As Amaris resumed her task at hand, the forest,
at last, finally became quiet and the night still. The hoards of beasts were deeper into the woods, gathering among themselves, likely resting after their earlier raids upon the town. If Amaris kept on the trails, beaten and implying even more than the number that ran amok in the streets, she'd have her work cut out for her. Or, perhaps, it would prove to be a slightly more difficult challenge to get them all in one go. The beasts were wily, quick-footed things, after all.
But the beasts were not hunting in the dead of night, and that left the forest without the tension of bloodlust and killer intent. Even with the lack of foul blood in the air, the woods hardly felt safe for anything with a pulse. Unless that living thing was effectively immortal and shrugged off fatal blows with all the concern of a farmer over a bee's sting, then the woods were perfectly fine.
In the wake of poison arrows and savage beasts, the canopies drinking in moonlight was perhaps the safest sight of a very long night. Storm clouds without a drop to spare spread around the moon, shining bright and full over the woods, stars glittering about its pale visage.
The moon dipped lower in the sky, the clouds moved towards the horizon, and light broke across the fog.
Just keep going. Just push, keep going.
The world around him was an afterthought, every part of him too busying following his own command, to
keep going. The winds that should've flayed his flesh in a new pattern of scars went right through him, his body
there but not solid. It was always like that, Ansell remembered, when he took in fog and mist and became nothing more than a wisp. There was an unbelievable freedom that came with it, and that's what he
loved about taking on such a form. He was weightless, or as close as he could get to it, anyway. He flew on his own wind, fighting against the breath of the world, a streak of rebellion in an element that was as tame as a young dragon.
Thin, streaking, and determined, Ansell headed towards the clouds. Breath caught somewhere in the shifting gale in his chest, Ansell let it out in a exhale felt in every droplet that made up his being, faster and faster, and then-
The clouds gave way, thinner air crisp as Ansell breathed and took it all within him, floating and body catching light - sunlight, free from the veil of gray clouds, warming him immediately.
Ansell opened his eyes, glowing in the sun's kiss, and gasped at the sight.
It was
beautiful. How long had it been since he'd been up so high? Try as he might, Ansell couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sunrise;
clearly, anyhow. He'd since gotten used to waking up before the first rays of light broke over the farm, but there was something so much more enrapturing about seeing the sun in all its glory.
Ansell wanted to feel it, even though his body was practically drowning in sunlight, no more than a living prism to cast rainbows about him. He took a breath, and let it go. And with that breath, Ansell let go of the mist. He let go of the murky fog, he let go of the icy winds, he let go of everything he took on his way up until there was
only-
"Me." Ansell whispered, to the sun, to the sea of clouds, to himself and the God hiding behind his chest. Flesh and blood manifested, gravity taking hold of him, heavy handed and rough. As he began to fall, Ansell admired the lightness of his head. Dizzy, almost. Launching one's self up to where the clouds were had that effect.
Wind dancing over his flesh, Ansell focused on the sensation of his skin breaking into goosebumps.
The clouds swallowed him up, and the sight was gone.
Fog had already smothered the town, and that was a blessing in of itself. As much as Ansell would've liked to simply land in the street the fear of someone seeing him fall from the sky was much too possible for his taste. Luckily, there was always an alley to duck into.
With nothing but wet cobblestone and fog around him, Ansell let the part of him that would become his feet touchdown, ice that had stuck to him cracking apart when his body emerged from the fog. Just like he'd done leagues in the sky, Ansell let go of the fog, clothes spinning from fog and flesh forming from mist. Cloak falling around him, Ansell took a moment to tuck his braids into the collar, pulling up his hood.
Ansell gave a great sigh. "That's better," he mumbled, color returning to his cheeks now that his blood was back to pumping. His mind stuck around on that thought; just what happened to all his living bits when he turned into something else? Waving away the thought, Ansell tacked it away for another day when he had time to wonder about mysteries like that. In the meantime, he had something to do.
Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, Ansell stepped out of the alley, looking both ways down the street before he walked out onto the cobblestone. Despite all the fog filling the street, Ansell knew exactly where he was going: the inn was his destination. Sleep had eluded him after his mind replayed his accident just over the inn, when he called down the lightning and fried Amaris, almost setting fire to the inn while he was at it.
A bitter taste was left in his mouth since then, and it showed in the frown Ansell wore. Amaris had glossed over it, and that made him feel - marginally better. Just how was the inn? He'd hoped everyone made it through the storm without incident, but only time would tell if that were true.
The smell of ozone and smoke was in the air, which was impressive considering the strength of the storm. The lingering scent made it easy to find the inn, at least, though it made the weight on Ansell's shoulder that much heavier. Lantern unlit at the front, the inn seemed in better condition than Ansell had hoped. A few pieces of it had came loose, and only a few windows seemed in need of repair, other than that it seemed fine.
"Thank goodness," Ansell breathed, hands beneath his cloak resting over his thundering heart. He felt bad enough about letting Jukheyr escape, he couldn't imagine how he'd feel if he managed to put the entire inn out of commission. The street was blackened in some spots, which lined up just right with where the lightning had struck. Ansell pulled his face into a grimace at the burnt stone. "Oops." Nothing a good rainstorm couldn't take care of, right?
A creak catching his attention, Ansell glanced towards the inn's door, young man with a head full of auburn hair stepping out. His waist was surrounded by a number of pockets, the odd nail sticking out of some of the more worn pockets. As Ansell stared on, the person Ansell could only assume was some kind of smith found him. A toothy grin broke across the man's face, raising one hand in greetings towards him.
"Ey, mornin' to ya," The man shouted over to him, Ansell slipping a hand from under his cloak to return to gesture. The man looked up to the battered front of the inn, whistling loudly. "Some storm last night, huh? Thought this rickety shack was bound to blow away!" Smithy laughing at the jab towards the place, Ansell could only wear a sour smile.
"Yes, it was - uh, quite the storm."
That was my fault, Ansell thought.
Producing a hammer from one of his pockets, the smithy went over to the lowest of damaged windows. "Suppose it wouldn't be all bad if the place did fly off, would get those sorry excuses for hunters out of our hair."
Eyebrow quirked at the mention of the hunters, Ansell gave a brief glare to the inn. "Wouldn't be a bad thing at all," Anselle quietly fumed.
Clash of metal on metal was drowned out by the smithy's chuckle. "Nah, wouldn't at all! Dunno, maybe that spitfire finally got their asses in gear."
Looking from the inn to the smithy, Ansell cocked his head. "
Who?"
As the smithy pounded in another nail, a pondering expression came over his face. "Ah, ya must've rode out the storm elsewhere, then! Had a stranger stompin' through last night, got into a little spat with a bold lil' hunter." Chuckle ending in a snort, the smithy shook his head. "Had those sorry saps red in the face from that tongue lashin'. Told 'em she was gonna run 'em out of business!" The smithy shrugged, window he was working on looking less crooked now. "Must've done some good, they've been out to the woods since morning. That spitfire must've lit a fire under 'em!"
The smithy wore a grin at the memory. "Ya' should've seen it! Never seen that bunch so eager to head out! Let's just hope they don't come back, huh?"
Silence greeted the smithy, the man looking over his shoulder at - an empty street.
"Uh, lad?"
At the shoreline of the lake, where pebbles gave way to open water, fog covered the depths like a blanket. Just past dawn, it would seen that the boat was going to be on time.
For one creature, that was the best news it could've gotten.
Standing, or rather, hunched at the threshold of the lake was a strange, clumpy body. Made of mud, moss and dirty water, a distinctly powerful presence had made the unappealing shell it's body for the meantime. It paced the shore as best it could, limbs looking about to break off reforming only to snap off again. A nervous energy made it's body fragile, even walking seemed difficult.
For one blood witch in particular, it wouldn't be hard to figure out just what, or who, the creature was. As much as it was unbecoming, Jukheyr was the force behind the ugly shell.