Organized Chaos

Tallis hugged herself.

The air was crisp, chilly, and ate through her bare fur. The winter night…she had not realized how cold the outside would be without the light that they had stolen from within.

Clouds blotted the sky and rendered the path in front of her pitch black. Only the slightest light from the harvest moon was relinquished, splashing shadows with eerie tinges of red, like diluted blood. Leaves crunched underfoot. Tallis relied on numb paws to feel a safe way along the forest. She continued to hug her chest, trying to ignore the pain from the wounds she earned during her escape. Her side and abdomen ached dully and deeply, letting her know the wounds were serious.

If I don’t find help soon… Tallis was afraid to stop—she had not fled far enough into the cover of the woods. She was too fearful to see how bad the gashes along her abdomen were, and how bad they tainted her skin.

She had no more light, no more power, all stolen by things so feared the stories were never believed, and even more rarely spoken of. The runes that marked her fur, told the world what she was, no longer glowed their pure white.

She was alone, and she was dark.

Tears inched their way down her cheeks, wetting matted and grimy fur. Barren tree limbs rustled above her. The cold of the night inched into her bones, and she stumbled along a path of sharp stones and upended tree roots that cut deeply into the pads of her feet.

But…it would not be long before they would start the hunt. When the clouds parted and offered more light from their sacred moon, the others would brave the forest to bring back a new, fresh body.

Tallis choked back a sob, and covered her mouth to stifle the sound. The trees were too silent, and every knot, stump, and every animal acted as a sentinel for the house on the hill. Despite the fear that urged her to run, she had to pause because she knew that as much as the clouds offered her a way out, they also offered her a moment of reprieve to gather her strength.

What strength? Tallis sunk to her knees and took a deep breath. I’m so far from home, there is no way I will find my way back, and without the light they stole from me, my people will not know me.

Miles of forest stretched ahead of her, and the branches loomed inward ominously. She thought she could see distorted faces in the bark, and thorns rose in contortions to make up demonic bodies that writhed in the wind.

“It’s not real,” she muttered. “I’ve traveled too far…they can’t touch me…”

“For the time being,” the wind sighed in voices that would haunt her nightmares, should she survive the night. She paused, perked her ears up, and glanced the empty path. Her heart fluttered in her small chest. “But we come for you.”

The words stirred Tallis forward down the narrow and stony and sharp path. Each step was uneven and shuffling. Despite the fur that that covered her, she was cold. A desert animal by nature, the chill had numbed her enough that all she could truly feel was the unnatural burn from skin too cold.

“Running?”

The question paused her, tensed her body. She crouched, curved her claws and looked around for the soft voice. She saw a swift glance of feathers, a glint of wide eyes. Wind rustled and it landed in front of her.
“Well, you’re more stumbling than running, in my opinion—not that you’ve asked for it,” the owl said. “Still, I commend you. Not many have escaped the house on the hill, and even fewer of your kind.”

The owl did not seem frightened by the creatures on the hill and a strange sort of glow emanated from the small, round body. By now, little surprised Tallis. She’d already watched creatures break bones and change into something else, watched them tear people apart with nothing more than shadows that hung on the candle’s wicks.

She reached a tentative, shaking hand out and the bird let her touch his head. Soft, warm, alive…real.
“A broken fox, a silly fox,” he said. He stepped closer, ruffled his feathers, and she was able to see him more clearly. “Such a slight, tiny creature. Nothing more than a morsel, I wager.” A ghost owl, she thought, perhaps. His white feathers glinted the red moonlight back at her.

“Shhh…quiet…They’ll hear you.”

“A whisper or a scream is all the same in this forest, you’ll learn. They will hear even the smallest step if they will it, so what more harm will words do?”

A special sort of fear played along her as she realized the truth of the words, making her fur stand on end. “Are you…” she licked her maw and swallowed “…are you a…kind owl?”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it, sweetling. There are all kinds of darkness in this world, and you have escaped merely one of its many, many faces. What you should ask, instead, is do I work for those atop the hill?” He turned his head nearly sideways and clacked his beak.

“Well, do you?”

“It’s doubtful they could afford me.” The sentence was short, rather-of-fact. Tallis stood and walked past the owl.

“Where are you going, sweetling?”
She didn’t bother lowering her voice, no matter how much logic told her it was wise. A whisper or a scream is all the same in this forest, the owl said… “Follow me or don’t, but I can’t stop for long.”

A breath of wind and the catch of air was the only thing that told her he had taken flight. “Ah, now there’s your backbone. I was afraid the dark ones had removed it for you.” He landed on her shoulder, claws digging into the two toned fur and dark tribal insignias. The weight caught against the deep gouges the etched their way across her ribcage, side, and abdomen, and she whimpered.

“That is going to cause you problems in the near future, I imagine.”

She grimaced, thinking about the darkness inside of her and the light they’d stolen and feasted on, but didn’t reply.

Her eyesight was so much more acute than she remembered—she could see in what little light was piercing the thick cloud cover. It was becoming easier to make out silhouettes of roots made to trip her or particularly sharp rocks and twigs. Travel was becoming easier, though the pain from her injuries persisted and slowed her.

But, it was getting colder too, and she could feel her breath rise in hot mist around her snout and eyes. She balled her fingers into fists tight enough that claws grazed her palm, but all she could feel was skin stretch in numbness.

“You’ll freeze before you make far enough progress to be truly safe,” noted the owl as she shook beneath his talons.

“No matter,” she responded, “I would rather freeze than witness their banquets again.”


“Might I offer you assistance?”

“I’m not sure what assistance you can offer, magical or no…not unless you can transform into a down blanket.”

The owl ruffled his feathers and fluffed up against her shoulder. “I take offense, sweetling. I may not offer you warmth, but I know of a man that can aid you, if he so chose.”

“Another in this forest? I doubt the dark ones would allow such a thing.”

The bird laughed, an odd cooing hoot of a laugh, as he said, “There are things much older than the hill top. In their little world, they would like to think they strike fear in all, but it is only the weak that fear them.”

His words bristled against her. I am much older than those atop the hill, and they stole from me all the same. “I am not weak.”

“Do you fear them?”

Again, her wounds ached if to remind her of their strength. “Fear us, for we have feasted on what you were, and left you little more than a husk.” The wind sighed to her.

“Perhaps it’s not them I fear, but their boundless cruelty,” she said.

“A fair response.” The owl pointed east, past the path she followed. “His home is that way, far enough away so that no one along the path will see his light, but close enough to hear the stories the roads carry.”

She hesitated. Should I trust this creature? She had a feeling that she only had the illusion of choice—she could feel the sharp talons that pressed in on her shoulder. It would take very little for the bird to finish the job they had started.

“I won’t be able to see.”

The owl chuckled his strange laugh again. “You won’t? Dear, you silly fox, do you not already know? Give your body time, and if you lose your way, I will guide you.”

She swallowed her fear once more and gave a quick glance to the path behind her. The shadows moved against the wind, casting long fingers that tugged against her. Briars caught at her tail, tried to snatch her backward. The wounds ached and stung to remind her what would happen if she was found. It was strangely quiet and devoid of wind in the shelter of trees, as if she’d stepped into a tunnel. “Why is it so quiet?”

“Never mind that—just be sure to take care and not trip.”

Being off the path meant she had to make her own, and Tallis took tentative steps out, one hand held out to guide herself along the trees. She stepped over fallen limbs, crawled beneath logs when they were too tall for her to straddle. Brambles and branches caught and tugged at her tattered clothes and fur. All the while, the owl weighed her shoulder down and the moon hid its red light behind thin clouds.

Sometime after she’d left the path, the world seemed to stand still. Something hung in the air, changed the atmosphere around her. She paused her movements and listened…not sure what had changed, just that she knew something had.

“Why do you tarry?”

“Don’t you feel it?” This time her words were barely a whisper…this time a whisper and a scream was different.

The owl ruffled his feathers, turned his head to look behind her. His grip tightened on her shoulder, and his talons broke skin.

“You are changing, my silly fox,” he whispered in a breathless sigh, “You are changing and sensing what I cannot for my master.”

“They are coming?”

“Fleeing, despite the clouds that cover…” He hooted. “Fleeing their hill to keep you from reaching He of the Forest.”

“What do I do?”

“Run, leap, and let the forest guide you.” He bit her, hard, on her large ear and she cried out as blood dripped on her arm. “I will fly ahead and behind—do not look for me.”

He didn’t wait for a response and his wings beat against her head as he took off. She held a hand to stem the blood welling up from her ear.

Run, leap…she resorted to running on all fours, dirt and rock scraping the bottom of once cotton soft pawpads. She felt that something in the forest drew nearer. Buzzing like a hornets nest, whispering in a wailing of screams. They were coming in their swirling shadows and flames.

Tallis could almost feel their breath against her heels as she sprung forward, leaping over the fallen tree. For a moment she marveled at the relative ease her movements had, as if the trees and briars beckoned and moved to her will. She ran on fours, the ground as familiar to her as the sands of ancient Egypt.

Still, they followed.

It did not take her long to reach her destination—a ramshackle and abandoned cabin that lacked any light or comfort.

“You promised me help, damn owl,” Tallis whispered. She slowed to a stop and glanced around the clearing.

The porch to the cabin had collapsed long ago—there was an overgrown small garden with broken fencing. The head of an axe rested in remnants of a stump, the rotted handle discarded. But what lights did I see? She thought.

“He promised you a creature who would perhaps aid in your plight—he made no guarantees that this creature would choose to, Eternal One.”

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Impossibly deep, impossibly strong. As if bark and stone scraped together in a mocking imitation of words.

“Who spoke?”

“My servant marked you and offered your blood to me. You must have been kind to him to make such a bold move—or you have at least impressed him at any rate.” The cabin door swung open, glittering light to the outside. She blinked, the sudden glow leaving dots in her eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Names are unimportant in this lingering place. I will not give you mine, and I do not care to know yours. All that matters are the dark ones have braved my forest despite their moon’s absence.”

What stood in front of her—a massive hulking thing—was unknown…unnatural and abominable. His eyes seemed too close together, a massive maw that glimpsed terribly long teeth. His shoulders made at least the width of two trees abreast, and he stood tall enough over her that she looked up and could barely glimpse past
the snout.

She stepped backward, but she could hear the whistles in the wind, and knew they were approaching. “What are you?”

“The spirit of this forest—ignorant until nature took the corruption away. Now I am here for those who seek me.” He reached toward her with hands that shifted in and out of existence. Claws tipped each finger, and a deep gray fur blanketed the hands and arms that seemed transparent. Runes, illegible, glowed with lingering echoes along his person, similar to what her own had once done.

He regarded her with an unreadable expression, something both terribly old and terribly young. Claws grazed the dead runes in her fur and on her chest before brushing the still bleeding wound. “This festers.”

She screamed as he plunged his claws deep into the wound. She could feel him reach deeper than anything had touched her before. He pushed aside organs, grazed against bone and ribcage.

When he tore his hand away from her, she collapsed.

“You are a tainted Eternal One. You’ve allowed them to beat you, allowed them to taint and swallow the light within. Everything has changed.”

She struggled to speak, to breathe past the crushed lungs, tears dripping.

“It’s over. It’s finished. They’ve taken your light, left you powerless.”

She looked up, past the haunches of the spirit, to where green and gold eyes dismissed her. “Plea…”

“You have no power here. Not yet.”

Chittering laughter carried a gust of wind. The clearing was beginning to fill with an eerie red light as clouds parted. Tallis could feel an edge of strength—entirely new, not at all like the warm and kind light she’d had before. It was dark, primal.

The owl is right, she thought. There are all kinds of darkness in this world. Silly fox…you are changing.

She took a deep breath and blew it out as the pain faded and she died. The wind followed the movement, and the moon was completely exposed.

In the silence of her death, she heard the nameless creature whisper, “Only the weak fear the dark ones.”

There…was something so wrong with the spirit’s words. They hung in the air, half sung and only half believed. They whispered a challenge to her.I am not weak…I am eternal and I have raised civilizations in the eons that they pissed away in the underneath.

Something burned, something ached…she could feel her chest expand, could feel her lungs take in air unbidden.

Tallis opened her eyes. Her first new breath was a scream—of agony, of sorrow, of triumph. She stood and the spirit stepped backwards

A new pain, a changing pain charged along her being and she embraced this new sensation. Bones cracked, broke, lengthened and healed into something new. She could feel the forest welcome her, mold her. The runes that had once glowed began to glow again, with a new and vibrant power. Her laugh echoed the clearing.

The spirit smiled as she stood in front of him, coiled aggression and strength. “You realize you will be shunned by your kind, now that you’ve taken both the darkness and the forest. The Eternal Ones will never accept something as broken as you.”

She smiled, lips pressed against teeth. She held her hands out, allowing flames to lick across her fur and claws. Shadows wrapped around the flames, glittering like tiny knives.

The owl landed on the spirit’s shoulder and cooed at her. “There is my silly, silly fox. I told you that you were changing.”

Her voice had transformed along with her body—echoing in strength. “Why would you allow the dark ones in your forest?”

“Ancient laws, laid down by your people. Your people are foolish—they have only ever been able to heal and pacify.”

“Not my people. Not anymore.”

“The Eternal Ones know nothing of war, even in their ancient years and vast knowledge.” He pointed toward where trees bowed against the coming monsters.

Tallis crouched, prepared. Deep within, she could feel her ancestors weep for the death of one of the Eternal Healers. But, all they had done was sit in their pyramids and judged and ruled, while their subjects had warred and died and raped and pillaged. Now she was more than them, and more than that. Death, healing, nature, darkness—all hers now.

Those atop the hill screamed their fear, and fled at the sight of her, but she would show no more mercy. The spirit put his hand on her shoulder and she smiled.

“I am coming,” she whispered.