Ok, not much to say here this time. I actually updated within a week, which is cool.

Shout out to Link'sLily, who made and adorable sketch of Jack and McKenna. Please take the time to check that out, if you want to find it, I have a link to it, and all of the wonderful fanart she has done on my profile page. She's a great artist, I insist you check it out!

Also, my internet is being an ass, so it might take me a while to get back to reviews, and I don't have time to do much editing. I'll come back later to do that.

Moths & Butterfly

McKenna was taking too long. Where was she? Was she ok?

Jack's mind was racing. He fidgeted on the fallen log, looking constantly toward where McKenna had left. He knew that he was supposed to watch over Malon, who was still knelt against a tree. Since McKenna had left, the horses had tired of grazing, and both of them had gravitated toward where she was sat, Epona eventually having laid down beside, creating a "barrier" of sorts protecting her from the elements.

The mare could obviously sense that something was amiss with her mistress. Something truly terrible must have happened to her, if it could affect her so deeply that she seemed almost to be in a trance-like state, her eyes, on the very few occasions that she lifted her head, were almost lifeless, the normally rich, healthy sapphire blue of her irises had paled to a limpid azure, so colorless that he feared in a few mere moments they would turn to nothing more than a milky white.

But it was when a heart wrenching shriek cut through the thick silence like a knife aimed straight at his heart that without a moments' hesitation, he leapt to his feet, ignoring the pain in his freshly bandaged shoulder as he bolted toward the sound, recognizing it immediately as McKenna's voice. He burst through the underbrush that separated him from the narrow footpath that his wife had taken and sprinted down it full-bore, leaping over the gnarled, aboveground tree roots that threatened to trip the unwary in his frantic rush.

He reached the river in seconds, thick, black leather boots pounding against the mossy ground, and forcing him to throw out his arms as he dug in his heels, skidding a few inches as he attempted to stop quickly from his breakneck pace. His emerald eyes, tiny flecks of gold in the dark hued pools glittering like sunlight through a canopy of summer leaves, widened, and his heart jumped painfully into his throat.

McKenna was sprawled across the ground, lower half in the river's cruel, unforgiving grip. Her eyes were clamped shut, and despite the cold water rushing across her skin, sweat was dripping down her forehead, and behind her ears. The water that flowed down the river's jagged path was a strange pink color. Why was the water pink? It wasn't blood, was it?!

He leapt toward where she was laid, heels digging into the soft, damp moss and leaving deep marks in his wake. His hands instantly wrapped around her slender shoulders, grabbing hold and dragging her from the shallows, eyes darting all over her body in a frantic attempt to find what might have caused her to fall unconscious. He could find no wounds, no bruises, and no blood. Had she slipped on the smooth river rocks? He ran a hand across her head as he knelt, too worried to mind as the wet ground stained his trousers.

He could find not a single lump across the surface of her skull, ruling out the possibility of a fall.

"McKenna," he whispered, voice coming out hoarse and tense as he leaned low over her limp form. "McKenna, please wake up. You have to wake up."

He held a hand gently to the side of her neck, fingers pressed to one of the major veins there, praying to the Goddesses above that he would feel a pulse. Please, please let her be alive. He begged in his mind. He let out an audible sigh of relief when a very soft drumming was felt against the very tips of his fingers.

She was alive.

"Praise to Farore!" He breathed, scooping one arm under her back so that she was sitting upright against him, head resting against his shoulder. As he held her there, she actually started to wake, however slightly, and soft, incoherent mumbles escaped past her delicately closed lips.

"McKenna, wake up."

She murmured again, this time with a little bit more force, although what she was saying he still couldn't understand.

"McKenna, its ok. I'm here."

Slowly, after a few more moments, her brown eyes cracked open, and almost immediately, they darted in every direction. Suddenly meeting his own eyes, she let out a strange squeak of surprise and pushed both hands against his chest, trying to shove him away. But this only made him hold her tighter, eyes flashing with worry.

"McKenna? What's wrong?"

Finding that it was useless, McKenna instead clutched both hands over her heart, and shivered in his grip.

"Where am I?" She managed to gasp, voice trembling.

"It's ok sweetheart. Were in the Southern Swamp, remember?"

She looked around them for a moment, eyes taking in every detail of their surroundings. The thick willow trees, the off-colored river, the footpath that led to their makeshift camp. Slowly, she nodded.

"What happened? Did you fall?"

She shook her head.

"A strange woman appeared from the other side river," she started, voice quivering again. To emphasize, she pointed toward the thick overgrowth that grew on the riverbed. "She came over to me, and-and then…I don't remember."

She clasped both hands against her temples, eyes clamping shut again. She shook her head softly, as if maybe the motion would unlock her memory.

"I don't remember! She said her name, she said something else, she talked to me! But I can't remember! I don't remember at all Jack!"

She was growing more agitated by the minute, and sensing this, Jack tightened his arm around her shoulders, and gently kissed the top of her head.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured against her silky brown hair. "I'm sure it'll come back to you."

She suddenly stiffened against him, muscles going as rigid as planks of wood. He could feel her skin grown clammy beneath his touch, and pulling away slightly, he looked into her eyes. Out of the blue, they were suddenly consumed with total fear, so wide that he could see the miniscule blood vessels that were normally unseen, hidden beyond her skin.

"She was a shadow…"

She looked up, something had touched her knee. At first, she had ignored it, not wanting to talk to her companions at the moment, and expecting it to be either Jack looking for an explanation, or McKenna without a doubt wanting to ask some question or other. The younger woman saw her as almost a "mother" of sorts, asking her for advice for everything from romance, to feminine concerns. But right now, she didn't feel like talking at all. She wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. If she disappeared, then maybe she could forget the shadow Zauz's burning grip on her wrist.

The wound on her hand had since scabbed over, an ugly, crusty black substance covering the cut that Chesed's knife had made on her palm. But the shadow's touch lingered. And whenever she closed her eyes, she could see his narrow eyes the shade of freshly spilt blood leering at her, half-crazed hunger burning in the pools of his irises. She could still see him as he leaned toward her, licking his thin, pale lips in cruel anticipation.

But now the touch had grown more persistent, and more annoying. There was a moth perched on the bare skin of her knee. Two feathery antennae bobbed in her direction, sensing the larger presence it was resting on. Its spilt, furred wings the color of dust were folded over its back, and it scuttled slightly toward her face.

She had never been fond of moths. She didn't know why. There was just something about them, something about their haphazard fluttering that made her skin crawl. With a hand, she swung half-heartedly at the insect, willing it to fly away, to leave her alone. She just wanted to work things out in her own head.

But the moth merely moved out of the way of her hand, and landed in the exact same place when she drew back. She tried at it a few more times before giving up, tired and bored, muttering as she once again rested her forehead against her knees. "Ass."

A few minutes later, an annoying flutter met her ear, followed by something touching her neck. She jumped, and looking aside, she found that that it was just the moth. After flicking a wrist at it, she turned her head.

No, it was a new moth. The other moth was still perched on her knee.

Great, now there were two of them.

"Would you disgusting things leave me alone?" She asked of no one in particular. But even when she swatted at the two moths, they remained, dodging her strikes but staying close, as if drawn to her by some strange, ethereal force.

"Leave me alone!"

Malon squeaked when Epona suddenly rose to her hooves, a sharp whinny coming from inside the mare's throat. Her ears were pinned flat against her neck, and Malon had to jump to her feet and dodge out of the way to escape the mare's flailing hooves, the large horse turning quickly in place to face the opposite side of the thicket.

The moths fluttered toward her again, irritating her as she struggled to concentrate on why the two horses were both staring into the forest, ears pinned, and upper lips lifted. Epona and Cerus both snorted as yet more moths appeared, flying underneath branches and through the thorny underbrush, and to her dismay, they were headed directly for her. She backed away, but only made it a few feet before her back hit the trunk of a tree, and before she knew it, she was being swarmed by hundreds of moths.

Disgusting, fluttering, furry moths.

"Agh! Get away!" She yelped, clamping her eyes shut and swinging blindly at the clustering insects. More than anything, she wanted them gone. She wanted the moths to leave her alone. She wanted everyone to leave her alone!

Like a light in the darkness, however, a shimmer of blue caught her eyes as she cracked them open. But it was for only a moment that she glimpsed it, the blue quickly being swallowed up by the sea of fluttering, dust colored wings. She fought through the swarm, and then she saw it.

It was a butterfly. A single, beautiful blue winged butterfly amidst the sea of dull, disgusting moths. Its graceful and delicate were the deepest shade ultramarine, glittering like a gemstone amongst garbage. It was gracefully seated upon the floor, but when her eyes fell upon it, it seemed to take this as a queue of some kind, and with a few delicate flaps of its wings, it was level with her eyes. Gently, it touched her, landing on her forehead and sticking to her by ways unknown.

But as quickly as it had come, it left, although not of its own accord. Savagely, the moths chose to instead swarm the poor butterfly rather than her, and within seconds, the butterfly was lost in a thick, swirling swarm of wings.

Before she could act, the swarm dispersed slightly, fluttering off to land on branches and bushes. The butterfly was laid on the grass, dead. One wing had been completely ripped off, and the other bent in half, the thin blue membrane ripped and tattered as if made of paper. From the wounds, tiny trickles of bluish-black blood could be seen, the amount seemed so tiny, and yet the loss was so deadly to a creature of its size. Even in death, its legs twitched, hardwired to try and escape the already sealed fate.

The moths had killed the butterfly.

Never in her life had she heard of moths killing anything before, and now the swarm made her all the more nervous. She could practically feel their beady eyes staring at her. She could feel their bloodlust, and the horses could too. Beneath their silky pelts, the two horses' muscles tensed and flinched, eyes rolling toward where the multitudes of insects were perched, eying them tersely.

Something moved beyond the veil of underbrush and willow branches, snapping a twig beneath its weight. Whatever it was, it was tall. She could see its shadow move.

Like a gust of wind, the moths suddenly took flight, swiftly flitting toward whoever –or whatever- was stalking just outside her sight. When it darted past an open patch, she caught sight of a humanoid shape, although with her past, she did not jump to any conclusion.

The horses squealed and rose up onto their hind legs as the shape suddenly leapt into sight, landing only a few feet away from her.

It was a man. He was tall, insanely tall in fact. Probably close to seven feet tall. A wrapping of yellow, red and green fabric was wrapped around his waist, hanging down to just above his knees. His toned chest and arms were covered in intricate, raised tattoos, some were merely symbols, others more ornate pictures of almost anything and everything under the sun. And covering his face was a mask made of wood, red paint riming the edges and underneath the narrow black slits that allowed him to see.

In his hand, he held a long spear, the blade at the end tied to the staff with vines and rope.

The horses bolted, crashing through the thorny underbrush and leaving only a trail of hoof prints in their wake. Malon was left standing before the huge man, frozen with fear, staring into where his eyes should be.

A sizzling, popping sound slowly flooded her sense of hearing, and needing to find the source, she looked down. The grass beneath the man's feet was wilting, turning brown and dying beneath his presence.

A realization came to Malon in an instant, and her head whipped back so that she could once again look upon the man's masked face.

He was no man. He was a demon.

"Malon!" Two voices screamed in unison not far from her, one male, deep and strong, and one female, smooth as honeyed milk. But she could not tear her eyes away from the demon before her, his presence captivating her in all the wrong ways.

But the demon seemed unfazed by the three, looking upon them as if they were nothing more than ants trailing across his path.

Just as the demon was about thrust his spear forward, aimed straight toward Malon's chest, a flash of motion caught their attention, human and demon alike. Two unknown figures had burst through the underbrush.

One was a boy, probably close to age eighteen, with wild silver-gray hair that stuck straight up in gravity-defying angles. The only clothes he wore were a wrapping of brown fabric around his waist, and tattered pants beneath that. Otherwise, he was bare from head-to-toe, showing that his body was riddled with scars, bruises and bloody cuts. He had obviously suffered a great deal of damage, even at his young age.

The other was a girl, the same age. Her hair was brown, the same shade as the bark of the trees that surrounded them, and was tied behind her head in a long, thick braid that hung all the way down to the small of her back. She was clothed in a tattered dress, green as summer foliage. Several wilting flowers were attached to the dress along her bust line, once beautiful, but now only brown in shade, delicate petals shriveling.

"What the hell?" Jack breathed, instinctively pulling McKenna closer to him, arm tight around her waist. She didn't complain about this, either, pressing herself against him, worry and distrust sparking in her eyes as she glanced between the teenagers and the demon.

By an off chance, the demon happened to tip his head downward, and Malon looked on with curiosity as he stared at the dead butterfly. In the confusion, Malon had temporarily forgotten the butterfly, but as she watched, the demon seemed almost entranced by the damaged wings and crumpled body of the lifeless insect, by the tiny trickles of blue blood, and the legs that even in death, ever so slightly twitched every now and then.

But Malon was not prepared for what the demon did next. Everyone, even the two unknown teenagers, yelped when dark, booming laughter erupted from deep inside the demon's chest, and she couldn't hold back a shiver of disgust as the demon lifted a foot, and brought it crashing down on the butterfly's remains. When he stepped back, there was nothing left but a disgusting black pulp, ground deeply into the dying blades of grass.

"You there," the scarred boy yelled suddenly, taking Jack, Malon and McKenna by surprise. "If you want to live, then follow us! Odolwa will kill you if you don't!"

And with that, the two teenagers bolted, crashing through the underbrush with reckless abandon, ignoring as the sharp thorns dug into their exposed skin. Seemingly coming to a consensus without a word between them, all three shot into action, racing after the unknown boy and girl, dodging as the demon struck at them with his spear, and dashing into the dark night, listening as an enraged, ear-shattering roar sounded from behind them…

'Kay, that was actually a very important chapter. There were actually a lot of hidden meanings and symbolisms in play here, and I'm a little worried they didn't come across, so I'm going to make a "key" for you all to help explain. Now, understand, I haven't taken any "Classes" in this stuff. Its all internet based research. If I got anything wrong, then please, feel free to correct me.

Symbolism and hidden meanings.

Moths represent change, and in certain cultures, death. Odolwa believes himself to be a god of death, and since his aura exudes this, the moths are naturally drawn to him, which he uses to his advantage. Moths clustering around Malon symbolize that she too, is feeling the burning effects of what darkness can do to one's heart, and the inherent struggle she is facing. It also symbolizes that with one simple event, she could potentially snap, and turn to darkness.

Butterflies represent the soul, and are a symbol of spirituality. When the Goddess Butterfly comes to Malon, it symbolizes hope in dire situations, and a time of great hopelessness and depression. It also draws upon the fact that deep inside of Malon, she is quite spiritual, and has been touched by the Goddess Termia, thus having been "marked" of sorts.

The moths attacking the Goddess Butterfly symbolize the inner struggle between light and darkness, and that often times, the darkness wins. This subconsciously effects Malon deeply, as she witnesses the innocent creature's brutal death, coming to a head when Odolwa crushes its remains beneath his foot, smothering the light and leaving only creatures of the dark side.

That was a lot of info, but I hope it helped clear some things up.