A short fantasy prompt, playing around with what ifs and the presentation of characters.
The wind whispered ancient lullabies as it ruffled the foliages of tall trees, caressing the stems of wild flowers and causing the grass blades near the tree roots to sway under the moonlight. The forest was silent save for the hooting of a sated owl, the distant howl of a lonely wolf, the repetitive song of unseen crickets. Resting with her back pressed against the scarred bark of a tree, Riven let the sounds of the forest fill her mind. The satchel of split firewood lying near the grasp of the tanned lumberjack.
In another hour or so, Riven would stop daydreaming and retrieve her bag. She would collect a few more sticks to serve as kindling and return back to her rundown shed in the woods. Come morning, the grizzled farmhands would knock on her door. The gruff workers would load the sacks of kindling and firewood into a wagon, make another unwelcome comment about the dangers of an unwed woman living alone in the wildness and then they would depart, after handing her her payment of course.
Riven smiled ruefully while staring at the argent crescent in the night sky. Perhaps the farmhands were right, she mused. Working closer to the capital and civilization in general would make things easier for her. And yet, the tanned woman enjoyed the serenity of the forest too much to be chained in some shop as an assistant. The feeling of freedom that engulfed her chest as she ran amongst the bushes was more appealing to her than the lavish dresses and the mouthwatering desserts that the city-folk partook in at their stone maze.
And then there was the other matter, Riven thought morosely, the phantom pain of the old brand on her right shoulder stinging uncomfortably as the woman's smile was wiped off her face. Her special circumstances would only spell trouble for her if she decided to move in the capital. More neighbors translated to more eyes and more danger for her secret to be discovered. Riven couldn't allow that. She'd rather live her whole life in solitude than to be brought before the inquisitors for a second time.
Lost in her thoughts, the tanned lumberjack jolted in realization when the sound of hooves reached her ears. The cacophony of snapping twigs and crashed leaves replacing the familiar silence that Riven had become accustomed to while living and working at the heart of the great forest.
The tanned loner rose to her feet, grabbing the axe that lay near her satchel. Bandits couldn't usually afford to own horses, and hunters would know better than to pursue their prey into the woods after sundown. Lots of things resided in the forest. Most of them proved hostile to the common man. Effortlessly lifting her satchel from the ground, the tanned lumberjack crept towards the bushes in the direction that the sound had originated from. Riven's maroon-colored gaze piercing the shadows of the quiet trees.
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Due to the lit torches of the head riders the silhouettes of the hunting party could be seen clearly from afar. Riven spotted six riders on a horseback in total, the strangers were conversing next to a hunting trail. A single woman and five men were eyeing the dirt path, their horses shifting nervously. The spying lumberjack recognized Alistar, a sunburned farmhand that often visited her to buy firewood for his duchess amongst the exasperated-looking men. Alistar was currently speaking to the redheaded leader of the party, frustration clear on the worker's narrowed eyes.
"I don't know where this path leads, my Lady, we could get lost in the woods. There are all kinds of beasts living here, these woods are dangerous." voiced the rugged man, his tone pleading for the party leader to change her mind. A feminine snort was the noblewoman's immediate reply. The rude redhead pausing to take a sip from a silver flask, her already red cheeks burning brighter after her sip, her emerald orbs sparkling with excitement.
"Father said that I could have anything I wanted for my birthday," Slurred the drunken redhead while glaring daggers at her pensive servant. "I want a hunt! Right now! I will fell the beasts of these woods and throw their pelts at the Laurents and Crownguards. I will show those insignificant bootlickers what a grand hunt is all about."
"Lady Katarina, I am begging you to reconsider," Tried another servant, this one looking more well-off and educated than poor Alistar. The blond-haired man also appeared to have no trouble controlling his horse compared to the ceaseless shifting of his uncouth peers. "We didn't even bring the dogs with us to sniff out our prey. Anything in this forest will spot us long before we spot it." Reasoned the concerned attendant.
"Shush, Ezreal," Pouted the wealthy woman. "We both know that my swordsmanship is exceptional. None of you are in danger as long as I am accompanying you."
"Still, my Lady..." mumbled Ezreal, but before he could finish his sentence the redhead's horse had started galloping down the dirt trail. The servants had no choice but to follow, hastily.
"Stupid blue-blood's riding to her death." Whispered the tanned lumberjack as Riven emerged from her hiding spot behind a gnarled tree. Riven had heard enough of the hunting party's conversation to confirm that the female rider was none other than Lady Katarina, the daughter of Alistar's boss, the duchess of Knifefall.
The farmhands that visited her home liked to gossip while loading their wagons, and the talk about the preparations for Lady Katarina's birthday party had spread around like a forest fire. The servants gossiped about the barrels of fine wine they had carried from the basement, boasted about the expensive clothes they had been given to wear for the occasion, and complained at the abundance of food they were carting from the market to serve to their guests.
And now apparently the duchess' daughter was riding around the forest drunk as a bar wench on Saint Garen's night. Splendid…
A sudden scream rising above the treetops and emanating from the direction of the hunters caused Riven's frown to darken and her eyes to narrow. With irritation evident on her visage, the lumberjack dropped her bag, dashing after the reckless hunters.
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"Stay back! Stay back!" Shouted young Ezreal from the ground whilst frantically waving his saber around to scare off the advancing beasts. The yellow orbs of the growling wolves seemed to be radiating anger as their mighty paws tore through the leaf-covered earth. The terrified horses of the hunters tossing their heads left and right, their hooves stomping at the ground in agitation.
The inexperienced riders struggled to regain control of their horses lest they will be tossed down from the saddles by their steeds just like Ezreal.
"Calm down!" Ordered Katarina from on top of her white horse, drawing her sword in one fluid motion. The drunken noblewoman swayed slightly on her saddle due to the alcohol in her bloodstream, the tip of her unsheathed sword pointed at the snarling maw of a salivating brown wolf.
"M-my Lady, we should retreat." stuttered one of the panicked farmhands, his fingers wrapped tightly around the shaft of his crude spear. A few of the servants murmured their agreement, the terrifying sight of the prowling beasts nearing them turning their blood to ice-water. Ezreal attempted to get up from the ground where his fleeing horse had tossed him, only to collapse once more and clutch at his sprained ankle in pain. Katarina spared a quick glance at her injured attendant, her expression betraying her concern, emerald orbs scanning the fence of trees for a possible escape route.
As if the dire situation wasn't already bad enough, a massive black wolf almost as tall as a horse darted out of the shadows, the beast's sudden appearance driving the party's steeds into a frenzy.
Katarina cried out in alarm when her frothing horse abruptly rose to its back feet to kick at the air in front of it. Caught off-guard the inebriated redhead slipped from the saddle, the back of her head colliding harshly with a rock on the ground.
A curtain of darkness minutely blocked Katarina's vision, the frantic voices of the noblewoman's companions instantly vanishing as all sound ceased and unconsciousness threatened to claim her. The noble's emerald orbs observed the happenings impassively as the redhead laid on the rough forest floor. The silent world that surrounded her nothing more than a quiet slideshow, a story being played out at the town's square, enacted by actors in uncannily realistic costumes.
The servants screamed mute cries of fear as their panicked steeds carried them away into the darkness. The torches of the amateur hunters illuminating the ashen complexion on Ezreal's face as the attendant crawled closer to her, still waving his saber in desperate wide arcs. Still trying to keep the salivating wolves at bay. The fading torchlight was diming with each slow heartbeat of the dazed redhead, replacing glinting fangs with devious glares that gleamed in the dark. Katarina could feel the weight of her sword in her numbed grip, a useless chunk of metal that pinned her arm to the ground.
Disconnected from reality with black spots dancing in her vision, Katarina watched as the closest wolves snapped their jaws at Ezreal's sleeve. The young attendant's swings growing more desperate and frantic, silent yells leaving his lips in an attempt to intimidate the snarling wolf pack.
Yet the wolves could already tell that the man was exhausted. The crying servant wouldn't be able to keep swinging his saber for much longer. His arms were already aching, trembling from the strain of his wild swings. His ankle was injured, limiting his mobility.
A slow recovery after a quick thrust was all that it took for the black behemoth of a wolf to sink its ivory teeth into Ezreal's sword arm. The attendant screamed out in pain, his voice finally bursting the bubble of silence that lulled the aristocrat's mind.
The sound of the wolf's teeth grinding against Ezreal's bones was deafening. The coppery odor of the man's blood suffocated Katarina. The redhead locked eyes with the grinning beast as the wolf bit deeper into the arm of her companion. The saber fell from Ezreal's grip, a savage howl of victory split the night air.
They were going to die due to her foolishness, Katarina realized as the black wolf thrashed about its head violently with Ezreal's arm still trapped within its jaws.
The injured redhead wanted to help her companion, but for all of her prized dexterity the sword felt like a lead bar in her hand. Katarina wanted to scream, but her entire body was unresponsive.
A midnight shadow climbed across her visage as another forest creature approached her, its dark silhouette looming over her collapsed form, blocking the silvery veil of the moonlight. Katarina could only make out the rage-filled eyes of the beast glinting crimson in the dark. Something glimmered eerily in the beast's limb as the appendage descended fast like a falling meteor.
Scarlet blood flooded her vision as Ezreal cried out in both pain and surprise. The black wolf jumped back with a haunting howl, blood oozing from the deep wound on its head. The lumberjack taking a decisive step forward, her bloodied axe rising once more, almost lethargically, liquid life dripping from the sharpened axe-blade.
"Riven, is that you?" The attendant choked between his whimpers while nursing his mangled arm. The lumberjack ignored him, her eyes staring down the wounded Alpha of the wolf pack. While the bigger wolf seemed to be sizing up the newcomer another scraggly mutt decided to ambush the silver-haired woman from behind.
Katarina tried to alarm the lumberjack as the beast lunged at the stranger's back. Ezreal screamed a warning, patting the ground with his good arm, searching for his saber between the green sea of grass blades.
Riven simply span, using her momentum to power up her blow as she guided her axe to the center of the wolf's mass. There was a sickening crunch of breaking bone before the wolf collapsed with a harrowing howl, its limbs twitching as it lay on the ground, paralyzed.
The wolf didn't get up when Riven turned around to face the leader of the pack once more. The other beasts didn't dare to approach her. The tanned lumberjack took advantage of their hesitation, pulling Ezreal on his feet, before throwing the stunned aristocrat over her shoulder much like a farmer carrying a sack of fresh produce.
Without a word, Riven stepped back into the shadows, her ruby orbs tracking the movements of her hesitant opponents. One hand securing the dazed noblewoman by holding her waist, the other one clenching her bloodied axe. Ezreal stumbled clumsily behind her, his panicked gaze darting from the quiet lumberjack, to the semi-conscious heiress on her shoulder, and back to the glint of bared fangs near the bushes.
Riven didn't utter a word the entire trek to her dilapidated shed in the middle of the forest. No woodwork creatures or horrors of the night challenged the three companions until the small party reached their destination.
Authors Note: I never settled on what it was that Riven was actually hiding in this setting. If she was a werewolf, a reformed criminal, an escapee from the Yuri Federation or an ex-slave hiding from her old masters. I also never thought of what happened after the confrontation with the wolves. At some versions of the story she parted ways with her two companions, other times she left them near the edge of the forest when the farmhands returned with more guards and reinforcements. There was the idea of Darius being the werewolf leader of the pack and him being introduced at the end of his story, his distinctive scar being the result of his confrontation with Riven. In some unwritten drafts Katarina was a princess escaping from assassins with her little sister after a failed assassination attempt, entering the forest wounded, attempting to throw the assassins off her trail before collapsing in front of Riven due to blood loss. At another draft both Ezreal and Katarina developed a romantic interest in their savior and found excuses to visit her shed to woo her. Sometimes they just became friends. Sometimes the lost noble was Fiora, but Katarina is more spontaneous and a troublemaker than Fiora, so the part about a night hunt makes more sense with her in the prompt. Here is a more fantasy-oriented ending.
Extra:
"Blackywick is the deed done?" Rasped the uncontested ruler of the great forest, his voice the angry rumble of uprooted trees, his gaze more motionless than rotting tree logs being left in the forest. The scarred werewolf only shivered in response, knelt before the twisted treant-titan.
Dark tendrils started slipping across the chamber's cracked floor, poisonous flowers spurting behind the black tide, thorny vines wrapping around the werewolf lieutenant.
"You've failed me for the last time you worthless dog." Rasped Maokai as the werewolf thrashed about trapped in nature's deadly embrace.
"What would you expect from a brainless mutt?" Giggled a feminine voice as petite arms rested against Maokai's gnarled shoulders, long manicured nails scratching the bark of the corrupted treant.
"Send me, my Lord," Cooed the veiled woman whispering false promises in the ears of the mad king. "Send me and the town of Knifefall will be reclaimed by nature in no time. The whole continent will become your eternal garden as we plant the seeds of doubt in the hearts of your enemies, together."
The twisted treant hummed as if in deep thought, the last whines of Blackywick fading as the thorny vines bloomed in the pool of his spilled blood.
"You know the price of failing me, half-ling." Rasped the rotten tyrant, his trusted concubine nodding excitedly at the prospect of spreading havoc and misery.
"I will never fail you, my Lord." The veiled woman giggled joyfully, before turning to walk out of Maokai's underground throne room, not even sparing a glance at the bleeding carcass of her deceased former lover.
"I hope so, for you own good," Rasped the gnarled treant, alone in the shadows of his sunless throne room. "It'll be a pity to dispose of you like your half-sister… Ahri."
AN: So now you know, Riven is probably a fox spirit in hiding. A Viking fox spirit with a magical axe in hiding. A Viking fox spirit berserker with a magical axe and a trickster half-sister... She is Thor's sister, a Viking fox spirit berserke-