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He continued to beat out the rhythm on the drum, its skin stretched taut and painted with signs of power. He spoke in time with the steady heartbeat of the drum, his own heartbeat thumping a response. Villspor did not know how long he had sat chanting in his circle. Days had seemed to pass, but that was the way of things magical. His lips were dipped in dry blood from where they had cracked and split. His throat rasped the words he mumbled. His vision blurred and dark patches swam across his sight. His spell was taking its toll. It would be worth it, however. In the end, it would be worth any fleeting pain he felt now.

The darkness that had been curling in on the edges of the world swarmed forward, threatening to wipe all sight from Villspor. He fought the weakness, but he could not remain awake. Villspor faltered in his chant, wan and exhausted. The drumming stopped. Nothingness poured into him and he slumped across the line of his ritual circle.


So it begins...
 
Eoghan was walking through a field near his house, it was night. He was laying on the ground, calm and at peace with the world when he heard a rustling near his head. He stood up and looked around, trying to locate the source of the sound when he saw a glowing off in the distance. Eoghan walked towards the bright, oddly transfixing light until he saw a crowd of people gathering around one spot. He pushed through them gently until he saw the source.

A putrid worm was emitting a white glow, casting a putrid pallor over everyone's faces. Eoghan recoiled in fear and revulsion and started to run away from the crowd. The people turned towards him, reaching out with their long fingernails to try and snatch him, their eyes glowing an unearthly red.

Eoghan broke free of the mob and started to run back to where he had been lying a few minutes before, but the imprint he had made with his body in the grass had turned into a pool of fire and was spreading. He had no choice but to stop. He could see them getting closer, they were almost on top of him, any second they would break him.


Eoghan woke in a cold sweat, terrified from his dream. "Venn!" He called out, hoping his raven could hear him. "Venn! Where are you girl?"
 
Venn started at the boy's voice. Her feathers ruffled briefly in surprise. She clicked her beak, shook out her wings, and dove from her perch. She flapped down to the boy and settled on his knee. He didn't seem to be in any danger. She tilted her head to peer at him with one inky eye. She cawed a question.
 
"There you are," He said, "Just a bad dream, Venn. Nothing too bad." As he stroked the bird's head, he couldn't shake the images from his head like other dreams. This one was oddly clear and had a deep sense of foreboding surrounding it.

He moved the raven onto his shoulder, pulled on a pair of pants and grabbed a shirt, preparing for his day's chores.
 
Venn felt the warmth of the boy's shoulder spread through her chilled toes. She forced herself not to reflexively curl her claws. The boy worried. What was he so afraid of? She clicked her beak in frustration, then saw the shirt he had picked up. She launched into the air, making sure to clip the boy with the edge of her wing as she did. She turned a slow circle, waiting for him to dress and she could settle back down.
 
"Hey now! Be careful with those!" He yelled, flinching instinctively. "You could take my eye out!" Eoghan pulled his shirt over his torso and went out the door. "Come along now, you're my guard bird." He smiled and whistled at her, grabbing a hoe on the way out the door.
 
She cawed in defiance, but didn't really mean it. She liked the boy. She just preferred not being stuffed under shirts. She angled her wings and swooped to land again on the boy's shoulder. If she was truly annoyed, she would have landed on his head, and perhaps dug her claws in. Just a little.

It was good to be back outside. Here she could fly free, or sit in a favorite perch.
 
Eoghan took the hoe past the scarecrow to the field. As they were walking, they passed the part of land he had dreamed about. He shuddered, remembering the night's events and kept on towards the section he had planned to break up.
 
Venn let the chill air flow over her feathers. Winter was coming, but it was not here yet. The air had no taste of snow. It was spiced with crumbling leaves and bare earth and... something else. Something wrong. Her head swiveled as she stared at the land around them for danger. There was no cruel toothed wolf, no ill weather. Only a village-dweller making his way along the path. Venn peered at him with first one eye, then the other. He had come this path before. Today he had a strange way about him. The boy might want to speak with him. She rattled her beak in his ear.
 
Eoghan was hard at work digging up the soil in the field, "This would be a lot easier" He said to Venn through his grunts, "If you had arms and legs" he finished, wiping sweat from his brow. He looked up and saw someone from the village headed towards him. Giving a courteous wave, he went back to the job at hand. The villager didn't stop though, he just kept coming closer. "Is there something I can help you with, friend?" He asked. The man kept moving nearer and nearer, in an almost trance-like state. Eoghan felt a flash of Deja Vu run through his mind. "Venn, I think we should go." He said, backing away from the advancing figure.
 
The village-dweller smelled of bad meat. He moved like he was wounded, but there was no good to eat of him. Even if there was, the boy wouldn't like that. As the village-dweller approached, Venn could see flesh marked by disease. Maybe injury. Dark splotches worked over his skin. She shook her feathers out, feeling the crowd of mites-that-were-not-there swarm over her.
 
Eoghan felt the bird ruffle her feathers. If Venn didn't like something, you could be damn sure you weren't going to like it either. He turned around and broke into a full run away from the advancing person. He could smell something like rotten flesh wafting off of the man who was now matching his speed. Eoghan looked behind him and saw that the man was covered in dark red splotches.
 
Venn called in alarm. The bad meat-man was close now. He smelt of anger and fear and rage and hate. Venn wheeled at him. He would not hurt the boy. She clawed at his face, pulling flesh. The boy needed to run. She was sharp, but the man was big.
 
"NO!" He called out as she flew from him, "VENN!" Eoghan turned back to the dueling pair, hoisted his farming tool and brought the handle down on the man's head. The diseased figure faltered and fell to the ground. Eoghan picked up Venn and checked her all over for any kind of injuries. Seeing none, he looked around and started to head to town, trying to figure out what was going on while en route.
 
Venn hunkered down in Eoghan's hands. The bad meat-man hadn't fought back. He hadn't even tried. A dull ache still coursed through her. The soft of her left foot felt cold. She tried to pick at what could be hurting.
 
Eoghan ran as fast as he could for what felt like forever. Finally, they made it into the town unscathed. He went up to the door of the local medic and knocked. Once. Twice. Three times and still no answer. This was worrying, considering that they had just run from someone who had been transformed by some disease. He cautiously opened the door to look inside. The door swung open freely and they stepped inside, looking for a healer who could help explain what those blotches meant. He walked slowly into the lobby carrying the raven in his hands. "Hello? Is there anyone here?" He called aloud. He moved slowly through the empty room, looking for any signs of life.

When he came to the door that lead out of the main hall and into the main infirmary, he reached for the knob, closed his eyes and turned it slowly. When it was fully open, the smell hit him first. He opened his eyes a crack and saw that the entire floor was covered in corpses, all with the same affliction that the villager had covering their bodies. Eoghan recoiled in fear and revulsion at the sight and started to turn to the door he had come in from, but there were a few infected shuffling their half dead bodies around the entrance. Opting to take his chances with the deceased in the room he was in, he ran through the not-so-recently departed forms to the back exit.
 
The corpse-scent washed over Venn. She scrabbled up from the boy's hands, trying not to flinch at the pain in her foot. The bad meat-man would not be getting her for his meal. The jostling tumbled Venn onto her back, and she flapped her wings frantically for a moment. Then, she caught hold of the boy's shirt in her beak and used it to clamber up to his shoulder once more. He was running, and those-who-were-once-villagers trailed behind. They had the same foul death way about them as the bad meat-man. This was wrong.

Venn glared around as the boy ran. No once-villager would touch him with hands of sick death. The boy was nearing the edge of the village now. The clean air of the forest settled Venn. A bit. She cawed in defiance back towards those-who-were-once-villagers who had fallen behind the boy. They would be safe, by the next sun. Raven and boy, they would be safe.
 
Eoghan stumbled into the woods, running away from the village. Away from the villagers that were trying to kill them. Away from what he had known for most of his life. He carried Venn into the forest, running blindly into the unknown. He didn't stop for what felt like hours, trying to find the safest place in the verdant forest.

Eventually, they stopped in a small clearing. Surrounded by trees on all sides and feeling the aftermath of the ordeal he had gone through, he laid down on the ground and fell asleep.
 
Venn kept watch over the boy until she couldn't keep her dark eyes open. She nestled in near the boy's shoulder, fluffing her feathers over her feet. The pain hadn't gone away, it had gotten worse, but she would sleep now. With one last glance about, she tucked her head beneath her wing and drifted into sleep.





It was cold. Venn tucked in closer to the boy, and tried to cover her head with her wing. It felt chill and soft, like she had molted and no new glossy feathers had come back yet. She tried to clack her beak at the thought. There was a soft sensation, but no beak. She was so tired. The pain in her foot was still there. She curled her toes at it, and was surprised when she didn't feel the talons press into the pad of her foot. Ah, but it hurt, and she could not stay awake, even to guard the boy. She fell back into deep, strange sleep.
 
Eoghan slept fitfully throughout the night, turning over, and over again always staying somewhere between reality and the Dreamscape. He dreamed of the events that had turned his world upside down in just a few hours. He dreamed of the villager that had attacked him and Venn, he dreamed of the close call in the village that could have ended much less fortuitously than it had. Eoghan came into the twilight between awake and asleep gently, he could swear he felt something... Warm... Soft... Something oddly shaped, almost... Human? In a flash he was on his feet and staring at the dark-haired beauty laying mere feet away from him.
 
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