Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The dull glow of sunset was upon the tree hollows, the first day of the harvest festival was upon the forest. An air of anticipation and excitement painted the faces of the creatures that called it home; but not everyone was as enthused by the season. Sprig nervously crept from his soft pillowy nest, crafted from the finest bird down, mosses, and lichens collected by his own paw. As he left his home he walked with a hunched posture and an anxiety filled gaze, the other inhabitants briefly side-eyed his apparent unenthusiasm before going back to chatting within their circles of neighbors about the festivities to come. This only worked to worsen Sprig’s mood, he just went back to staring at the ground, his face screwed into an intense thinking-face. Unfortunately he couldn't stay within his own thoughts for long; his lapse in attention had caused him to bump into someone. Looking up he was met with a stern, unchanging gaze, the older fellow looked annoyed and disappointed “Sprig.” The creature stated coldly “Charcoal.” Sprig sighed back, Sprig definitely didn't want to chat with him for longer than necessary. As Sprig stood up the older creature’s gaze followed, “You seem more antsy than usual, why can't you ever just celebrate like everyone else.” with the way he had stated this it definitely wasn't a question; Charcoal was the oldest, and sternest, creature in the village identifiable by his unusual gray and black patterning. He and Sprig never saw eye to eye. Sprig opened his mouth to speak but Charcoal just rolled his eyes, with a huff he walked off Charcoal could pester somebody else for the morning.
The Creatures went about their day, preparing for the first celebratory activity at dusk, at the moment it was mid-noon. Sprig had just finished his duties, he could now go visit the stalls in the center of their village, marked by an intricate mosaic of the sun and the stars. He tiredly walked past the entrance to the field of crops, glancing irritatedly at the tall plants, he didn't believe any of their rituals actually helped them grow. Turning away he glanced at the heavily-built guard Lilypad, Lilypad stared back with an annoyed expression, Sprig decided not to greet him. As Sprig walked into the center of town he saw the voting box, he decided it was the right time for himself to cast a vote. He scribbled characters foreign to our eyes, spelling Charcoal of course, and cast it into the box, He then left to pursue the wares of his fellow creatures.
Sprig’s expression lightened as he glanced upon one particular stall, standing behind it was Morning Dew, his only friend, her fur was softly colored reflective of her bubbly personality. She sold beautiful fabrics and figurines she made from only the finest craft materials, she was responsible for many of the painted entrances and murals around the village. Nobody would vote for her, she was the light of the village, this thought eased his mind a little bit, He wished he could always feel this serine. Sprig decided to walk over and see what she’s recently crafted, amongst her typical wares he spotted several blank figurines in a box next to the stall, these were intended to be painted with a visage of whoever got the most votes, it brought back the soup of anxiety and dread he’d been feeling throughout the day as he nervously eyed them. He gulped and tried to push his feelings back down, looking away as he'd taken notice of the fabrics he’d seen her working on moons ago it calmed him a little, he knew Morning Dew was talking to a customer so he refrained from talking but these fabrics were absolutely gorgeous of course he expected nothing less from the skilled artisan. His favorite was a pattern made to resemble the crops the village grew, each row looked like a different growth stage through the seasons. She looked from the customer and met his gaze; she smiled, he smiled back.
As Sprig perused the other wares at each stall the sun got lower and lower, the fairy lights began to glow brighter as the sun set giving the village a whole new appearance. Like something out of a children's fairy tale. Sprig saw many different crafts, from baked goods to jewelry to stuffed toys children were begging their parents for. As the sun continued to set the last few inhabitants casted their votes, it brought back Sprig’s nervous fearful thoughts, as Charcoal walked up onto the raised platform, especially as he started to speak, it rose higher and higher bubbling up as more and more of the village gathered round. Eventually Sprig was so out of it he didn't even notice Morning Dew walk up and sit next to him, even as she looked worriedly into his eyes. His breathing was ragged and he was getting odd looks from the surrounding creatures. Morning Dew glanced around quickly and nervously, and as she pushed her paw onto his back trying to help him; it wasn't the first time this had happened after all. Luckily her gentle touch had brought him out of the panic, “Hey are you alright? Do you need some water?” she whispered kindly, he was still trying to calm himself, he swallowed breathing still heavy “Yeah…” he paused for a moment to gulp again “... I’m alright I-I don't think I need anything.” This news calmed Morning Dew and her face softened from worry to a kind smile “That's good, just let me know if you need anything alright?” They’d both turned their attention to the speech which was wrapping up, everyone else in the village was buzzing with excited chitter as well ‘Who was going within the vote?’ they gossiped, Sprig did not view this as winning in the slightest, though the speech seemed to be wrapping up “.... and as our ancestors hundreds of moons ago we will bless our harvest….” his voice sounded monotone, and a bit strained like when one talks for long period of time “.... and now finally the sun has set and it is time to….” Charcoal’s voice was so monotone and boring that he didn't catch most of it, however he definitely paid attention to what was about to happen. The villager’s eyes stared with attentive curiosity and anticipation as Charcoal and lilypad counted the votes for each creature, barring children and teens. At last they’d counted them all, Sprigs blood ran cold and his heart stopped beating as Charcoal calmly walked towards the podium, stood on his hind legs, and spoke one word “Sprig.” he said flatly, only a stoney neutral expression on his face. Sprig looked towards Morning Dew. She looked back with horror and sadness, her chest hurt, she was near tears. She couldn't say a word as Sprig was walked by Lilypad towards a barred tree hollow on the other side of the woods. Her face froze as she heard someone behind her Whisper good-riddance, her face screwed into an expression of anger as she heard several of her neighbors, her comrades, make snide remarks and terrible jokes at the expense of Sprig. She was going to make the most beautiful figurine that she’d ever made in remembrance of her doomed friend.
In what was to be his prison for the next two days Sprig sat in the uncomfortable nest, the bedding hadn't been crafted with comfort in mind and he was extremely uncomfortable. The door had no window, the windows were cut in the wood in a way that made them appear barred. Even the tree itself seemed more gray than the ones in the village. He attempted to push the thoughts of his impending doom aside, curl up in his uncomfortable bed and fall asleep, there was no use in trying to escape. It’s not like if he did he’d ever be able to return anyways, that night he had no dreams, he felt hollow. In the morning light began to seep through the bars in a way that made his eyes hurt, he fought the feeling of his body waking up, not wanting to face reality. He could fight no longer when he heard the opening slide open and an unappetizing meal pushed through. It looked like plant mush, and it smelled like sour milk and rotten fruit. He scrunched his nose and pushed the bowl as far away from the nest as he could. He slumped back down in his uncomfortable bed, if he listened he could hear the happy conversation and cheering from the festivities the rest of the village was partaking in. It made him depressed and lethargic, most of the day was spent moping over his own life and how out of place he felt. The door had opened and closed a few times to bring cups of water but other than that he’d had no socialization, although he wasn't expecting any. Finally as the sun went down he was able to slip into the void of sleep, he had a very foreboding dream.
He was in the village again, but as it was when he was a child. Void of the murals painted by Morning dew, it was spring Sprig’s favorite season. Sprig was happy, calm, and serene. His smaller body was trailing behind someone who he can't quite remember the face of, she turned around, despite the view of her face being blurred to a point where he couldn't make out any details he could feel in his heart that she was smiling. He ventured throughout the square with his mother, he can't quite tell what’s happening, he feels floaty like a cloud and fleeting like smoke. Even if this isn't real he wants to stay here, he realizes. This isn't real. Suddenly spring turns to fall, the bright greens turn to drab browns, the leaves fall and the trees die for the winter. They’re still in the square and he’s only a little taller, he feels pressured to feel excitement for what is to come but he’s only nervous and fearful. His mother sits next to him, he doesn't know what her expression means, the blur is worse though he can tell it’s not happy. A Charcoal in slightly better shape is speaking, he looks slightly younger, his voice going in and out of audible and understandable. The speech stops and suddenly they’re counting the votes, then he’s walking to the podium. “Pine, you've gotten the most votes.” Like a flood grief washes over him and he feels like crying out ‘No, no you can't take her.” but he just freezes and watches them, they walk his mother out of the village and–
Sprig jolted awake, he couldn't relive that horrible memory. Out of the window it looks to be midnight, his bowl of mush cold and uneaten. Sprig wished he could have slept through the night, he doesn't want to be here, he wants to be home in his nest, worried for next year or whatever poor soul got the most votes. Unfortunately he wasn't and Sprig had to accept that he’d never see the soft nest ever again, he’d never talk to morning dew, and he’d never walk free again. The day’s boring routine from that day repeated as he pondered what exactly death would feel like, would it be painful or freeing? Maybe it would just feel like nothing. As the day wore on a slip of bark was pushed through the barred windows; it had drawings of happy memories he shared with Morning Dew, this made him perk up and stand to peer through the window. His gaze fell upon a figure running back to the village. It was sad but it brought him joy that she didn't completely abandon him like the others.
The sun was setting, the beginning of dusk had fallen and a cup of tea had been pushed through the opening in the door. He knew it was brewed from a mushroom used to make one fall asleep; it relaxed the muscles, made one calm. Though Sprig really didn't want to drink it, he’d rather be lucid, in his mind he would be braver for facing his demise head-on rather than using a substance to escape the reality of the situation. Some other more primal feeling also prevented him from taking the drug, he couldn't tell what it meant but it only pushed further into his mind that he could not drink that tea. Carefully, making sure whoever dropped it off had returned to the festival he poured the liquid through the furthest window from the entrance then he set the bowl down by the nest. He thought this made it look like he’d drunk it and layed down for a nap.
Sprig waited until he heard the door open, trying to seem as asleep as he possibly could. Whomever it was fooled by his feigned sleep and left to bring the news to Charcoal. Both creatures returned within minutes, they’d brought a cart, which Sprig was hoisted onto, and they set off into the woods on this side of the field. As a child the village warns of the dangerous creatures in the woods, this is why only the chosen are brought to face the wargs, a necessary sacrifice is what children are told. Sprig himself never believed these obvious lies.
The cart rolled on and the three grew nearer and nearer to a specific spot in the forest only Charcoal and his heir knew about, a clearing thick with the smell of death and rot. The stench was built up from hundreds of moons of harvest festivals, Sprig grew more and more fearful but forced himself to keep still, at last he was dumped unceremoniously into the center of the clearing and the two others hurriedly left, pawsteps could be heard quickly falling and growing more and more distant. Sprig was all alone, waiting to meet his fate. He opened his eyes and shakily stood; crouched in a position where his back was poised. An instinctual response to make himself appear larger. He heard them before he saw them, distant yips that sounded almost like giggling, like a group of children had just played a cruel prank on another. The second thing he noticed before he could see them was their smell, they smelled like death, blood, and slobber. Finally his eyes picked up the yellow pairs of eyes in the shadows, he saw the glint of teeth through their snarls, and he saw their large bodies trounce through the brush. They were sniffing, their maws and eyes splayed in an expression of vindictive glee as they spot him. In that moment Sprig’s instincts kick in, he’s running even as the mass of teeth, eyes, and laughter is upon him snapping its many jaws. The flow of each individual with each other linking into one mass that can split like water.He continues to run, run through the bushes, adrenaline through his veins, he’s so focused on running that he doesn't notice the ground stopping. He falls into the freezing water gasping for breath, desperately paddling to keep his nose above water so as to prevent water from flooding his tiny lungs. He paddles ashore coughing and sputtering; he slinks onto land; he gazes back towards the cliff; the pairs of eyes staring at him halt his shivering body. Frozen as ice with fear, luckily the predators show no interest in crossing the freezing water as the snarls drop and heads turn, they walk away one by one. He’s a tiny meal to them, not worth the effort. As the relief of not being hunted spreads and the adrenaline wears off he breaks down, he hunches over and cries. How long can he survive? He can't return to the village, everyone believes him dead, he’s stuck cold and shivering in the middle of nowhere with hungry mouths nearby. He’s never going to see his friend’s comforting smile, Never going to sleep in his soft nest, hell he even misses Charcoal’s disappointed gaze and monotone voice. As he sniffles and sobs, goveling in grief he thinks, Maybe I should have let myself be eaten.

Chapter Text

Morning Dew laid in her nest, hunched and mourning. Clutched in her splayed paw sat a small figurine, an effigy of her closest friend. She was deeply upset by the vote, why had it been him? Really what she should have been asking was why hadn't he ‘won’ sooner, she wasn't socially inept, she knew he wasn't well liked. She continued to stare downcast with tears in her eyes. Personally she’d never voted, it felt wrong to be partially responsible for someone's demise. She’d spent the two days of Sprig’s imprisonment carefully carving a figure for him, painstakingly painting every detail and marking adorning his pelt. She was exhausted and upset, so very tired, she finally concluded she would need to take a well deserved rest. She closed her eyes, dreams of time spent with Sprig played over and over in her brain.

The sun was rising, the growing dawn making Morning Dew slowly awaken. She got out of bed stiffly and sunken, the village seemed to wilt at her unusual demeanor. She walked to the slowly growing shrine to place her figure down upon an empty space. As she glanced over the other small carelessly painted figures, she could see how little the others cared. Most of the lines were shaky, little detail or effort put into how accurate the markings were, most were even off of his color by a few shades, that fact just worked to make her more depressed. Dew couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness, something was off with the harvest ritual and she couldn't tell what. Nobody else could see it. Over the next few days the amount of crops they were able to harvest fell below average, sure they had enough for everyone to eat comfortably if they rationed, but usually they had a large surplus. For the village this was a sign that something was wrong with their sacrifice; but what? The inhabitants talking in hushed tones with their hypotheses, they ranged from Sprig being too skinny to the gods being unhappy. She didn't believe any of these, she’d never really seen any logic in sacrificing someone after the crops had already grown. The buzz and speculation only increased even further as no remains were discovered by Charcoal went to check the clearing. Usually bloody marks, some fur, or unwanted body parts and organs were left after the Wargs had their fill.

This filled Morning Dew with hope and determination, he could still be alive, she was tempted to smile but it would have seemed rude to her fellow creatures so she refrained. First she wanted to figure out where her uneasy feeling towards the legitimacy of their culture was coming from, something unseen. She decided to take trips to the river in search of answers. On one of these excursions she was brought deep, deep into the forest. She’d brought a lantern filled with glowing moss so she could see, dangerous as the night was she didn't want to raise suspicion amongst the other villagers. She brought herself to the mouth of a cave, on top of a large cliff with the river streaming down from a great waterfall; this was the old village. As a child one was told stories of the old village; it used to be bustling, from where she was standing she could clearly see the signs of it being occupied by many at one point. The end of the tale always described their society collapsing, they must have done something to upset the gods, as wargs invaded. With their population halved they fled. Eventually constructing a new village, safe from wargs, Dew noted the sun rising over the tree canopy, she’d lost track of time. Still she had to investigate,she wanted answers and this place might hold them. Contained inside were ruins, dwellings carved into the walls of the cave, everything was strewn about. As she continued to walk throughout the cave exploring the homes, glowing moss hanging from the ceiling lighting her path, she came upon an ornate building. The door lay cracked in half on the ground, giant gouges made by claws marred the surface of the wood, Dew shuddered glad she was alone. She carefully stepped inside and saw beautiful murals adorning the ceiling, they seemed to depict the gods blessing a bright creature, they reminded her of the sun. She wistfully glanced around while venturing further into the building, more murals on the walls, containing stories she’d never been told, shelves chiseled into the rock contained bundled scrolls. She decided to pick a bundle up, walked to a place where the glowing moss was the brightest, set down her pack, and began to read. The scroll told a tale, a tale about the first harvest.

Before the creatures had found their gods they were starving and skittish, driven to hiding for the monsters would eat their people in the night. On the last day before the harsh winter a creature was born, unlike the others they were unafraid to venture at night, they were swift of paw and creative of mind. Saddened by the state of their people, scattered and weak, they begged the gods, 'Please may we be safe, may we not starve, and may we be together.’ the sun and the clouds answered. The sun made the days longer and the clouds brought rain, together they made crops for the creatures to grow, finally they blessed the creature that caught their attention. The gods blessed them with great speed and bravery; they also made the creature's fur shine bright like the sun. The gods declared that a festival would begin, they would craft effigies of their lost loved ones and display them so that their ancestors would smile upon the crops and make sure there was enough for everyone to eat. Their ancestors would protect them from the wargs so long as they were honored. The story ended there, Morning Dew thought this might be a previous version of the harvest festival, it was strange they didn't mention the vote though. She started to get really suspicious as she read more and more of the scrolls, it built up doubt, clouding her mind as she ventured deeper into the abandoned library.

She decided to venture deeper into the cave, looking for a section on historical records, when she found one she again picked several bundles and sat to read. She found records of previous harvests, harvests before they fled. These were so very different, originally the festival had taken place in two parts, the first one began on the longest day of the year, it celebrated the gods making the days longer, they would give offerings to the gods and their ancestors. In their pre-harvest ritual they would put nutrients into the soil like fish to bless their crops, they would make effigies of their lost loved ones, they’d put these around a large wheat recreation of the creature blessed by the sun. The second festival lined up with the modern incarnation, what it entailed was much much different however. It told that everyone in the village would gather the crops, when they had a large excess that would have gone to waste they would offer it to their ancestors by preserving their crops, they believed preserving foods by fermenting or pickling them the dish would be half between the realms of the living and the dead, when eating they would often hope to be sharing with a loved one. To Morning Dew these rituals sounded absolutely wonderful, again no mention of the vote, by this point she was becoming extremely suspicious about their modern festivities. She thought it a good idea to bring these back so she put all the scrolls she had gathered throughout that day into her pack, she gazed at the walls, the murals now felt much more impactful, she would return to make sketches of them surely.
When exiting the building she decided to rummage around in the homes, curious about what their lives could have been like, out of all the houses she picked the one that seemed the most intact. She entered, the door surprisingly still on its hinges, no scratches or sign of struggle within or without the home. This confused her greatly, looking around the rooms she saw cookware, furniture, and glowing moss adorning the ceiling. The home felt lived-in and comforting, but something gnawed at the back of her mind, telling her it shouldn't be this pristine, especially with the state of the other homes. So lost in thoughts she failed to notice a shelf, her leg collided with the object and caused it to rock, it made Morning Dew jump out of her skin. Bewildered, she noticed several objects had been knocked from the shelf. She picked up the most intriguing thing out of the fallen objects, a box, the wood on the lock had rotted away allowing whatever had been inside to spill out, they appeared to be letters. She picked them up and returned them to their home, promising to herself to read them later. Looking back at the clutter she noticed several more objects like a figure, it looked suspiciously like Charcoal so she grabbed it as well, setting both in her pack carefully.

She decided it was finally time to go as through the mouth of the cave she could see the sun setting, she was so very tired, she would go through her treasures in the morning.
As she walked it just got darker and darker, luckily she was able to find her way back to the stream via old paths, a worn bridge was also there for her to cross. It must have been midnight by the time she got to the edge of the village, she stopped in her exhausted tracks as she saw Lilypad staring at her, his face always unreadably neutral. ‘What are you doing out so late?’ he interrogated, his expression didn’t change either causing Morning Dew to feel uneasy, "Oh, haha…” she nervously said while looking away, searching for a lie “I was out looking for things to draw.” she came up with “For two days?” he questioned, clearly this answer wasn't believed, “Uh- Oh! I also needed art supplies, supplies that aren't really close by.” Lilypad sighed, it was late and neither wanted to argue so Lilypad just eyed her suspiciously. “Everyone in the village was worried sick looking for you, try not to…. Wander. Again. I’ll tell Charcoal you’re alright, just get some sleep. You look like you rolled in soot.” with that he watched her walk towards her home and sat back down at his post.

She essentially collapsed when she reached her bedding, immediately slipping into a dreamless sleep, she was so tired. She awoke groggily, migraine clouding her vision. She gazed at her bag, knowing before she could read the notes in the box she would have to get some medicine for her head and freshen up. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week as she trudged hunched towards the village’s resident medic. As she entered she got several surprised and bewildered eyes staring at her, she only glanced over before turning her head and croaking out that she needed migraine medicine, the healer agreed and went to mix her something. “What happened to you? You look like you've been dragged through mud.” Slowly and somewhat annoyed she looked up, not bothering to turn her head only using one eye to stare, “I feel like I did.” she told her aunt. The conversation stopped there, dying awkwardly and blanketing the room with a thick veil of awkwardness. She took her medicinal tea and quickly left the building just wanting her head to stop hurting. She needed a bath desperately, so she ventured to the designated water pools, they were etched into the limestone and fed by channels running to the stream. A perfect place to relax and think about what to sketch next.

Now that her head no longer hurt and she was no longer wreaking she settled down in her home and took out her prize, a suspicious little red box. The notes it contained, now that she could see more closely and in the light, seemed like letters. She set to reading. It was messages between A creature and some unknown they were at… war with? War? That was highly unusual. As she read more and more of the messages her horror grew. These weren't any normal negotiations, they were secret, not to be known about by anyone besides the party involved. They seemed to be plans. Plans for something big. She came to the horrifying conclusion that it may have been Charcoal responsible for these, he was probably around her age in these notes. She also eventually realized after reading many, many letters searching for something to dispel that truth, that he’d been negotiating with Wargs. Wargs were sentient? It seemed the creatures had been loosing and on the verge of collapse, he was plotting to have the wargs scare the village away. Afterwards they would gift one inhabitant every year for the wargs to feast on, otherwise they’d consume them all in one fell swoop, an invasion. Together they’d make it seem like there was an invasion, Charcoal would feign a warning which would be the Warg’s signal. Sure a few would be picked off to make everything seem more real, but his people would be saved and he would emerge a false hero. Dew had a hard time processing this information, she paced back and forth in a figure eight around the papers strewn about her floor, she needed to tell someone about this.

She’d decided that at midnight, so as to not cause a panic, she would get Lilypad and they could plan on how to best confront him. So she waited, drawing her interpretations of the stories she’d read in the library. The sun-furred creature from the stories reminded her of Sprig, the colors were off but the pattern lined up amazingly well. Eventually the sun dipped and it became too dim to properly see the page, unfortunately she’d long lost that lantern she carried in the cave, which must have been when she was in a hurry to exit the cave. She elected to lay down and stare at the moon until it arose, when high enough in the sky it marked midnight. She waited, absolutely determined to tell Lilypad this important realization, eventually it did rise high enough and she quietly tip-toed from her dwelling.

She tread lightly around the village, not making a sound, searching for Lilypad. Eventually she found him, already staring at her suspiciously, “ What are you doing up this late, you need sleep.” he said in a stern tone he also quickly added “ Not thinking of going out, are you?” she stopped, and went up to him, in a hushed whisper “ No, you need to see the things I found.” she waited only a second to respond before telling him “ Please, it’s really important!” she whispered urgently. “ I don't have time for your silly pranks, go to bed.” he said in a non-whisper monotone voice “Please. You have no idea how much I need to show you what I found.” Lillypad was unimpressed but decided to follow her if it would shut her up, “Fine, but after I have to return to my job, protecting everyone at night is extremely important.” Dew knew that in a moment he would find out how wrong he was.

She ended up making him read all the letters, Lilypad came to the same conclusion of origin as Morning Dew, it was extremely concerning. “Where did you even get these?” he asked, for the first time and a long while showing emotion in his voice. “I may have strayed farther than I admitted to, uh- possibly to the old village.” Lilypad just stared, “ The what- how did you even survive the trip? It’s dangerous there. “That’s not important, what's important is confronting the one who’s behind all of this. What do we even say?”
“ I don't know, I think we should find a secluded place, we can't be persecuted in front of a crowd if there’s no crowd to begin with. Morning Dew agreed and they set to planning, Lillypad would pretend to show new evidence of where Sprig had gone, he would corner charcoal by the hollow jail tree, Dew would arrive and they would confront him, simple, blunt, and would hopefully be effective. After the two had made their plans they decided when they would enact it, Morning Dew argued that they should confront him as soon as possible but Lilypad thought they should wait, gathering more evidence by going back to the old village. Eventually they settled on sooner rather than later, next midnight they would confront him.

The day was spent trying to act as normal as possible, despite their unrest and apprehension. They remained normal, at dusk they watched everyone settle down, lights going out one by one from their little windows. Morning Dew and Lillypad had met to confirm the steps but had split shortly. Dew was to wait until a signal, currently she was hunched on a branch overlooking their meeting spot, you wouldn't see her unless actively searching. She saw the two figures approaching in the distance, growing closer and closer, she stilled. She tried to remain as quiet as possible, determined to wait for the signal and go unnoticed until the time was right.

After some feigned investigation she saw it, a specific flick of the paw and a glance in her direction. Charcoal's back was to her, he was standing between Lillypad and the tree, perfect. She jumped down, startling Charcoal who jumped and quickly turned to face her. With tired annoyed eyes he started “ What are you doing up? I don't have time for silly pranks.” annoyed he looked over towards Lilypad, “ Were you in on this? You’re not one for games.” Lilypad’s demeanor immediately changed. Immediately he stood taller and took a step forward, “ Unfortunately I wasn't telling the whole truth, we actually have a more important matter to talk with you about.” Morning Dew took that as a sign to stand taller as well. “ We found… some letters, we think they were penned by you.” she stated, “ What.” Charcoal was unimpressed, it was late and he wished to return to his nest. The two stood tall in his path and continued to speak, “ What really happened to the old village.” Morning Dew stated quickly Lillypad added “ You’re not the savior you paint yourself as, are you?” The question was rhetorical. Morning Dew retrieved an item from her pack, she tossed it down allowing the contents to spill. “ Don't try to lie either, we’ve read them. We know.” Unspoken threat loomed, Charcoal was taken aback, surprise, realization, horror, and anger all washed over his stony features as he recognised them. Trying to save himself he snapped back “ You have no evidence that I wrote these, I could tell everyone they’re forged, you’d both be fed to the Wargs.Treason.” he was becoming defensive, “ What. Happened.” The area was starting to feel claustrophobic, the tension felt like a thread that could snap at any moment. “ Why would you agree to this?” for Dew the reality of what Charcoal had done came crashing down. “ I had to, if not for me the village wouldn't be safe, they’d have eaten us, all of us.” he continued after a breath, he was breaking down, “ Besides, nobody likes any of the people we gift, it’s a good system.” it was clear from the tone he was grasping at straws. Charcoal's pupils were small, he was very stiff looking, like a spring before it releases its energy. Finally the tension snapped in an instant, in a flash before Lilypad and Morning Dew could react Charcoal shoved Dew aside and darted towards the forest, away from the village. It took them a few moments to realize what had happened, Lilypad helped Dew up as soon as they’d gathered their bearings. Morning Dew stood, ready to give chase Lilypad turned in partially in front of her. Locking eyes he firmly spoke “ You go find Sprig, I’ll deal with him.” nodding she ran diagonal to where Charcoal had fled, Towards the clearing, there she would run past towards the river, the only place one could effectively escape the wargs, everywhere else was blocked by rocky cliffs and slopes.

As Morning Dew saw Lilypad disappear into the treeline after Charcoal she felt determination fill her mind and heart, she was going to find her friend no matter if the village wanted him gone or not. She rounded the clearing and bounded towards the river.

Lilypad also had plans, angry and betrayed he ran after Charcoal, dark clouds thundered in the distance, rolling violently. Lilypad took this as a sign. The wind picked up and picked up howling violently, confirming his decision. Charcoal needed to die

Chapter Text

Lilypad chased Charcoal into a valley with a dropoff at the end, sheer cliffs surrounding it, there was no possible escape for Charcoal, the drop was a large distance, easily quintuple his height, Charcoal stopped and turned in a panic. The sun was just beginning to come up, washing everything in a pale light, everything was dead, cold, as the thunder finally boomed. The wind was picking up. Charcoal bristled in fear as the lightning flashed. Rain began to fall, souring the tension more. Charcoal tried to reason “ We can resolve this peacefully, I cannot run anymore, what do you want?” The emotion in his panicked breathless voice was uncharacteristic, but Lilypad’s face remained cold and intimidating ”I want you dead.” Charcoal opened his mouth to utter more panicked pleas but Lilypad continued “You lied and betrayed the whole village, no, our species.” Charcoal backed up hearing this, forgetting the cliff until his hind paw failed to keep its footing, sending dirt and pebbles kerning down towards the ground. Lilypad took a few strong steps forward, his face soured more and more as each paw touched the ground. Charcoal cowered, a scared and angry expression on his face as he looked up to meet the gaze of Lilypad, he towered over him. Charcoal wasn't scared of the drop, he was scared of the creatures that lie waiting at the bottom, he looked past Lilypad towards the sky, lightning flashed, thunder boomed, the clouds appearing like angry superiors. His decision was tough but he knew it was right, sure many had to die in the process but it was better than fighting a losing battle.

Charcoal heard them behind him, in the trees, they walked out with smiles on their faces. Yellow, orange, and red eyes stared up, he knew they recognised him, but that wouldn't stop them from eating him. An older warg shouted up in their sharp vindictive and rotten language, “What are you doing here old friend? Are you here to serve as the replacement for that skittish one?” The joke caused the sea of wargs circling in the clearing to erupt with their chuckling laughter. The wargs were sadistic, they only agreed to his deal so their entertainment didn’t run dry. Lilypad bristled a little when they arrived, he didn't recognise their language, to him they were just uttering ear grating yelps and barks. “Don-” was all Charcoal had time to utter before Lilypad pushed him, taking advantage of the predators down below, Charcoal managed to catch himself before he completely fell. “Don’t what? Kill you? What you did was unforgivable, you staged a massacre so you’d look like a hero.” Charcoal gripped the ledge, his hind legs clawing at the rock trying to prevent his fall. “This won't change anything, if I die there will be nothing stopping them from hunting you.” thunder boomed as lightning struck the ground, clouds lighting up angrily. As Charcoal’s grip loosened he became more desperate for savior, his fate circled below. “You may view yourself golden but you're no better than me, I was trying to save my people as well, if they hadn't died everyone would have died.” Lilypad’s gaze didn't change, the speech not persuading him in the slightest, he raised a paw, “You may view yourself as golden, I don’t, your words hold no weight, you’re a snake.” he brought his paw down on Charcoal pausing before throwing him off to tell him a final statement “After all, won't this ensure the next harvest is better?” As Charcoal's pupils shrank in horror he was thrown off the cliff, kerning down with the world spinning, hitting the ground hard. He muttered no as he cowered. The wargs circled smiling and cackling, they descended upon him. Biting, ripping, until the ground was stained red. The one that had spoken to him grabbed him as he was trying to stand, to run, it threw him against the rockface of the cliff: Blood spattered. Lilypad couldn't bear to witness the bloodbath further, he turned and ran back towards the village as the sound of an agonized scream pierced the storming air along with the sadistic cackles of satisfied wargs, Lilypad wondered if killing him was really the best resolution. He wasn't so sure, though he’d remained stoic and firm outside Charcoal’s desperate pleas really had affected him.

Sprig had been surviving outside, every night he longed for home while lying in the shelter he constructed. He remained by the river, the wargs hadnt returned and he was fearful that if he strayed too far from the river he’d encounter them again. So he remained in the valley he’d found. This way he could spot them from a distance and flee into the treeline if necessary. He used his knowledge from collecting wild plants to find food, there was a surprising amount of edible plants in this time of year. Every night it got colder and colder, his sleep was restless. When he emerged from his patchy makeshift dwelling he was met by the same drab depressing landscape, this only soured his demeanor. His mood never rose above or fell below that of the night during his escape. He was half sure death would have been preferable to this life, still he held onto the hope that he would somehow be accepted back into the village, somehow see his friend again. What was worse he could see a storm approaching far far off in the distance, the thunder boomed loud and imposing. It seemed to ensure his fate. He decided to reinforce his shelter a little bit by adding more branches to deter the structure from collapsing in the wind. He then went inside and hunkered down, his fur bristling as thunder boomed, it was getting closer, the wind was also picking up. He thought about Morning Dew and what she would do in this situation, she would probably have painted designs on the walls, make it feel more homey, the thought made him smile. He continued to daydream as the sun rose, it drowned out the flashes of lightning and the roars of thunder, the comforting patter of rain helped soothe him, it was bittersweet, maybe he would be able to drift off and go back to sleep. He was pulled out of his thoughts and jumped in alarm as he heard a blood curdling cry, it was far off in the distance but he’d managed to hear it through the wind and the thunder. It sounded like a creature, the thought made him shudder, what an awful fate. He wondered why they were out there, had they done another vote after him? Was it his fault? He felt a bit guilty but reminded himself that they had probably celebrated when he’d ‘won’ the vote. Panic swam in his mind and washed over him as he realized that the wargs might come near, he wasn't stupid, he knew one creature wasn't enough to satisfy their bellies; but he couldn't leave, not in this weather. He elected to stay, as soon as the weather cleared he would be out of the area. He stayed in the structure, scared and ready to flee at any moment.

Morning Dew was at the river, she was looking for signs that someone had been here. Eventually she found a frantic looking trail of tracks, mixed in there were large and numerous clawed paw marks. This had to be Sprig’s, he must have been chased, a thought crossed her mind, what if the next tree she rounded had his rotting remains? The thought horrified her but she quickly pushed it aside, insisted to herself that despite the wind carrying the smell away from a corpse she still would have smelled the stench before she saw it. She continued to follow the tracks. A fork in the river held a cliff, the tracks led directly to it. She bounded towards it, looking for tracks or signs someone had fallen off. She saw that the end of the cliff looked rounded, like someone had misstepped and went off the edge. Her theory was confirmed, there were no tracks leading away, which would have indicated that he almost fell off. She was extremely ecstatic at discovering this, Sprig was alive! Or at least he got away from the Wargs. Unfortunately the water was too strong for her to swim across, the wind from an impending storm made the waves stronger. She would have to find her own way across so she could continue to follow Sprig’s trail, she was going to find him.

It was now early morning for Sprig, he peered out of his campsite to confirm that the storm was indeed gone, the sky was gray with clouds but otherwise everything was fine, it was just windy, he left in a hurry. Nothing there was worth taking with him anyways, he ventured through the trees until he came upon a field. He stopped to survey the muddy bank of a brook, it housed a number of edible plants, he’d found breakfast. The brook was a runoff from the river, there were many of these, and he knew it was safe to drink so he partook in the abundance of drinkable water as well. He would have to move on soon however to ensure that the Wargs were far enough away, so he decided to cross the stream and follow the creek, it went into the heart of the forest and he might be able to squeeze himself into a crevice in a pile of boulders or a root system under a large tree for temporary safety and shelter. After he found a suitable tree he marked it by clawing a patch of bark off, he was going back to the field to acquire nesting materials. He also wanted to gather food by the river so he’d have a meal when it got dark.

Morning Dew was finding a suitable place to cross as the storm finally came to a head, she was deep in thought contemplating her options as she found an area with many boulders, she jumped as she heard a scream, was it Sprig? She wanted to run towards the sound, she heard the crackling cackling laughter of Wargs, was she too late? She weighed her options, she was sure she couldn't evade that many wargs. She jumped on a stone, despite the rain making the stones slippery she kept her footing as she jumped from one to the next, crossing the river successfully. The boulders were too small for a warg to cross and the water too choppy for them to swim, she was safe. She sighed in relief and continued to follow tracks and signs of life. She almost yelled in grief when she turned around and saw a shelter. She was so close, if she’d just crossed the river sooner she could have saved her friend. She walked slowly towards the makeshift structure, deciding to inspect what her friend had been up to before his supposed demise. She saw that everything inside had been left as it was, a nest, some half eaten plants, a bundle of sticks in a small fire pit, it made her face scrunch with sadness. As she was leaving the area something caught her attention, a trail of tracks, what caught her attention. They were in the opposite direction than she’d heard the scream from, she took the chance and followed them.

Sprig was back collecting mosses and other materials for his nest, he had made five trips and he was determined to finish before nightfall. He saw his reflection in the stream, he looked worn and dirty, dark bags under his eyes. Sprig sighed and picked up his bundle of plant material for his nest. Turning away from the stream, he walked some distance before he heard something. A voice? He heard it more clearly now, “Sprig!” The voice had so many emotions mixed within it. He turned around with wide eyes,  he teared up and they stared for a moment. He couldn't believe it, his thoughts blanked as Morning Dew ran and tackled him in a hug. She was laughing, “I can’t believe you're actually alive; I actually did it.” Sprig smiled for the first time in a long while, with disbelief in his voice he asked “ Have you been looking for me this whole time?” The answer he was given was in the form of another tight hug. 

While on the way back Sprig wondered aloud, “Hey, uh, are you sure I can return? They didn't like me all that much…” Dew looked over waiting for him to continue, “... I- I don’t know how they’ll react when they find out I’m not dead.” Morning Dew broke eye contact to think for a moment. “I don’t really know what to tell you...” They stayed silent for a few more moments. “ If it helps I’ll make sure nobody messes with you; you can hide out in these old ruins I found while we figure stuff out.” It was comforting for Sprig to know that she was there for him. “A lot actually happened while you were gone. The rest of the village has no clue about it a-and–” “About what?” Morning Dew took a moment to find the best way to articulate an explanation while they continued to walk, honestly she wasn't even sure how to process it herself. “ Well first of all Charcoal turned out to be a power hungry traitorous liar. You probably wouldn't find it that surprising, ha, guess you were right about the harvest.” Sprig noticed that she also seemed to have dark spots under her eyes, neither had been sleeping well. “ I found these letters in the ruins of the old village. They seemed to be letters with the Wargs.” Sprig stared in shock, “Those things can write?” She continued “ I don't know anymore honestly, I just want to be able to fix this. What do you think the village will say after we tell them?” it was an unpredictable question, Dew tried to lighten the mood “Hey, don't worry, maybe I’ll end up like you. Wouldn't that be funny.” “Oh my god, that would be terrible!” Sprig reacted in horror, she laughed at him as they continued off towards the village. 

Lilypad’s sinking feeling of dread never went away, in fact it only got worse. What was he going to tell the village? Should he lie about how Charcoal died? What if they didn't believe him and Morning Dew when they told the village about his actions? They’d be cast out… Left for dead. Fed to Wargs for treason. He tried to push his uneasiness down like he always did as a guard but it didn't work, even his face wasn't stoney like usual. He was visibly tired and anxious, horrified even. When he met back up with Morning Dew at the village they’d figure out what was going to happen next, he used to have this many emotions at once…

Overall none of them were sure about what was to happen next.