A/N: Well it's been a few days. I owe you a chapter. This … I have no idea what is going to happen in this one but I guess we'll find out, eh? Also, just as a warning, next weekend I'm like everywhere so I may not get to update *inserts frowny face* so yeah. Just warning you all. I'm gonna probably leave you hanging.

Shadowfang14: I admit, she has got some crazy determination, doesn't she? Thank you! And here's your update!

Cassandra Cat: Awww, thank you! You're very welcome! Here's your next chapter! (Secretly, I agree with the shipping, I have but you know, there's a sad thing called canon and non-canon. But I will still ship them no matter what. Oh well )(Also to answer a question: Her mother's forcing her to marry James because…arranged marriages, I suppose? Yeah. Basically it's the idea that James has money so he's good to marry. Even if they are all dead and in purgatory. Hooray!)

Alright, and onwards!

Lorna's POV:

Entering the old man's house wasn't something she really, truly desired at the moment. In fact she felt quite flustered, but did not want Beatrice to find out that she was so overwhelmed. The Woodsman, if that was indeed how he preferred to be addressed, although she figured not, took them into the main room and sat them all three down on the couch. Then, he sat across from them with a rather disturbed look on his face. It was a mysterious thing-or so she thought-that this man had lived here as long as she had surely, and had never run into her once. It was a ways away from Auntie's house, so she couldn't blame him. Beatrice was sitting on the edge of the couch, while she leaned against the end of it in a pleasant position, or at least that's how Lorna liked to think of it, with her hands folded on her lap.

"You came, I'm assuming, because of him?" The Woodsman spoke first, without a hint of a doubt in his voice.

"Well why else would we knock on your door? To sell tea?" It was rather rude of Beatrice to inquire this so fitfully, but Lorna kept her peace.

"In case you were wondering what, er, happened to Quincy…" He looked uncomfortable.

Lorna moved a bit, trying to see if Greg was doing anything he shouldn't be, but the boy was seated on the floor near the doorway with his frog. It was relieving he was being quiet at all, for she did not know or like to think of what the old man would do if Greg were loud. Though, perhaps she had not misread the look of minor affection the Woodsman had on his face when he had looked down at Greg when they'd walked in. Perhaps that was a shared feeling of sympathy he had for Greg.

"You stopped him, didn't you?" Beatrice sounded nearly hysterical. What a mood swinger she was.

"You do not know of your actions, you know nothing about what it could lead to." Now it was the Woodsman's turn to look annoyed. "I have warned you and you have done nothing, and ain't that just the way things go? No, I'd rather not let you know of the past. I will not try and warn you farther, that's not done you any good, eh?"

It was Lorna's turn to give a little jump, and she turned to look at him, "What … past, sir?"

"A long story of which you do not desire to hear, child. I am sure of it. Why you are even with these … these marauders I'm not sure of, but you don't want to hear of the horrors of the past." He turned to her with a kind look, but he hardened almost immediately after that.

"If it has to do with saving Wirt, I'm all for it." She stated. It wasn't proper to do that, now was it? She wasn't sure what proper was anymore, so it was probably for the best.

"It is terribly depressing and something that I don't like to think about because it will not save Wirt. In fact it is a story of the complete opposite. Of a failure that I wished never to happen again, but the spirit of the Beast prevails all of the time and it hurts to think that this is how it goes." The Woodsman seemed to sink a little into his seat. He was speaking rather nicely compared to how he'd been the night previous, and she began to think he wasn't so bad after all.

"I want to hear it, and if you don't think it's fit for me, look at what's happening to Wirt and maybe you'll think that's not fit for me too," Beatrice was nearly growling now, glaring at the man, "I want to save him."

Lorna shook her head slightly, feeling a wisp of hair fall across her face. She looked down at her pale hands, wondering if maybe they could do anything to help Wirt, if anything could. It was strange how he'd come to her first. Clearly she was the only one who'd ever been helped by him, since Beatrice seemed to get him out of most of his problems. Perhaps this was a problem Beatrice could not fix and that was why he'd come to her. Or maybe it was out of pure luck.

Silence remained for a few minutes longer. As each one passed, she glanced around at different sections and people in the room. The walls were bare, as if wallpaper was too much to ask for. The chairs and couch and rug all seemed old and torn. It was an old, but comfortable place, much like her own cottage, although she liked to think of the cottage being in better shape. The Woodsman was rather pale looking, as if he couldn't make up his mind.

"His name was Abraham." The Woodsman stated so loudly it caused her to give a little jump. "His name was Abraham, and he was a very close friend of mine. Back then, I think we feared nothing until the accident happened…and Abraham ended up…Quincy was with us, you know…this place is cursed, anyone you meet... I have told many a stranger, who passes by, but none listens and few make it out. Abraham never left after his first misadventure in the Unknown."

He seemed terribly reluctant to go on. It seemed to be causing him pain, Lorna could hear it in his voice, and he was staring above all of their heads, so as not to look them in the eyes or face. She didn't mind, but Beatrice was wide-eyed when she looked over at the red-head. Maybe it was shocking to hear this coming from the Woodsman.

"When Abraham came in, I was telling him the same thing. He was a grown man, late 30s, younger than both me and Quincy by a long-shot and I do recall he was the first person to come to the Unknown who was a wandering, lost soul. Quincy caught him trudging around the entrance, or what has become the entrance over the years, and brought him immediately to me. Both of us did not know what to do with a wayward stranger, a child in our eyes. Someone who didn't belong here. I had heard of the menace, the evil spirit in the woods who was looking for a vessel. The spirit had come only recently, it was almost a rumor and I fear we payed not enough attention to it. Abraham came in and was introduced to my daughter…oh Anna…she'll never forgive herself for what happened to him…I believe they were out one night, Quincy and I were working the mill. It had been a little while by then and we were all quite good friends….Abraham and Anna better friends than the rest of us.

'He was captured that night. Anna…she…she came back with him, crying. He came back with strange tree limbs growing out of his head like antlers and roots and eyes, oh, the eyes, I could tell you about that for all of time." The Woodsman shook his head. "He was no longer Abraham. But we still bargained, just as you have."

"You bargained with The Beast too?" Beatrice sounded completely astonished. Lorna couldn't deny that she hadn't been hanging onto the man's every last word, even Greg was now seated between them and was listening intently, but she also wasn't surprised that the Woodsman would bargain with someone, he seemed like that kind of guy.

"Everyone who meets him does in a way." The Woodsman gave her a sad smile.

"I just don't…"

Lorna watched him prop himself up a bit, "It was for Anna truly. We were good friends of course, I did not want to lose him, but I saw it as a losing battle…she couldn't. The poor girl had found in him what she hadn't found in any man ever before. I believe it is a mistake that she found him at all sometimes, for if we had kept her away from him…The Beast was hard to bargain with at first. It was pleased to have found a vessel. It wanted to keep it. It could not use any of us, no it was only wayward souls that were able to be captured by it and Abraham…he was the first. Anna begged us to ask to have him back.

'After ages of coaxing with everything, I finally got him back with Quincy watching from afar and keeping hold of Anna for me. We tried to get help from everyone after that…it is impossible to convince people that any one man who has been overtaken by a spirit will return to normal."

A loud crash in the kitchen was suddenly heard. The Woodsman gave a sad sigh, and yet did not speak. The crash was followed by the sound of sobs. Lorna felt slightly uncomfortable, it was rude to walk into such private business. If only they'd known his daughter was in the kitchen, it would have made it better if they'd talked somewhere else about this. And of course, she figured it was his daughter. Who else would be sobbing at the tale of a lost one? It seemed a little rude to let her just cry in the kitchen, Lorna wanted so badly to go comfort her but something about the way the Woodsman just sat there kept her steady.

"No one listened. We grew more desperate, determined not to let this thing overtake our friend's mind. He was growing more and more Beast-like every day, Anna was losing it. We were losing it. Our minds were losing ways to control him and control our part of the deal, to getting Abraham back. An evil spirit is an evil spirit, always keep that in mind. It did no good. I walked outside one day and nearly lost my life to a piece of wood, and a lantern was thrust into my hands so unbelievably quickly I thought I was dreaming. Then I was thrown into darkness…I awoke to find the yard empty, Anna sobbing at the edge of the woods with Quincy draping a cloak around her and trying to get her to stop…the Beast was created…and satisfied with its findings."

"He…it can't be…he can't be saved?" Beatrice for once, sounded unbelievably weak, and perhaps she didn't want to sound weak, but she was, by this information. Lorna wanted to comfort her too, but it wasn't her place to do that either.

"I am not saying it is all for naught, but perhaps that is also what I am saying. We…Quincy left me for a very long time. I only just saw him earlier for the first time in a very, very long time. I suggest you do what you can with the time given to you. It is a corrupted mind you are fighting against. The chances of saving it are so small I do not wish to try and enlarge them for you with hopes or dreams." The Woodsman stood up at this, coming over to them, and stared at Beatrice. "But don't become miserable. It is a life lost, but it is also a life gained."

Lorna watched his eyes travel over to Greg for a brief moment, sweeping over the younger boy. Greg was the life gained, she knew it, if Beatrice and Greg didn't. The Woodsman then gave another sigh. He was sort of a strange man, she had to admit, but she didn't blame him for not wanting to share the story. It had filled her with a despair she wasn't sure she could deal with. The pain was real, it was there, gaping in front of her like a pit. Beatrice no doubt felt worse. Greg didn't seem to register anything, he was sitting there frozen in time.

"Greg?" She whispered very softly, but the boy only gave a small, tiny, tiny little shake of the head and remained staring at the Woodsman. He was holding Jason Funderberker close to him, no doubt for comfort. She couldn't blame him.

The Woodsman turned and went into the kitchen now, no doubt to comfort his daughter. She felt bad, but was glad he had done something about the loud sobs now echoing around the house. They finally stopped. Lorna found she had taken Greg's hand in hers and was rubbing it gently, trying to unfreeze him.

"We…it…" Beatrice was mumbling, frozen as well, staring into space.

"Greg, come along, you need some air." Lorna whispered into his ear. He only mumbled. She slowly picked him up bridal style and carried him out the door, which was a bit awkward but she managed it.

There on the outskirts of the forest, in the depths of it off to the right side of the porch, were two glowing eyes. Wirt was watching them from afar. Perhaps it was better this way, from afar. A distance was a good measurement, or so she judged. Greg was still frozen as she sat him down on the rocking chair there and placed his frog in his lap as well, and slowly started rocking the chair. No doubt they were both hit hard by this news. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if a sibling or a loved one of hers were doomed. A small part of her couldn't believe anything would happen. The rest of her was filled with remorse for what she had done in the past.

Lorna remembered a figure opening the door in front of her, an older, smaller man with a nice accent to his voice, begging for help. Begging to help his friend, whom he stated was being corrupted by "the evil spirit everyone here's talking about, you know" and saying every person had turned them down so far. She had looked at him very sadly, yet had not been sure what to say. He had looked at her with so much hope in his eyes-and she had turned him down just like that. An evil spirit was not to be tolerated with. She knew this from her Auntie.

It was only by stuffing her fist into her mouth that she kept down any cry of remorse or something of the sort from escaping her lips. What she had done…she had helped doom Abraham to his fate, and she was now no doubt sending Wirt to his. Perhaps the Woodsman was right. Maybe it indeed was time to just let this go, and maybe nothing, nothing at all, could be done about it. If it had happened once, it would happen again. History always found a way to come back and hurt a person again. Lorna was certain that this was what it meant to do now, and she didn't know if she could let it happen again, for a second time.

A/N: Whew! Well, that was chapter 14….crap happened basically….I hope you enjoyed it being from a different POV. Lorna's kinda giving…up…or something here. *maniacal laugh* I have plans. Anyways, thanks for reading, please, review, review, review!