The Forest Witch

((Gah, I thought I responded to this! Sorry about the wait!))

Lyall turned back to the shelves. "Ah, my bad," he muttered in apology. Apparently "above the shelves" had morphed into "top shelf" in his brain. Oh well. He slipped his first attempt at the book hunt back onto the top shelf and peered at the contents of the shelf below it, figuring he should look for her second request while he was there. Fortunately, "glass jar of white goop" was pretty descriptive and hard to mess up, so he found the jar quickly, removed it from the shelf, and passed it to his left hand.

Now for the book in the rafters. He looked up, but when his eyes landed on the space above the rafter above the shelves, he froze. He could make out the edge of a book from here, but more clearly, he could see what was above it: something thick, black, and drippy. Tar? No, tar wouldn't have made his hackles stand on end the way they were now. Something was wrong with that space. He finally reached up and placed his freed right hand on the mystery book, feeling its textured cover and the layer of dust on it, but after a second he felt a chill too, or was it just his imagination? He yanked his hand back faster than he meant to, dragging the book with it and nearly dropping it; he emitted a startled noise but managed to pin the book to his hip before it hit the ground. Phew. He worked his hand across the cover until he held the spine securely and then lifted it from his hip to inspect it. "This one?"
 
(( S'alright, I've been unable to reply, as you saw in the message I sent out to everyone I'm playing with. <3 ))

He soon discovered the book to be the cause of the dripping. The tar-like substance dripped freely from an emblazoned skull on its wooden cover. The spine had a protective panel of wood as well, and it functioned on hinges made of black metal. It creaked as he shifted it about and nearly dropped it, and as he inspected it, the sickly-purple skull stared at him with empty, dropping eye sockets.

Above the mournsome skull, someone had carved a roman four. Despite the tar flowing onto his hands and clothes, none of it remained after a few moments, only for more to spill off the cover.

Ellith walked around to see, now that she was freed of her work. "Yes, that's the one." She flipped the cover open without a thought and flipped through a few pages of what looked like a combination of the Greek and Japanese alphabet, surrounded by stereotypical arcane symbols. A few scribbles of English adorned some of the margins. The pages themselves were thick, and the writing was done with carefully-applied metal rather than ink, if he could guess by the marks around each letter and the sheen of them. Each letter was green in color, not unlike aged brass. "Oh good, he hasn't been in it recently. Can you put it back, please?"

Beliam pouted from his nightly preparations. "Mama, you only had to ask. It's not like I can reach anyway."

Ellith took the jar of white goop from Lyall as she flicked the book closed, then smiled. "I really wish the owner of that book would come back. He can take it with him when he goes." She sounded distinctly annoyed.

"You think Armand will come back?" Beliam asked brightly. "I hope he will! He was fun!"

"He was bad!" She shot, her voice firm. "Armand was mean, don't you remember?"

"I..." He frowned. "I forgot." The boy hung his head.
 
The moment Lyall turned the book over in his hand, he felt something slimy touch it. He very nearly dropped the book again, but he resisted the urge. The book was what was oozing, more specifically a skull emblem on its cover. But even as he watched, the goo evaporated, leaving no residue on his hand whatsoever. A moment later, a fresh wave of the stuff oozed out onto his hand again. Ellith had approached him by that point and flicked the book open even as he held it, but he could feel the substance disappear again. He tried to ignore the disorienting sensation as he watched Ellith flip through what he could only describe now as a grimoire, its lettering embossed instead of written, and in an unknown language at that. Ellith closed the book after another moment and took the jar from Lyall instead. He eyed the book's cover again. He had a good bit of experience with the notion that not all things in the world could be explained by science—his very own transformation was a shining example—but something about that book still felt like it was from another world completely. And though it was only a gut feeling, he got the strangest impression that it wasn't something of Ellith's world either. She hadn't seemed to like the idea of it being around, let alone know what it was for.

But that thought merely led to more speculation as to what was really going on here. Lyall had come from somewhere a world removed from Ellith's home. So too had this mysterious Armand. "Do you get otherworldly visitors often?" he asked her over his shoulder as he slipped the book back in its place. "I only have two data points so far, but taking both of those into account, fate seems to have a way of dumping strangers from distant dimensions into your backyard." He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets as he turned towards her. A hint of suspicion had returned to his demeanor, but he consciously tried not to dwell on that emotion nor let it harden his face. He'd promised Beliam that he wouldn't glare at his mother anymore.
 
The woman, mid-application of what smelled like lotion, looked over at him, surprised. "Yes. Fairly often. I still haven't figured out why or how, but it's somehow always attractive men who need help." She smiled slightly and shook her head. "The attractive part might just be chance, though. Do good-looking men get hurt more often, I wonder?" She slathered more of the lotion onto her reddened hands and arms, then sighed in relief. "Could you close the jar and put it back, please?"

He was clearly distressed by the book, but that was natural enough. Even she thought it was creepy, with the constant dripping. At least in the rafters, it was not visible to anyone who wasn't looking, and it was away from her son, who knew bits and pieces of the language within thanks to that pest of a visitor.

She corrected herself. Armand was a nice man, when he wasn't having one of his fits...

She pulled herself from her thoughts. "If you like, there might be a book there on the shelf you'd be interested in reading. I have only a few, but most are in the same language we're speaking." She paused, catching herself and reminding herself that not all of her visitors could read. "I mean... you seem like you'd be literate. If you can't read, Beliam could teach you. It's a handy skill."
 
If there was one thing Ellith could have said that would trip Lyall's self-consciousness, that was it. His awareness of the open state of his coat amplified, leaving his chest and stomach feeling uncomfortably tingly. Each tingle increased the perceived temperature of his face, so he looked away after a few seconds as he pulled his cloak shut with one hand. His expression was a scowl, but it didn't quite look right...maybe it was something in the softness of his eyes or the pink in his cheeks. When she handed the jar of lotion back to him, he took the opportunity to turn away from her and button his coat up the front before he faced her again.

Fortunately she provided a distraction in the form of a change of subject. His eyes flickered back to the shelves. "Hm, maybe," he muttered. "I am privileged to have grown up in a first-world country in the late twentieth century." He looked up as if thinking and began to tick something off on his fingers. "Em would probably take this moment to remind me that I'm also a 'straight cis white male,' but I'm not so sure checking those boxes means much in my current living situation." It was true to the extent of his knowledge: he lived in a wild pack, no longer a part of human society and its trappings and complexities. 'Human' was a box he could not check. He scanned the shelves for a few more moments, looking for anything that might catch his eye.
 
Ellith smiled as she watched the man. It didn't take much to fluster him, it seemed. His commentary on "straight white cis male" went over her head, but she shrugged it off and followed him out, grabbing a pile of clothes and a small wooden box before she returned to the kitchen.

Beliam waited for his mother to leave his sight before he darted over, fully nude, and grabbed a book from the shelf for himself-- it was somewhat small in height and breadth, very worn, and the leather cover dyed red. It appeared perfectly normal, if a bit thick for a child his age.

Several other books rested in various places on the shelves, including a shiny Betty Crocker cookbook, a hand-written book with birch bark as the cover labeled "local plants and creatures", another hand-made book titled "home repairs", and at least two more books that didn't seem to belong-- one of them thick and bound with black-colored metal plates with no title-- the one from the top shelf that he'd grabbed earlier-- and a book bound in soft leather and embossed in silver, with the title "Holy Bible" in elegant script.

Other objects also lined the shelves. Carefully-folded piles of clothes, a bin of toys fit for young boys and girls, a few daggers of vastly varying sizes and design, Beliam's axe and tunic, a beautiful white-and-gold gown covered in beads that looked the wrong size for Ellith hung at one end of the shelves, and so much more. There was enough room left over for only the bedding Beliam had removed, the sewing kit and mending, and a place for Lyall's own belongings, where he'd grabbed them from earlier.
 
Lyall tried not to think too much about Beliam nipping in and out of his vision without wearing anything. It wasn't out of the question for that to be normal around here. He looked back at the book collection. For some reason, the Betty Crocker cookbook amused him the most. It looked far too glossy to belong in this environment. The handmade "local plants and creatures" book piqued his curiosity the most, so he lifted it from its shelf with care and carried it back to his designated mattress on the floor. He wasn't feeling sleepy yet. How could he be? He'd been asleep for three weeks; the last thing he needed right now was more. The question was how to spend his evening without disturbing his hosts. Reading sounded pleasant enough, of course, but what if he felt too antsy to stay in bed? He had energy to burn.

He did have an evening routine, and it was something he'd have liked to get back in the swing of after the three-week hiatus, but it involved... He glanced back in Beliam's direction. The boy seemed comfortable enough. All things considered, maybe Lyall had been a little too paranoid about his lack of a shirt. Setting the book aside for now, he unbuttoned and discarded his coat. He'd leave his pants on, thanks, but the coat would merely get in the way. He made space for him on the floor beside the mattress as best he could, and then he began.

Ten lunges on each side to stretch and warm up. Fifty push-ups, split into two bouts of twenty-five, for his arms. Eighty crunches for his core. It would be shameful for someone who was a fighter for a living not to be in top condition.
 
(That did not go where I thought it would. Mind out of the gutter, Moody!)

Beliam blinked as he watched Lyall go through the strange series of repetitive motions. "Mama, I think he's broken again!" He turned toward the kitchen. "Mama!"

Ellith looked around, a tunic in hand, then blinked. "That's how some people burn energy, Belly. Nothing's wrong with him." She laughed, then addressed Lyall. "The rafters will hold your weight, if you need to use them." She shook her head, amused, and returned to her task of mending, the kitchen lit now by only a lantern.

Night had come now, and the sounds began to emerge. Beliam tensed when he noticed, then wrapped himself in a cocoon of bedding. "Good night, Mama!"

"Good night, Belly." Her voice was calm, despite the groans and clanks that were slowly growing nearer outside. She stitched quietly, mending a tunic that had met a violent end thanks to her son's wild nature.

Something hissed outside the door, and Beliam's cocoon flinched. The hissing moved toward the fireplace, and the sound was covered by the sound of the fire. Ellith paused, then called out. "Remember, don't go outside, and don't look outside at anything taller than you are."
 
Lyall tuned out the comments around him, lest he lose count of his repetitions. But somewhere around push-up number 12, his brain realized Ellith had just told him something about rafters. Oh, for chin-ups? He'd never had the proper facilities to execute them, actually, at least not since moving to the forest to live with the pack, and he doubted he'd have the stamina for many of them without any training. He appreciated the offer, though. He grunted a "thanks" and kept doing what he was doing. Ah, and how many push-ups had he done? Damn. He started counting again from 10 just to be safe.

He'd just reached 25 and had stopped to take a breather when he thought he heard something from outside: a clank. That was the onomatopoeia that described it best, but it wasn't a metallic clank. It sounded more like two hollowed-out sticks being struck together. He froze in place for a moment, trying to listen for the sound again, but Beliam had just spoken, distracting him. After Ellith responded, he decided he could worry about the sounds after he'd finished his routine, so he went back to what he was doing. But even his motions didn't block the sound of an eerie hiss from the direction of the door after another minute. Whatever that sound's source was, it was quite close by, and that knowledge put him on edge. Ellith's warning was also eerie: don't look at anything taller than himself? Earlier today, he'd been ready to dismiss this little family's concerns about nighttime as superstition, but now, what with all these strange sounds filling the night around them, their fears were validated. It would be unwise to doubt Ellith's warning. Surely she knew more about the monsters that lurked in the dark than he did.

When he finished his exercises, he sat up, a curious light in his eyes as he looked around the house, trying to locate the nearest window, if there even was one. It was an anxious curiosity rather than an eager curiosity, but it was curiosity nonetheless. Some part of him desperately wanted to know what was making these sounds. He didn't like not being able to see his enemies, particularly when he could hear them all around him, encroaching slowly. A low, almost-human-but-not-quite groan sounded from the wall right behind him, nearly making him jump. That was too close for comfort. How in the world did these two sleep at night? He would never have been able to sleep if he knew he was surrounded by invisible dangers, particularly if they were constantly audible!

He looked again at the "local plants and creatures" book beside the bed. He hadn't opened it yet, but he wondered if it was something Ellith had written herself. Maybe it was even something she'd compiled for the sake of lost visitors like him. He picked it up and walked over to where Ellith sat with her mending. "Hey, uh..." He kept his voice to a low murmur, partly not to bother Beliam, partly because he didn't like giving his enemies any clues to his presence. "The things outside...are they in here?" He lifted the book to indicate it.

(For future reference, what's the window situation in their house? Glass, oiled paper, paneless, no windows at all...?)
 
( Here's an imgur album of the most recent attempt I made at putting the house together in minecraft. It's accurate about windows, though looks a lot roomier than the house actually is. The fireplace is also in the wrong place in this gallery. )

Across the room from the fireplace and across from the kitchen, ceiling-height windows, each six feet wide or so, made of four-inch square glass panes held together with wire and lead gave a blurry view of the outside. Shapes moved about. One that approached looked to be wearing armor, and incredibly pale. It held a spear in one hand, and a long, teardrop-shaped shield in the other. It ran into the window, and turned to continue walking, heading another direction.

Beliam's cocoon flinched visibly.

Ellith looked out again, then nodded. "Yes. I wrote about them in there. It might be a disturbing read, this late at night." She seemed almost deflated as she glanced toward the small window directly over the line of bedding that waited for occupants. Briefly, she smiled as she looked at her son's cocoon before she returned her brown-eyed gaze to Lyall. The man wouldn't sleep tonight, she was sure. "If you can't sleep, you can pull a seat from the kitchen to the fireplace and read, you can snoop the shelf, too, and use any empty paper you wish, too, if you want to write anything down." She absently fidgetted with the tunic in hand. Her stitches looked like they belonged to someone who was capable, but not refined in the art of sewing. Her stitches covered everything-- some things finer than others. She never claimed a talent with a needle, nor did she have any right to claim such, really.

[ EDIT: Updated gallery of the house here. Unfortunately I couldn't get the shelves just right, but that's the only thing. ]
 
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(Those models are actually super helpful! Thank you!)

Lyall turned when he saw a figure through the glass, difficult to make out but certainly present. It was humanoid and apparently armed, but when it collided with the glass and then walked away, startling though the thump had been, he concluded that the creature wasn't particularly bright. He wouldn't have dared go outside alone, sure he'd be vastly outnumbered, but he did feel a little more confident that he'd be able to take down one or two of the beings in an isolated environment if they were that clumsy. But he wanted to know more of them than a silhouette. He took Ellith's advice and moved to sit on the floor near the fireplace, hoping that would give sufficient reading light. The warmth felt pleasant on his skin as well. He leaned against what was apparently a chest behind him, bent his legs slightly to prop up the book in his lap, and began to read.

Undead. Vampires? No, the figure outside hadn't looked intelligent enough to be a vampire. Perhaps "zombie" was a better term.

Animated skeletons. Less physically plausible than zombies, but not too far off, and at this rate, he wasn't ruling anything out around here. Hmm, on second thought, maybe that figure had been a skeleton; it had been hard to tell through the thick glass. They sounded craftier than the zombies, but he still doubted they'd be as difficult to fight as a vampire.

Hissers. Mysterious and highly dangerous beings. He thought back to the hiss he had heard from this area a minute ago, frightening Beliam. His insides curdled in dislike and just a little bit of fear. This enemy was an enigmatic one, and from what he could guess, significantly deadlier than the previous two. He'd rather not go anywhere near them.

Black Men. Clearly not a racist remark, given the context, these were some sort of...ghoul? fiend? He wasn't sure, but they sounded eerie. What was that Ellith had said about not looking at anything taller than himself? He cast a nervous eye around the house again, dearly hoping this ceiling was low enough to keep the fiends out. A scolding, logical part of his brain tried to remind him that that was obviously true, considering Ellith and Beliam were alive and well, holed up in their home here as they were. He gritted his teeth and tried not to think too much about that.

He flipped to a different section of the book, now trying to distract himself from rampant thoughts of shapeless monsters lurking in the dark. He could still hear them outside. Fortunately the crackling fire beside him helped mask the noises a little. It was soothing, actually. The sounds and warmth of the fire, even the comfortable orange-yellow light it gave off, worked together to ease him as only a fire could. About halfway through the second page about local plant life, Lyall realized he'd reread a paragraph three times already without taking anything in. He blinked forcefully and tried a fourth time, but by now he could feel his eyes glazing over. He was reading something about mushrooms; he couldn't remember what. Wait, those weren't plants, those were fungi. Silly Ellith. Maybe he'd give her the benefit of the doubt...and maybe it wouldn't hurt to let his eyes close for a minute. His eyelids felt so heavy all of a sudden...

A couple of minutes later, the sound of a book hitting the ground could be heard. It had slipped from Lyall's limp hands, which now rested in his lap. He was still sitting slumped against the chest behind him, but now his bare shoulders pressed even more heavily against the wood, taking much of his weight. His head had rolled forward, chin almost touching his chest, and his eyes were closed. A faint snore escaped his mouth every few breaths, sporadically spaced.
 
(I'm glad. =D That's the most accurate I've gotten on any attempts to make her home in MC. <3)

Ellith peered around the corner to look at Lyall. He was asleep. She smiled slightly, then walked over on quiet feet to put the book back in its spot on the shelf, then returned to the kitchen.

Morning came, and the first sign, before the kitchen window could invite the sunlight into the house, was a sudden lack of noise outside. A cow mooed, an a sheep baaed outside. The home's owner was snuggled up against her son, and drool plastered some of her free, wild hair against her face inelegantly. She had dark circles under her eyes-- she'd been up late. The woman pulled her quilt up over her head in anticipation of the sun, a scowl on her freckled, tanned face.

Pressed against the woman's bosom, her son looked more bean than boy, wrapped up in his own quilt. Lyall's bedding was in place on Ellith's other side, but the quilt was laid over him, and the blanket, somehow, separated his head from the hard wood below-- be it firewood crate or floor he now rested on.

It took a few minutes, but finally Ellith rose and began to quietly roll her bedding, then she tied it tight and put it on a shelf. She wore a white, light, clingy nightgown that looked nothing like it had been made by her, like so many of the other clothes had. Were it not for how it covered her up to the neck and down to the calves, it might have looked like it belonged on a lingerie model, with its empire waist and the silky texture. She walked to the shelves and grabbed a dress-- this one dark green-- and an apron-- nearly pristine white, though a few stains were visible, and walked into the kitchen, presumably to change. She emerged moments later, face washed, body dressed in the low-neckline dress, hair somehow restrained in a tight bun, and apron protecting her front.

This dress didn't bother to pretend to have a modest neckline-- unlike the other, it had no lacing holes, and was cut so it almost hung off both shoulders and displayed ample cleavage. She carried a basket in one hand and a metal pail in the other, with a third pail hooked on her elbow filled with yesterday's leftovers as she headed toward the door to start the day. It was easier to do the morning chores than it was to try to wake her son.
 
Gentle light filtered through Lyall's eyelids. He groaned quietly as he stirred. He ached in a variety of places on his body, and once he moved a little, he determined why: he'd been asleep on a hard wood floor, curled up in the fetal position with a quilt over him. A rumpled blanket currently served double duty as a pillow and as something he'd apparently been cuddling in his sleep. He blinked and yawned, halfheartedly trying to piece together how he had gotten here. That was right, he'd been staying with a woman named Ellith and her son Beliam. He had landed in another world, and they had taken care of him. When had he fallen asleep last night? The last thing he remembered was the warm fireplace.

But that questioning train of thought slammed on its brakes and came to a screeching halt when someone appeared from around the corner. Ellith had just come out of the kitchen. Lyall's eyes roamed over her before he could help it. This dress looked nothing like the one she'd worn yesterday. His eyes weren't sure what to feast on, the pretty fabric or the region of exposed skin that reached from shoulder to shoulder. "Hel-lo," he uttered in surprise. Then, after realizing he'd made that comment aloud, "What's the occasion?" He sat up, still eyeing her with curiosity...and maybe just a tiny bit of lust. He would never have said it out loud, but he found her curvy, motherly figure highly attractive. This dress, or more specifically the smooth skin it revealed, only served to remind him that she was also still young, surely still in her twenties, in her prime.

Or maybe it was just the upcoming full moon that made him overly sensitive to Ellith's appearance right now. He could already feel the telltale itch of his wolf side lurking below the surface, eager to be set free. And Lyall knew well by now that his wolf side was often a horny little bastard.
 
The woman stopped, surprised at his utterance, and then the question. "Huh?" She looked at him and blinked. She looked overtired, and not quite awake. He was looking at her almost like she was a very fine steak, and he'd been starved his whole life. It wasn't an unfamiliar look. She looked down at herself, seeing no difference. The cloth was the same rough cotton. It showed the same amount of breast...

Was it because the dress didn't make it look accidental? Was it that her sleeves were slightly shorter? She looked at him, a small smile on her face. She did like it when a man looked at her like that-- it felt nice, especially after living alone for so long. "Just the usual work, and a guess that there will be a nice breeze."

Ellith jerked her head slightly toward the door. "I should go tend to the animals before they get even noisier. Would you like to come with once you rub the sleep from your eyes? If you need privacy, your only bet is the kitchen." She gave a brief laugh, then continued to the door. "If you're noisy, you might even wake up my lazy son." She exited the house, heading toward the low barn with a warmer outlook on the day than when she first woke. The cows mooed unhappily as they waited for their milking, almost like they accused Ellith of being late and hating them.

Back inside, Beliam remained peacefully curled up in his bedding, unaware his mother had left him.
 
Ah, there was something endearing about the surprise in Ellith's face, and when she met Lyall's gaze again with a small smile, a tingly warmth kindled inside him. "Sure," he said. As the woman left, he punched himself up to his feet with a groan. Aside from rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as Ellith had suggested, he didn't actually have to do much more to get ready than tiptoe over to his discarded coat, still rumpled atop his untouched bedding, and shrug it back onto his shoulders. Though Lyall looked upon Beliam for a moment, he eventually decided to let the boy be. He looked peaceful and innocent while asleep, and something inside Lyall really didn't want to disturb that peace. He straightened out his coat lapels and then exited the house.

It felt good to be outside at dawn. He took a deep inhale of the dew-infused morning air and let it out with a satisfied sigh. He began to walk down the path to the barn, hands in his coat pockets. He hardly realized it, but his posture was more confident than it had been last night, and he cared less than usual about how modestly his coat fell closed in the front. He let himself past the gate, knocked on the door frame to announce his arrival, and let himself inside with care.
 
Ellith looked up as she heard Lyall, then smiled at him before walking toward the back, bucket of leftovers in hand. The other buckets rested near the doors of the respective animals who would fill them. She tossed the contents of the bucket into the pig pen, and the happy beasts grunted as they began to scavenge about for the food before Ellith turned from them. and tugged hard at a rope hung beside the gate that kept them in. Sudden light flooded their pen from above as a trapdoor opened suddenly above their heads. "Good morning, pigs." She greeted, then headed toward the cows, where the metal pail waited for her.

She paused after she picked up the pail. "Have you come to help with the chores?" She asked, her tone playful. "Can't bear to wake a sleeping child?" Her tone was cheerful, despite her slightly sagging shoulders.

Ellith felt like moving around was so much work, but the cows would suffer if she didn't milk them, and the pigs would have gone hungry, and-- really, all the animals would have gone hungry if she got the rest she needed, and that wouldn't do at all.
 
When Ellith greeted Lyall with a smile, he nodded in response. His eyes followed her as she walked through the barn and began to, from the looks of it, feed the pigs. Lyall's eyes locked onto the animals before he'd realized it. Pigs. Plump creatures with a lot of flesh for their size, and said flesh was bare, pink, and tempting. Ooh, their flanks were just begging for his teeth to sink into them. His mouth began to water, and the slight pang of need in his belly that he'd managed to ignore so far this morning made itself known again. Meat. He wanted meat. Proper meat, uncooked, soft, wet, still bleeding!

A question directed at him snapped him from the trance. He blinked and sought Ellith with his eyes, quickly determining that she'd moved over to the cows. When he processed her inquiries, he found himself chuckling a little. "Apparently not. I seem to have a soft spot for kids. And besides, I wouldn't want to disturb my hosts." He stepped closer and started rolling up his sleeves. "Anything I can help with?"
 
The woman nodded. "Yes, there is. Can you toss some seed for the hens, then gather their eggs?" She pointed across the barn, to a repurposed stall, possibly once meant for a pair of cows, but now blocked off with chicken wire and a screen door. "If you move slowly, the chickens won't even notice you while they eat. They're very gentle unless they're spooked." She nodded as she pointed to the basket near the door to the coop. "You can use that to hold the eggs." With that, she entered the cow's stall to milk the large, gentle beast.

Whether or not Lyall was acting unusual, she couldn't tell. She had only known him to be awake a very short time, especially compared to how long he had been drugged asleep. The image of the man's look when he first woke re-emerged in her mind, and she shoved the frightening look away from her mind's eye so she could concentrate on the milking.

In the house, Beliam peeked from his blanket, confused by the silence and emptiness of the house. "Mama?" His voice was small and drowsy as he looked around
 
Lyall was immediately directed to a chicken coop across the way. He listened to Ellith's instructions—toss seed to distract the chickens, then tiptoe around egg-hunting—and took her warning about spooking them to heart, probably more than she expected him to need. But Lyall knew himself. Lyall knew a werewolf's hunger and bloodlust were difficult to ignore after they had been kindled, and his had been kindled by the sight of live pork. There came to him a sudden mental image of catching a chicken in his jaws and tearing bloody feathers aside to get to the treat within. His abdomen emitted a growl, accompanied by a fresh pang of hunger. But he clenched his teeth against the hunger and forced the images away. No. Bad dog.

"Sure thing," he managed to say. He picked up the indicated basket and put his hand on the gate into the enclosure. "Where's this seed you speak of, and how much do they get?"
 
"There's a barrel next to the door with scoop. One scoop is plenty." She paused at the sound of his stomach. "I'll make breakfast once we're done here." She pulled up a stool and sat, ready to begin the chore of milking.

True to her instructions, there was a barrel by the door filled with feed. Rested on top of the seed was a scoop made of wood. It lacked a handle, instead having a deep well that could be filled with a hefty amount of the grains.

Inside the coop, the chickens actively avoided the man, preferring to stay in the furthest corner from him, as if aware he might leave none alive if they let him near. They even ignored the seed when it was offered, and none made any move to stop him as he took their eggs. The birds were terrified of the predator that was allowed to roam among them. Their eyes rolled about as they sought escape, but none ran, so long as Lyall moved slowly.
 
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