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The battlefield reeked of death and the winged carrion seekers flew overhead, circling scavengers. Keepers of the souls, ready to take the dead to the next realm –whatever and wherever that might be. He could remember the detail of the carnage, of the dead littering the ground. But there was no noise and no movement but of the soul eaters in the sky.

It was like he was there, but not there. An observer who could not affect the moment frozen before him.

He could see the frozen faces of comrades and enemies alike, strewn about and riddled with holes and bathing the earth beneath them with blood. Sacrifices to the Mor-Ríoghain. To the whims of a king. Wasted lives.

As much as he wanted to walk away from the pain and failure he felt at this great loss, he couldn’t. He was pulled here often, to see what had been left behind. The carnage that he had been a part of. Found himself here, in this place, in his dreams and nightmares. It was were he went when he slept, to this blood soaked world and in a body he no longer possessed but was eerily familiar with.

He had a name, but he could not recall it.

Tall for his kind, his ancestors had been warriors and thus why he was one as well. Pale skinned and azure eyes that were dark like the night sky. Hair that was soaked with sweat and blood, black at the roots and fading out into silver tips. Whenever he dared to glance down, there’d be blood splattered upon his hands and forearms. Blood not his own, or so he assumes.

Sometimes in this dark and dream-nightmare world, he finds that he too has given a sacrifice. The gaping wound in his chest the evidence of it. He was no different than the brethren strewn about like broken toys on the battlefield.

When he sleeps in that dream state and wakes in the world he now knows, it is a big difference. Like from night to day. And though he could not remember the name he had, he had been given another by the Twin Gods. Rakkaus. And when he realized this, it often let him escape the blood soaked world of the past and come back to what was the present.

Soft sounds filtered through sleep fog and he could feel the soft grass beneath him, feel the hard bark of the tree he often curled up next to. A solid comfort, the smell of clean air and earth. The sound of the water rushing from the fountain nearby.

Home. It was home. And memories of blood and death faded away, like bits of sand through his fingers. And he was glad to have lost what was and embraced what was now. Rousing from sleep, he pried his eyes open and saw that he was in the Forest. The haven. A place he no longer had to deal with shedding blood and causing death. It was a comfort.

Smiling wistfully, Rakkaus stood, stretching and shaking his pelt as if to rid the last remains of something he couldn’t fully recall anymore now that he was awake and aware. Lifting his dark muzzle, he could smell the creek, the grass, the other deer. And the white and black pelted stag with detailed hooked antlers smiled. Warmth filled him and a sense of joy came to him as he trotted from his sleeping place and alongside the creek, down to the familiar arch of the bridge.

Seeing a familiar figure sitting on the bridge, Rakkaus started prancing and was nearly hopping when he reached the bridge. The russet pelt with Its crimson stripe and the flowers in the antlers meant only one being: Atvana. It stood and smiled at him and he couldn’t help but return the expression. A deer Rakkaus had grown attached to since first coming to the Forest and found companionship, friendship, and comfort with. Like a child, he pranced around the other, happy and content, his past just a foggy, obscure thought.