Chapter Text
The day everything changed, Adora knew something was wrong from the start.
Swift Wind was restless and agitated in the stables that morning, despite her best efforts to placate him with his favorite apples. In a final bid to calm him, she had thrown on his saddle to take them to a grove, where they could spend the afternoon in the sun. It should have been an easy trot through the forest just outside the village, and yet, the deeper they went, the more unsettled he became. It was infectious enough to set her own nerves on edge, with only the weight of the bow on her back to reassure her. Her calloused hands sweat where they gripped his reins, knuckles bone white when she finally realized what was amiss.
The woods were completely silent. No birds, no insects, no animals. Nothing to accompany Swift Wind’s footfalls on the mossy earth, but the sound of her own heartbeat.
And that was just before she discovered the rows of toppled trees, snapped jagged and haphazard in half, laying beside a massive furrow gouged into the ground. It almost seemed as if it were tilled for crops, if she could ignore the sickening stench of decay. Like the greenery had the chance to rot for months on end, despite the fact that the scar didn’t exist there at all the day before. It dragged a parallel journey back from where they came. Home.
“Come on, Swift Wind!” Adora urged, fear dropping solid into the pit of her stomach. She could only pray that they would beat whatever it was back to the village, as the trail meandered out of sight. They had just made it onto the main road when a familiar voice called out her name, sweet relief flooding her locked limbs at the sound.
“Mara!” Adora called back, steering Swift Wind to a halt in front of her and the group of children huddled close behind her. Any other time, she would have jumped at the opportunity to tease her, about how fitting it was that she had yet more children following in her shadow. Instead Adora said, “Something’s wrong.”
“I know,” Mara replied, solemn. It didn’t seem right to see not a single trace of mirth in her expression, not when all of her memories of her were suffused with quiet fondness. Whatever reprieve Adora had found in her safety lapsed slowly, tension settling back into her. “Razz wants everyone to get back to the village. I’ve been trying to find the stragglers.”
“What is it?”
“Whatever it is, it’s not a person…”
Swift Wind suddenly tensed underneath her, neck ramrod straight as he watched the edge of the forest beyond the stone wall fencing in their village. “Something’s coming,” she heard Mara warn distantly, her hands already notching an arrow as time stood still.
Darkness seeped through the stones, wriggling and alive. It surged, and the wall burst entirely.
In the swell it took shape, hulking and massive and many legged, but it held like broken porcelain glued back together, light shining through the cracks. The darkness peeled back just enough to show what laid underneath: red claws, an oozing stinger, and eyes glazed over with madness. She heard Mara’s breath hitch as the darkness overtook the beast again.
“Run!” Adora yelled, as it began to advance down the hill toward the village. Underfoot, everything died. “I’ll distract it. Go warn Madame Razz!”
“It’s a cursed god!” Mara yelled back, ushering the children away. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it! It’ll pass its curse onto you!”
Adora jogged Swift Wind into action with a prod to his side, cutting through the fear rendering him immobile. They dashed down the sloping paths to head the spirit off as it thrashed through the bramble just behind them, bubbling and angry. A thought occurred to her, unbidden: if this really were a god, then it could understand a prayer, couldn’t it? So against her better judgment, she laid down her bow on Swift Wind’s back, and twisted at the waist to look it in the eye.
“Quell your rage, I beg you!” She pleaded, hand outstretched as if that could slow it down. “O forest god who cannot be without a name, why do you rampage so?“
She didn’t get a response. The god focused its gaze beyond her, her stomach lurching when she followed its gaze to the children Mara was leading back home. The god lunged for them even as they ran, gaining quickly. When one stumbled, and Mara turned to unsheathed her blade, Adora knew what she had to do. She was never quite obedient enough when it counted.
Darkness rose to claim her arm as she let loose an arrow into the god’s eye.
It burned, it burned, it burned.
It clung and writhed as she fell off Swift Wind, his whine and Mara’s shout nearly inaudible over the static in her ears. She could barely keep her eyes open to look at the god, the only comfort being that the one arrow seemed to be enough. Darkness abandoned the body, collapsing as it evaporated into thin air. She could finally see it for what it was: a giant scorpion.
“Don’t touch it,” Adora groaned, feeling Mara’s hands turn her over. She could tell a crowd had formed, but she could only pick out Razz’s voice from them as she said, “Pour this water over it... Slowly, Mara dearie.”
It stung sharp at first, but the pain was dulling the more it poured, darkness sloughing off with it. Clarity came back to her, as she sat up and warily watched the old woman approach what was left of the god. Razz just looked sad as she pressed her palms together.
“O raging god unknown to us, I bow before you,” She said as she went through the motion. “We will raise a mound where you have fallen and lay you to rest. Bear us no hate. Be at peace.”
“...Hear me, loathsome humans,” the scorpion replied, startling Adora with her sonorous voice. “You shall know my agony and my hatred.” The scorpion drew her last breath, and her body immediately began to decompose, draining from her carapace.
Adora averted her gaze to her arm, and couldn’t swallow past the dread lodged in her throat.
Adora curled her fists over her lap to keep from fidgeting as she silently watched Razz murmur to herself over the rites. The village council had convened shortly after the incident, but now the moons were just about to rise in the night sky. Her nerves weren’t helped at all by Mara’s scrutiny, concern radiating off her. It made her feel like a child all over again. She wished she could shrug it off like a scraped knee, tell her that she was fine, without it sounding like a lie.
“Well!” Razz exclaimed, shocking Adora out of her thoughts. She maybe would have been grateful if she didn’t follow that with, “This is very, very bad.”
Adora couldn’t really remember how to breathe, but Razz continued.
“The scorpion spirit came from far to the west. A poison within her goaded her on, rotting her flesh and drawing evil as she ran, making a monster out of her.” She caught Adora’s stare, and the way she looked at her, eyebrows drawn into a frown and kind eyes infinitely sad, cracked her heart in two. “Show me your left arm, dearie.”
It felt like defeat as Adora loosened the wrappings around her wrist, exposing the scars of corruption for examination, dark around the edges but pulsing with light. The hair on the back of her neck raised at the gasps from the people around her, but Razz didn’t look surprised. Her voice was gentle when she asked,
“Are you prepared to hear your fate?”
And, yes, it felt awful, like hope was slipping from her fingers with every passing second, but she knew she’d do it again if she had the chance. When she knew the alternative was to watch the scorpion barrel into Mara, the children, and the village below. When she could look out and still see everything the scorpion touched withered and ruined. So Adora steeled herself and said as much.
“I was resolved when I let my arrow fly.” Razz nodded, as if she expected nothing less from her. Like ripping off a bandage, she responded, “The poison will seep into your bones and you will die.”
Despite everything, Adora still flinched at hearing it.
Murmurs broke out among the council, but Mara raised her voice over them.
“Can nothing be done?” Mara asked, beseeching. “To just wait for death, when all she did was protect us…” Razz tilted her head, considering.
“You cannot change your fate... But you can rise to meet it. Look.” She held out a piece of gemstone, glittering in the light of the fire. “This was inside the scorpion’s body. Her suffering was terrible. It shattered her shell and tore at her entrails. What else could have made her that way?” Razz shook her head, lip curled in displeasure. “Something sinister waits in the lands of the west. But if you journey there, and see with eyes unclouded, you might find a way to lift the curse.”
Adora let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. It wasn’t much, but she had a thread to hang onto, and that was enough for now. But she also knew what was expected of her. Even if she didn’t have a lead, she couldn’t risk staying and passing on the curse to the rest of them. So she didn’t hesitate to reach for the dagger on the dais in front of her, the blade sliding clean through her ponytail. This would be all that remained of her here. Her hair fell onto her shoulders as she stood, the new weight of it jarring.
“The laws forbid us to watch as you go,” Razz said, but that suited Adora just fine. She wasn’t sure if she could keep from spilling at the seams if she met anyone’s eyes. “Farewell, Adora.”
It didn’t take long for Adora to gather her scant belongings. Just her bow, a set of clothes, and rations for a few days. She’d have to find food or buy it after that ran out. She didn’t have much in the way of keepsakes; she had no mementos of her family when she was found orphaned as a baby, and all of her childhood playthings were hand-me-downs anyway. She was sure they were still in use by the children of the village even today.
All she had were memories. It’d have to make due.
She waited until the dead of night to steal away, so no one would see her shame. In hindsight, it was foolish to think that could be so, when one of her earliest memories was Mara’s sneaky smile as she dropped candy into her open hand behind Razz’s back, a finger pressed to her lips as she whispered don’t tell.
Still, it stopped her in her tracks to see a familiar shadow standing outside the stables next to Swift Wind, already prepared to go and eating an apple out of her hand.
“You can’t be here!” Adora said, voice straining to keep hushed, steps quickened to meet her.
“I don’t care,” Mara said, despite being the heir apparent to Razz, the one to lead their tribe in the future. “I couldn’t let you go without giving you this. It’s for protection.”
In her hands was her blade proffered, jeweled hilt gleaming in the moonlight. Adora’s breath caught.
“I can’t take this,” Adora backpedaled.
“Of course you can,” Mara insisted, pressing the sheath to her chest. “I know you’ve wanted one for a while. If I had my way, I’d go with you. I should have been the one to leave anyway, and you the head in my place.”
“I couldn’t be-”
“You could! You’re the strongest person I know, much more than me. I know that you’re scared, but if anyone can do this, it’s you. So take this, to remember me by.”
The onslaught of Mara’s sincere faith was overwhelming. Adora swallowed hard against the affection stuck in her throat for the only family, the only home she had ever known. She curled her hands carefully around the blade, strapping it to her back. Her voice was still thick when she said, “Take care of Razz for me.”
“Always,” Mara smiled, just like how she always remembered it. “Go on now. Be safe.”
When Adora left, she didn’t look back. But it was only to keep Mara from seeing her cry.