Chapter Text
Black lambs are worthless.
Their wool cannot be dyed, decreasing their value.
The time spent herding them as they graze, nursing them back from sickness, trudging trails through the thick snow to drag buckets of grain in the snowy mountain winters,
It is all worthless on a black sheep, for it provides no return on investment.
In the small rural village Enid lived in, she was one of the few who did not learn this early, despite being the daughter of a Shepard herself.
The day she found out about this reality was when visiting her neighbor at just 7 years old. In a cozy little cottage she sat with her mother, the neighbors wife and his kids. Hot tea was served with jam biscuits and milk and some fine silky goatsmilk cheese. On some chipped porcelain plates sat ornate ceramic cups they had clearly bought out just for their guests. The smell of lemongrass filled the room as the two families sat chatting at the window side table, illuminated only by the faint sunlight filtering through the cloudy sky outside and the fireplace keeping the room warm.
There was nothing but lively laughter and gossip and crumbs falling to the foor as the families joyously enjoyed their tea time.
All except for Enid, who was a bit preoccupied looking out the window. At the neighbor John himself, dragging a newborn lamb with the loveliest chocolate brown coat a few feet away from it's tethered mother and executing it right in front of her.
She remembered her conversation with her father on the way home. He explained to her why he did that, and Enid, the pure hearted child she is, could still never truly see him the same way again.
That night she accompanied her father to the barn, she was playing with dolls as her father carved a brand new fence gate. For quite some time, the only sound in the air were windchimes and windows creaking in the fast winds and her father's tools scraping at the wood. Only when the telltale smell of linseed oil filled the air did Enid take the opportunity.
"Dad?"
"Hmmh?"
"Why have I never seen you do that to our black lambs"
Her father froze, contemplating. Eventually, he seemed to have cut down the answer he planned to give.
"Because we don't do that to them."
"Then where did they go?"
"Have you heard the tale of the cottonface?"
"Cottonface?"
"That's right."
"I don't think I have"
Her father chuckled and gently put away his tools and the bottle of oil,
"Surely, someone must have told you about the cottonface, ol Billy is always telling you tall tales at school that don't always put you to sleep at night."
Enid laughed after her father, always copying him as usual, before standing on her knees and turning to face him. He sat on the sofa endorned with a wolf fur sheet, while she stayed on the floor near the kiln, basking in the stray heat that was baking her mother's glazed pots aswell as some of her own little creations.
"Once upon a time, here in these very lands, there lived a princess in a spooky castle and a kooky family. They were so spooky in fact that the weather outside would turn sour and cloudy whenever they graced a soul with their presence, the ground outside their castle was barren, trees grew tall and hulking with no leaves and strange, unknown creatures roamed their woods. In an unusual twist, they were always adorned in clothing spun from the wool from the blackest black sheep, dyed in iris roots over and over until no color could possibly be seen."
He paused and took a sip from his gourd water bottle, thoroughly entertained by how invested his daughter looked.
"The princess was, well, gorgeous. Pale white skin, like marble, smooth and flawless. Full lips she would paint in black and eyes that pierced right through you cleaner than the tip of the sharpest blade on earth. Her hair was long and black, silky and smooth, falling over her shoulders like a fountain of dark wine."
Enid oooh'd, trying to imagine clearly the face of the princess, she must probably resemble the expensive ceramic doll her aunt keeps at her place.
"The princess was always cold and composed, never letting vain matters get the best of her. Her servants revered her, her subjects were afraid of her, and her family was proud of her, She had a wonderful life.
But one day,
Something changed.
Nobody really knew why, but rumor has it that she found a beloved. The first of his kind, likely, considering the princess was not to kind to offer affection freely.
Unfortunately, she was rejected by her beloved in favour of another woman.
Whatever the reason for her change may have been, one thing was for certain;
She believed her appearance was responsible for a loss she had experienced. And so, despite already being as fair as the goddesses, she had her first ever vain goal in mind."
The branches near the windows were starting to whip the glass now as the wind sped up.
"When her mother had finished her queenly duties, she demanded an immediate audience with her. She requested her mother provide her access to an artifact known as the 'double eye' ."
Her father raised his hand and gestures at her for dramatic effect, an effect it immediately had as Enid gasped.
"The double eye?"
"That's right."
The windchimes outside got a bit aggressive, startling his baby girl a little. He almost decided to stop the story before he heard his daughter curiously speak out again,
"What does it do?"
"Anything, dear. But only if you wish it with the best intentions. For if you do not, it will still grant your wish, but in its own twisted way, through which you may end up regretting the fact that you even desired the wish."
"Oh."
"Despite her mother's reluctance, the princess insisted on wishing on the double eye, and so with a tear in her eye, the worried queen drops the eye into the pale palm of her daughter's hand." He paused, increasing his dramatics every minute.
"And then what happened?" Enid clutched the toy closer.
"The princess clutched the eye in her hand, brought it closer to her chest and uttered her wish the way she would a demand from her servants. And as soona s she did, electricity surged through her insides, and she knew she had made a grave mistake. Her transformation began immediately and she collapsed on the floor, writhing. Her limbs elongated into awful spindly things, freet and hands growing at their own accord. Her nails grew long, thick and sharp, like the talons of a raven. Her gorgeous marvel like skin began to change in color and texture, turning as dark as coal, rough as sandpaper to the touch. Her ribcage grew and grew like a balloon until the bumps of her ribcage could be seen , her sandpaper skin only seeming stretched over it.
But the worst, the worst was her face. It seemed to break apart at the seams, dissolving together until it looked just like a floating bits of grey cotton. The cotton would shift and meld swaying in waves on her face in uncanny, horrible ways.
The princess... Was no more."
The sound of thunder made his daughter jump. The lightning definitely landed somewhere close, and finally considered that maybe it's time to go back.
"Come on, it's dinner time." He grunted, getting up from the couch to go check the weather outside.
"Wait! What happened to her then?"
Her father sighed and gave in, deciding he might aswell get it over with while he blows out the fire, switches off the lights and double checks the locks.
"Rumor has it that her weeping mother lifted her up and placed her outside. Her mother weeped not because of what her daughter had become, but because she knew her daughter would be angry and grieving at being further from her lover than before. She knew that when her daughter wakes, she will never willingly stay with her family again."
The first few drops of rain splattered against the window, and he sped up to make sure they will back back indoors sooner.
"As one last act of mercy for her daughter who was now set to suffer the consequences of her own actions, the mother broughtt her unconscious form out into a grassy field, away from the barren forest and laid her upon silken sheets. Then, she tore apart some nettle, drying and bending it's fibers until it did not sting, before weaving them into thread. With her own set of needles and silver yarn with the nettle fibers, she weaved a mask in the shape of a lamb. Once it was complete, she gently placed it on the writhing cotton face of her daughter. And then she walked away, leaving her alone for eternity."
All the remaining work was done and her father grabbed Enid by the hand and almost dragged her outside, fearing the storm. The ground was almost completely wet now.
He grunted as he closed the gate and the rusty lock behind him before rushing toward the lights in the distance; their little house.
Although his voice was almost drowned out by the rain battering the ground now, she did still hear most of what he said next.
"Some say that when she woke up, the princess weeped for a century at her reflection in a pond. She then sewed the mask onto her face, leaving only a small space for her to eat from. Her sadness and grief may sometimes overtake her and she will slaughter an entire village's livestock to distract herself from what she has become. And if anyone tries to stop her? She'll slash ya with her talons or suffocate you with her long, wirey limbs. Or worse yet, tear the mask off her face, a single glance at the cotton will kill ya, for no mortal heart can handle it."
Finally, they reached the deck of their house. Both father and daughter were thoroughly soaked. He chuckled while Enid giggled, taking off their muddy shoes and soaked socks as they rang the bell to inevitably get a scolding from her mother.
Once they were both warm and had taken a bath, Enid was enjoying having her hair gently dried by her father rubbing a towel through it when she finally got to learn the final part of the story.
"But, there is one way you can stop her rampage.
The sacrifice of a single black lamb every month, left untied in a clearing, near the pond the cottonface had seen her atrocious reflection."