Monstrous - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Picture an untamed, wintery wilderness. A place where spindly, tall evergreens dot the landscape. A deep ravine lay there, where two ice-capped mountain ridges oppose each other. So tall were these ranges, that the observer would have to strain their necks to the point of discomfort just to be able to see their peaks.

Today, those peaks were obstructed by dark, broiling clouds that scattered a fine dusting of snowflakes down upon the treetops. These treetops grew in density with the mountain's descent, as did the melting snow, forming ever larger rivulets that ran down the slope.

Down the water flowed, leaving behind the barren, freezing peaks. The streams flowed downwards, past the gnarled dry pines that grew from the rocky mountainsides like bristles on the back of a great beast.

The forestation grew in both density and diversity as the water neared the bottom of the ravine. Only a few scattered beams of sunlight pierced the thick canopy, most being scattered by the leaves of the softly swaying ferns below. A few singular beams eventually made it to the water's surface where they glinted with a golden light, illuminating the dusky forest.

Close to where the river lay, hidden in the forest's bowls, stood a quiet little camp. Its inhabitants were a group of pale, painted youths, dressed in wild furs and decorated in bone fetishes. They were completely silent as they made their preparations for nightfall, their movements showcasing a lifetime of experience in woodcraft.

The members weren't many, one or two handfuls of individuals, and consisted of both young men and women. They didn't speak to each other, choosing to communicate with hand signs instead – perhaps hoping to avoid attracting the attention of the things that dwelled in the forest.

As the sun sunk lower in the sky, the mountain cast its grand shadow over the forest, submerging it in darkness. The wildlings had all settled in. Some buried themselves beneath dirt and leaves, indistinguishable from the forest floor. Others hid in hollowed out tree trunks or perched themselves in the high-up branches, keeping an eye on the camp perimeter.

The time had come for them to sleep and rest. They would need it for the dangerous task that lay ahead of them.

It was a tight feeling in her chest, like a serpent winding itself around her heart, that woke Alrüna from her slumber.

She opened her eyes quietly where she hid, not so much as stirring a single leaf. She was a völva, a girl gifted in things that went beyond the physical, and it was her duty to warn the hunters when any abnormal threat drew near. The monsters that crawled in the darkness carried a taint, one that disturbed the natural spirit that suffused the forest air.

They had come to this dangerous forest to hunt a great elk for its antlers, hide and meat. It was a creature of spirit, every part of the beast being of great value to their tribe. This hunt would also serve as their coming-of-age ceremony.

Alrüna was much invested in the venture's success, for a child that had completed their coming-of-age would be allowed to travel beyond the tribe. There were many things she wished to leave behind.

She was born strange and fair, standing out from her peers in ways that would prove to be very undesirable.

Although völva like her were necessary, they were not loved. She did not blame her people for their attitude, as she felt the same way. She had heard many frightening tales from the seiðmenn who had mentored her.

Tales of dark, horrible things that had stalked the land but a few short generations ago. Evil scourges which no man could match in strength or magic, that brought ruination upon nature. The baleful scars they left upon the earth for all to see, if you were brave or foolish enough to venture there.

It was that very same evil that flowed in her own veins, mixed with the blood of man and bent to be a force of good – yet its heritage could not be denied.

Rahl, the seiðmenn, had once caught her taking a knife to her own flesh, attempting to dig out the horrors that lay beneath. The old shaman had consoled her as she lay there, bleeding and crying. He was the only family she had. Her own had discarded her out of fear, fleeing the tribe and leaving her for someone else to raise.

For all the short years she'd been alive, her life had been difficult.

No-one had shown her any kindness, most not deigning to speak even a single word to her. Neither did she miss the looks the men started sending her way when she was but a child. It made her skin crawl. However, they were too afraid of the seiðmenn to do more than that, even though he'd been getting on in his years.

The girls and women were far worse. They pretended to be friendly, but slandered her as soon as she turned her back. They would trip her when she walked past, sending her tumbling to the rocky earth to tear her skin and brake her bones.

Rahl was helpless to do anything. Had he lifted a hand at one of them, their fathers, brothers and husbands would have undoubtedly jumped to defend them. Aside from his weird tricks, he hadn't the strength to contend with hunters.

She had remained stoic, putting up a strong front for the tribesmen to see, and only took solace in Rahl's arms in private where she cried herself to sleep.

The second worst thing she had suffered was when she'd reached eleven summers of age.

She'd found a few girls that were willing to be friends with her, or so it seemed. They celebrated the coming of the new summer together, sitting and talking around a small fire they'd made. Alrüna remembered how happy she'd been at that time. For her, the coming of summer signified hope – hope that things would be different from now on.

However, it was not to be.

One of the girls had offered her something to drink, a brew her father had made and given to them to enjoy, she said. Alrüna had taken it gratefully, tears in her eyes as she felt kindness from her fellow villagers for the first time in her life. She had taken a few swallows of the bitter, burning liquid, despite not liking it. She didn't want to seem ungrateful.

Unfortunately, the girls had not been willing to let her stop there. They had encouraged her to keep drinking and she had obliged, fearing that they would start to dislike her if she refused.

It wasn't long before she had slumped over, her head spinning while a sick feeling pushed its way up her throat. Her vision blurred as she fell over, hitting the ground with a thunk. As she lost consciousness, she could hear and feel as the girls surrounded her, laughing and giggling as they pulled on her limbs.

She regained her consciousness a while later, the growing heat against her back gradually turning into a dull pain. She coughed as sweet smelling smoke filled her lungs, her dulled mind unable to comprehend her confusing situation. She tried to move her limbs, but they were being held or tied down.

A short, plain girl entered her field of vision.

"Your hair looks and burns like a piece of straw." The girl covered her mouth with one hand, giggling as if her words were the funniest thing in the world.

Alrüna's face immediately turned pale in fear and despair. Her long, ash brown hair, the thing she was most proud of, had been set on fire! She struggled to speak, to ask them to put the fire out, but her tongue lay uselessly in her mouth. The only sounds she could make were incoherent mumbles.

"The drunkard can't even speak. What a pig!" The insult came from somewhere behind her. She struggled to turn her head to face them, but a sharp headache dissuaded her from the attempt.

Helpless and panicking, she started crying. The only response from the girls surrounding her were amused huffs and giggles. They started throwing things at her while kicking her sides.

Alrüna could only helplessly wail as she felt her back blistering, the fire creeping its way up towards her scalp. She tried to defend herself by drawing on her power, but her mind was too disarrayed to do so.

Fortunately, Rahl came to her rescue. It wasn't normal for her to stay away from home too long, so he must've noticed something was amiss. She felt him summoning strength from the earth to send into her bindings, breaking them apart. Next, he upturned the soil under her, covering and suffocating her burning hair.

She cried his name in relief and pointed at the girls around her, mumbling an accusation at their fear-stricken forms.

However, Rahl's rage didn't come. He ran over to her, ignoring them completely. Her cradled her in his arms, checking for wounds as she fruitlessly mumbled at him to exact vengeance.

The girls, seeing his inaction, scattered like a group of frightened mice. Alrüna watched with impotent rage as their fleeing forms disappeared behind the tree line.

Alrüna wallowed in self-pity, unwilling to speak to Rahl due to his lack of action. Months passed without him doing anything to explain himself.

It was only later that she came to understand the looks he'd kept sending her way during that period. What she'd thought to be a smile filled with condescension at her for her childishness was not so: instead Rahl's condescension was aimed at himself for being too afraid to stand up for her.

Rahl passed away later that year, without her ever having forgiven him.

He was very old; even the hairs on his arms had turned white long ago. She knew in her head that he'd lived far past expectation, but her heart had wanted to believe that he would always be there for her.

She buried him behind their home in tearless grief, praying that he would watch over her from wherever he was. She was being selfish, she knew that. However, she didn't feel like she could keep living on without him.

She buried all his possessions alongside him. The only exception was an amber stone attached to a thin leather strap that he used to wear around his neck. He'd once told her that it was his most precious possession and that she should take it once he was no longer there.

'It will protect you when I can't anymore.'

The time after his death was beyond awful. The tribe's wicked actions were no longer restrained. The men were getting more and more bold, touching her 'accidentally' while walking past her.

She'd managed to keep them at bay through her magic. Every time they did something to her, she would send nightmares while they slept, cause their food to spoil and countless other small misfortunes.

However, it was not enough.

One night while she slept, someone broke into her home. She awoke to a waking nightmare: being pressed down by a hairy, foul-smelling man who wheezed hungrily into her ear. Her body completely froze in fear.

It was like back then, when she'd been assaulted by those girls.

She should've fought back, but she couldn't. She tried to grasp her magic, but it slipped through her fingers like water. She tried to scream, to clutch at Rahl's amulet that he'd left for her, but the rapist painfully twisted her arms behind her back and leaned on her throat.

She prayed to every forest spirit and mountain god that would listen, begging that this man would kill her, that her suffering would come to an end. However, it was not to be. Likely fearing the repercussions of killing the tribe's only shaman, he let her live.

Hours later, she watched the dim rays filter through the leafy ceiling with dead eyes. She lay there bleeding and exhausted, despairing at the fact that she'd opened her eyes to a new day. The only small grace was that she'd spent most of the night choked unconscious, mostly unaware of the inhuman actions that had been forced upon her.

Eventually she was driven from where she lay, unable to bear the scum's cloying stink any longer. She went to vigorously scrub herself in a nearby stream, her composure broken as she cried while washing every vile trace from her body.

For months afterwards, she lived in a state of constant despair and rage, her face a warning to any would-be perpetrators. She decided to flee from the village, wanting to take her chances in the supernatural forest, yet she was caught and returned every time. The men had wanted to try their luck with her, but the look in her eyes that promised mutual destruction had deterred them.

As the months passed, it became clear that her worst fears would not come to pass. She had resolved herself to commit suicide had that been the case, no matter the morality of her actions. Rahl had taught her that it was the role of a shaman to protect life, but in this situation, she would refuse.

She had become more hardened, striking back against anyone that so much as sent an ill-intended look her way. Her only hope for escape had been her coming of age ceremony. There was nothing more sacred to tribesmen than the rituals and customs laid down by their ancestors. If she wished to leave after everything was over, they would have no choice but to let it happen.

Alrüna clutched at her amulet with resolve. She would not have this task fail – her future depended on it.

She glanced over to where their strongest warrior slept. He was the chieftain's son, a tall strapping lad with a full beard. He'd been keeping the rest of the men off her back during the journey – the poor attempt at chivalry not doing much to hide his own intentions for her.

She slowly climbed over tree and root, making every effort to mask all but the slightest sounds. She wished to wake him, to warn him that something was wrong.

The darkness hung thickly in front of her face. She almost became convinced that she was headed in the wrong direction, until she found a familiar mark under her fingers. They'd placed these to keep themselves from getting lost, if it became necessary to move around in the darkness.

She judged to be around halfway to her destination when the clouds parted, letting some moonlight filter through the tree branches.

Alrüna's eyes went completely wide as soon as the first ray hit the forest floor.

'This… this is impossible! There are months left until that time of the year.'

With the parting of the clouds, more of their little clearing became visible. Every branch, trunk and rock seemed to encircle them, forming a spiked trap that ready to be sprung at a moment's notice.

Finally, a clear picture of the moon was revealed through a gap in the treetops – a sickly green orb that seemed to smile down at her, its visage distorted into a rictus grin.

Every drop of blood left Alrüna's body as she became cold and numb with fear. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of her comrades in a similar state as herself, their face pale as a member of the walking dead.

They turned to look at her, then all their comrades in turn. Alrüna nodded her head. Once everyone had been roused from their slumber, they would try to come up with a plan.

She moved first, her limbs glacially slow because of her frightened state. Her comrade did the same… but in his clumsy fear, he accidentally stepped on a tree branch, the snapping sound resounding loudly across the clearing!

He quickly glanced down at his feet, his face first showing confusion, then horror when he realized that he was not the cause of the sound.

He glanced over to Alrüna, only to freeze in his tracks when he saw the look on her face as she stared at him.

No, stared behind him.

Behind the young hunter, mostly obstructed by the thick foliage, loomed a tall shadow. Its body was featureless in the darkness – the only thing visable to Alrüna was a pair slitted orbs that glowed with a nefarious orange hue.