instinct like a wild beast. She would live. She would Live. She would LIVE!
Moro stood astounded on the shore as the girl began to ran. The girl lived. How? What could she ever be worth? The deer god, saving a human girl? She must know. She had to. She raced after the little child, as fast as her paws could take her, heart pounding, racing, leaping as she raced after her lust for knowledge. She ran, and ran, and- stopped dead. She growled, her heart filling with a cold fury as she looked out into the dark corner of the forest the girl had run into. Her eyes, imbued with her divine power, easily made out small blue flames dancing around the wood, twisting perception like the web of the foulest of spiders.
The girl ran. Fear. Sheer, utter terror consumed her. Trees. Branches. Leaves. Twigs snapping under her feet. Cold stone. Smooth moss. She ran. Thorns ripped at her ankle. Blood. Pain. She overcame. She had a name. Running, running, red, red everywhere! So… tired. So tired… she fought and fought to keep going. She would live. Live. LIVE! She had to hide… the wolf must still be nearby… a cave, a CAVE! She ran, cutting her feet on the blackened rocks as she landed in the cavern. She kept running, until the sun was merely a small spot far above her. It was dank, vaguely lit from above as she collapsed on the cold stone, panting and exhausted. She looked up after a while, and met the eyes of a man, standing not three feet away from her. In the vague light, she could see two things clearly. One, the man smiled kindly at her with dreamy azure eyes. Two, the man bore a long scar, running from his forehead all down his bare chest.