Her face screwed up upon hearing Lady Second repeat those words. It took a second for her to realize that the creature was trying them on, like a pair of ill fitting pants, and the effort alone was…kind of actually funny.

Strange, to find humor after the arrival of such grim news.

The lady’s order fell, heavy as an axe, and at once the attendants sprang into motion. Several filed back in while others rushed away to make the necessary preparations. Fray watched with her head lulled to one side and was thoroughly confused at the inclusion of “us,” since she was in no condition to move about, but there was little she could do about it. She wasn’t sure she could fight off even one of the waifish servants in her current state.

So, the invalid closed her eyes and endured their careful but hurried efforts. She felt hands wrapping some kind of blanket around her, tucking, then gently lifting her body. For a few seconds, she lay suspended a few inches in the air, before they placed her back down like a delicate roast on a dining table.

Then, they were moving. All of them. Evidently, they had placed her on a stretcher, with one attendant in the front and another in the back, each bearing half of her weight. Fray was surprised at their strength. Most of them looked like a strong breeze could knock them over.

Judging from the creaking and rustling nearby, the Deva had to assume even more attendants were readying their mysterious lady to mobilize as well. She couldn’t see what was happening very well, as she was whisked away with impressive speed and efficiency, but their mistress did in fact say “we.”

They must have made an odd procession, even if no one else was there to witness. A creature of Blight, a small army of robed attendants, and one Fray, swaddled like a helpless babe. From Fray’s prone position, she mostly stared straight up and tried her best to fight down waves of nausea from all the sudden movement. Dim lights passed over her head as the attendants marched her to wherever they needed to be without uttering a single complaint. Perhaps, she mused to herself, it was easier to carry her when only a fraction of her blood remained.

And all the while, Fray did her best not to think about how this must all end. She had not the faintest idea what Lady Second planned to do. She did, however, know what she herself would do. Should have done, had she had the time–and strength–to do it.

Desperate to distract herself, she craned her neck to one side, squinting at one of the attendants. Since the stretcher legs were hoisted on their shoulders, it was actually quite easy to come face to face with their serious, tight lipped features.

“Say,” she asked in a ham handed attempt at friendliness, “you got a name?”
 
The servant gave a start, but it ended at the neck. You were trained to endure bigger upsets in service. Your life and station both heavily depended on performing under pressure. After a time, the pressure became second nature. Much like good swimmers didn't seem bogged down by the liquid. Yet, there were days when the water felt thicker – when the room felt like drowning.

„I took Cinnamon as my name when I joined the court.“ She said earnestly. „Used to be something else before, but I thought this sounded sweeter.“ Come to think of it, Skin (or whatever her actual name) didn't look well.

„You should probably take this.“ She dug a root from her pocket with her free hand. „And put it under your tongue. Maybe chew it a bit, if you can handle the bitter.“ She nodded along, head keeping rhythm with feet, with the sway of the stretcher. Her arm felt numb by this point. The ones carrying her lady got the easier task, as she rarely rested her weight on the palanquin.

„A nice man taught me that some years back. Real clean hands. Smelled like ink.“ She thought about shoving the tuber into Skin's mouth, but that felt rude now that she had some semblance of lucidity. She held it out nearby instead.

„So what do they call you when it isn't Skin?“ As she leaned in, she revealed vines curling up her neck in place of veins.
 
Fray could see that they had startled the attendant and felt a momentary twinge of regret. But the young woman recovered quickly enough, then proceeded to display a surprising level of chattiness.

Cinnamon. What a quaint name. Fray was pretty sure she had met at least one pleasure worker with that same name, but it was of course not their real one, and they had not been half so kind. This Cinnamon, however, was quick to offer a lump of root, her concerned expression a reflection of just how bad the Deva must have looked. Fray accepted meekly with a nod, but upon realizing she couldn’t quite lift up her arms, opened her mouth instead and looked up hopefully. It was pretty demoralizing, being this helpless. Thought it helped that it was in the presence of someone both charitable and pretty.

Thankfully, Cinnamon obliged and tucked the root under her tongue. Fray closed her mouth, eyes squeezing shut as she held down the medicine with visible effort. Even with the warning beforehand, she was not prepared for how bitter the thing was.

“Eugh,” she muttered, “you weren’t kidding.”

Her suffering paid off in a few seconds, as the nausea she was feeling for significantly diminished. She sighed in relief. “Thank you, Cinnamon. I feel better.”

The attendant then asked for her name, leaning in to expose an unsettling sight of vines where veins should have been. Dark greenery made for stark contrast against her pale skin. Fray looked away after a moment, unsure of what to make of the unnatural discovery, especially when the soft, burnished fawn of her curls and freckles were otherwise quite lovely.

Fray sighed inwardly. This was a special kind of hell, to not even be able to flirt properly.

“They call me Fray,” she answered wearily. She considered what it implied, that Cinnamon had assumed the name Skin, but decided in the end that she was probably better off not knowing. With the bitter taste of root still invading her mouth, she added with a wry smile, “Whatever your old name was, you look like a Cinnamon. It suits you.”

With pleasant company and her nausea subsided, the trip to where ever this destruction lay was rather enjoyable. Fray saw mostly trees, their branches so thick with leaves they were in perpetual shade. Everything seemed healthy and well established here, like their roots ran deep, and Fray wondered if it had anything to do with Lady Second.

At some point, Fray could no longer contain her curiosity. They turned their head once again toward Cinnamon and asked, “So…what is it like, serving your lady? And how did you come to be here in the first place?”
 
„There you go!“ She shook the stretcher before remembering that the other hand had work to do.

Might as well change the carrier hand. Made for awkward walking, but it brought feeling back to her fingers.

„Chomp! Chomp!“ Her eyes widened as the realization caught up. She wasn't tending to children. Some habits were hard to shake, and most of the afflicted were too sick to notice her lapses. Perhaps she should apologize? No. No. It'd only pull attention to the whole thing. Fray was too busy being unwell to care. Come to think of it...Fray was a most depressing name. More promising than Skin, surely. But her parents must've had a strange sense of humor. Some people really shouldn't be allowed to name their young.

She was happy other people saw her as Cinnamon. It was better than the one before. Hopefully she wouldn't have to suffer any more namings. The look she cast towards the palanquin betrayed her, but she didn't dare speak of it.

The probing about her life in service was prickly. Not like you could ever mouth off where the Triumvirate could hear you. But that was just it – no one knew the limits to their eyes and ears. Sometimes she even wondered if at least one of them was a thoughtthief, so thinking happy thoughts helped you say happy words. And, in truth, she was grateful. Sometimes it was just hard to separate that admiration from the madness she and the other attendants got to witness daily. And she could never know if the rest of them were just little blighters waiting to take in their parents' footsteps.

„It is an honor. The Great Three saved us from imperial subjugation.“ Some truths were public enough to not be questioned.

„I'm surprised you came this way. They're usually too worried about the plague.“

Ahead of them the thicket was opening up. Branches parting without wind or effort. They liked doing that when the Lady was around.
 
Even in the haze of fading nausea, she saw it. That brief glance Cinnamon flicked in Lady Second’s direction. There was a nervous energy to her movements, manifesting not in restlessness, but in composure. A wary stillness meant to conceal…what exactly? Whatever the reason, she seemed to draw herself inward as she offered a perfectly diplomatic answer. One Fray was sure any of the attendants could give, no matter their personality, origins, or real opinions.

The Deva realized, too little too late (as usual,) that interrogating the servants was probably awkward at best. What were they going to do, speak ill of their master out in the open? But she had been desperate, she found herself admitting reluctantly. Anything to get her mind off of the unavoidable thing waiting for them at the end of this road.

Fray wanted to fidget but forced herself to lay still, both for her own sake and that of her bearers. It made her uneasy, watching the plant life around them drawing back to form a clear path. Nary a leaf or twig seemed to touch any of the members of the procession. It was unnatural, uncanny. Like they were bowing out of the way, though whether out of respect or fear, far be it from Fray to say.

She quirked an eyebrow at Cinnamon’s next question. So it seemed that some things the attendants were not immediately privy to. Made sense. Not that Cinnamon wouldn’t find out soon enough.

“Believe me, I didn’t intend to,” Fray answered, bemused. What a twist of misfortune to end up here, and with so much more uncertainty left to face. Then, in a moment of black humor, since she was capable of little else upon recalling the horrifying events leading up to now, she added, “Who knows, maybe I’m drawn to plague. Kind of like how some people are drawn to drink, or how others can’t help wandering around until they die a terrible and stupid death.”

In all fairness, she was probably going to fulfill all three roles and then some. But that was assuming she survived today, and though Lady Second’s generosity had improved her odds greatly, Fray still wasn’t entirely convinced this thing would end in anything but her own, grisly expiration.

After some more evenly paced trekking, the procession came to a stop. Fray barely felt it, having been gently rocked into almost trance-like complacency, and only realized because the trees around them had stopped moving. With great care, the attendants knelt and set down the stretcher while others gathered around Lady Second.

Somewhere beyond the clearing they had arrived at, far past what Fray could see from the ground, the sound of a breaking branch cracked like thunder.
 
„You really shouldn't talk about yourself like...“ And then she blinked, eyes going wider. „Oh. OH. Yes, of course.“ And she gave a weak smile as she patted the sad creature on the arm. Laugh never quite caught up.

A few steps ahead, Juniper was standing beside the palanquin. Some of the woodbreak sounds really were the creatures, others merely her own form realigning once the transport was done. She could no longer remember if she was flexible in life...but surely it was better than this. And she'd picked a flexwood, remembering her father's words. Or was it an uncle? Whoever it was, the old, familiar face, nodded in memory. Perhaps she should've gone with willow...but Willow was an awful name.

She looked down at the still living foreigner. Judging by the woodbreak further up, the two monsters weren't likely to have a peaceful exchange. Perhaps she should still send for the First? He'd win. But would he still be afraid of her if he had to start helping her? No, no – those were risky thoughts.

„The humans should move back.“ Was enough for the attendants to start pulling back. The Guard simply fanned out further without being issued an order. If they were about to fight a giant, might as well make it difficult to strike multiple targets at once.

Cinnamon had made it two steps away before one of the others pulled on her sleeve. She turned, worried, but it was only Blightroot. He pointed to the stretcher on the ground. Lady had said humans...but the servants knew they were all humans to her. Did that mean they had to pull the deva along as well? Hardly made sense...they'd brought her all this way, after all.

Lady seemed to glide ahead, small cracks of thunder of her own, muted by the soil. A root dug its way out to grip the far end of the stretcher, proceeding to pull it forward like a sled. Hardly a comfortable ride.

All through the thicket, soil got churned up, wood groaned and branches twisted as the trees started to move. Juniper had made sure her people wouldn't die...even if it sometimes meant they didn't get to stay people. And if their legacy was to be a forest where you feared to gather firewood, then that too was appropriate. No city stood forever.

„Do you think your brother would listen to reason?“

But she wasn't a thing of hope, and even with the answer pending, her forces shuffled through the foliage. Whatever came to face them wouldn't just be facing Juniper, they'd be facing Garthvine.
 
Fray felt the awkward attempt at comfort and peered up at Cinnamon one last time. The Deva did not know who to feel more sorry for, the servant or herself. But there they were, two strays of thrice fucked origins, left to face the ill begotten nature of Blight however they could.

Even for a city bred creature, the noises being made in that forest seemed egregiously loud. Fray felt a prickle of nervousness creep up her arms as Cinnamon came to some kind of conclusion before backing away with the rest of the entourage. Not that there was much time to dwell. It was bewildering, watching a living tree woman snap herself into working order again, but nowhere near as nerve wracking as trying to anticipate what a confrontation between two Blighted behemoths would be like. Lady Second was, of course, not necessarily huge in stature, or at least not as huge as Fen had grown the last time she’d seen him. But her presence held within it an ancient and unsettling sort of power. It showed in the subtle ways she no longer had to think about her mastery of the elements around her. In the things that she chose, slowly and deliberately, to do and not to do.

It was quite the vulnerable position Fray suddenly found herself in, lying broken in a stretcher on the forest floor, surrounded by a semi-circle of unfamiliar, impassive faces who were all at least seven paces away. But before she could start feeling properly anxious, Lady Second began moving deeper into the woods, dragging Fray behind her like a winter sled.

The Devahni absorbed her new situation much the same as she had the former. Bits and pieces at a time, starting with the length of root that had somehow sprouted from the earth and wrapped itself around one end of the stretcher, and ending with how the trees seemed to bow out of their way.

Fray strained her neck to lift her head just a few inches up. She did so partly to see what was to come, and partly to avoid feeling every rock and twig sliding underneath her spine. The soil was mercifully soft, allowing most of the forest debris to be smooshed flat into damp dirt once Lady Second passed through. Still, some pieces managed to survive their first encounter, leaving much to be desired in terms of transportation. Not that her ladyship seemed to care.

Fray almost forgot who was pulling her until Lady Second spoke again. It took her a moment to get her thoughts in order, but once she did, the weight of the inevitable felt heavy enough to crush her to dust.

“No,” Fray answered truthfully. “The last time I saw him, he had lost all control. I don’t know if he even knew who I was by the end, only that he wanted to keep me there. Even if it meant killing me.”

No sooner had she confessed this than a terrible keening sound erupted somewhere up ahead. Fray could not see much from her vantage point, with Lady Second blocking most of her view. But around the edges of the tree woman’s profile, she could see trees shaking violently, as if something enormous was stomping through them, pushing his way toward the only living member left of their sorry little family.

“FRRRAAYY!!” she heard it bellow.

Fray sucked in a breath before returning her stricken gaze to Lady Second. A grim smile sat lopsided on her ashen face.

“Guess he remembers who I am after all.”
 
The woodsnap was almost insulting, given who she was. Must be what gardeners felt when you plucked the wrong tomato. She remembered how she was starting to develop a soft spot for them before she had them all replaced. There was no room for soft in longevity – that was for young trees and lesser things. So let other people act barkless, she did not have the luxury.

The thing that popped out of the woods was taller than a human had any right to be. But perhaps that was the mistake – calling it human – when they were both clearly more. Skin pulled well past stretch, mark of the thing's own gestation where it could give, rips and tears oozing lymph and blood where it could not, their dried over streaks blending with mud and crushed foliage to pattern the new breed of animal. Angled to the right, it had a misplaced joint atop its left collarbone, leading down to arms of uneven length that hung loosely, but swung around too wildly to be seen as numb. She wondered what filled his overgrown form now, beyond purpose. She could test each bit of her with knocks and fires and learn her grain, but she had grown into it slowly. By Dinner's own words...this was a more sudden transformation. Its legs looked like a short joke, but they did support the enlarged frame. At least the face still looked vaguely human.

Perhaps what was learned here could...

But no, that was for later...if there was such a thing.

She had to look up when she addressed the creature. And it was a strange experience, because it had been a while since a thing towered over her, because even when she was sitting, she wasn't exactly small.

„Fen, if you don't stop...you could...“ No, that wasn't exactly right. „...We could hurt your sister.“

Juniper was living proof that monsters could be sensible...most of the time. Perhaps the theory could repeat with the newly evolved.

The Guard and the Woodbound never stopped moving, if not stealthily, encircling the clearing. It was better not to fight, but it was best to win.
 
There was a strange, keening sound coming up from the forest floor as Fen's mangled form stumbled out into the open. It wasn't until Lady Second started speaking that Fray realized the sound was, in fact, coming from her own, horrified throat, but by then she was beyond caring.

Fen was a monster. No, worse. He was a monster only two thirds of the way done with ripping itself out from her brother's body. Gone were the sleek, even planes of Fen's placid face. The scholarly lines of his elegant form. His soul. In their place were torn skin stretched tight over an unnatural frame and bones that jutted out at impossible angles. The mouth he once used to smile cryptically over a riddle, or scrunch up in concentration while he explored some new curiosity, was now hanging open, frozen in anguish.

It released a moan of some primal emotion in response to Lady Second's words. It did not seem capable of much else.

Fray's heart juttered and twisted, then banged violently against her chest. She wanted to cry, but the tears would not come, so instead she clamped her mouth shut to stop the pathetic noise. She felt her body struggle to dry heave as an alternative. She would not let it.

"FFRRAAYY...."

She near bit her tongue bloody at hearing her brother's voice split into so many parts. It sounded like some deranged musician had ripped apart all the individual sounds that made up his once low, velvety timber and turned them into a composition of nightmares.

Fen's pitch black eyes locked onto Fray's. The pupils were huge, and the whites around them stark in their intensity. Without further warning, he lurched into motion, pulling his mangled body forward with obvious, labored effort. He seemed to have forgotten Lady Second altogether, his Blighted feet crushing everything in their path. Fray watched in horror as he drew nearer ever so slowly. She couldn't help but stare at the gnarled roots that snaked in and around his heels, inseparable from flesh and bone.

"Fen, you have to stop!” she begged, her voice hoarse with desperation and grief. “Just fucking stop!"

But of course, he would not stop. He could not hear anything beyond the Blighted blood screaming in his veins. And all the while, things were...growing on him. Bark thickening, growth pushing itself to life all around him. Leaves, vines, and clumps of blackish mold spread across his mutated form. A terrible dread rose up inside of Fray as she noticed something akin to a large thorn start to build up all along his left arm, smothering his monstrous hand one layer of bark at a time.
 
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The oncebrother wheezed like the freshly ventilated in Third's work area. Whatever bond she felt they had got squeezed out with his sorry excuse for breath. Some people found purpose in their transformation. Others only found emotion. One was vastly superior.

Poor, poor specimen.

And then he...ignored her?

Ignored? Her?

That would've stung if it wasn't so unexpected. The creature tried to barrel past, and Juniper needed a few labored breaths of her own to recover. Because she didn't get ignored. Many things, but never ignored. The rudeness of it was interesting. Not interesting enough to stop her own roots from climbing up his legs, like shadows of those he already had. Not enough to stop her from constricting the vines into branches into constrictors unlike any the world had ever seen. Instead of pythons and the boas they'd once shown off at court, it was fickle juniper branches that grew oak in their grab, willow in their hold.

Shame, he could've been a proper monster. Stuck in her own hubris and the eulogy she was noting down, she never saw the blow coming.

Wood on wood.

Knock never felt more of a joke.

More than bark splintered as some of her roots snapped and her body got knocked back into the dust. Back in fleshyears, that would've killed her. Another small blessing of her current condition.

She wanted to scold herself. But then they'd hear, and that was worse. She'd forgotten herself. She wasn't here to be tough. She was here to be a queen.

The guard didn't need to hear a command issued to move to purpose. One poured oil over himself before moving to hold onto Fen's misproprotioned legs. Another set his colleague on fire. No fuss. No screams. Just good soldiers performing their duties. She would need to give them new names soon. Or get new guards. But such was the cost of winning.

She wondered if the brother would also resist the flame.

One of her roots grabbed the stretcher end tighter.

If he wanted to be so single minded...well, bait wasn't only for fishing.
 
Laying there on the stretcher, with her face mere inches from the forest floor, Fray had never felt so helpless in her short, woe begotten life. She could not fight. Could barely even speak. A giant snake of grief had wrapped itself around her throat, choking her mercilessly. She was too tired and filled with horror to even cry. The tears simply would not come.

All that helplessness eventually gave way to a more familiar feeling: rage.

The first person to earn her ire was, of course, Stella. Lying, scheming, two-faced whore. Oh if Fray could, she would smoke out the spineless cretin herself and tear her limb from limb. She would gut the bitch and force feed back her own innards.

The second person was Fen himself. Foolish, hopeless Fen. Fen, who loved too hard and forgot too little. For someone so effortlessly brilliant, he could be so breathtakingly stupid. Fray vowed then and there that, should she survive this debacle somehow, she would never make the same mistake. Never hang on to the dead so tightly that their memories turned into the shovel with which she dug her own grave. If only he could just let it go.

And then, Fray remembered there was a third to direct her wrath toward. The sole person responsible for Fen’s childhood sweetheart dying in the first place.

Herself.

Guilt ate her up as her mind stretched over and over to accommodate fresh new layers of horror. Because now, one of Lady Second’s minions was on fire, having been lit like a living match while he held onto Fen’s leg. Bad enough that prior to this, the Lady herself had taken a blow that knocked her straight to the ground. As the Lady struggled to recover and her loyal servant was fried to a crisp, Fen howled in pain. He was burning, but very slowly. Far more slowly than the now dead minion wrapped around his mutated feet. There were just so many layers for the fire to eat through…he would not be stalled for long.

Fray felt like she was going to lose her mind with how much all of this angered and frightened her. And how very little she could do except watch. So it was that when Fen raised his thorned arm, aiming it straight for the Lady, Fray lost her last shred of sanity.

The confession tore out of her like a fire of its own. It burned her throat with its potency, but once it was freed it could not be stopped.

“It was me, Fen!” she yelled in desperation. “I did it. I got Carris killed. That’s how I know Stella was full of shit, because she never knew the truth.”

This worked far better than Fray could have ever anticipated. Fen stopped cold, thorny arm frozen mid swing, and slowly turned to face the last of his kin. There was a glitter of pain in his eyes. The pain of betrayal. Caaaarrrissss…. He moaned pathetically.

“That’s right,” she doubled down. She had to sell it, to buy the Lady time. “It was me. I told the guards he was the one who stole the scrolls.”

“Noooo…” Fen groaned. It almost sounded like he was weeping. “Frraayy…”

She carried on, her voice cold and ruthless. “I hated him for getting you to help him in the first place. Hated him for taking up all your time, all your attention, all your love. And I hated you for being willing to take the fall, just because our family had some means to protect you. It was still going to cost us. Did you even care? Mother and Father fought day and night about it, but in the end they chose you. They would always choose you. And so did I. I chose all of us.”

Fray was breathing hard now, eyes glazed with hatred rekindled. “I sacrificed him to save you. To save our whole family. And I would do it again.” She spat to one side with all the vitriol she could muster. “Fuck Carris, may he rot in hell.”

She had held his attention for as long as she could. Fen was fully enraged now, roaring in anguish as he thrashed about. Below him, the charred remains of the servant fell away, allowing him to move freely once more. She could see it clear as day in his eyes.

He was going to kill her.
 
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Dinner was trying to hurt the monster's feelings. Juniper would've scoffed had she not been busy brambling the dead foliage from her mouth. Wasn't even sure why she bothered – not like she needed a mouth for what came next. A silly, human notion. Pride and success still stuck together, much like shame and...other outcomes. She'd always hoped she'd secondguess less with age, but it never came. Each new ring was just another line in her stem. Mind somehow always failing to keep up.

But she still used it. Much like she'd use everything else. If they wanted to have a moment, they could do so once the threat was neutralized. There was no room for sentiment when it came to safety. When you quantified for the actual living, away from the glade – any harm done here seemed...negligeable. And the girl could keep a twig or two, even if it meant the new species would end.

Her arms grew new saplings, just shy of branchstrength. And as Solomon burned against the invader's leg, she wondered what his next name would be. Fire may have been insufficient to kill either of them, but Juniper still remembered the hurt. Saplings wove up the unkindled leg. First wrapping around, then digging in like furious shoelaces. It hurt her tips to dig into the deformed flesh. She could only imagine what it inflicted on the other end. Weave and thread. Filaments inched up the limb, pulling Juniper ever so slightly from the dirt, where she swayed like a foreign appendage.

Further out, the woodbound were close to untangling their roots. They would be able to do their best impression of walking soon. She just needed time. A bit more time.

Where she got hit and trampled, cracks formed along the grain. Didn't matter. It could all be regrown – maybe even using his own deformity as fuel.

As her limbs grew in number, it was harder to keep track of them, so she pulled those attached to the stretcher back in. Bones could handle that. Sure, he was a limping mess, but he still kept moving. And that's all she needed from him.

Bad knee clicked in habit. Skeletal hands reached for the stretcher.

If the girl didn't run on her own, well, she'd be dragged.
 
Fray was so fixated on the raging monster of her once-brother that she had no eyes left for Lady Second's transformation. It wasn't until her stretcher suddenly started shifting backwards that she finally tore her gaze away.

"Oh hell..." she breathed.

The Blighted lady was covered in fresh saplings that seemed to be growing by the second. A confusing number of limbs now sprouted from her swaying body. Altogether, this was undoubtedly one of the most fucked up things Fray had ever been forced to witness in her entire life. A scene of utter chaos and horror. Her brother, now a monster, partly singed and howling in fury. Her host, mutating at will to do gods knew what. And said host's minions, scattered about with their strange veins and placid demeanors, seemingly unperturbed by the living matchstick their compatriot had become.

Some small part of her felt relief as she was hauled away. Whoever was dragging her seemed like they were struggling; Fray could tell by their labored breathing more than any visual evidence. But most of her was smothered up in guilt. The monster born from Fen's body was in a frenzy of pain, thrashing about wildly. Then it looked down and saw the source of its agony.

Just when she thought the nightmare couldn't get any worse, the monster reached down, wrapped gnarled, twiggy fingers around the sizzling body, and yanked. The man seemed to still be somewhat alive and let loose a garbled moan as his burnt limbs flopped about. Then the monster crushed him in pure rage. It was as slow as it was horrible. The screams, the squelch of meat and crunching of bones. Blood oozed between bark, and continued to do so long after the man fell mercifully silent. When there was no more sound to illicit or things to crush, he was tossed aside like a squashed bug.

Fray turned her head and vomited.

It was mostly bile, since the only thing they'd eaten was that bitter medicine. She was still being dragged away as well, her savior having pushed onward without so much as a single hiccup of hesitation. Not through all the screams and squelches.

Even though she thought she'd made peace, Fray found herself struggling with the weight of truth. There was no way this abomination could be allowed to live. It was consumed with madness and killed without mercy. And that was, she realized, largely her fault. She had goaded him, pushed him to this point of evil. She'd done it on purpose, just like when she'd snitched on Carris, and she could hate herself for the rest of time, but given the chance, she would do it again. Every. Single. Time.

Because she'd rather have the real thing, however terrible, than to live a lie.

She felt something wet drip down her neck. It didn't even register that they were her own tears, not until she was able to choke out those final, fatal words.

"Goodbye, Fen."

Then the woods came to life, the trees themselves seemingly waking to take their very first steps, and Fray thought to herself, well it's about time I lost my whole damn mind.
 
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