Twisted Vows (Short Story) (Patreon)

I've been meaning to get this up here. You might recall I posted a screen shot back in May while I was editing this for Gnoll Tales. Well, this is the finished version of the story that went into the book.

“Your teeth are weak,” is the first thing Kyla Tangledmane had told the young human noble when she’d met him at a court function. Kane had given her some vapid compliment about her traditional hip wrap, probably something his parents had told him to say, and instead of leaning on the etiquette her mother was trying to instill in her, she’d gone for the simple bluntness of her father.

Even though Kyla was taller than him, both were fifteen and just getting into court life. Kane Ellsworth blinked at her, surprised by the reply, before he responded. “And? You shed on the furniture, but you don’t see me commenting on it.”

The gnoll had smiled then, showing off her fangs. This human amused her. “Fair enough. If you don’t mention my shedding, I won’t mention your teeth,” she replied.

“It’s a deal,” he said, and after that they’d talked with an ease that felt far more natural than two young nobles just meeting should have with each other. There was a kinship found due to the pressures their parents put on them, and the next time they met, a few months later, they once again quickly found themselves enjoying each other’s company.

Seven years later, their wedding was set for the second full moon of spring, and a pact between their families was signed. As the second son of Lord Layton Ellsworth, Kane’s marriage had not been of much importance, and he had been left to carry on with Kyla on his own terms. However, the death of his brother in battle the year before had complicated the family’s inheritance and standing.

Kane’s brother had already fathered four children, and if Kane took the dukedom and had his own children, it would mean none of his brother’s children could sit on the thrown. The fact Kane was already involved in a noble from the city of Breslax was convenient and shored up his family’s fortunes. The arrangement served both families well, especially since a human and a gnoll couldn’t have kids of their own.

Outsiders might have thought it would be a loveless marriage, except it was everything the couple wanted. Lady Canice Tangledmane was all too happy to let Kyla have the husband she wanted. Kyla had grown to be a head and a half taller than Kane, yet sometimes she felt small in court functions. Even though she towered over Kane, Lord Ellsworth was too blind to see the way his son blushed when he looked up at Kyla. Instead, he saw her as a way to secure his legacy. By marrying her, Kane wouldn’t mess up the inheritance and create a family branch that could lead to conflict, and this made Lord Ellsworth very happy.

Doing his part, Kane had spoken the words and proposed, and Kyla had given a restrained yes. She would have preferred to be the one to propose, in the traditional gnoll way, but she accepted the need to mollify the Ellsworths’ pride. The arrangements were taken away from the couple. As befitting their noble rank, the families and the courtiers got to squabble over the how and why. Canice herself drove a hard bargain and while she couldn’t set all the terms, she picked the date and the time, satisfying the desire to hold the ceremony under Aranya’s creation of the night sky and the favorable fate this would give the couple.

“The blessings of the gods will carry you forward,” she told her daughter after the arrangements had been set. “Tholla, steward of the night, mistress of the dawn, and creator of new beginnings, will smile upon you. Spring is her season, and the date is when her power will be at its greatest. The wedding will be in a grove sacred to Hannaril, the elven god of forests, and you shall drink the beer brewed by worshipers of Pivin, the human patron of merchants.”

Kyla would have preferred to have an old seer throw some bones, mumble some words, and ask for the gods’ blessing, but Canice Tangledmane was not going to let her daughter’s wedding be wrong, and certainly not to a human boy barely her equal. His teeth could not crush bone like theirs. How could he hope to be a good husband to her without the gods’ favor is he couldn’t suck the marrow out of his kills to keep up his strength?

Kyla wanted to protest to her mother, but a marriage of political convenience, no matter how desirable to the people getting married, doesn’t let you voice your own concerns. She had accepted the human way of doing things and let Kane propose. She had accepted her mother’s spiritual concerns and the need to make sure the signs were right. Kyla even accepted the inane prattle of Kane’s father, but there was one thing she just couldn’t accept: the wedding dress.

“I am not wearing that awful thing. The dark red fabric clashes with my pelt, and something with that much volume has no practical purpose after the wedding,” she had declared to her mother when the tailor brought the dress for her to try on. She’d not paid close attention when he’d measured her for it, but now that she saw it, she couldn’t fathom wearing something with long sleeves that had fabric trailing off them.

“If the lady would try it on,” remarked the elven tailor, “she would see it fits her well. I still have to add the lace.”

“It has lace?” she said, alarmed. “Do I look like I wear lace?”

The elf looked at the elder Lady Tangledmane for guidance. She was dressed in a blue hip wrap and matching tunic, both embroidered with yellow thread, but it didn’t restrict her motion like the wedding dress would Kyla.

“The design is a traditional human dress,” remarked Canice. “It’s been sized to fit you.”

“That doesn’t stop it from being ugly and impractical.”

“Dark red is a traditional color for humans on their wedding days,” responded the tailor. “It symbolizes the transition into marriage.”

Kyla growled. “Do I look human to you?” she said, snarling at the tailor.

“I only made what I was asked to sew,” he snapped back, unphased by her anger and sneer. “Your mother specified this.”

“I had to give them something for the time and place,” said Canice. “They requested a dress aligned with their family lineage.”

“I’ve tried to make the tail slot in the back adjustable so you can control how it lays against you, and still have a full range of movement.”

The bride grumbled. “The only thing worse I can think of would be a completely white dress that shows any stray fur.”

“Kyla, I paid for this dress,” said Lady Tangledmane, “the least you can do is make sure that it fits.”

Properly chastised by her mother, she went and tried the dress on. Stepping back out, she felt like a ball of fur stuffed into a bag. She was used to wearing simple dresses when the occasion called for it, but this was far too extravagant for her. And the fabric high up on her neck made her pelt itch.

“Can’t we just hire a wizard to magic a dress on me for the ceremony and I can wear something comfortable?” she protested to her mother and the tailor.

“Absolutely not,” scowled the elf, checking how the dress lay on her. “You’ll be in the middle of dancing and something will go wrong with the illusion spell. Then everyone will know you’re wearing an illusion.”

Kyla’s ears went back. “I have to dance in this?”

“No,” said her mother with a sad sound in her voice. “You have to waltz, and you have to do it eloquently.”

#

The Tangledmane family was a proud clan, full of fighters and leaders. Lord Hevin Tangledmane was a gnoll of few words, and a known brawler back in the day. He’d have settled all his disputes through feats of strength, but that could only get you so far when someone could knock you out with a magical block of ice to the head. He’d learned that one the hard way and while he’d had to moderate his stance once he’d inherited his father’s title, he still pined for the carousing of his youth with his brother and sister. Thus, he listened to his daughter’s complaints patiently over a tankard of mead before he responded.

“Your mother handled the negotiation,” he told Kyla when she was done.

“They’ve taken almost all the decisions away from me, including what I wear. Can’t you do something about this?” she asked her father.

Her father appraised her with the lopsided smile he had, the relic of the block of ice to his face. “You can’t fight your way through this,” he said. His good ear and the ruin of his bad ear went back.

Kyla’s own ears fell.

“I know,” he said ruefully. “If you wanted a traditional marriage, you should have married another gnoll. This is what you get for marrying a human.”

“Dad…”

“My hands are tied. The alliance between our family and the Ellsworth family puts both of us in a better position.”

“Does that really matter to you?”

His ears went up and he chuckled. “No, but your mother and I want you to be happy.” He set his mug of mead down and reached out to take Kyla’s hand. “Our future in-laws are not the kind of people you can tussle in the mud with over a bone, and you are lucky they want to marry their surviving son out to a non-human to keep their lineage clean. It is best for both of you to go through the hoops they give you.”

She shook her mane out. "I know, but even Mom is treating me like I’m still a cub to be told what to do, and not a proud fighter like you. I’ve grown and reached my full strength.”

“That is because this doesn’t just include us. Do you desire to lead a warband into battle and fall like the older Ellsworth boy, or do you wish to be comfortable and happy?”

She understood the question, but she dreamed sometimes of the glory she could earn in battle. “Can’t you have both happiness and honor?”

Her father chuckled. “You would need a war for that, and wars have a way of getting out of control and destroying everything.” He reached out to take her face gently. “Maybe someday you’ll earn the right to wear the iron clasp of a veteran fighter in your mane, but never rush toward a war. The Ellsworth family got into that stupid squabble over farmland in the valley country to expand their holdings, and now they’re a house in crisis. They need protection from their enemies, and we offer it. I would not let you marry the human boy if I thought it was dangerous for us. I also know not to interfere with the stirrings of your heart.”

She sighed. “I guess, but what if they do decide to do something stupid? Does the marriage mean I would be able to fight and defend our holdings?”

“My fierce little cub, you have my passions, and I understand the hotness in your blood. I wear that hot temper every day on my face as a reminder of my youth and to warn me whenever I look at myself in the mirror in the morning of the dangers of such adventurism. Do not worry about a war. Layton Ellsworth is a good fifteen seasons older than me. He has a good many years left, but his appetite for foolish squabbles seems to be curbed. He grieves for a son lost and a legacy shaken. Even if he tries to do something, I will not willingly put us in a bind we can’t meet muzzle first. By the time I’m too old to protect us, it will be Kane Ellsworth’s time to lead his family.”

She pointed her muzzle down. “I’m sorry if I’ve made things hard.”

Her father shook his head. “It will all be fine, and I’m sure Canice can spin something out of this arrangement. Your mother is a persuasive woman and has the keenest ears for coin of anyone I know. You should enjoy your time before the wedding because it will be a long day.”

#

Her father’s words were prophetic, for as the day of the ceremony drew near, more and more things came up that required Kyla’s attention. There was a parade of courtiers and servants, both human and gnoll, that she had to give her claw up or claw down to about the tasks they were handling. Seating had to be arranged, meals had to be prepared, and it seemed the entire process took forever. She saw Kane only briefly, but he had his own preparations to be involved with. A few days before the wedding, she got to see him for an hour alone. She had remarked to him how she wanted to just leave and get married in a simple ceremony at a temple to whichever god was willing to bless them and be done with it. He agreed readily with the idea, but there was little they could do. Theirs was a political marriage, and while they were in love, there was great show and pomp required.

There was one thing Kyla had complete control over: her bridesmaids. Her mother had wanted to suggest some, but she’d insisted on two and only two: her friends Shara and Sibesli. It was their job to keep Kyla from pulling her fur out.

“How many ribbons are you going to have to tie into her mane?” Sibesli asked, as they sat in a tent set up in the sacred grove a few hours before the wedding.

“Enough that she’s presentable,” remarked Shara, as she carefully tied another knot of fabric into Kyla’s mane.

“Too many,” grumbled the bride. The tent had been furnished with elegant furniture, all carefully prepared for the bridal party. Plush chairs made the space comfortable, and a low brazier provided light and a little warmth. A dressing table sat with an array of brushes, while a rack held the wedding dress. Kyla had turned the low chair she sat on away from the dress so she didn’t have to think about wearing that restrictive thing. Having to avoid tripping over a train was not something she was looking forward to. The loose, ankle length dress she wore with its multiple petticoats was annoying enough to her. She wanted to go with a simple hip wrap while she waited, but her mother had insisted something more formal, in case any of the servants had to come find her.

Sibesli shrugged. “I could braid it if you two’d let me. Maybe work a few silver beads in.”

Shara glanced at the dwarf. “You say this, but I’ve seen your braid work. This is a job for a gnoll, and that’s what needs to be done.”

“Are you saying I’m not good enough to do this?” said Sibesli.

Kyla sighed. “Braids sound lovely, but Mom had clear instructions. The ribbons are supposed to be tied in neatly and orderly so I can be presentable in the eyes of the gods. She wasn’t going to let me go with braids.”

“And here I thought you were a fighter,” said Sibesli.

Kyla shot her an icy look. “As if your marriage won’t be similar.”

“I’m a tradesperson, not a noble like you. There’s not much resting on my marriage.”

“Or mine,” said Shara, as she carefully tied another ribbon in. “You’re the noble.”

The bride sighed. “We’ve only been landed for a few generations, and it’s not a terribly gaudy home. You think I could just do something simple and be done with it, but no, everyone wants things. Everyone has specific requests and concerns that need to be met. It’s driving me mad.”

“Well, your station seems to have gone up with the marriage. Now you’re a link between human and gnoll-kind. A way to the future of our peoples,” said the other gnoll.

“Yes, but I don’t want all that pressure,” growled Kyla. “I just want to be me.”

“You sound like your father,” said Shara, “when your mother has once again roped him into another official court function he doesn’t want to do.”

“I guess,” she mumbled as her friend tied on another ribbon.

“I think this is the last,” she remarked. “What do you think, Sibesli?”

The dwarf got up and came around. “It looks good. A little wild, but that’s what you wanted, yes?”

“Yeah. I wanted something that was formal yet still flowed.”

“Kane won’t care,” grumbled Kyla.

“I know, but the ceremony isn’t for him, or you. It’s for the people around you,” said the dwarf. “He sent you something via way of me to let you know that,” she added, pulling out a brown glass bottle from a large embroidered bag she had brought with her.

Kyla took the bottle and sniffed at the top, her ears perking. She pulled the cork and took another sniff. “Plum brandy?”

“He told me you’d want a nip to steel your nerves.”

Kyla’s ears went down, and her head lowered. “He knows me too well.”

“Oh, you should have told me,” said Shara. “I also brought a bottle of grain spirits.”

“Ha!” said Sibesli, and produced a second bottle from the bag. “We both know you. Dwarven style whisky, aged forty years deep in a mountain vault.”

“My friends,” said Kyla with a toothy grin. “We have a toast to make, but let’s start with the elven wine I had them include in the tent.”

Sibesli smiled. “I’ll make a dwarf out of you yet.”

#

The elven wine was good, the brandy was excellent, but the dwarven whisky was when things started to get out of control. They had passed it around, and while Sibesli might have had her head on for the most part, the two gnolls did not.

“You know, we should have just gotten married already,” said Kyla with a goofy grin. “All this waiting is boring.”

“There’s another hour till sunset I think,” said Shara, reaching for the bottle and fumbling, trying to get it from Kyla.

“We should stop,” said the dwarf with a belch. “You need to be able to stand.”

“Ha! I can stand,” remarked Kyla, staggering to her feet.

“Yes, but you’re swaying.”

Kyla stepped a few times and stopped. “So I am.”

“As much as it pains me to say this, and it goes against my dwarven ancestors,” said Sibesli, “but we need to put the bottle down.”

Shara stood up. “There’s a cleric here to do the ceremony. Maybe they can fix us up something,” she said, trying to stumble toward the tent’s entrance, and immediately tripping over the trunk that held spare clothes. Shara went down and there was a rip of fabric.

“Oh shit,” said Kyla coming over. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my ego,” said the other gnoll. “And maybe this dress.”

Kyla squinted. “That’s not the one for the ceremony, is it?”

“No, no. I haven’t pulled that out yet, but we should change soon.”

“Let me see what the cleric can do,” said the dwarf, walking toward the entrance. “Hopefully they can whip up a quick tincture that cures hangovers.”

“Does that use alcohol to make?” asked Kyla.

The dwarf shrugged. “It’s that or you need to know a bit of magic or whatever to create it. I don’t know. You’ve got to be sober enough to stand.”

“I’m fine,” declared the bride.

“No you’re not.”

“Okay, okay,” said Kyla, walking back to where she had been sitting. “But if the cleric needs something for the tincture, this might help,” she said, picking up the unopened bottle Shara had brought and handing it to the dwarf.

“Good plan. It’s a good base I think,” said Sibesli.

“Hey, hey, don’t turn that into medicine now,” said Shara getting up, trying to snatch the bottle back from the dwarf.

“We need to be presentable!” said the dwarf.

“That’s my gift to Kyla though,” she said, trying to get her claws on the bottle. Sibesli stepped back, but Shara managed to connect with the bottle and knock it out of her hands. It sailed through the air and straight into the fire.

They all froze. The bottle shattered, and there was a whooshing sound as the fire flashed and shot up toward the roof of the tent.

That set everyone in motion. Shara screamed as the fire singed her fur, and everyone jumped back. Black smoke poured from the fire as it expanded.

“Everyone out, now!” said the dwarf, and the three fled the tent quickly, running out into the grove set up for the bridal party.

Realizing they’d now set the tent on fire along with her wedding dress, Kyla felt a tightness grip her chest. Her mother was going to kill her, the Ellsworths were going to keep her from marrying Kane, and everything they’d all spent months planning was now ruined. She couldn’t face that.

She glanced back at the black smoke pouring out from the top of the tent and made a snap decision. With her head swimming from the alcohol and now having destroyed her family name by trying to drink her friends under the table, the bride turned and plunged straight into the woods and disappeared into the trees.

Sibesli and Shara called out Kyla’s name, but she was gone. The dwarf swore, took one look at the blazing fire still contained in the brazier, and turned to Shara.

“We need to go after her,” said Sibesli.

“No,” said Shara. “We should get Kane. There’s only one person she’s going to listen to right now.”

They looked back at the tent. The smoke hole at the top was singed and blackened, but it hadn’t caught. Instead, the fire was starting to settle back down. The wedding could still proceed as planned, but it would need its bride.

#

The sacred grove of Hannaril was located in a large forest that some say dates to the age of the Old Gods. Massive trees of oak and ash were interspersed with ancient stands of yew. The forest was tended by elven druids, and generations of them had carefully nurtured it. Ancient trees grew tall and blocked out the sky, while a layer of dead leaves nurtured their twisting roots.

Kyla ran through the forest, not thinking of what to do, but just to get away. She tripped over roots and scrambled across fallen tree trunks to put distance behind her. Now, in the gathering gloom, her dress torn from branches and brambles she’d run past, she was out of stamina for running. Her footpaws aching from where rocks had cut at them, she was beginning to regret her decision. Her mother would be furious. Destroying the tent would be one thing, but leaving? Oh no, she’d have words with her daughter and there would be fangs in her face. Lots of angry fangs, and that was before she got to her father, who would also be disappointed.

Kane though, he’d understand, or at least she hoped he would. He was going through his own issues, marrying outside of his species. His parents didn’t really approve of her, but she served a purpose, and if that’s how they thought of her, it at least let them be together.

She sighed and slumped down against a tree. She had a pounding headache from all the wine and brandy she’d drank. Coming out here had made more sense when she’d been buzzed, but now she just felt like shit. She’d thrown up once already and she was lost. The wedding was ruined, the engagement was in danger, and here she was out in the woods with a torn dress, no lantern, and no weapon. All she had was her fangs and her nose, and that was not going to fix anything for her. Kyla was a disgrace.

She sobbed. Worse, she’d left him at the altar. If there was one thing that made this entire orchestrated dance tolerable, it was Kane, and even he would have good reason to be mad at her. She should go back, but could she really face everyone? She’d ruined everything her mother had worked to achieve, and now she was an outcast. All she could do was sit there and cry, tail tucked, ears down, not thinking, not moving, until she heard her name in the distance.

“Kyla…”

She cocked her head. Had they found her? What was she going to say? She was sorry for running away and burning down the tent? She stood up uncertainly, and looked to see which direction they were coming from, but night had fallen now. The forest was completely dark.

“Kyla…” called out a distant voice.

She swiveled her ears, trying to figure out where it was coming from and who it was.

“Kyla Tangledmane…” said the voice again, the words drifting strangely through the air. This wasn’t a voice she recognized, yet it spoke with familiarity, as if the speaker knew her.

“Who’s there?” she called out. There was no answer, but in the distance through the trees, there was a light she hadn’t seen before. Cautiously, she headed toward the light, which flitted through the trees, casting a blue glow that seemed to be carried by someone moving jerkily.

“Who are you,” she called out, trying to catch the light, stumbling through the trees in the dark.

“Come,” said the voice with increasing urgency. “Come…”

Kyla broke into a sprint. Who was this? What did they want with her?

She was gaining on the light, and when it next ducked around a tree, she saw it clearly. There wasn’t someone carrying a light there. Instead, it was a will-o’-wisp, one of the spirits of the forest itself, that was leading her on.

She slowed down then, her senses coming to her. Following a will-o’-wisp was dangerous. They were known to play tricks and one could easily lead you to your death if it wanted.

The blue light continued on and then disappeared from her vision. She crept forward cautiously. The will-o’-wisp had entered a clearing and it wasn’t the only source of light there. Slowly she moved ahead, trying to be silent, but her footpaws crunched on the leaf litter. She stubbed a claw into a fallen branch, and that made her curse loudly.

“Come…” said the voice, clearer now. “Your destiny awaits you, Kyla Tangledmane.”

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Whoever this was knew who she was, so she walked forward toward the clearing.

The clearing was small and circular, and it was lit with candlelight. In the back sat a standing stone etched with runes covered in moss and worn down by time. Before it sat the oldest gnoll Kyla had ever seen. His fur was gray and the stripes in his pelt had faded. He was thin and boney as if he had not eaten in weeks, and yet the gaze from his one good eye was a piercing ember of coal that reflected the candlelight. The other was lost, a jagged scar across the face, the eye socket empty.

Near him was a brazier with herbs burning, and candles had been placed around the clearing. The will-o’-wisp was behind him, bobbing slowly around the standing stone. In front of him lay a cloth, covering something up.

“Come,” he said, with a wispy voice that seemed to echo strangely in her head. “Let me show you your destiny.”

“I know my destiny,” Kyla said cautiously, still standing at the tree line. Maybe she was dreaming and had passed out.

The old gnoll regarded her coolly. “You know one of your destinies. I know inside of you your blood is hot, and you hunger for more. Now sit!” he commanded, as if he was speaking to a child.

She wanted to turn around, but something about the strange gnoll suggested he had great power. Carefully, she walked over like an obedient cub and sat down. The smoke from the burning herbs made her head hurt, and combined with the feeling of the alcohol, she winced in the light.

“You wish to answer the ancient call of Uratu, the hunter, and to fight. You long so much to be the great warrior you always were,” said the seer. “You hunger for battle.”

“It is true,” she murmured.

“I know it is. Look into my eye, and see,” he ordered.

A sober Kyla might have thought this was a bad idea, and yet in her state of intoxication, with the herbs tugging at her mind, she did so willingly. She looked straight into the seer’s eye and she saw herself, proud and strong.

“You could be a great warrior,” said the seer.

Her heart ached for what she saw. “I know, but my fate is not this.”

“Your fate is yours!” said the seer, and then she saw herself charging into battle, a flail in one paw, a shield in the other, as nameless enemies fell before her. Other gnolls followed her into the fray. She was everything she wanted to be, and there was a surge of pride in herself. She could feel the heft of the weapon in her paws, and suddenly everything she worried about fell away.

“Do you see?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, entranced by the vision.

“Do you feel the hunger for battle within you?” he whispered to her. He was right in front of her, but he seemed so far away.

She hadn’t felt it before, but now that she could see her fate, she felt the call to battle within her more clearly than she ever had. There was a hunger for it inside of her now that she had never felt before. She’d wanted to make her father proud, but now, she wanted to fight, not for just the glory, but because she could fight. She would be a great warrior like she dreamed about. “I do,” she whispered.

“Then become what you are meant to be,” he ordered and he blinked, breaking off the vision and contact. The old gnoll reached down and pulled back the cloth covering the item before him. It was a flail with a spiked ball on the end of a chain.

“Take this, and slay the first human you see with it, and you will know glory. Rivers of blood will flow before you, and your name will strike fear in those weak of heart. Many will submit to your will. War will be your shadow.”

She wanted what he was offering so badly, yet she hesitated for a moment. Something was tugging at her consciousness. She looked up at the old gnoll with the one bright eye and unnaturally thin frame. He looked ravenous. “And if I don’t?”

“You will be nothing more than a token on the arm of a man, never able to find the call to battle you long for. You will grow weak and die.”

She would die? She didn’t want that. Instinctively she reached for the weapon and clasped her paw around the handle. The leather wrapping the wood was warm and felt good in her paw. She hefted the flail, and the chains made a satisfying clatter. This was a brutal weapon, a dangerous weapon, but it would serve her well if she gave it what it wanted, and it wanted blood. She knew that once she held it.

“Good,” said the seer. “Swear to me this vow. You will kill the first human you see and claim your birthright.”

Kyla Tangledmane stood up, her blood hot and body hungry to fight, and she smiled with fangs. “I will kill the first human I see,” she said, drunk on the herbs, an unnatural hunger coursing through her.

“Excellent, serve me well cub, and you will feed your hunger for war.”

She turned to leave, and stepped toward the tree line, but she paused, curious what else he could tell her. Who were the troops she would lead? Who would she fight to bring glory to herself? She wanted very much to earn the iron clasp for her mane.

No, she didn’t want the iron clasp. She needed it now. She hungered for it!

She looked back toward the seer, but he was gone. Where moments ago there had been candles there was now only ash and a bit of spilt wax. Only the will-o’-wisp was still there, and it wandered off into the forest.

#

Back in among the trees, she stalked through the woods, looking for the one the seer told her to kill. She would slaughter them as he told her to and then she would tell her mother she was not going to be part of her political games, but a leader of a warband. She’d take Kane with her, and she’d lead troops to glory.

Wait, Kane wasn’t in her vision. She’d been leading only gnolls. Maybe he’d stay back in the camp of whomever she worked for.

She paused and put her free paw to her head, feeling the hunger for battle inside herself. Who was she fighting anyway? She tried to focus back on the vision, back on what she’d seen, but the headache made it hard to think clearly. She growled, annoyed with herself. It had been a village. There were people. Humans, dwarves, elves…

They weren’t armed.

“Kyla! Kyla! Where are you!”

Her ears snapped back. Her prey was near. She screamed a reply with a voice hoarse and hungry. “Kane!”

“Kyla!” he yelled, and he came crashing through the woods toward the sound of her voice.

She wanted to run to him, wanted to wrap her arms around him, but she had the flail still in her paw, and she knew it would be easier to swing and hit him if he came to her, just as the seer wanted, so she waited for him. She would feed her hunger for battle soon.

Less than a minute later he broke through the trees, and he saw her when the light of the lantern he carried fell upon her. “Kyla,” he said, coming up breathlessly. Kane Ellsworth practically threw himself against her, wrapping his free arm around her. She was a good bit taller than him, and his head easily fit under her muzzle.

He was unarmed, she noted as he had approached. He wouldn’t be able to resist her attack.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “I was worried about you,” he said, embracing her in a hug.

She felt the flail in her paw. She felt her blood hammering in her head. Kill the first human you see, the seer had said. If he could see her future, he knew which human that would be. He knew what her fate would be.

“Kane,” she whispered and gently pushed him away, and slowly lifted the flail with a clank of the chain.

He looked at her confusedly, and then he saw the flail, cruel and wicked. “I should have known you wouldn’t come out here unarmed. The elves warned me not to go by myself, but I couldn’t leave you out here alone.”

All she had to do was step back and swing. She’d become a killer. A butcher. She could see the faces in her vision. They weren’t warriors facing her down in combat. They were scared villagers trying to protect their homes from marauders.

To protect their village from her.

She looked at Kane, and she could visualize the impact the flail would make. The feeling of it crushing in his skull would be satisfying. He would scream only once before he died. Afterward, she would be covered in his blood, and nothing she said or did after that would be her own doing. She knew then she would be just an avatar for war. That was what the seer had shown her. Her own parents would hunt her down if she did this, and worst of all, she’d break her own heart.

The flail slipped from her paw. The chain clattered as it fell.

“Kyla?”

She looked down at her paws and they were shaking.

"Kyla?” he said again. “Are you okay?”

She took a deep breath, and it all came back to her, as if some force had been holding her back.

“I don’t know. I think I messed up.”

"It’s okay. The tent didn’t catch,” he said, “but why did you run out here armed with a weapon? There’s nothing you needed to prove to me.”

“I didn’t come out here armed,” she said softly.

He frowned. “You found the flail out here?”

She turned to look behind her. Now that the flail wasn’t in her paws anymore, she no longer felt so hungry. “I was given it by someone.”

"Who?”

“I’m not sure. They are a spirit of some kind, I think. They offered it to me if I fulfilled a vow for them.”

Kane was well versed in history and knew a little magic himself, but that caused his breath to catch. “What did they want?”

Her voice wavered. “For me to kill the first human I saw. He showed me a vision where I was a great warrior, but now I realize he showed me the vision of me as a murderer and savage killer, taking from those who had little and striking them down.” She lowered her muzzle so she could rub a paw across her forehead. She hunched over. “Ugh, I can still see it, I can taste the smoke of burning houses.”

Some men would have backed way, but then not all men can date and marry outside of their species. Kane was not one to back down.

“It’s okay. You had the sense not to do that,” he said, taking one of her paws in his hands. “I know you couldn’t do something like that.”

As Kyla looked down at him, she wasn’t completely sure if another human had found her first that she wouldn’t have killed them to fulfil the vow. Yet even with mind still clouded by the drink and influenced by the herbs, she had not instinctively swung at him. She had not chosen the path of senseless war.

“I’m so sorry I ran off,” she said with a sniff.

He squeezed her paw gently. “It’s okay. I know this has been a lot for you. It’s the same for me. We’re doing this together though.”

She wrapped her arms around him then, and pulled him to herself, and let herself feel the tension and confusion that had been riding upon her. “I don’t deserve you, and I could have…” her voice cracked.

“Kyla, it’s okay. That you didn’t is what matters.”

What could she say? Nothing. She just wrapped herself around Kane and pulled him close and she cried, holding him in the dark, unsure what to do.

#

Kyla was still holding onto Kane when Shara and Sibesli found them.

“You run too fast,” said Sibesli to Kane, holding up a lantern at them both. “I’ve got short legs you know!”

“I had to find her,” said Kane.

“At least Shara has the decency to stay with me.”

“It’s okay,” said Kyla. “I’m safe now.”

“Now?” asked Sibesli.

Kane nodded. “It’s okay.”

Shara was looking at the flail where it lay discarded. “Where did you get this?” she said, kneeling down to inspect the weapon. She went to pick it up and pulled back, as if the handle radiated heat.

“An old gnoll gave it to me. He was some type of seer. He wanted me to kill the first human I met with it. He asked I swear a vow to him I would do that.”

Shara inhaled deeply. “Was he thin?” she asked seriously.

Kyla took a moment to look at the worry on Shara’s face before she responded. “Unnaturally so.”

“You met the Starving God of Hate,” she whispered.

No one spoke for a minute before Kyla whispered, “I’ve never heard of this god.”

“Few have, and that is for a good reason. He has no name. He is just hunger for death. To feed him is to embrace evil. To do his will is to fall before the other gods. He tempts those he thinks he can bend to his will to feed his hate for all living things,” said Shara.

Kyla felt her stomach boil and wanted to curl up into a ball.

“Where did you see him?”

“There was a clearing, and a will-o’-wisp led me to him.”

“He can summon the spirits of the dead to do his bidding, but his powers over them are limited. Show me where you saw him.”

“Shouldn’t we go back,” asked Sibesli, “and let the elves know?”

“The elves will understand. Canice Tangledmane will understand. Kane’s parents, well I’ll handle them,” said Shara. “We need to find the clearing.”

Kane spoke up. “Understand what?”

“That I will perform your wedding ceremony in this grove tonight and marry you in the traditional manner of the gnolls.”

The other three didn’t say anything else.

“Come, we go to the grove immediately,” said Shara.

“Is this wise?” asked Sibesli. “Getting married in a corrupted grove seems a bit unwise.”

“Mother wanted an auspicious wedding, and I don’t think this counts as auspicious.”

Shara took a deep breath. “The Starving God of Hate lurks in darkness, looking to tempt those in distress to feed him. Rejecting him is the most favorable thing you can do, Kyla. To face your fear of his hate and declare your love in front of him as his spirit lurks in the darkness beyond? That is a powerful statement to the other gods of our people, and they will bless your union. Love is the thing the Starving God cannot stand the most. He has no power in the face of it.”

Kyla looked at Kane. “Is that okay?”

Kane took a deep breath. “It’s going to be a hard thing to convince my parents of.”

“We do this first, and then we ask forgiveness,” said Shara. “You can still do a ceremony before them, but I will fasten your hands together in the old way. I just need some of the ribbons from Kyla’s mane and for Sibesli to witness.”

“I can do that,” said Sibesli. “What about the flail?”

Shara frowned at it. “That we’ll leave to the elves to take care of. We must hurry.”

Finding the clearing took over half an hour, but they were able to locate it. The grove was dark save for the two lanterns they had and the full moon. Shara bent down to examine the marks the candles had left and then leaned down to sniff at where the brazier had been. She wrinkled her nose.

“I’m not sure what herbs he burned, but it smells foul.”

“It was intoxicating, whatever it was,” said Kyla.

Sibesli and Kane in the meantime were inspecting the standing stone.

“This has been desecrated,” said the dwarf. “Some of the protective runes have been scratched off.”

Kane traced his hand over them. “Yes, but it could be restored,” he said. “Time has worn this down. The name for whoever was buried here has been lost.”

“Which makes it all the more important we do this, now,” said Shara, standing up. “Kyla, turn around, and let me take some of the ribbon from your mane.”

She obeyed and Shara carefully untied three ribbons, which she fastened together into a makeshift rope. Satisfied that her knots would hold, she had the two of them stand before the standing stone while placing the two lanterns on either side.

“Ready?” she asked them.

They nodded. Sibesli stood off to the side. Kyla and Kane grasped one paw to one hand.

“Tonight, here in this circle, I will wed you before the gods of gnolls, humans, and any others that will bear witness!” intoned Shara.

The wind picked up suddenly, a breeze blowing through the clearing. They could feel powers far greater themselves watching.

“Kyla Tangledmane, daughter of Canice Tangledmane, do you take Kane Ellsworth, son of Layton Ellsworth, into your pack to be your mate?” asked Shara.

“Kyla…” called the voice of the seer as the wind suddenly howled in protest. In that moment, she could almost feel the flail in her hand again, and again she saw the warrior she could be, if she would just kill the human and the dwarf. The Starving God would be pleased, and why wouldn’t she want to make him happy?

“Kyla Tangledmane!” yelled Shara, firmly, breaking off the vision. “Do you take Kane as your mate?”

Kyla looked at Kane as the wind blew through the clearing and nodded. “Yes!”

“Kane Ellsworth, do you take Kyla Tangledmane as your mate, and will you join her pack, to love her as your wife, and to stand with her clan in war and in peace so that justice is served, even when there are no bones to crack and no meat to be had?”

“I do,” he said.

Shara pulled out the ribbon. “Then I shall bind you paw to hand in matrimony,” said the gnoll, stepping forward to tie Kyla’s right handpaw to Kane’s left hand. When it was done she turned to Sibesli.

“Sibesli Ironfell, as witness to this ceremony, and before any gods that choose to watch, do you swear the knot I have tied between these two in good cloth to be satisfactory?”

“I do,” said Sibesli.

“Then in the old ways, before our gods, I declare you married and mated.”

They kissed then, and in that moment Kyla knew she had made the right decision. The wind died down as the moon shone and Tholla, steward of the night, smiled down upon them. The lies of the Starving God of Hate were shown to be nothing more than lies, for his presence had fled the ceremony, unable to stand in the presence of their love.

Together the group returned to find the rest of the wedding party and to announce that the union had been made in defiance of the Starving God of Hate. The Ellsworth family was ready to declare war then in an uproar about this trickery, but the cleric who was to marry them stepped forward and bowed to Kyla and Kane. He declared their union the most blessed he’d ever seen and said that the gods would favor them both. The complaints on the lips of the Ellsworth family died then, and a feast was declared for all present.

And the best part of that night for Kyla? She never wore that wedding dress with its ornate lace and dark red fabric she felt clashed with her pelt.