Chapter Text
Once upon a time, they hadn’t been trapped here.
It had been a cold morning, and then a hot afternoon, and then a warm evening. His eyes had been open wide, his face bright and clean. But he had been snatched out of his thoughts by a beautiful sound coming from the trees, and so he’d skipped off towards them with the ease of a youth who had no cares in the world.
Feet had pattered on the concrete, and then the soil. His shoes had been shed at some point as he wandered deeper into the crowd of trees. Their roots had been like long limbs splayed against the ground, pulling and twisting at his bare legs, asking him to join them deep in the earth. He had refused for as long as he could, but was beginning to fail. So he’d paused for a moment to collect himself before he could be stolen away by those trees.
“Ah, what a lovely place, and eagerness abounds!” the Curious Fawn had said, as he stepped away from those reaching roots. “Will you let me go on, or shall I break away from these woods and return home?”
Of course, he hadn’t known that he had already gone too far in.
It would truly have been a much better choice if he had gone to lie beside the roots of those trees, deep in the earth. He would have been able to avoid all that would come.
Lacking that key knowledge, he had skipped off, the roots still waving at the backs of his legs. He’d continued on, breathing in the smell of the dank soil, listening to the whispers and groans in between. He’d come across a small stream, and decided to take a drink from it, sucking up the water with his lips. It was cold and sweet. And then he’d continued on into this bizarre forest.
It must be said that this Curious Fawn was far too curious for his own good. This little Fawn yearned to know many things. Everything, really. And so he had followed a funny little sound into a forest that held far too many dangerous things. And then he had done something that would prevent him from going back. What a strange young thing, eh? This was surely something he’d learned from!
Slowly, the feeling of being surrounded had begun to dissipate. The Curious Fawn had now noticed that although there were no more trees, it was still dark and shaded in this place, with only the shadows remaining. He’d felt a sense of foreboding, but still pushed on, his feet sinking into the wet earth and dead leaves.
He had been looking over his shoulder when he’d bumped into a large, sleek thing in front of him. He’d looked up to see an enormous beast, an elk with magnificent golden antlers. Its face had been long and almost delicate. It had truly been…a thing of beauty!
“Hello,” the Curious Fawn had said quietly. “Do you have a name, friend?”
He had not been expecting the elk to speak back, but it had defied expectations, as an elk does in a bizarre forest. “Yes, but I don’t share it lightly, young one. Why are you here, in this forest?”
The Curious Fawn had startled, and then said earnestly, “I want to learn many things. I heard a sound, which led me here. It’s a very interesting place, do you know much about it?”
The beast tsked. “Of course I know much about it. I live here. But you do not live here, and you do not belong in this place, either. You are already too far in. Do not even bother trying to escape; they’ll catch you and bring you back. Once you’re in, it’s nearly impossible to leave.”
He had been surprised to learn that he wouldn’t be able to leave, and he immediately denied it. “No, surely that won’t happen. I’ve always been able to free myself from various places, even those that want to hold onto me. I’ll be able to get out.”
“You will not,” the elk had said, almost forlornly. “Oh, your kind is far too arrogant. You will only be able to escape with the help of one of us. Never on your own.”
The Curious Fawn had again been surprised. “Will- Will you help me, then?”
“Only if you help me. I require assistance in freeing another first.”
The Curious Fawn had been confused. “How would one who lives here not be free?”
“None of those who were born in the forest can leave, young one. But that’s a story for another day. Today’s story goes like this: I’ve got a dear, dear friend, but it has taken ill, and has hurt others unknowningly. I need you to help it come to its senses. Those who know it are too familiar in its head, so I think we might be able to help free it from its own mental confines by having an unfamiliar person offer it a replacement for what it desires now.”
The Curious Fawn had still been confused. “What am I to offer it?”
The elk had let out a laugh. “Well, that’s where things get tricky. It desires the blood of others. So we will instead teach it to feed off of me.”
The Curious Fawn had not a single idea of what to say.
“It’s hurt—even killed—many others. We must free it from this cycle, and I am willing to give my own blood in order to save it. But it does not willingly take from me, only from others. So we must catch it and bring it to me at the crucial time this night, before another decides to do away with it to prevent it from hurting any more creatures.”
The Fawn had been unable to comprehend why anyone would choose to do this to themself. But he had also known that friends would often care deeply for friends, so he decided that this elk probably had good intentions. He had thought for a moment, deliberating carefully, and then said: “Fine, but I’d like to know exactly when it comes by.”
“Ah, in an hour or so. It usually walks past here before searching for another to take from. We will stand in its path. You will blindfold it, because I lack this ability. You will then lead it to me, where it will hopefully feed off of me. I am willing to do this because if I do not, then others will die. I may die myself, but it is a risk I must take. And I am large—I have much blood to give. So, let us prepare for it to come.”
So they had waited for several hours. They had made small talk here and there, but mostly they remained silent. The woods seemed to have eyes and ears that watched them closely, so of course they avoided talking. It had really been quite awkward, to be standing there waiting for someone to come by. And yet they still remained, for an awkward feeling was a small price to pay.
The Curious Fawn had begun to grow restless. It had already been a longer wait than the elk had said, so it was unknown when the creature would return to this place. Would it even come by today? What if it had been killed or taken to be tortured by others? He had felt a strange bit of worry at the idea that the thing they had been waiting for might never return.
Finally, they had heard a sound of crashing coming from north of where they were sitting. They had immediately moved into a standing position. The Fawn had had his cloth ready to blindfold this elk’s friend, and the elk had had its gaze focused upon the path ahead of them. They had been paying careful attention to their surroundings, when the one they were waiting for burst out of a cluster of plants right before them.
The little thing had been pale grey, with a face that lacked definition and meaning. Its many eyes had been rotten and cold, with only two still clear of wounds. Its tongue had been torn out, its mouth left a gaping, sagging hole. It had been clothed in white rags that were stained reddish-brown. The only thing the Curious Fawn had been able to think of was: What a small and pitiful creature. How has it been hurting anyone?
Then it had lunged at him, its mouth pulling open to reveal many sharp, yellowed teeth.
“Cover its eyes!” the elk had shouted.
The Fawn had snatched up the little thing and held it carefully, for it was small enough to hold in his arms. But it had clawed and scratched at him. He had looked down, but saw no marks. He then looked at the hands of the little creature. All the nails had been torn out violently. Oh, he thought sadly. How have they hurt you?
It had continued to flail until the Curious Fawn covered its eyes with the blindfold—it had then started to move slowly. Something had seemed wrong, but the Fawn had no time to examine it carefully. He had brought it to the elk. It had seemed to twitch a bit once it was closer to that source of blood. Without being able to see what it had been doing, it bit into the elk’s flesh.
It then let the blood drip into its mouth. The blood had overflowed, choking it, but still it stayed. The blindfold had been jostled as it squashed its face against the elk’s body. It had moved it off of one of its functioning eyes. It had taken a moment for the eye to focus, and then it had opened wide, revealing red veins crawling across the surface. It had caught a glimpse of the golden antlers. Its face then suddenly tightened.
It had pulled away as the elk began to bleed further. The little thing proceeded to dash into the trees. The elk’s head rose, its eyes tracking it, and then it began to move with astonishing speed for one wounded.
“Leave me!” the elk had shouted as it bled, its golden antlers gleaming in the light from the moon. It had arisen from where it was lying and chased after the little creature.
The Curious Fawn had frozen for a moment in fear. But the elk had shouted once more: “Leave!”
So the Fawn had fled, flying between the trees on nimble bare legs. He had smoothed out the soil with each bound and slipped between the trees with ease. He had run with everything he had, fleeing from that vampiric creature and the elk that seemed to feel immensely for it. He had felt his own deep sorrow for it, as well as for the elk, but his sense of self-preservation had been enough to push him into running away instead of staying to help.
He had stopped for a moment, almost falling over, in order to lean against a tree. His eyes had been wide, and he had been breathing heavily. He hadn’t quite known what to feel as he caught his breath. Should he have stayed to help the elk bring its friend home, or had heeding the elk’s command been the right thing to do? He had also suddenly remembered that the elk was going to guide him out, and began to panic.
Since he had been hyperventilating, he had failed to notice the shadowed claws reaching for his skull. As he’d attempted to calm down and catch his breath, he felt a small brush against his head. The claws had touched him ever so gently, and they pulled him into sleep.