Chapter Text
Never go down to that part of town:
There monsters lurk and creatures snarl
They've been known to gobble children up
And their big wet noses can smell you for milesDon't be around near that part of town
There wand'rers die and hunters flee
And any children walking past
The big bad wolves will have them for tea!Beware, beware, in that part of town
There's claws and teeth as sharp as can be
And if you're near they smell your fear
They'll use those claws as cutlery!
The chorus of schoolchildren echoes through both their minds. Even if it's been years, that little ditty is ingrained deep in the brains of every single individual that resides in Licanshire. Or, at least this half of it. There's be no way to know if the same applies to the other side, because the message was made very clear:
Don't go there.
And it had been astoundingly effective, even the most cynical, sceptical, or simply curious people didn't dare cross the green wall; the strand of forestry messily splitting the valley into two distinct near-halves. Only the most fearless, or, careless even stepped near, and no-one dared enter to take a closer look.
Well... Almost no-one.
Eventually, no matter how long it takes, humans will break the rules. The insatiable curiosity of humanity cannot be placated by mere speculation. It demands a proper meal.
A less-curious mind stands in the entrance of the home, subtly yet intentionally preventing the exit of another human, who is significantly shorter in stature yet taller in determination.
No discovery is made with certainly honest means. They are no fool.
"So, Axl, where is it exactly you're planning on 'just taking a walk' to?"
"I'm not actually going there, just to the mountain kinda nearby-ish, I'll walk the long way round." Lies the smaller one. "And besides, that nursery rhyme is shit; It doesn't flow, it tries to rhyme but really doesn't, I got made to stay in at break in year 1 'cause I couldn't "sing" it right, which, obviously I couldn't 'cause it's shit. Also it's bullshit. Werewolves aren't real you doughnut-"
"Ok yeah, but- Think about it like, there's gotta be a reason there's an entire nursery rhyme about it." Says the taller one. "And werewolves or not, it's getting dark."
"Yeah the reason's probably that some old racist nursery-runner bloke saw a black guy there back in 1841 or something."
"For someone who's ''not actually going there'' you sure seem to be defending the idea of going there a lot."
"I'm not ''defending the idea of going there'', I'm defending the idea that werewolves aren't real. 'Cause they aren't, by the way."
"Ok sure, werewolves might not be real, but there's something past the woods that makes people go missing, and I don't want the next urban myth to be you."
"Literally no one ever has actually gone missing past the green-wall mate"
"Ok, no one yet." She pauses: "Hold on, literally dad?"
"Anyway, as you said, it's getting late, so I should go on my hike to the mountain where literally no one is ever before it gets so dark I can't find my way there. Have a good one Lyra, don't stay up past your bedtime!"
Axl practically charges past Lyra and through the door and into the icy streets of Licanshire, skidding as to avoid a nasty fall on a frozen puddle. Damn tory government skimping out on salting the roads. But actually, when they think about it, they've never seen any sort of council workers or local government or anything of the like do anything in Licanshire. There's a local fire department, sure, but it's not like a government thing, it's just 5 dudes with a big hose and a lot of spare time between them. All the work on utilities is done by just a handful of non-state-affiliated tradesmen who just so happen to live there and aren't opposed to a couple local jobs, all the bin men are just local volunteers who drive all the rubbish to the tip every once in a while. Shit, they don't even see the tax collectors in this place (although, in all fairness, it's not like Axl would pay them anyway). The only government-affiliated entity they ever see in this town is the police, since someone calls them every week or so to report some strange noise past the green wall or whatever, and even when the police show up it's only one guy, maybe two if it's really dark out, and they only stay for a maximum of half an hour for a brew and a bit of a chat. Damn tory government skimping out on the entire fucking town.
The explanation of going to a hike in the mountains wasn't a total lie, Axl is going to hike up the mountains, they're just taking a shortcut though the lovely bit of forest at the edge of town. It's getting dark, after all, and they need to spend as much time as possible actually at the mountains, surely, so it just makes sense to save the time.
Ok, no, let's not kid ourselves. They just want to see the side of town they've been told to avoid their whole life. Worst case scenario: mauled by werewolves, prove they're real. Best case scenario: Literally just a normal town, no werewolves, peace and love and whatever. They're hoping for a balance.
As Axl approaches the green-wall, though, they can't help but feel the gravity of it all; every warning, every police call, every disappearance where the missing person was found like 4 hours later, that damned nursery rhyme. It feels like every aspect of life in Licanshire has wanted to stop them from doing precisely what they're doing, and even for a non-believer, the fear is so deeply ingrained that it is impossible to truly repress. They stat pacing adjacent to the moss-laden border, psyching themselves up: werewolves aren't real, those disappearances had nothing to do with werewolves, superstition is a blight on society that only impedes progress, it's only going to get colder outside and I didn't bring my fluffy hat so I may as well get it over with.
Eventually they tire from walking so long, so they just stand there. By now the light has dimmed such that the forest appears completely black; Axl stares into it for as long as they can without blinking, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of a werewolf or something (werewolves' eyes do glow, right?), but the only thing it accomplishes is brief lightheadedness...
...And confirmation that there are no werewolves.
Upon this ground-breaking realisation, Axl is granted a newfound confidence: That fucking nursery rhyme is temporarily expunged from their memory, and even though it's now far darker outside than would be justifiable for an expedition into werewolf-infested territory, it isn't werewolf-infested territory because werewolves aren't real and even if they were there aren't any infesting that particular territory.
So, on a count of three, they sprint eyes-closed head-first into the forest and just keep running until they tire of running. This doesn't take very long considering the subzero temperatures and therefore additional layers and, therefore, greatly inhibited dexterity, but it's the intention that matters; as far as Axl knows, they're the first person to do what they're currently doing possibly ever, and even if they're not, they'd like to think they're the first to do it so brazenly. Even though there aren't any werewolves, they'd definitely be grounded if they were found out here, but no one would go looking for them here out of fear of the werewolves, so the plan is basically watertight.
Axl decides to stop thinking about the potential consequences of their actions for a moment to take a short break: they haven't sat down or even leant on anything in around an hour so their legs are beginning to ache. Luckily trees do fall in forests when people aren't looking at them, and they make for very convenient benches, so Axl removes one of their jackets to create an equally convenient seating area to take a breather and rehydrate before venturing further onwards.
While rummaging through their bag for a bottle of water Axl swears they hear something shuffling nearby, but since werewolves are out of the equation and regular wolves seem somehow less likely they assume it's a bird or something and continue the search for at least one water bottle. The shuffling seems to get louder, so they look up and around for a bit and...
Nothing, as expected. Back to the water search.
Half the contents of Axl's bag are now on the ground next to their feet, yet still no water; it seems like they just forgot to bring any. After muttering expletives under their breath cursing Lyra for making them forget the singular most important thing on a "hike" they hear the shuffling again.
The moonlight barely uncovers the silhouette of an outstretched arm holding what appears to be a glass bottle.
"Oh shit, thanks mate" Axl says, relieved to have finally found something to quench their parched throat. Just as they go to down the whole thing, though, it dawns on them:
"Wait, what the fuck?"
In a slight panic, Axl pulls out their torch and tries to illuminate whatever the fuck just gave them a water bottle and reveals a... normal looking guy. It just looks like one of the KS3 emo kids from school, really, except if the emo kids hadn't brushed their hair in a week and smelled of wet dog. So yeah, just the KS3 emo kids.
Except, unlike the KS3 emo kids, this mysterious figure actually talks:
"So you're from the human side of town, right?"
The what side of what now?