“Stupid! Masochistic! Bastard! HUWAH-”

Rowan finally managed to untie the knot of the snare caught around his ankle and immediately falls to the ground as a result. Once on the ground he took a moment to just groan and grit his teeth. At least he landed on his back so the arrow shaft still sticking out of his chest didn’t get pushed in deeper. A few hours stuck hanging upside down already had his head pounding painfully. The arrow in his back must have gotten caught on something and gotten pulled out earlier during the night when he was still in fur since he couldn’t feel it now. That’s one less problem to worry about.

“You just had to stay and gloat didn’t you… Stupid fucker. When are you gonna learn that arrows HURT- ARGH!”

Rowan arched his back and spat at the pain of pulling the arrow out, leaving a weeping wound just below his collarbone. Any form of pleasure he’d felt over having a pointy object lodged in his flesh had long since disappeared since he’d shifted back. Hanging from a tree. He was still mad about the tree.

“Reckless is what you are.”

He wiped at his chest to get away some of the blood, then grimace and stared at his hand in disgust at the other kind of blood still covering him. He nearly forgot about that. Being covered in blood from mouth to stomach and all the way down his arms wasn’t exactly a look. At least not in his book. He much preferred staying clean and clothed. Speaking of which…

“...Just how far did you run?”

Rowan scanned his surroundings. Some small clearing in the middle of the pine forest from the look of it. Trees the size of buildings and moss covering everything up to a meter off the ground before giving up on adding the trees themselves to its conquest. The trap his o so reckless wolf form ran right into was set up by a root that rose so high he’d thought it was a branch at first. Now that he was back on the ground and lucid enough to grumble about his other half’s misadventures, he realized that he’d run quite far into the Pines.

The towering trees he now stood amongst could usually be seen far into the distance from Harwall, almost like a oddly shaped mountain range that sometimes went up and walked a few kilometers. That was the thing about the North. At some point along the road the land just stopped caring about pretending to be as it should. A forest that had stood to the east could be standing far to the west within a few months. Landmarks usually kept to some large, but determined areas. Usually. Of course there were exceptions like the Fanir forest to the east, or the Troll hills, both locations well known for crossing distances just over night.

Luckily the Pine and Maple forest surrounding Harwall were both of the slower kinds. The Pines tended to creep along the mountain range surrounding Harwall’s far north, east, and west side, but never so far west that it went past the lake. The Maple forest used to stay put before Harwall was built, but ever since the first houses went up it’s started moving to keep Harwall directly between itself and the Pines. The North was strange like that. Anything could set the land off to start acting up. Just another reason settling in it was taking so long.

Rowan sighed. He was far into the Pines it seemed. Tall trees as far as the eye could see and that meant he was somewhere in the middle of it, with no hope finding the quickest way back to Harwall just like that.

“Seem’s it’s a few days trek at the worst. I guess that’s ok. The others need time to forget my voice and me leaving last night anyway. See it from the positive side Rowan.”

He patted himself on the cheeks to shake the last of the grogginess off. Changing always left him feeling kind of off for a couple of hours. Just another reason keeping a distance from others would be a good idea. It still annoyed him that he would have to travel through the Pines for what he assumed would be at least a few days trip, without any form of equipment or even clothes. Worst case he would have to shift again after a few days to hunt, which could just as well lead to him backtracking or running the wrong direction. His wolf side rarely stayed on track. The chances of finding his way back to where he left his clothes in time before the forest changed too much were also slim.

“Positively speaking, I’m still alive and well, except that I got shot, lost all my clothes, got covered in blood, and made damn sure to get myself lost in the Pines. Lovely way to start the day.”

Rowan grumbled to himself as he picked a random direction and started walking. The moss covered ground was soft on his feet, if a bit wet. It wasn’t the worst of conditions to be traveling through. Maybe a bit chilly though. He would have to find a place to wash off the blood and some way to find clothes. The last part would be a challenge. Getting back into Harwall without raising too much suspicion might be doable given the time it would take to get back. There we plenty of excuses he could make about where he’d been and if he was lucky the guard on post wouldn’t realize he’d left during such odd conditions. Turning up naked would definitely raise questions though, and possibly a few weapons as well. Acting strange in changeling territory is a surefire way to get in trouble.

Aimlessly wandering through the forest soon payed off in the form of a distant noise. The sound of running water had Rowan slightly changing his direction towards the noise. That decision was rewarded after a few more minutes walking when he stepped out into a clearing sporting a small stream.

Warrily he scanned the open area for anything odd looking. This far into the Pines changelings and other monsters were as common as people in a city, if slightly more insistent on staying hidden. A open and inviting area like this would be the perfect spot for ambushing others trying to reach the water. Rowan would know. He’d used such tactics himself while wearing fur in the past. Changelings were big fans of trickery and surprises.

Aside from the rocks sticking up here and there from the rushing water, not a whole lot else made the area notable. A few bushy plants with dark bulbs just a day or two away from sprouting into flowers added a bit of color to the otherwise grey base if a particularly large rock. The moss that had covered the entiery of the forest floor on his side of the stream gave way for smooth pebbles and dark mud the closer to the water edge one got. On the other side he saw only a few patches of moss cover the ground, grass and bushes being far more frequent. A promising sight since it meant he was getting further from the deep part of the Pines. The constant sound of running water and golden rays of sunlight just barely passing through the multitude of giant branches high above gave the place a peaceful feeling. In the distance across the stream the trees grew smaller and tighter together, just further convincing him that he was going the right direction.

Rowan watched carefully from his place among the roots until he felt sure he hadn’t missed some sneaky beast hiding behind the rocks near the water or on the other side of the stream. You never knew for sure if danger was waiting just out of sight, but as Rowan decided to push back his paranoia, nothing jumped at him or roared in outrage over the unannounced intrusion. The clearing around the stream remained peaceful. Feeling reassured, Rowan stepped out from the relative safety of the treeline and started making his way towards the water. A warm breeze blew past him as he went, making the plant patch shiver as he passed it.

Once by the stream’s edge Rowan crouched down to dip a hand into the shallow water. It was chilly, but not too cold to make him give up on using it to wash the blood and grime off. Frowning, Rowan looked across the stream. It stretched pretty far, both ends of it disappearing out of sight past some large tree roots some hundred meters away from where he crouched. From his spot and to the other side he would guess there was at least ten meters give or take. Rowan stayed like that for a bit, just watching the water and forest surrounding it. He felt at peace for once. A moment of calm in a empty place far from civilization. Were it not for how lonely he would be he just might have stayed in the forest. It was tempting, especially when in a place like this where the wild made him feel at home.

Rowan let out a sigh as he stood up. Gotta stay on track. As peaceful as the forest seemed in a place like this, he had no doubt it was the go to place for many a dangerous creature here in the Pines. Safer not to stay too long. With his mind set, Rowan took a step out into the water, goosebumps immediately spreading as the chill water engulfed his feet. Noting the slightly slick bottom, he carefully made his way further into the water. Water soon reached his waist as he went further out, grimey stones at the bottom making for poor footing.

The dried blood from the night before came off with some persistent scrubbing. Rowan silently cursed his wild side for always making such a mess of himself whenever it managed to catch something. Grumbling about such trivial things made for a good distraction. Guilt had made the first years of his life hard when the transformations and urges had started. Waking up next to several mangled bodies of people from his village had left a scar in his mind that never quite faded, even years later. He’d had a hard time hiding it at first, even gotten spotted a few times when he’d fled into the forest just hours before he knew the madness would take him. He hated killing. His wild side loved it. Those few people that had noticed him had ended up lying next to him the next morning, torn apart by his feral side. He remembered how his heart had stopped when he noticed one was still alive, despite missing nearly all of his lower body. Rowan had be a young adult at the time, and he never forgot how he’d stared in shock and horror at what he’d done. The numb feeling of moving afterwards. The crunch of bone as he’d brought a big stone down on the man’s head to end his suffering.

He had left town soon after that. Found his way towards a nearby village where the Crown had sent a party of men to gather people to bring north for a new settlement. Thanks to his upbringing in a family of crafters Rowan had been allowed to join the group, despite his lack in possessions or even proper traveling gear. His skills and the necessity to bring someone able to make furniture and the like had earned him a few tools and the bare minimum of coins needed to get started once he arrived at what was now named Harwall.

He wasn’t the best of crafters, but neither were the settlers the most picky of people. You rarely were if you decided to gamble everything on going north. Settlements were a fresh start for many, a punishment for some, and a strike of bad luck for others. Man’s attempts at taking root in the north were constantly mocked by the wilds. Entire settlements had been known to disappear as a previously dormant forest decided to swallow it whole over a few days. Changelings could take notice of the new gathering of humans and work their way into their midst where they could freely feed on people and cause mayhem. Territorial monsters could decide that a human town were a challenger worth crushing. Or the people themselves could lose their temper and come to blows if enough human scum were sent along from some overflowing prison. People wanting to rule all at once often led to disputes that could cripple an entire settlement, and a weak settlement made easy prey for the rest of the north’s inhabitants.

Rowan felt thankful for his luck as he thought about how Harwall had managed to stay alive so long. It’d been about a year now he reconed, and the walls still stood and people were acting… sort of civilized. Of course there was the occasional stoning or brawl when tempers clashed or someone did something far too suspicious. Most of the time it was just tempers going awry. Most of the peace could probably be credited to the small church being built in the settlement. A lone priest of Katrina had followed along from one of the last towns the settler group traveled from and since then things had been somewhat more peaceful. Priests had a lot of say wherever they went, no matter who else was present. Even kings and nobles sometimes had to bend their necks for those holy people. A god’s favor was nothing to scoff at after all, and Katrina especially were known to be possessive and unafraid of helping those she favors.

To sum it up, if a priest told you to piss off and NOT stone your neighbour because you suspected witchcraft and devil worship, you listened to them. If you didn’t the priest could get nasty and do something like call lightning or curse you. Or you know, summon an angry mob to do the punishment for them. Pack mentality is a priest’s sharpest tool.

The one in Harwall had yet to cause a lynching, but Rowan still held respect for the man. Marian had a way with words that soothed him, even when the unfinished church building had his skin crawling for reasons he prefered to keep hidden. He had a suspicion that the building and small garden around it would only keep getting more and more unpleasant for him to be near the closer to completion it got. Katrina held no love for Ilo’s changelings after all, despite her passiveness towards Ilo themself. What worried him the most was how bad it would get though. Would he be able to hide it even when the church was done? Or would it burn to trespass on holy ground once it was at full power. He feared the answer. Especially since he so often was asked to go there to help with decorations. His skills at crafting were mediocre at best. Furniture was just a bit too unstable or uneven when he made it. No, his true skill lie with making things pretty. Frail and beautiful was way easier to create than stable and sturdy. If it was good or bad luck that the church continued to request for statues and carvings from him he had yet to decide. It paid him well, but it also exposed him to the one person capable of sicking a mob on him if he ever were to reveal himself as a werewolf. It didn’t matter that he himself didn’t want to consider himself a changeling. According to the church of Katrina he was just as evil as any other critter found in the dark places of the world. In a way they were right. His wild side certainly fitted that category.

Rowan shook his head. Thinking about such things were no use. All he could do was suppress the urges and try his best to steer himself away from populated places whenever the change became necessary. Keeping his mind on things he could change would do him far more favors than focusing on the things set in stone. That’s what he told himself as he cupped his hands and scooped up a handful of water to wash down his face. It was refreshing to finally be free of the blood and dirt, and the cold water itself had him feeling more awake and alert than he’d felt since he woke up hours before. He couldn’t help but smile at the feeling. This was exactly what he needed.

Rowan ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the damp ropes of curls grow softer as the water got most of the dirt out. He scooped up another handful of water to get the last of the filth away. As he opened his eyes again rings in the water caught his eye. Just as he noticed, pale fingers drew into sight just at the corner of his vision next to both sides of his head. Rowan’s breath caught as he whirled around to face whatever might have snuck up on him, heart beating loudly in his chest.

Water exploded behind him as something that had been standing right behind him flew back like a stone shot from a sling. Mid air it twisted around and disappeared, only to reappear once more when it turned back to face him on top of the big rock by the water’s edge. At first all he could make out was a blur of hair covering something vaguely human sized, then it settled down on top of the dark rock and bared its teeth at him in a smile just a bit too wide.

“My my, aren’t you a jumpy one. Scared me dead you did.”

A bemused purr of a voice spoke to Rowan. It was unmistakably female if slightly deep, and it had a echo to it as if spoken from all around him at once. As the wild whirl of black hair settled down around her Rowan could suddenly make out human limbs beneath it. A slender woman with tan skin and scarred feet smiled back at him with eyes so dark they could be called black, if not for the shimmer of bright brown showing whenever she moved her head. The iris and pupils were unnaturally large, nearly covering the whites of her eyes completely. Unease filled Rowan as she stared at him, as if he stood in the middle of a huge gathering all focused on him and him alone. He felt watched and small in front of her gaze. The smile on her pale lips spoke of poorly hidden distaste and curiosity.

“Who-”

Rowan bit his tongue before he could continue. Speaking to changelings wasn’t wise, and that woman clearly wasn’t human nor beast. Her smile only widened as he kept his lips pressed shut, making her features distort slightly to give way for the movement.

“Clever one. Wary one. Afraid I will eat you whole? You, are not one of mine. What do I, do with you?”

She spoke with a weird sort of rhythm to her words, as if reciting some old poem from memory. Seeing Rowan keep quiet she drawled on, words bouncing back and forth like a slow song.

“Tell me of the plains little dog. Do they still shiver for me? Tell me of the humans. Do they fear you? Where is my lover? What, have you seen?”

Rowan felt a slight tug at his thoughts, as if part of his mind wanted to obey and please. He stubbornly kept his mouth shut and clenched his fists. The woman on the rock unnerved him. She didn’t move much, still sitting there while hugging her knees. At his silence she giggled, a hollow sound. A imitation, yet full of more emotion than his mind could keep up with. His began to head hurt.

“Stubborn one. Careful one. Foolish child. Wise young man. You are not one of mine, you are not one of theirs. None of them, both of them. I envy it. Give it here.”

The changeling made a beckoning gesture with one pale hand, the skin color fading from her elbow to her fingers as if someone washed it off. Rowan felt his entire body tug, then he stumbled forwards and nearly fell face first into the water. He just barely manages to catch himself. The woman laughs and the sound makes Rowan’s hair stand on end.

“Leave my forest and go back to your plains. You are welcome here, when you bend your knee. I, am everything. Here. Go return. I will see you again. Tell my lover, I, am sorry. She may have the village. The lake may not. I will make sure.”

The woman’s smile grew wider again, until it showed the white bones of her cheeks, no gums in sight. Then she stood up and turned around, and for a moment Rowan saw a hole in her back, then nothing more. She disappeared without a trace, and took the feeling of being watched with her. Rowan stood frozen for just a moment more, then ran.