Writing Contest! (ANNOUNCED WINNERS)

Hope Is A Better Hunter

Wordcount: 1447

TW: Animal death, minor unreality

The whole forest moaned like a dying animal. Rabid wind howled and bit at any exposed flesh, whipping the barren branches of the trees into a frenzy. They clawed at the dull gray sky in an agonized dance.

Jotta's ears flattened against her skull. 

This early winter was hunting them as surely as her pack had thinned herds of elk in the spring. It had trapped them in this valley, its thick snow clotting all the pathways out. Now the freeze had come. Wincing, she dipped her muzzle to search for a hint of prey. Even rabbits must be hungry enough to brave the storm, she figured. A rabbit would feed the pups.

There was only the scent of the bitter cold.

This land was ancient, and ancient places had strange ways. She had first sensed this in the choking dust that kicked up beneath their paws and the fear of the small, half-starved animals they had hunted. Plans to leave fell apart before they were formed, dying on the tongues of those who spoke them but lingering in their haunted eyes. What little prey they caught had been sickly and strange. One rabbit had had two heads; its four dark eyes had stared past her, as if it could see what she couldn't. Jotta had taken it to her father, the leader of their dwindling pack.

Let's leave today, Jotta had begged him, dropping it at his paws. He hadn't even looked at it.

Things will be different if we stay here, he answered as he turned towards her. His eyes were full of the desperation that drove him to uproot their pack. He goaded her to contradict him. Jotta shook her head and left.

He had been right; many things had turned out differently. 

If they had stayed in their old lands, there would have been no pups buried beneath the ice, hardening in the frost. Her firstborn would have been named Toiva. A bitter grin twisted her lips. Instead, she had named him nothing as she blunted her claws on the iron-hard earth to bury him.

Moisture ran from her eyes. Whether it was pain from the bite of the wind or the bite of memories, she couldn't say. She shook her head to clear it, then continued on. She winced as her paws sunk deep into the snow; it froze her paw pads and tugged on her leg fur. Whatever choices she had had before this storm had hit were gone. She would survive, or she would not. That was all. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Jotta caught a shadow flickering through the treeline. Prey? She raised her head and sniffed hopefully.

It smelled old: old like the faded memory of her mother, old like bones left to weather in a cave that had never seen the light of day, old like the scent of the river and the stones and the trees around her. Ancient places had ancient ways. Jotta shivered. 

Nothing to feed the pups there, only the memory of something that had gone before and was not anymore. Jotta hurried away.

The storm was quickly becoming a blizzard. Wind roared to new life, blowing the top snow into strange shapes. Another flicker caught her eyes, then another, another. Each made Jotta flinch and freeze, only to whine in frustration as nothing manifested. 

It occurred to her then that she might not be the only thing out hunting tonight.

The soft thud of something landing behind her made her whirl around, teeth bared. Another shadow flickered at the edge of her vision. Jotta growled and snapped, frightening a fat pheasant into flight. She lunged for it and missed, falling down flat into the snow. The pheasant’s squawking laugh berated her as it disappeared into the blizzard. 

She tracked its flightpath further into the trees in the vain hope that it might land. The flickering shadows followed beside her. Jotta eyed them, resigned. Shadows were nothing compared to what she had already experienced.

They had begun to find bones a moon cycle after they had come here. The pack assumed they were the bones of long-dead prey, perhaps buried by the wolves that had lived here before them. Typerä had made a game of it: whoever could dig up the most bones would win them all. 

Then Pelko had found the pups playing with an unmistakably wolfen femur bone. 

We found it in the dirt, one of the pups had said. We win! It's an elk bone, right?

Right, Jotta had said, before taking the bone and burying it far, far away. 

All the pups died anyway. One by one, they had withered away, and the pack was left with nothing to remember them by except lonely mounds of earth. 

Jotta snapped back to reality, only to realize she was lost. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding food for the pups -- for the pack. She looked around in desperation. Nothing, nothing, there was nothing again --

Her eyes lit on a tiny patch of darkness against the bright white of the backdrop of snow. She padded forward and lowered her muzzle to look at it. Fresh rabbit droppings! Jotta’s heart soared. She raised her muzzle to howl. In the distance, four howls answered her. A rabbit would be enough for now. 

Jotta closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, padding forward into a clearing. There was a scent of rabbit, fresh and alive and wonderful. If a scent could be beautiful, this was it. She began to drool picturing the warmth of meat in her belly for the first time in days.

Jotta sniffed again. In a rush, a new scent overpowered her. The rabbit’s trail was drowned out, replaced by the scent of something ancient beyond ancient, as old as the river and the stones and the trees. 

She opened her eyes.

A vast shadow blocked out the light from between the trees. Darkness roiled over their crowns. As it coalesced, the forest moaned beneath its weight. Sharpened tendrils grasped at their trunks, widening the space between them to make room for the shadows. Jotta started and stumbled back. A part of the darkness paused, then lowered towards her. 

It opened its eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat. It looked like a wolf. Jotta shuddered and unconsciously inhaled. Now she smelled rabbit again, then elk and boar. All were tantalizingly fresh and healthy, fat on spring greens and summer sun. If she would only step closer, she would be warm and full and safe...

Jotta dropped her muzzle and began to back away. Everything came with a price. Whatever was given for free came with a hidden cost too expensive to speak aloud. 

What are you?, she thought. The beast tilted its head at her, as if it were listening. Its ears raised and it changed once more. Shadows roiled once more, coalescing into something heartbreakingly familiar. Jotta was dumbstruck. 

It looked like Toiva. It smelled like Toiva had smelled for the brief few days that he had lived. Jotta inhaled the puppy scent, her heart lifting. Unconsciously, she took a few steps forward towards the rippling shadows and met the beast's eyes. They were a mirror of hers, but alight with life and hope.

The beast bent down to touch her, its clawed, tree-like appendage extended in a soothing gesture.

"Jotta? Jotta! Where are you?" called a voice from behind her. But Jotta wasn't listening. Everything comes with a price, she thought. But hope was priceless.

Come, she heard, as close in her mind as her own thoughts. Please, momma. I'm so cold. 

She obeyed.

Codex Entry 271.01

Simulacra votum

Theories for the origins of the Simulacra votum abound. Colloquially known as wish-granters, shadow-beasts or wintersteeth, their analogue in modern mythology are considered the fae (or “fairies”). Simulacra votum are known for their differences rather than their similarities. Highly variable in shape, intent and sentience, they instead take a form that best fits the stories told about the area they inhabit. Simulacra votum are said to be drawn to areas that experience repeated tragedies or other emotionally potent events.

Simulacra votum hunts may begin weeks before any prey is captured. Prey is driven to a heightened emotional response; fear is most commonly provoked, although anger and hopelessness have also been recorded. At the apex of its emotion, the creature will appear. Various outcomes have been recorded, including the offering of a “deal” (which the terrorized creature will be primed to accept) or some similar form of emotional relief. The Simulacra votum are careful to always leave a witness, ensuring the spread of their newly created story.

Wolfdin

Words: 1457

Inspiration taken from:

-Come Along by Cosmo Shelldrake

-The Hero's Guide book series

-MMORPGs

-My best dude pal buddy friend chum guy for

supporting the ideas here and naming

the wolves in this team for me

Rebirth

Words: 1212
Content Warnings: Brief mention of pup death

“Why are we out here, exactly?”

A pair of dark-pelted wolves walked side by side through a blackened forest, weaving through the lifeless husks of burned trees and hopping over those which had already fallen.

“There’s someone out here who can bring the land back to life,” Heather answered. A gentle breeze ruffled her dark brown fur as she pressed onward through the thick, ash-tainted snow.

“What, magically?” her companion asked. Heather could hear the skepticism on his face without even turning to face him.

“Yes,” she answered shortly. With a sigh, she continued, “I know it’s hard to believe, but you have to trust me, Aspen. I’ve seen the end of the world in my dreams. We have to do something before it’s too late.”

“It already seems too late…” Aspen mumbled, casting a miserable glance at the still forest around them.

“Whatever is happening here… it isn’t natural,” Heather commented. “It’s not just the prey that’s gone, it’s the stillborn pups too. And the dead undergrowth, that caused the fire when the lightning struck. Something’s gone wrong.”

“Maybe we’re cursed?” Aspen suggested.

“Maybe,” Heather sighed. “But I know how we can find out. Old pup tales talk about the King of the Forest, a monstrous hybrid of wolf and wood. It would know exactly what’s happening.”

“The King of the Forest?” Aspen scoffed. “That’s just a story mothers tell their pups so they don’t wander away from their dens.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Heather snapped. Her friend flattened his ears and the two fell silent. “Look, I’m sorry,” she sighed. “It’s just… our only hope.”

“No, you’re right,” Aspen replied. “And it’s really brave of you to come out here looking for the King.”

“You came, too.”

“I’d follow you anywhere.”

They walked in silence for what felt like hours, and all the while the forest steadily grew darker. The wind had long since died, leaving only the sounds of Heather and Aspen trotting through the snow.

“That tree is… moving,” Aspen suddenly gasped. Heather heard her friend’s breath hitch in his throat. She snapped her head toward the slow movement among the swaying trees.

A massive black creature, taller than the forest itself, rose to its full height as if it were stretching. It roared, sounding less like a threat and more like a groan, before turning its head downward to stare at Heather and Aspen. Even looming far above the treetops, Heather could tell its head was a wolf’s skull.

Aspen yelped and stumbled backward, gasping  for air as he failed to keep his composure. His fur fluffed up farther beyond what Heather had ever seen. With a deep, shaky breath, Heather realized she’d have to be brave for the both of them. Their pack and the land both depended on it.

The creature leaned over, effortlessly pushing aside blackened trees as it lowered its enormous head to gaze upon the pair of wolves. Its joints cracked like the sound of splitting, creaking wood. Its fur smelled of charcoal, and when it exhaled, the strong scent of sulfur washed over Heather. A warm light flickered in its mouth and eye sockets, as though a fire burned in its throat.

“Why have you come?” the creature demanded. Its voice sounded like multiple entities speaking at once, both young and old. Heather expected the creature’s mouth to move as it spoke, but the words simply hissed out of its parted jaws.

“We need your help,” Heather explained as calmly as she could manage. “This land is dead, barren. Nothing grows, and prey is dwindling.”

“Do you know who I am?” the creature asked.

“You are the King of the Forest.”

“I am no king,” the creature hissed. It flicked an ear and shook its head from side to side, allowing a few strands of onyx hair to fall to the snowy ground. “I am the embodiment of life, and death. All that lives must die, so that life can begin anew. It all returns from whence it came.”

“So why is life not returning?” Heather questioned.

“I have grown weary,” the creature answered. “The cycle has become dull and tiring. It is time for the end of all things.”

“You can’t do that!” Aspen yelped, startling Heather. The imposing creature slowly turned its head toward her friend. Somehow, through the soulless, hollow eyes of the King, she felt the intensity of a glare so fierce, her paws suddenly weighed like stone.

Aspen seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. It was a long few moments of deafening silence before he continued, “Life… still has so much potential. You can’t give up on it now!”

“Life has run its course,” the creature answered. “That which eternally draws breath only brings destruction and sorrow.”

“Then die,” Heather growled. The look of pure horror from her friend was lost on her, as her narrowed emerald eyes were focused only on the King. It turned its attention back to her, and now she felt the full force of its evil stare.

No, she corrected herself. Not evil. The creature’s overwhelming presence made her feel a mixture of fervent emotions. Misery. Resentment. Exhaustion. Apathy. It took all of Heather’s concentration to ground herself and remember why she had come. Aspen had fallen silent beside her, perhaps struggling to face his impending demise in the wake of her sudden outburst.

“You have lived too long, and brought destruction on the land you were sworn to protect,” Heather explained. She took a deep, shaky breath. “I know you’re tired,” she continued, her voice suddenly a pleading whisper. “Please. Rest.”

To Heather’s astonishment, the King’s gaze seemed to soften. Her words had struck true. The smothering grip of its madness-inducing aura lessened its hold on her. It felt like a long-awaited breath of fresh air.

“Perhaps there is some truth to your words,” the creature conceded. “I have lived since time immemorial. This land was once vibrant and prosperous, but I have let it fall to ruin. Perhaps that is my failing.”

“You haven’t failed,” Heather reassured the King. “You’ve served the land for eons. That’s an incredible responsibility to bear, and even immortal deities need a break sometimes.”

“I suppose you are correct,” the King replied, dipping its head as if suddenly deep in thought. Heather heard Aspen exhale beside her. “I will begin life anew in the forest,” it decided. “You have my thanks.”

The creature once again stood to its full height. Its body began to stiffen, starting from its legs and running up its torso. For a moment it stood as still as the blackened trees surrounding it, until its body began cracking and crumbling. It fell to the ground in pieces, coating the snowy ground in a sizzling black dust.

A mound of snow began to rise, and from it burst a hearty fir sapling. A vibrant symbol of hope in a forest so dead and devoid of life, it almost seemed to glow.

Heather approached the newly sprouted sapling, and breathed a sigh of relief onto its limbs. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Our pack will watch over you and protect your slumber for generations to come. When you wake, I hope you find love in your heart for life again.”

“You did it…” Aspen whispered in disbelief, still clearly shaken from the encounter.

With a grateful glance at her companion, Heather turned away from the sapling. “Let’s go tell everyone what happened here. It’s up to us, now.”

Note: I did NOT read any others before writing this. This story is all my own. 1246 words, not including title

“The Shadow Beast” by Azkaban

The shadows welcomed them, as they had always done. It’s where they lived, and they knew nothing else. 

They used to long to feel the sun warming their back, to prance in the golden meadows like the other creatures did. They wandered tentatively out one morning, their curiosity driving them, only to scurry back to their shadows with a hiss of pain, thin tendrils of smoke lifting from their flesh.

That was when they were still New. When it had only been days and weeks and months since they had opened their eyes for the first time. 

Now, they continued what they had been doing day after day, year after year. They nimbly leaped among the shadowy treetops, the new moon glowing dimly. For such a huge creature they were surprisingly agile. 

Below, a wolf pack ran across the land like a comet streaking across the sky. 

The creature followed them, their heart leaping and bounding like an excited puppy. This was the only way to fill the hole in their soul, if only for a little while. 

They watched the pack hunt and howl and sleep, a silent guardian. 

When the pack moved for the winter, they stayed in their forest with their shadows. It was incredibly lonely. 

Throughout the winter months, the creature slept or wandered. The grey winter sky enabled them to go outside of the shadows, but they inevitably returned. No other creature wanted to see them. They were all too afraid. 

“The Shadow Beast will eat you up if you don’t go to sleep,” rabbit mothers said to their children.

“The Shadow Beast will drink your blood and crunch your bones while you’re still alive,” wolf packs howled in fear. 

“It can climb trees and squeeze into the smallest spaces to eat up chicks in their nest,” owls warned their friends. 

The Shadow Beast. It fit, they supposed. 

Like the winters before, they wandered their forest, slipping between trees without so much as a rustle of leaves. The sky was pitch black, and the forest was quiet. They enjoyed the silence. 

Something broke that silence. Their ears twitched and they froze mid step. 

Sticks were cracking and breaking, accompanied with the evident thump of wolf paws hitting the ground. They were getting closer. 

A split second decision was made, and they stepped out of the safety of the shadows.

Two wolves burst into the clearing. The female instantly collapsed, while the male skidded to a stop. 

He didn’t see the creature at first, but when he did, he took up a defensive stance in front of the female. 

Although he trembled with fear, he looked them in the eye. “What are you?”

They blinked, surprised at the male’s boldness. They took their time to respond, turning the question over in their mind. It was a good question. Finally they answered. “They call me The Shadow Beast.” Their voice was deep and guttural, as if it hadn’t been used in thousands of years. 

The wolf bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I am called Elm, and this is my mate, Flight. Please allow us to take refuge in your forest until we can recover.”

Elm favored his left hind leg, and his fur was matted. Flight was also clearly pregnant. The creature would not ask them to leave. 

“Of course, stay as long as you like. Although, this forest is home to another wolf pack in the spring.”

They stepped farther into the clearing. Flight sat up, staring at them. There was no fear in her eyes, only curiosity and gratitude. 

“Why do they call you that?” she asked quietly. 

They sat down slowly, unsure. What did she mean? Did she not notice the way their fur blended in with the shadows? The way their teeth gleamed in the night, and their eyes glimmered like that of a predator’s? “It’s what I am,” they answered simply. 

“You don’t have a name?”

“I’ve had no one to name me.”

Flight tilted her head. “You don’t have a mother?” She sounded almost astonished and there was something else in her voice...sympathy?

They shook their head. Why would a creature like them have a mother? They were not like other creatures. 

“That’s terrible,” Flight whispered. “Do you have any friends?”

“I am all alone.” They stated it like a fact, pushing their loneliness down deep.

“We’ll be your friends. Do you mind if I name you?” Flight inched closer. 

“I suppose it’s fine.” They wondered why it mattered to her, but nonetheless a thrill went through them. 

“How does North sound?”

North. “North,” they murmured, trying out the sound. A surge of emotion swept through them, feeling like they were finally known, finally existing. They smiled a big toothy grin, their eyes glowing brighter than they did before. “North is my name!” 

Flight’s tail tapped on the ground happily and she yipped, joining in their excitement. 

From then on, North cared for them. They plucked deer and other animals easily from the ground, killing and delivering them to the pair. After a few days, they offered their den, a large cave, for them to stay in. 

Flight gave birth to a gorgeous slate colored male and named him Comet. The little pup lived up to his name, darting around the cave energetically. As he grew, he proved to be fast like his mother. The family decided to stay with North, and they became their guardian. 

They all lived in relative peace, with only a few scuffles with the resident pack. North’s name became associated with hope, family, and kindness. They stopped calling them “The Shadow Beast”, instead looking to them as a deity of sorts. 

Eventually, Elm and Flight died. Comet became friends with a she-wolf from the forest pack and left to be with her. He promised to visit, and he did, once. He brought his three pups and his mate, and that was the last North saw of him. 

Sometimes pregnant she-wolves would come to their cave to receive a blessing for their future pups, but that practice had died out over the years.

Now, North sat outside their cave, staring at the stars. They were very old, although it didn’t show. 

It had been hundreds of years since their family died. Oh, how they longed to see Elm and Flight one more time. 

They had met and befriended many wolves, but none would come even close to the bond they shared with their first friends. 

Something brushed against one of their massive clawed hands. They looked down and almost began sobbing when they saw who it was. 

“Did you miss us?” Flight barked. Beside her stood Elm, and behind them, Comet. 

North ducked their head, gently nuzzling Flight. “I missed you all. Why are you here?”

“It’s time for you to go,” Flight said. “You’ve helped so many over the years, and now your job is done. I know you’re tired, so come rest.” She stood and a shaft of moonlight touched the ground. The she-wolf took a few steps onto it before turning and waiting for North to follow. 

A glimmering tear dropped to the ground as North stood. “Thank you,” they whispered. They stepped onto the path, feeling warmth envelop them like an embrace. Elm and Comet brought up the rear as Flight led North to their home among the stars. 

In the sky, North shone brighter than any other star and even in death, they remained a beacon of hope.

The Monster

(873 words)

It was the night of the new moon, and only the pinpricks of stars lit the sky. 
Deep white snow reflected what little light it could. Even those wouldn’t be enough when the two wolves entered the forest, though.

“Why does it have to be so dark?” Fern complained.

“The monster only comes out when there’s no light,” Dove said. “I wonder whether it’s really a monster, after all. If it was real, why not just come out and be scary during the day?”

“Does it matter if it’s actually a monster?” Fern asked. “We’re going to die either way.”

Dove wanted to give a retort, but she couldn’t find the words. Few wolves who had entered the forest on the night of a new moon had ever returned. She knew that was a risk she was taking. Still, she couldn’t resist the mystery. What was in there? She couldn’t believe the tales that it was a huge monster, because if it was so big, then why had no one ever seen it during the day? Or on nights that were lighter?

Fern had insisted on coming with her, although Dove suspected it was more to try to convince her to go home than from any sense of adventure.

The line of bare-branched trees approached, their limbs cutting pieces through the starlight. The lack of leaves meant it wouldn’t be quite as dark as during any other season. Dove hoped it was going to be enough to find the true identity of the monster, and that it wouldn’t be enough to prevent the monster from appearing.

“Are you sure about this?” Fern asked. “We can still go back.”

“You are free to go home,” Dove said, “but I’m going in.” She padded forward.

Before she even crossed the threshold of the first trees, a loud crack echoed from the forest. Like something too heavy had landed on a tree branch and broke it, but much louder. It wasn’t a simple mistake, though - the sound happened again and again. And it was coming closer.

“Let’s get out of here!” Fern yipped. Dove could barely see her silhouette huddled, fur spiked.

“No,” Dove said. “This must be it. We’ll find out the truth.”

“And be eaten!” Fern said, but stayed by Dove’s side.

The sound was rhythmic, as if the creature was swinging from tree to tree. Dove sniffed, trying to scent it. The wind was coming their way, after all. All she could smell was the forest, though. Was the sound just a trick?

The trees directly in front of the two wolves bent to the sides, and a large black form blocked the stars.

“Okay Dove, it’s a monster alright. Let’s get out of here, now.” Despite her words, Fern still stayed by Dove’s side.

The monster roared an unearthly sound. Dove would be surprised if the wolves back home didn’t hear it.

Fern had a point; this was definitely something real. But Dove didn’t want to head back to the pack with more tales of the scary monster. She had to know more than that. What sort of creature was it? Why did it only come out in the darkest of nights?

The monster lowered its head to be even with the two wolves. Dove’s heart pounded, but she stayed in place, sniffing deeply to get a good whiff of the creature. In return, the creature simply sniffed back, its hot breath ruffling her fur as it exhaled.

All she got was a whiff of its breath, and it smelled like the breath of something that ate meat. She could feel the fur on her body rising. Wolf meat, perhaps? Was Fern right and she was about to be this creature’s midnight snack?

“Hello,” Dove said. “I don’t suppose you’re friendly.”

The creature drew its head back. The faint starlight didn’t give her a very good look at the creature, but it seemed to be fairly lanky, with black fur, and was that exposed rib bones?

“You are speaking to me?” The creature’s voice was rough, like it hadn’t used it to do much other than screech like earlier.

Dove’s eyes widened. It could talk!

“Yes, of course,” Dove said quickly. “We just,” she paused, thinking, “we wanted to know who you were.”

The creature exhaled sadly. “My human called me Lily. Before I. . .” It trailed off.

Fern nudged Lily and pointed up with her snout. The shadow that was the creature, Lily, was shrinking. Its lanky body became stouter and it reduced in size until it was smaller than either of the two wolves. Against the snow, they could see it was a small, human-companion dog.

“Is this what you used to be?” Dove asked, not entirely sure what had just happened.

Lily looked back at itself. It spotted its tail, which started wagging furiously.

“I’m back to normal!” it yipped. “Thank you!”

The dog’s eyes sparkled, and slowly, its body began to fade. The white snow became more and more visible through Lily’s form until the dog was no more.

“No one will believe us,” Fern whispered after a few moments of silence.

“They don’t need to,” Dove said. “We know what happened, and that’s all that matters.”

Editing to add a link to my Tumblr blog, where I occasionally post writing and headcanons about various websites I'm on.

Two more days! If you have any last questions please PM me!

ASHES

Word count: 1500

Legend says walking along a certain forest path alone as the sun begins to set, amidst the flurries of the first snowfall and the winter winds rushing through the trees, calls upon the spirit of the forest to appear before you. It has been warned that those who go looking for the spirit often do not return, with no corpse or evidence left behind of their existence. Of course, that’s what the pack elders say to prevent young boisterous teenagers from hanging out in the forest at night, getting into mischief or running about with the whistling wind. Though the forest is filled with sunlight, life and the whispering winds falling off the mountains during the day, at night there is a very different feeling that overtakes the area. Instead, life drains from the forest as the sun goes down, followed by the cries of coyotes that fill the night air in puffs of frozen smoke that can be seen rising above the trees, leading to a kind of restlessness in your soul. No one really talks about the forest at night, as legend says the spirit of the forest likes to take refuge in the darkness under the pale moon, casting its shadow on anyone who trespasses. They say the coyotes calls in the darkest of night are to please the spirit with their songs, to reconcile their wrongdoings as tricksters of the land.

As the first flurries of snow begin to fall, elegantly touching the frozen ground before disappearing into droplets of water, I knew it was time to see what this legend was all about. Armed with my wits and courage, I snuck through my pack’s resting grounds that afternoon, careful to make little noise as I passed by the sleepy adults. This motivation to set my own feet on the path to the unknown stemmed greatly from the belief that, as I was told by the elders, if you do run into the spirit you can get one wish granted. Nothing could change my mind as I stopped momentarily at the border between the forest and my home. I turned my head behind me to see the faint lights of the sun begin to flicker between the trees. My mission was far too great to turn back now, my wish far too important.

Looking ahead I noticed the hush of the forest begin, though there were a few birds still chirping occasionally in the breeze. I sighed softly to myself knowing I had yet to miss this opportunity that only comes once a year. Pushing forward, I walked into the forest as I flicked my ear and paused once more, hearing something behind me. Turning my head I saw a pair of eyes staring back at me. The hair on my back stood up as my lips curled, only to realize it was my younger sibling. She was more timid than I was, her ears taped to her skull as she looked up at me confused as to what I was doing so far away from the pack at this time of night. I wagged my tail slightly to show her company was appreciated. Turning back, I was hesitant to continue right awa, for fear I would scare the spirit into not revealing itself before the time had come. Taking a deep breath in, I forced my way through a few bushes and low-lying branches and had found the path I had heard of through stories. The path was fairly small, enough to tell a line was made in the rubble of the forest floor. Grass had grown in patches around the dirt walkway, though to my surprise the area was easy enough to see through. The majority of trees were tall but already shed their leaves to be prepared for winter’s grasp, leaving only thick dark branches splayed from the side of the trunk. The sun had gotten to the border of the horizon as I stopped on the path, looking around slowly to see if there was any sign of the spirit.

A shiver went down my spine as another gust of wind came towards me, this time strong enough to make me stumble and brace myself by planting my paws firmly in the ground. ‘Go home’ it whispered as it passed my body, leaving me feeling cold and rather shaken. I shook my head at the thought. I had come out here for a reason, and there was no way I would leave without seeing the spirit of the forest and receiving my wish. I noticed there was a short distance of path ahead of me and then a large tree right in the center. I walked around the trunk of the old barren maple before realizing there was no more path. It ended here, at the tree. The sun had set now though it was still visible enough for me to see decently. The winds had picked up and there was a heavy silence filling the air. ‘Leave now’ the wind whispered strongly once more.

“I am here to see the spirit of the forest!” I demanded suddenly to no one, my voice shattering the silence for a moment as it echoed throughout the land. I stood for a few seconds in silence, wondering if all this was for nothing as I began to fill with dread and despair. Perhaps my wish would never be granted after all. Disheartened, I turned around and began to walk back down the path towards the two trees, my sister behind me. The wind picked up rather dramatically, forcefully smashing into me like a giant wall. Once the wind had stopped, I shook my head as I heard whimpering getting louder behind me. Looking up, I felt shock hit my body all at once. In front of me, its eyes glowing white peering down at us while holding onto a dead tree, must have been the spirit of the forest.

I was in awe, staring at this magnificent creature though it seemed to have no shape I’ve seen before, but was a pile of black fur loosely attached to a frame; a soul standing in the middle of the path. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, my paws shaking slightly as I froze with wonder and a bit of fear. My sister was behind me slightly, her fur on end as if she had the fright of her life. The spirit had a rather strange appearance, its eyes soft with a bright white hue while its body was black in colour with large white claws grafted onto its monstrous paws. Its tail was missing, though it had long strange hind legs and its ribs were easily seen through its long black fur. It was then I knew; this creature in front of me was the spirit of the forest, I was sure of it.

The monster’s gaze fell on me, a soft yet distant stare while its ear was slowly flickering. We stood like this for some time before its gaze fell across the forest floor in the direction of a coyote that had yowled in the distance. It began to move effortlessly across the ground in a strong, confident stride.

“Hey, you never granted my wish!” I called out after it, taking a few steps towards it instinctively as its ear flicked at my words and it paused mid-stride. The creature swung its head back and glared at me, its eyes becoming narrowed and no longer soft. It looked displeased, turning its entire body around to face me yet again. This time I felt fear strike me as I stood frozen in a state of rage and panic.

“You fool, I don’t grant wishes” the spirit sneered, a strong elegant female voice flowing from its mouth, “I break them”. Its ears suddenly went back as it lowered its head and a devious smile crept upon its face. The smile shattered my heart as I began to see its lips curl back and expose massive white fangs while its eyes became wild and savage. My sister took off behind me into the bushes. I wanted to follow her but I felt like I couldn’t move. In a flash of white too bright for my eyes to stay open to see, the spirit disappeared. My entire body felt like it had been scorched by the hottest blaze. I looked down as the white flash surrounded me, a faint roar echoing in my head. My skin and tissue began to peel back from my limbs as it burned, exposing the bone underneath that then began to crisp and break. I tried to scream out into the open night air but no sound escaped my lips as I fell to the ground, turning into a pile of ash.

The coyotes bayed at the moon as the wind howled once more and picked up the ashes, tossing them into the breeze and displaying them proudly across the land.

~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for the opportunity, and happy holidays! <3

Late is better than never! At this link is my story "Something Amiss". It comes in at 562 words. Thank you for the contest, and the opportunity to enter! I hope this season is good to everyone. Happy holidays, and a grand new year

Saving my spot ❤️

Marnie collected landscapes.

They didn’t have to be real, per se. In fact, the more fantastical, the better. Prints sold by artists in comic book alleys, or from online markets. Faded paintings in the sales bins of old shops. There was even a crayon-drawing by her cousin (Steven, four-and-a-half) in her collection. If an artist’s mind could make it real, then she wanted it. 

The shadowy forest was right up her alley. A grainy faded-out drawing that someone had probably stolen off the internet and printed right onto this makeshift bookmark. Definitely an unexpected find, but not an unwelcome one. Glancing left and right as if worried that someone might return to claim this forgotten treasure, Marnie clutched her find and hurried home.

Somewhere among the cavalcade of color on her walls, there was a blank space just big enough for this newest treasure. Marnie couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across her face as she taped her find to the wall, right in between Steven’s rainbows and the waterfall print from last year’s con.

That night, she dreamt.

This time, she was a wolf, black and sleek, running through the shadows that stretched outwards into the forms of trees. It was rare to perceive herself in these dreams, but she could feel her paws crunching through the snow, smell every dark and twisted burl with her snout. Her mouth fell open and her tongue lolled as she gasped for breath, but still she sprinted on. Her alarm would wake her in six hours and six hours was hardly the time she needed to learn an entire world. When morning dawned and her alarm blared, she was revitalized. Cheeks flushed, a spring in her step. 

She sailed through that week, appetite returned, pallor gone. During the day, she sailed through clases, and at night, she ran.

It was on the eighth night that one of the trees moved.

There was no wind, not in this landscape. Nothing to shift the branches so. No movement in those canopies to send a branch crashing. But nevertheless, one moved. It lowered itself down and down and she realized so abruptly how much taller these trees were than they appeared, for the branch was growing so much bigger before her eyes. And then, another pair of eyes opened, round and opaque and so bright they hurt in the dimness of this place.

You are a long way from home.

“I get that a lot”

It can be very dangerous out here.

“Yeah that too”

You are not alone in these woods.

“Are we done here?”

Its maw lolled down into a too-wide grin. I like you it said, and Please do return soon. It stared at her, eyes growing wider and wider and wider until she was falling into them, until she could only see them, until-

Her alarm went off.

The next week passed. Then another. The forest slowly faded from her mind, and with it her health, until once again she ghosted through life again. Waiting, watching, for that new seed of vitality. It was in a fit of desperation that she one day took a detour home to the old bookshop. 

The thugs wandered in on the corner of her eyesight. Large and lazy, no weapons in hand -- perhaps they were hoping to mug her with numbers alone. A quick analysis of the directions and she stopped, turning to face them as she realized there would be no escape. They advanced upon her, one holding a hand out expectantly for her phone and wallet.

And then he was gone. Just like that. The others stumbled and backed away, but not fast enough before they were simply-- gone.

The big cheshire-smile grinned at her. I do so hope you’ll return soon. And slowly the tree lifted away.

Marnie had a feeling she didn’t need to collect landscapes anymore.