Blood on the Trails

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[*screaming into the void intensifies*]
Original poster
Invitation Status
  1. Not accepting invites at this time
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
  2. Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
It varies a lot depending on my schedule, unfortunately.
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
  2. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
Psychological horror
Body horror
Dark fantasy
Low fantasy
Weird West
Gothic horror
Southern Gothic
Gaslamp fantasy
Space saga
Space Western
Space opera
Modern fantasy
Crime drama
Medieval fantasy

About halfway between Williamsburg and the Mississippi River Line
May 1754

It was springtime on the frontier, and the woods on the fringe of the colonies were fragrant with the scent of new growth: trillium and violets, bluets and wild strawberries, phlox and rhododendron and sweet azalea. James had risen with the sun to ready himself for the day's hunt, dressing in his leathers rather than his linens, and readying his flintlock and powder horn. This early in the morning, there would be deer and rabbit out to graze. A rabbit would do, but James hoped to fell a buck; his bedskins were getting worn, and he could bring what he didn't use into town and barter at the trading post for the much-needed supplies after a long winter.

Donning his hat, he left his trapper's cabin and slipped into the treeline. It wasn't long before he found the disturbed undergrowth he sought, and began to track the trail to its source. Deer, almost certainly, from the places where edible plants had been stripped. Sure enough, he found a tuft of light brown hair snagged on the bark of a hardwood tree. Still a thicker winter coat; the animal was an adult, then, and was shedding in the warmer weather. All the easier to find his mark.

The treeline thinned up ahead, and James was careful to keep cover as he pressed forward. Times were tense these days, and he knew there were Frenchmen and Indians both in these woods. Tension with the natives had been bad enough, but when he had last been into town, he had heard of the territorial squabble up in Pennsylvania. He wasn't taking any chances.
Iolani's mother hummed quietly as she braided her hair swiftly. Her mother was extremely skillful when it came to almost anything. Nalayah--Iolani's mother--finally finished off her long braid with a flower placed behind her ear delicately. "Iolani, you look gorgeous for their arrival," she murmured in her melodic voice with a wise smile on her lips. Iolani blushed on cue, and looked down to see her baby brother, Hilo, smiling up at her as well. She giggled at him, and picked him up to rock him lovingly. Being the only other woman in the family had its tolls. From taking care of her three baby siblings, getting food to harvest, and missing her other older seven brothers and father. They were out hunting for food deep into the land, not wanting to have any arguments with the white ones.

“I’m going to go for a stroll, I’ll be back soon,” Iolani murmured to her mother. Iolani rarely had something to say. Everyone just…spoke for her. People always stopped speaking once she opened her mouth and her honey-like voice swam through the air like water. Nalayah nodded lightly and grabbed her youngest baby, Laie, and was getting ready to feed him.

Iolani had a special place in the forest, no one knew about it. Not even her mother, whom she confided in almost everything. Her family was the biggest—and most important—in the whole village and tribe. Everyone knew who they were by their eyes. Her father being the Alpha of all werewolves, he had the gene to change the color of his eyes with his emotions and phases of the moon. Iolani walked off into the forest, humming a soft tune. She had a sweet singing voice like her mother, that people yearned to hear. She looked around and smiled faintly to herself once she noticed a few rabbits hopping past her as she walked over to her favorite tree stump.