Young Scruff finds a new family, a new caretaker, a new parental. Wraithvine learns why the child was so alone. The large city where they were found learns why their kind was so needed, when Wraithvine returns, to find the forest nearly overrunning the place.
@internutter/challenge-04605-l221-murder-by-the-seaside -- Anon Guest
They say that no two Wudzgaad are made the same. They say that those particular Faekindred could communicate through the leyflow. They said that Faekindred are just born odd. Honestly, they say all kinds of things. Some of them are even provably true.
When Ebonquill recovered their full health, they spent a lot of time on the edge of the forests, apparently swaying and humming.
Scruff, already fascinated by the Wudzgaad, followed to watch from a respectful distance. In this case, well out of lunging range. The instincts honed on the streets of Trader Crossing were difficult to ignore. It was going to take a long time for Scruff to trust any stranger. What he was doing in Ebonquill's wake was listening to things that other people could not hear.
Wraithvine, watching from an even more respectful distance, noted that Ebonquill and Scruff were swaying together in time.
"You may join us, if you wish," said Ebonquill. "Listen to the Leyflow. Help us find the threads of our tangle."
It took a couple of dandelion petals, nested in hir cheek, for Wraithvine to properly join the vision trance. It helped to hold the raven feather and use the connection to hir patron goddess to reach further to Shai, she who wove the knots of fate to her grand design.
Not to see what is, or where it might be, but to trace back one thread to its origin. Scruff's thread.
Wraithvine saw... a glade. A drunken spring celebration under the eyes and blessing of the Dawn Lord and Mastorava. A fertility festival. Where a Wudzgaad joined the high spirits, alcohol, and joyous coupling. Unintended outcomes, but blessed all the same.
Together they saw... a Human Bard in a hospice, birthing their halfbred child. Exhalted and triumphant. A name floated through the aether... Jop. They saw... the Bard falling into poverty and exile, all because of the babe strapped to their chest.
A plague. A toddler left alone. Scavenging garbage to live and speaking to the rats, cats, and street dogs of Trader Crossing. Until he met Wraithvine, and his thread took a different path.
They saw... an alerted presence in the leyflow, realising what had happened. Letting anger ride them. Ebonquill attempted to calm that distant presence, but they would not be swayed.
Thousands would pay if someone didn't intervene. Some of them might even be innocent.
Wraithvine was still a little loopy when ze returned to reality. Everything had a rainbow aura and the air felt... like it tasted of pink.
"They don't deserve that," said Scruff. "We gotta stop it. We gotta hurry."
"I know a way," volunteered Ebonquill, and unfurled their dark feathers. Oh. They had wings.
Wraithvine was temporarily distracted by their irridescence, and went slack as Ebonquill took hir into their arms. Side by side with Scruff. The ground fell away beneath hir as Ebonquill took wing.
They had a disaster to avert.
Wraithvine could only hope ze was fully sober by the time they got to Trader Crossing.
[AN: Big thanks to PJ for the generous donation over Ko-Fi. I hope I didn't offend by turning you into Scruff's dead birthing parent]
[Photo by Stephane Gagnon on Unsplash]
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