Moira

Moira

A clump of snow fell alongside the already snow-clad path. Although the sun showed brightly up the mountain, the frost nipped through the fur cloak of a now lethargic traveler. Like a cacoon, she wrapped it tightly around her body. A large, simple pack was attached to her backside, adorned with basic camping supplies and climbing gear. The sound of crunching snow accompanied her thoughts, along with sensations of hunger and thirst. She didn't bother to wipe the fog from her glass goggles in fear of gusts. Nor did she pull down her cloth head wrap in the thinning atmosphere. She was determined to make it to the flat area Oren spotted earlier.

Another step forward, and her foot sank further than expected. Coming to a halt, she found her foot stuck under compacted snow. She took long, deep breaths as she peered through her goggles into the sunset. Through the obscured view, she judged maybe an hour left of sunlight. A moment later, she released her protective shroud. Revealing furlined, leather padded clothing with matching gloves. Two sheathed blades hung from her belt. On the left, a weapon akin to a shortsword. On the right, a knife roughly half the length.

She reached for her stuck leg, grasping the knee. With whatever strength she could muster, she wrenched upward, freeing it from the sinkhole. Suddenly a burst of wind rushed past. With one arm, she attempted to block the oncoming flurry of snow. With the other, she struggled to gain control of the flailing cloak. But she continued on the narrow path, knowing she had little time to lose.

Shortly after, her boots reached level ground. Cautiously navigating to the center gave her immense relief. Believing the hardest was over, she lazily dropped her pack, knees along with it. With a soft thud, she dug herself in and surveyed the surroundings. Lifeless plants and barren trees gave testament to the perilousness of her journey. With one exhausted arm, she reached for a spade tied to her pack.

Her mind quickly began to wander while she dug into the ice. Vivid images blanketed her thoughts, remembering the weeks prior. Her memories stopped on a bearded man holding an ornate sword, standing amidst a training room. It was filled with multi-limbed dummies, knicked wooden pillars, armor, and weapon racks. She stood just within speaking range of him. He was dressed in simple clothing with a large medallion hanging around his neck. "You think you're ready?", he said with a smile. She shakily replied, "I don't know.". Her eyes lowered to the sword in her hand. Petting the filigree, she gazed back at him, "Were you ready?". The man furrowed his brow, looking to his side. But with a crooked grin, he responded "I was more ready to hunt than I was to have a daughter.".

She rolled her eyes and took an exaggerated sigh. "Never look away from it.". His voice felt merely feet away. She looked back to see the edge of his sword slicing through the air. An awkward leap away caused her to stumble, falling onto her rear. The man continued his lesson, "You lose your footing, you die.". He flourished his blade, ending with a thrust towards her abdomen. Quickly she rolled to his side and aimed a quick slash to his shin guard. His blade stabbed into the wooden floor, effectively blocking the strike. She looked up to his towering figure, "If it's stronger, you must be faster.".

The memory faded from her as she finished clearing a section of snow. Barely large enough to fit her smaller frame. She meticulously unpacked her camping gear. She found it difficult to set up the meager camp half-blinded by her coverings. Quickly considering the options, she chose to remove her goggles and head wrap. Dark amber hair danced in the breeze, while her matching eyes took in a clearer picture. Her alabaster skin was nearly as blinding as the snow in the fading sun.

With her unobscured vision, the traveler was able to complete her tent without issue. She looked once more into the horizon before crawling onto the fur cushion. Rolling to her back forced a strong sense of drowsiness. Her mind began to wander, her senses dulling in a haze of warmer thoughts. As sleep began to take hold, she was jolted awake by a sharp hoot. A white-faced owl, perched atop the tent, invertedly peeked inside. Having been reminded of a friendly face, the traveler smiled and lazily exited the shelter.

The bird's head followed her movements until she stood upright. She held out an arm, and it expectantly hopped on. Oren stood taller than most owls of his kind. Also, a bit heavier, with mostly white feathers and brown tipped wings. The young woman reached into a pocket and presented her friend with a piece of cured meat. "Did you find it, Oren?", she whispered. The bird first ignored her voice, gobbling down the dried flesh. She asked again, and Oren cocked his head to the side. She widened her gaze and clicked her tongue thrice. He perked up and pointed a beak further up the mountain. Her eyes followed, but they couldn't discern anything other than slopes and ice. "You better be right, bird.". Oren hooted once more as she set him to the ground, "Let's get a fire started.".

Night crept into the campsite. A steaming pot hung over the small fire with the traveler beside it. She admired the reflections of a large, silver medallion. It bore an intricate pattern of loops, surrounding the likeness of an avian creature. She was reminded of family as she pressed her fingers against ripples. It gave her a sense of purpose beyond customs, and tradition. She embraced the moment, bolstering her resolve. Another sharp hoot pierced through the crackling fire, and she felt a sharp pain on her forehead. In that moment of reflection, Oren had climbed up her shoulder to deliver a loving peck. Informing her that dinner was ready, she sighed and ladled salted meat into a bowl.

The half-full moon gave Oren enough light for further scouting. After his meal, he hurried off into the night. Allowing the young woman to sleep a little more comfortable knowing she had eyes in the sky. She didn't eat much herself, as coming closer to the destination gave her anxiety. She wouldn't have eaten at all if not for her father's training. He believed that hunger was a silent killer, and even in the direst of circumstances, eating could be life-saving. She attempted to think no more of him, as traveling without his presence was painful enough. Letting the fire burn itself out, she crawled back into the tent to rest.

The traveler tossed and turned throughout the night. Not from the rough ground beneath fur padding, but from dreams bordering on nightmare. They continued from memories of training. Her father gave chase, while she tried to avoid detection. She was shrouded amongst a forest, behind a large tree, wearing hunting garb. She bore no weaponry, as this was a test of stealth and cunning. He purposefully stomped along fallen branches, giving away his position. The traveler focused, carefully determining his location. She moved from one tree to the next, keeping low and as silently as possible. Peering around with one eye, she saw the glint of a silver medallion dangling from a low branch not ten yards away. Excitement gripped her, as she turned to look back the way she came. She couldn't spy him, nor did she hear his clumsy searching.

Locks of hair partially obscured her vision as she took a sprinting pose. Positioning herself beside the tree, she aimed toward the silver trophy. Long deep breaths focused her mind, listening one last time for disturbances. Her eyes shift to the side, hearing not the sound of snapping twigs, but of heavy breathing very near. Her father was searching directly opposite the tree. A small, nearby rock fostered a simple idea. Balancing on five fingers, she palmed the rock and threw it behind her. Its clack echoed loudly amongst the environment, and she began a count down.

After three seconds, she burst out of cover. Slipping past branches, she felt faster than ever. Her breathing stifled the sound of rustling leaves and snapping wood. The short dose of adrenaline kept her focused on the light glimmering ahead. An unnoticed branch scratched her cheek while lifting her arm. She let out a yelp as she leaped forward, sailing directly at the medallion. The world came to an abrupt pause the moment her fingertips brushed against it. Gravity had seen to her rather jarring fall back to earth. She fell flat against the ground, the pain was not nearly as intense as the disappointment.

She turned over to see her father also flat on the ground, arm outstretched. His hand was in a vice around her ankle. Exhaling hot air, she delivered a bewildered look. "Really?", she panted. He grinned, also out of breath, "If it's faster, you must be smarter.". They shared a brief moment of focus and concern before devolving into lighthearted laughter. A few seconds later, her laughter ceased, and she went wide-eyed with concern. While her father continued laughing, red liquid seeped from his mouth. Gashes magically appeared across his leather padding, oozing more blood. "Father!", she screamed while reaching towards him. With every inch forward, he appeared further away. She called to him one last time, and the world went black.

The traveler awoke with a bruised spirit. She placed a hand to her eyes and wiped the moisture away. A long cold breath helped to revitalize her shaken psyche. She felt it hard to breathe. As if her mind is pressing down, taunting her with the thoughts of failing her loved ones. Laying a hand to her chest, she felt something other than the fur blanket. Oren was sleeping soundly on her sternum. She silently giggled and smiled in comfort, gently scratching his head.

Sunlight began to fill her shelter. Dawn was upon them, it was the day she'd finish her objective. After a few more moments of rest, the two exited the tent, Oren perched on her shoulder. She folded her tent and placed the cooking pot upon it. She knew she'd be back that same day, or never again. She packed the rest of her things, a bird in toe. With furrowed brows and a strangely diurnal owl, she continued her trek up the mountain.

Hours passed, and the determined traveler found herself climbing a steep hill. Oren would regularly glide past her, hooting as he went. "I heard you the first time!", she barked. To her benefit, much of the snow ahead of her had melted in the morning sun. The warmth was pleasant, with very little wind pushing against her.

She neared the top of the hill, where Oren had landed. At first, his eyes were keen to see the young woman reach the top. But as she was just another two steps to the top, he turned his head and began to screech. She knew that sound intimately, it meant there was someone or something nearby. She halted, keeping as still as possible. Slowed breathing came with a focus on hearing. A moment passed and Oren went silent. His vision was still locked in the same direction.

Just as she began to creep up the hill, Oren flew out of sight towards the disturbance. "No. No. No.", she said while flapping wings moved out of earshot. A mix of anger and concern carried her the short way to the top. She silently raised her eye level above, to see the mouth of a cave. Its entrance was engraved with symbols and runes. She didn't seem surprised by its appearance, but anxiousness gripped her stomach. Eerie darkness lay inside, with only traces of snow leading in. Hunched over, she crested the hill, slinging her pack to the manmade stonework beneath her. She scoured her pack and produced a glass globe filled with a thin, clear fluid. With a single black rune resting on its surface. She rubbed her thumb against it while whispering, "Light.". The rune shimmered with ethereal light, the liquid inside shining with tremendous light. Throwing her pack back on, she drew her weapon.

She descended into the blackness of the cave. The globe's light was sufficient to illuminate the narrow path downward. Which helped in navigating its twists and turns. More runic symbols lined the walls, along with crude paintings of monstrosities devouring bound humans. Her senses kept trained for the sights and sounds of her feathery companion.

Minutes passed. The traveler heard little more than her soft steps and condensation falling onto rock. She did her best to keep calm, but the idea of creatures grabbing her from around corners kept her on edge. Every echo, every trick of the light toyed with her mind. Constantly looking over her shoulder, or hastily bringing light to dark spaces. However, her paranoid behavior was eventually replaced with amazement.

The path opened up to a massive hall, with blocky stone architecture filling the center. It reached high to the ceiling, but no runes adorned its walls. Getting lost in her wonder, the traveler unwittingly stepped forward, tripping over. She fell to her knees, dropping her sword in the process. The clang reverberated wildly about the room. She braced herself with one hand keeping the globe safe from the stone floor. Clenching her jaw, she kept perfectly still as the sound faded from the chamber. Slowly, she turned her head and lifted the glass. The face of a deceased man stared back with lifeless eyes. Hairs stood on end while she scrambled to her feet. Taking a step backward, she raised the globe to shine more light on the fresh-looking corpse.

"Roa.", she whispered in the darkness. A freehand covered her mouth as she noticed his lower half was missing. She continued to back away while frantically searching for her blade. She stumbled closer towards the architecture until she saw the dull reflection of a hilt. As she reached for it, an otherworldly roar emanated from further in. A sensation colder than her surroundings rose from her spine. She gripped her weapon and took a fighting stance.

The echoes receded, and she was certain a monster was on the prowl. She stepped quickly to the walls of the chamber, keeping her back to it while she walked to the other side. The light painting a more grotesque picture of what transpired. More blood and bits of entrails were randomly strewn about. The more she saw, the more dread filled her heart. She ignored as much as she could until her path around led to a tunnel further into the cave. Listening for anything, she peeked around the corner. A draft reeking of rot wafted through the air. She swallowed, keeping her stomach contents suppressed.

Her journey down the tunnel took a more horrifying turn. Smeared, bloody handprints decorated its interior, pointing the way she entered. The air grew warmer and more rancid the further she went. The walls began to glisten with a translucent slime, similar to mucus. A sample collected with her sword revealed bits of tiny rock floating in the substance. She whipped the blade to her side, slinging off the residue. She continued, still uncertain as to what she'll find.

After thirty paces of spiraling tunnel, she came upon the dull glow of natural light. She immediately rubbed her thumb across the globe's rune, extinguishing the light, cloaking her in darkness. A now swift pace led to the opening of another grand hall. However, this room wasn't made of rock or mineral but instead made of garnet red flesh. It repulsively convulsed as if breathing, layered by networks of dull, blue veins. A large mass of flesh rhythmically beats in the center of the room. Longer than her, it was suspended in place by two strips of sinew. One stretching to the ceiling, the other to the floor.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing, let alone comprehend it. Forcing her frightened gaze past the bizarre, she followed a faint beam of light to a hole in the ceiling. It appeared to be a small collapse to the outside, however, the flesh didn't grow there. Tracing the light, she discovered a black patch of burnt flesh. Making a mental note, she walked on the balls of her feet into the room.

Gingerly moving forward, she kept her eyes peeled for sudden movements. Once again, kept as close to the pulsating walls as possible. Her boots sank little into the soft tissue, making low squishing noises as she crept along. The sound of pumping blood became noticeable, forcing a disgusted look. She turned away from the throbbing mass to see another fleshless hole just a few steps away.

She slinked forward with her weapon at the ready and peered into the dimly lit cavity. Squinting her eyes, she honed in what appeared to be the silhouette of a person. She forbade all hope before accepting this journey, but the feeling would not be denied. Another swipe across the rune, and its magnificent light shined once more into the darkness. The hole filled with light, revealing the figure inside. Her heart skipped a beat, and her fear of the situation washed away. With worry in her voice, she whispered out to him, "Father!".

"Father! Please wake up!", she continued. The man stirred for a moment, then snapped awake. He looked up to see his daughter's hanging face above him. His face contorted from surprise to anger. With a frown, he whispered back "Moira! What are you doing here!?". She ignored his question, expecting it well in advance. Instead, she sheathed her sword and withdrew a rope from her pack, feeding it down to him. Realizing her intention, he tried to reason with her. "That thing is still out there. You need to run away!". His words fell on deaf ears, as she began to wrap the other end around her arm. "Climb.", she said calmly.

Moira felt the weight of her father as the rope threatened to dislodge her arm. "I think it's gone for now. What is it?", she asked while her father slid out of the hole. He collapsed onto the slick, moving floor. Padding for one of his legs was ripped off completely. A dark purple covered most of his leg below the knee. "I don't know.", he groaned. Moira knelt to his leg, "I think it's broken.". "It feels like it's broken.", he replied, "It killed everyone else. Fed em' to whatever this damned thing is. How long have I been gone?". Moira searched through her pack once more, pulling out a small wooden box. She lifted the top and presented the contents to him. Inside were five folded plant leaves, with yellow patterns in the center.

"You don't listen, but at least you come prepared.", he reached into the box, taking a single leaf. He placed the leaf on his tongue and began chewing, "I told you this was for emergencies.". Moira quickly finished putting the rope and box back into her pack, "I think this is a Bitterleaf emergency.". He raised his eyebrows in agreement and motioned her to give him a hand. With both hands, she grasped his arm and pulled. With great concentration, he prevented himself from yelling under the strain of his shattered leg.

They began their hobble towards the tunnel, avoiding ridges and bloated arteries. Moving through the center, they came close to the heart of the room. Its beating made her uneasy, giving only a revolted look as they passed. A moment later, their feet touched solid ground in the tunnel. But before they could ascend, a loud beat emerged from the mass behind them. The sound of tearing flesh followed as they both turned their heads. The mass stopped beating, and a surgical line down the middle appeared. The tumor's now two halves split open, and a creature from within pushed forth. Its elongated head and neck spilled out first, not dissimilar to a centipede in form. The eyes were little more than black, sunken saucers. Emaciated arms and legs unfurled from an unnatural fetal position. Colar bones and rib cage, visible and deformed. Twice as tall as the fleshy shell it came out of. "Move!", her father screamed.

His hobbling evolved into a hop while she held onto him. She pushed her muscles to their limits, forcing a hiking pace up the tunnel.

Another ear-splitting roar cascades past them. "Does it have a weak spot?", she gasped. Through gritted teeth, he answered, "It doesn't like the light.". Another few yards climbed, and the clacking of talons on rock signaled the wretched being's approach. "We're almost there!", Moira shouted, her globe leading the way.

Another roar proceeded their escape into the first chamber. The light once again illuminated the stone structure, giving Moira a sense of direction. She led her father to the tunnel entrance, with the creature's noises close behind. Holding up the globe, she turned her head to check its distance from them. To her surprise, she could hear the monster's movement on the rock but couldn't see it. As if it became invisible to the naked eye. "Where is it?!", she yelled impatiently. Suddenly her eye caught movement from above. It traversed on all fours across the ceiling, with its neck making smooth serpentine motions. Never breaking its fixed gaze upon them.

With ease, it crawled further ahead, its claws leaving imprints where it roamed. Just as the next tunnel out came into view, the creature dropped down from the ceiling, coming between them and their escape. It let loose another skull rattling roar, shaking loose stone from walls. They came to a stop and pushed Moira behind him, "I'll hold em' off. Then you run when it's clear!". She handed him the dazzling globe of light and reached back into her pack. "You know I won't.", she replied while attaching her rope to a grappling hook.

The monster reared back, exposing its horrific height and form in the globe's white light. Her father raised an eyebrow at the abomination, attempting to convey a position of indifference. He raised the globe above his head, pointing the light high above him. The monster, feeling comfortable in the darkness, charged forward. Its mandibles open wide, aiming to sever his head from his neck.

The monster reared back, exposing its horrific height and form in the globe's white light. Her father raised an eyebrow at the abomination, attempting to convey a position of indifference. He raised the globe above his head, pointing the light high above him. The monster, feeling comfortable in the darkness, charged forward. Its mandibles open wide, aiming to sever his head from his neck.

Her father listened, counting each step the monster took. Moira waited in the shadows, trying to calculate his decision. Like lightning, his words lit up in her mind. "If it's faster, you must be smarter.". It was a dozen paces away when he lowered the globe, pointing directly into its eyes. The black discs in the monster's head became as bright as the sun. Its claws ground into the stone as it lurched back, flailing against the bright luminescence. Out from the darkness, a hook with razor-edged prongs careened toward the monster. The rope wrapped itself around the neck, the prongs embedding themselves in its throat.

Blind and wounded, the creature howled. Its blood trickled onto the stone floors as the man shined light onto the origin of the hook. Moira stood next to a short rock formation protruding from the earth, with the rope tied expertly around it. She unsheathed her sword and nodded back to him. He pulled the hilt of his weapon near his face, once invisible runes manifested along the flat. Shimmering with an ethereal glow, he whispered to them, "Purge.". The blade spontaneously ignited in a cloak of blue flame. Seeing the magic of her people, Moira sprinted out of the dark with absolute confidence. Aiming a strike towards a hind leg.

She lunged forward with all her weight, a battle cry in her mouth. Just before the blade connected, she heard the words of her father. "If it's stronger, you must be faster.". Her blade sunk into its spindly shin. It carved into the meat easily, but as it struck bone, it broke her weapon in half. With the broken shard stuck in bone, the creature stumbled forward into her father's anticipated strike. With a single stroke, the blade sliced through the monster's elbow.

The freakishly long, cauterized forearm fell to the ground. Her father, immobile from his broken leg, stood proud in satisfaction. The monster reeled back in agony. Unable to howl, as its erratic movements only drove the prongs deeper into its throat. Its movements became slow and deliberate. Its blood, now all but spent. The monster finally collapsed onto the ground, defeated.

Moira dropped her broken sword to the ground, relieved at her journey's conclusion. She walked to her father, who whispered once more to his sword. He sheathed his extinguished sword and placed a hand on her shoulder. They stared for a moment at the corpse, attempting to glean any information from its anatomy. Both at a loss, her father decided to impart another word of wisdom. "If it's stronger and faster you must..". Moira quickly finished his sentence for him, "Have family.". She looked up at him, just seconds away from bursting into tears. He smiled, "Have family.".

Several minutes later, the brightness of a midday sun filled their view. The cold wind was relatively pleasant compared to the undertaking they experienced. "How's your leg?", Moira asked. He let go of her shoulders, gently applying weight to the leg. "Bitterleaf took the edge off. Might want a crutch heading downhill though. I'm still angry that you came alone.". She sighed while scooping a hand full of snow, "You'll get over it.". She rubbed the snow together, trying to clear the blood from her hands.

Halfway to the slope down, they both froze, hearing a familiar guttural gurgling. The three limbed beast staggered through the narrow entrance. Moira's lip curled as it attempted to find them in the blinding light. She drew her backup knife, ready for another round knowing they have the advantage. As the creature stood up, a white blur descended from the clear blue sky. Oren returned in a dive, talons at the ready. With speed he landed on its face, tearing at the eyes. With one useless arm, it tried batting the avian aggressor away, tripping over itself as it went. Eventually, the beast swung too hard, throwing itself silently off the mountain top.

They mimicked each other's frowns, wordlessly asking if the other was alright. Coming back together, he laid his arm over her shoulder. Oren let out a hoot before landing on his shoulder. He scratched the bird's neck and looked down to Moira. "Why didn't you think of that?", he asked. The pain from his leg could be heard down the mountain, as she had kicked his foot.

The End

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