February 23, 2009 - 5:19am — lemon
Holy cow, this is long. Sorry. Cx
I have a very interesting twist planned; I can’t wait to get to it. 8’) It will be revealed later, however – not quite yet. For now, I’ll just say that the spirits aren’t as evil as they seem. <3
”W-where did she go?” Lemon was in a panic, stumbling from one edge of the clearing to the other. Her eyes burned with tears, her heart hammered relentlessly against her little chest. She had been looking after a handful of fawns, and had let her mind wander for a moment – only a moment! – back to her recent meeting with the spirits. Now, she came to realize that one of the fawns she had been looking after, had disappeared.
She had been laying with a few of her friends, watching over a few fawns as they played. Now the group of fawns was minus one, and no one else seemed to be nearly as concerned as Lemon.
The little doe could feel the first traces of a panic attack begin to overtake her – she could hardly breathe, could hardly think. Her entire body felt as if it was trembling, quaking. How could she have lost a fawn? How could she have let it slip away? Lemon leaned against a nearby tree, her sides heaving. No, Lemon thought. No, its okay. Its not your daughter; she can take care of herself. She isn’t your responsibility! After a moment, Lemon began to regain her stability. She righted herself and inhaled deeply. Lemon couldn’t even remember what the fawn’s name was; she wasn’t going to find her again, any time soon. There was no use panicking over the matter.
The little doe turned, making sure that the remaining fawns were safe from harm – and was pleased to see that each of them had snuggled up against an adult. Breathing a resigned sigh, Lemon headed toward the pond.
By the time Lemon felt the cool comfort of water against her fetlocks, she had worked herself up into another frenzy. Lemon’s most recent meeting with the spirits had left her frazzled – she had already been near her breaking point, previous to the encounter. Now, she was an absolute mess; where was she going to find this damned dark spirit, and how in the world was she going to find any good in him? Her initial optimism had begun to fade away, leaving panic in its wake.
Suddenly, Lemon bumped into something warm and soft. She pulled back, startled, and was surprised to find that a little fawn had crossed her path. Perhaps this was the one she had lost? Lemon reached out and gave the little fawn a gentle nuzzle, and was pleased to feel the fawn return her loving gesture.
The fawn guided Lemon to the Twin Gods’ idols, and proceeded to flaunt an obvious obsession with the devout pelt. Lemon went along with her game for a while; but eventually became distracted by the sound of Walter’s voice, ringing through the forest. She stood perfectly still, perched at the apex of the Twin Gods’ hill, listening to that familiar half-snarl of Walter’s. And suddenly, she received an idea.
The dark spirit. The evil one. It’s… It’s Walter.
Lemon lurched forward, her eyes wide with realization. But she stopped short, realizing that she was still looking after a fawn. She turned, calling the fawn to her side, and it trotted merrily after. Together, fawn and doe moved quickly through the forest, until they reached Walter. There, Lemon was startled to hear the clashing of antlers. She took a step back, trying to pull the fawn with her. Oh, what a terrible deer she was; leading an innocent fawn to a battleground! But Walter broke from his fight when he saw Lemon and the fawn, and Lemon was surprised to feel him brush against her gently. A nuzzle. She greeted him warmly in return, though her heart pounded violently against her chest.
This was him. This was the black soul.
Lemon took another step back, and was startled to feel warmth brush against her rump. She whirled around, and was met by the curious bleat of another fawn. Lemon offered the young child a smile, and followed him to a nearby tree, to entertain him with spells. She giggled as she felt the weight of white antlers, and gasped at the strange feel of magpie feathers on her head. But just as the last twangs of her most recent spell faded away, Lemon was startled to hear the squeal of a very small fawn – the same fawn she had visited Twin Gods’ hill with. Her blood ran cold at the sound, as she realized that she had left the fawn alone, with Walter.
Lemon broke into a full gallop, moving as quickly as her twiggy legs would carry her, toward Walter and the young fawn. She slid to a stop, clouds of dust drowning her silvery figure. And that’s when she realized that the fawn’s cries of terror, had really been squeals of joy. Walter was… playing. With the fawn. Lemon took a step back, tilting her head. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult to show the old stag’s good side, after all..
Lemon laid down, listening to Walter and the little fawn play. She had never witnessed Walter this way; so caring and careful. Her assumptions had been true all along – there was good in everyone. Sometimes, it was just a little difficult to find.
After several hours, Lemon began to feel that strange feeling in her gut. It began as a sinking feeling in her belly, which quickly became accompanied by a strange buzzing in her mind. These strange sensations always accompanied the arrival of the spirits; she knew they were near. Swallowing back the nervousness she felt, Lemon carefully climbed to her feet. It was time to go.
The little doe moved carefully toward the ruins – somewhere she knew she would be left alone. She found her favorite little patch of poppies, and laid down, smiling to herself. She had done it – she just knew it. She had done exactly what the spirits had challenged her to do. She had found some good in Walter.
Suddenly, Lemon began to feel quite cold. She shivered, tucking her legs a little closer to her belly. Silence fell over the forest, and darkness swept over the land. Lemon lifted her chin, her ears pulling nervously back against her feathery head. The spirits had returned.
The little doe rose gingerly to her feet, and was startled to see the spirits appear quite suddenly before her, already collected into the shape of a large, white stag.
Lemon stepped toward the white stag, trying to keep herself calm. ”I did it, didn’t I? It was Walter, wasn’t it? Walter was the dark one you spoke of. But today, you saw him caring for a young fawn, didn’t you? And with no selfish reasons behind it. He protected it, kept it entertained, laid beside it when it grew weary. You have seen the good side of Walter, haven’t you?”
The white stag lifted his head, narrowing his eyes. He took a careful step toward the doe, and sighed. He seemed to be contemplating her excited words, irritated that she had completed such an impossible task. Then he spoke, his voice like a thousand voices all at once.
”Yes, you have shown us that he has some good in him. But the rest of his soul is so dark; he’s a threat to the forest and its inhabitants. He encourages the darkness in others, and he has hurt many. It is his time to be eliminated.”
Lemon was startled. ”You – you can’t do that! I did what you asked, you can’t break your promise, now!”
The spirits hissed at her, breaking from their white-stag form. They enveloped her as a mist, shrouding her in a cold blanket of death. ”We promised NOTHING! And even so, we can change our minds, Gilda. We’re free spirits. But now, you must do as we ask. You are not a free spirit, yet. You’ve already argued once, and kept your life. Are you really going to take that chance, again? The stag must die, Gilda. By your hoof.”
Lemon’s mouth pulled into a frown, and she stamped her hooves in anger. ”W-why should I? What have y-you d-done for me? You think that j-just because you save my life once, I’m entirely in your debt? You settled the score when you t-took away my sight and my ability to h-have children!”
”You ungrateful thing. Be glad that we merely took away your sight. Be glad that you still have your ability to feel, hear, speak, and walk.” The spirits chuckled, curling around the little doe playfully.
Lemon deflated. She could feel her muscles tense with sudden panic. Her silvery brows wrinkled with concern, and her ears pulled back against her head. ”…W-what do you mean by that?” The spirits pulled away, their innocent chuckles changing to hisses. Suddenly, the little doe could feel the tendons in her legs begin to quiver in a strange way, and pain began to crawl it’s way from the tips of her hooves, to the joints in her knees. She whimpered, frozen in place by fear and dread. What was happening; what had she done? The pain in her legs began to intensify, slithering further up her legs until it reached her abdomen. Lemon gasped for breath, the sharpness of the pain more than she could bear. She fell to the ground, her legs folding clumsily. The spirits laughed, their maniacal giggles piercing her tender ears.
Lemon turned her head, wide-eyed, and opened her mouth to scream. Whether anything came out, Lemon could not know. She couldn’t hear anything, anymore – everything was silent. She couldn’t even hear her own voice; she was lost in a world of darkness and silence. Lemon felt her heart rise, her chest heaving with panic. Where was she? What was happening? The little doe was trapped in a tiny bubble of blackness; alone, completely and utterly alone.
Minutes, hours, days passed. Lemon didn’t know how long she lay, trying to scream, lost in her own little world of terror. Unable to see, hear, smell, or feel anything – over and over again, panic attacks ravished her fragile body. Finally, after what seemed to be an endless amount of time, a tiny child-like whisper entered Lemon’s mind, and the words left her desperate and afraid.
”He must die.”
Lemon awoke in the forest, sprawled out on her side. She could feel the warmth of another body laying beside her – a fawn. She could hear the birds chirping nearby, the hallow sound of wind sweeping through the trees. She could smell the sharp sting of other deer nearby; some she recognized, others she did not. Her senses had returned. All, except for her sight.
Lemon slowly dragged her weary body to its feet, her legs trembling. Her entire body was aching and fatigued – how much more of this could she possibly handle? More importantly, how was she to avoid carrying out the spirits’ orders, without risking her own life? Lemon lowered her head, and gently kissed the fawn who had fallen asleep beside her on the top of his tiny head. With that, she turned and moved slowly toward the ruins – a place she often went to, for comfort.
As the little doe reached the stony ruins, she began to realize just how exhausted she truly was. Had she really been paralyzed for days; a helpless, blind, deaf, and mute infant on the forest floor? It certainly didn’t feel that way – it felt as if she had run a marathon. Now she dragged her worn out body onward, until she felt the cool press of stone and moss. There, the little doe collapsed, and heaved one heavy-hearted sob before giving way to sleep.
I’m not happy with this. ._____. I wish I could write more efficiently. And.. more exciting…ly.
Verdy, I hope you don’t mind that I used Walter. xD I was still trying to decide who to use for the dark soul, last night. I even almost used Lieka, as she IS the queen of darkness. ;3 But I feel that Walter is most known in the forest for being … well, mean. xD