Spirits of the Earth

Ewan glowered at his spell book through the iron bars of his cage. It sat beside the Fat Coachman and maddeningly out of reach. If he could just reach it he'd be able to kill his captors and escape, but the bars were too thin and it was no use. The boy passed the pair in the Draconi Forest and was grabbed the moment his back was turned.

As far as cages went it was passably comfortable. There was enough straw and blankets to ward off the cold, but the mountain road was quite bumpy. From what Ewan overheard his captors were selling mage-children to a buyer in Zantaric. The Fat Coachman and Crooked Wizard didn't speak to him beyond offers of food and water. They didn't like the boy much. He bit the Fat Coachman and spat insults at the rest, at least until they switched his backside and threatened to burn his book. He'd been mostly calm up until now, certain there'd be surely ample opportunity to escape whomever was buying him. Most people tended to underestimate him after all. Still, Ewan was beginning to grow apprehensive.

On the fourth day they crossed the plains and made it into the Terrin Mountains. Scrubby plants and pine-barrens dotted the foreboding slopes. The slavers stopped, midday, on a ledge overlooking the Adelan woodlands. They waited for several hours. The only thing more boring than sitting in a moving cage was sitting in an unmoving cage. They were bored too, and didn't even complain when Ewan whistled a bawdy tavern song he knew as an adult.

The sound of cracking twigs announced a newcomer. It was a Connlaothian man with a scarred face, a Mordecai judging by his tarnished breastplate, leading a horse; a girl slung over its saddle. She was bound and unconscious, about Ewan's age and height. The Fat Coachman and Crooked Wizard offered gruff greetings, ribbing him on how long it took. His name was Harlan. The girl was deposited in the cage alongside Ewan and the door slammed shut. "Keep quiet back there, yeah? No sniffling," the Fat Coachman sneered before driving the wagon onward. They were roughly an hour from the gates of Zantaric.

He crawled toward the girl and nudged her awake. "H-hello?"

Cara let out a long, agonised groan, as she was nudged. It'd been a long while...she had known that, at least. She could tell the passage of time. She wasn't stupid. What she couldn't tell, however, is how she ended up unconscious. After a brief pause, she slowly rose upwards, pulling at her bindings as she instinctively attempted to stretch. "L uiv'w nghc mw jwqg..." She muttered in an archaic, ancient, and near-forgotten tongue. She blinked, blearily, turning to Ewan. "...Zyi'zh gqx...?" She mumbled, incoherently. It was rather blatant that Cara wasn't entirely there, at least, not yet. But that would be rather predictable. Being rendered unconscious, kidnapped, and bound would do that, especially to a child.

She moved to rub her eyes, finding her wrists still bound, fear growing on her face. She glanced about, looking to Ewan, desperation setting in as she began to pant, and panic, and shake.

Ewan screwed up his face at the unusual speech. Old elvish, maybe? Language was inherit to magic but he'd never learned this one. Escape would be much harder if she didn't speak the common tongue. The boy didn't much like consorting with real children. No doubt he'd be bullied or roped into embarassing games. Still, it was clear the girl was in a bad way.

"Ssh, its alright. Its alright." he hushed, holding up a reassuring hand and reaching slowly to tug her bindings loose. "I'm Ewan. I got taken too. Do you understand me?" He hoped she wouldn't scream or wail. Given the circumstances that was probably expecting far too much.

"T-taken? Oh...oh no." She mumbled, swapping to the common tongue rather easily. "I-I need...we need..." Cara continued, as she pushed the bindings off of her, still shaking. No, Cara was shaking more. Her fear and her panic was growing, if anything. "W-we need...we need...I need...I-I-I...f-father's going to...it's..."

Cara rubbed at her hands, glancing about the area, rapidly. No foliage, or rather, there was no foliage that would be useful to her. Perhaps an animal of some sort...? If there was some nearby, it was likely not going to bother helping her. After a while sorting through her options on her own, she finally spoke to Ewan, looking back to him. "I-I'm. Cara. I-I need...need to go...n-now."

"Go to the- oh. I don't want be here either," the girl was shaking like a leaf so he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder with some awkward hesitation. "Just- just be calm, okay?"

"Do you do magic? They said they're selling us to someone who wants magicians. We'll- we'll escape. Don't worry. Got to run when they're not looking. Maybe when they're handing us over. Alright?"

The walls of Zantaric loomed ahead, shabby and wooden. The few torches there were did little to dispell the gloom over the winter sky. A pair of guardsmen stepped forward to converse in hushed tones with the Crooked Wizard.

"I-I-I...I. Okay. Okay, then." She mumbled, staring out at the town. She curled up, slightly, glaring at it. It was a look of unimaginable hatred. Hatred for the city. Hatred for civilisation. "I don't...I don't do magic. Stupid. Humans. Wait-" Cara paused, realising the implication. "...you do magic? What magic?!" She said, peeking out over to Ewan, eyes wide, waiting for an explanation.

The pair of children were evidently talking too loud because the Fat Coachman wheeled about and banged a meaty fist on the bars. "Quiet!" he snarled before returning to his work.

Ewan's voice fell to a whisper and he gave her a small smile though it was hardly the time for jokes. "Well if you don't you could always tell them they got you by accident,

"And I'm an animancer. I mostly do spells and alchemicals that-" the boy spoke haughtily then paused, remembering his audience. "I do magic on people and animals mostly. Mend wounds. Keep them young and stuff. Even turn into animals, sometimes."

The gate-guards, likely sellswords in the employee of some Crime Prince, waved them through without so much as a second look at the wagon's cargo. The city was indeed ugly. Mud and detritus caked the streets and cramped huts and shanties were built over its once-impressive stonework. The caravan parted a crowd of beggars and wove its way through the streets toward a palatial, walled-off compound. Probably the home of whomever was specifically ordering very expensive enslaved wizards.

Cara pauses, frowning. "W-what?! Th-that's evil! Th-that's not normal!" She hisses out, enraged. Cara glances about, once more, apparently trying to think. The closer she got to civilisation, the further away she got from the wilds, the more useless her powers would be. Unless, of course, someone had an annoyed bear as a pet.

That was exceedingly unlikely. She couldn't count on that, no. Instead, Cara had a different idea.

She scooted over to the doors of the carriage, pausing for a moment before chirping out. "H-hello!" She didn't bother waiting for a response from her kidnappers. "Uh, I promise...if you let me go! You wont all die!"

This...was likely unexpected. And very odd behaviour. But Cara seemed overconfident, as if this was some sort of certainty.

Ewan cocked an eye at Cara, a little taken-a-back. Elves. He supposed elves and faeries didn't much care for humans using magic. Hopefully she'd not make his escape any harder. But then she did.

"Ssh! I can't do a thing to them!" Was she talking about him? The boy rushed forward in an effort to tug her back as she began taunting and threatening their captors.

The Crooked Wizard turned to her, sneering. "Unless you want a lashing girl, you'll hold your tongue. Behave for Lady Selwin and things'll go nice. Act like a little shit and it will be not so nice."

A set of wrought iron gates swung open allowing them into a courtyard. It was nicer than the rest of Zantaric. The stonework was old but artfully carved, and a pair of fountains carved to resemble a dragon and maiden flanked them on either side. It was rife with foliage. The trees were twisted and fearsome in their wintered state, but would surely blossom in spring. Walls. Guards everywhere. Just how were they going to escape?

Cara sighs, slightly, as she is pulled back. She slowly reached up to the wooden orb that replaced her eye, covering it. "At least there's plants..." She muttered, that apparently being the only respite she could find. "Don't worry, Ewan! We'll be fine!" She chimed out, completely and utterly oblivious to the bad things that could happen.

Cara turned to Ewan, rubbing her not-eye. She did so purposefully. Sneakily. There was a reason to that, because now it was glowing a vibrant, burning, hateful green. She did this to show Ewan, but Cara was just a child and no matter how smart she may think her plans, she may have slipped up. Hopefully, though, none of her captors will have noticed this.

Hopefully. It wasn't very likely. But, still, fate liked to vex people.

"That's natural?" the boy hissed at Cara. Now wasn't the time to pick a fight, though Ewan couldn't help himself. Cara seemed liable to answer yes. Whatever magic she planned to work looked potent; moreso than his,"Just what are you planning?"

Ewan gave Cara an uncertain look. He'd be following her lead now... whatever it was.

Through the bars he could see the Crooked Wizard and the Scarred Huntsman chatting with a woman. She was dressed as an aristocrat, young and delicate but with the command and bearing of someone older. Likely the Lady Selwin.

The wagon came to a stop. The Fat Coachman slid from his seat with a grunt and began fumbling with the lock. "Nice and easy you two. Lady Selwin wants a look at ya. Things go well we'll have ya marked, hand ya over, and walk away with a sack of gold." The man beckoned them impatiently.

"Yes, it's natural! Father made it for me." Cara answered, predictably. She was rather predictable, at times. Cara paused, before pulling her hand back, grabbing at the orb and plucking it out of her eye, leaving a gaping socket where there was once a wooden orb. She carefully held the orb, before slowly beginning to pull it apart. It came apart like dough would, splitting into two, both illuminated. She made sure to do this quickly, carefully. Out of sight. She stuffed one half of the orb into her pocket, and the other one in a corner of the wagon and carefully going to dull the glow. It was still there, aye, showing that there was some lingering magic within it, but it was dull enough to only be barely visible. Hopefully it wouldn't be noticed.

She scooted over towards the door, rubbing at her empty socket to bring attention to it. It would be nice if she could get a glass replacement, but if not, she could make a new one later. It was no bother to her.

She glanced at Ewan, as she waited. Her confidence was fading. Cara was growing nervous again.

Ewan suppressed a grimace as she plucked the wooden eye out. Probably a good story behind it. What exactly did she mean to do with the thing? The boy hadn't time to ask her. The Fat Coachman rattled the cage, "C'mon! And stand up straight!"

Ewan crawled toward the edge of the cage and leapt down. It felt good to stand after being cramped in there for nearly half a week. He offered Cara a hand and looked about the courtyard. It was about thirty yards to the garden gate. A sleepy sellsword was minding it and it would take at least a minute to swing the big doors shut. They could outrun the fat man, but what about the hunter? His mind was racing as he looked around the courtyard. They might need to find another time to escape...

The Fat Coachman ushered them forward, and Lady Selwin approached to inspect the pair.

"Quite the little darlings. They'll do nicely. Both gifted I trust? Yes, I can feel it." She gave them a discerning glance, covering her mouth in shock at the sight of Cara "Oh your poor little eye! What happened to it, dear? My servants haven't been rough with you I hope?"

"They have! What do you w-" Ewan huffed at her, cut short as the coachman jabbed him in the back. "Hey!"

Cara stumbled out of the coach, grabbing at Ewan's hand. She glanced back at the coach, looking at the chunk of her former eye. She grinned, to herself. She was escorted by her captors, along with Ewan, to this 'Lady' she had heard so much about.

Cara gazed up to the Lady Selwin, nodding. "Y-ye! They took o-" Cara was jabbed, too. "O-ow...Vkoxll uflg klba gnytomt..." She mumbled, spitefully. "C-can I get a glass eye?" She asked, not truly wanting a proper eye. No, she needed to replace the wooden one. She had to. But, she needn't inform anyone of that. The less they knew about her, the better.

Cara stuffed her hands into her coat's pockets, feeling the chunk of the wooden orb. It was still there. Good. She couldn't lose it. It had to remain. After a while, she fell silent, staring up, and waiting. Rather frequently, she looked about, examining any foliage nearby.

"Din't put her out, m'lady, would be bandaged if we had!" the Fat Coachman sputtered indignantly nearly cutting the girl off.

Lady Selwin looked to the girl and offered a warm smile, or something close to it, little about her was warm despite the red. "A glass eye? Why I could give you a brand new eye my little pet. Would you like that?"

Ewan shuffles impatently. He didn't like all this waiting and they may have to wait a little longer to escape by the look of it. The boy gave Cara  reassuring glance as much for himself as for her, "What exactly would you be wanting with us Miss- uh, Lady Selwin?"

"Oh this estate is a terribly dreary affair! I siply decided I would take in some wayward urchins give life to the place. Give you warm beds, chores to build your character, and the run of my lovely garden."

The boy folded her arms and gave her a dubious look, "Near twice as old as I look and I don't need any of those things. And there's plenty of orphans running around Zantaric."

"Oh. There was something specific I wanted in exchange for my kindness. I am sadly not so gifted in the arcane as you and your little friend. Its a pair of familiars I need, you see..." and with that she murmured a phrase in some forgotten eldritch tongue. Ewan and Cara both felt a searing pain  just above the nape of the neck. It appeared to be some kind of brand, an 'S' in the fae alphabet. Beyond that the boy felt funny... like a muscle had gone to sleep. His magic was gone. All of it. No binding of wounds or turning into an animal.

"I don't want a new eye! It'd be stu-" Cara realised nobody was paying attention to her, the two prattling on and on about...something? "What's an arcane...?" "I'm not an orphan! I've got father!" "Who's Zanteik?" We're some of the questions she would field, never expecting them to be answered. Not truly, anyway.

Cara toyed with the wooden orb in her pocket. It was her main comfort. She knew what it could do. Soon enough, aye, soon enough...

For a vast majority of the conversation she was uncaring, however there was one part that made hr eye light up, and made her look more excited than what seemed humanl-uh...elvishly...possible.

"A garden! I wanna see the garden, lemme go see the garden!" She chirped out, like a bird.

Her small cries for a visit to the garden, were interrupted. By a pain of burning, biting into her neck.

It caused Cara to collapse to her knees, rasping and wheezing. Her mind was not prepared. The plants were silent. The trees were silent. She no longer felt the presence of the fragments of the orb, its silent humming now gone from her senses. She couldn't even make a flower.bloom.

Inexplicably, Cara began to cry, her empty socket filling with her tears.

This was hardly going well. "What- what did you do? And maybe we'd even just help you if you'd asked!" the boy's voice grew shrill with worry.

"Should keep your magic tucked away where its safe, little man. I've no desire to see you become a wolf to eat me, or turn my garden carnivorous. No. Though I suppose I can do those things now if I pleased. Lady Selwin turned to Cara and gave her a smile. It was meant to be kind and reassuring though the sorceress was in short supply of such things. "Oh, don't fret. The mark won't be sore much longer. And oh, my garden's all around you! You should see it blossom in spring; you'll just adore it.

"Now come along, children. We'll find you a suitable room after I've rewarded my three gallant huntsman..." Lady Selwin beckoned Ewan and Cara to follow, stopping to press a ring, a necklace, and bracelet into the hands of their captors.

Ewan gave Cara's arm a hesitant squeeze as she began to weep, probably for his own reassurance as well as her's. "Are you okay? And... and what about...?" he hissed, thrusting his head briefly toward the carriage. She had pulled part of her strange wooden eye out and left it. Would that still work?

"It's...hurting me..." Cara whispered, reaching up to Ewan and trying to pull herself up and lean on him. She couldn't walk. She couldn't move. "I-it hurts...it hurts..." She mumbled, suddenly so weak and frail. She felt as if her entire body had all of its blood siphoned out of it. She felt as if she had been disembowelled and dumped on the side of the road. She felt as if her soul had been ripped out of her body, leaving her an empty husk.

It was true, in a sense. Cara was an empty husk. Not of the soul, thankfully.

"Get it off..." She begged, unable to raise her voice larger than a hushed mumble, clawing at the mark. "Get-get it...get it off...it needs...off...I need...it back...or I'll die..." This statement seemed to be true, judging by how suddenly and how harshly she had deteriorated. Or, perhaps it was an elaborate ploy.

Regardless, Cara ran her hands along the shard of her false eye, still crying weakly. She just needed to survive long enough, then it would all work out. Right? It had to.

Ewan helped tug Cara to her feet and glared at Lady Selwin, who covered her mouth in mock shock. "There, there, it won't be all bad. Little elves tend to take to it poorly but you'll manage. You don't really need all that magic to live."

And with that the sorceress clapped her hands and a nasty little imp scurried from the front door. He stood roughly two feet tall with mottled green skin, pointy ears, and a whip-like-tail. The daemon adorned himself in a green waist-coat; unusually dapper. "These the new ones, huh? You can call me Thistle! Come along, I'll get you situated. But first, your names!"

"Ewan..." the boy sighed heavily.

"And this one? Who are you? Can you keep her from sniffling? Don't want to be scrubbing snot from the drapes," Thistle squinted at Cara, prodding her with a claw, nudging them both into the manner.

Meanwhile the caged-carriage was loaded up and took off, Lady Selwin bidding the slave-catchers a farewell.

Cara rasped, weakly, looking up to the Lady. She didn't believe her. Cara knew she was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die. She KNEW it to be true.

Cara blinked, as a horrible, unholy monster left the mansion. She knew she was in over her head now. Drained of all her power, in a place where she didn't know, without her eye to use since it was already doing...something else. Cara needed something. Anything. At the very least, she had a friend.

"Ewan...don't...don't let them...hurt me...please...g-get it off..." She begged, unable to comprehend that Ewan couldn't really help her. Probably because she was so tired, so drained. "I-I don't...w-want to die...sh-she's killing me..." She mumbled, as she stumbled after the creature.

"Just- just try and be brave, okay? You're not gonna die. We'll get out of this..." Ewan tugged Cara along, feeling helpless himself, as the imp shepherded the pair into the estate. The pair found themselves in a massive greathall complete with marble columns and a chckered floor. It was empty save for a court of statues: faeries and daemons all all clutching braziers. "We'll go over yer duties and the house rules tomorrow. But for now, we'll set you to bed. Don't know why you're both groggy; done nothing but lay about in that wagon I reckon."

"We'd be more agreeable if your sellswords weren't so rough and we didn't have an ugly little goblin barking orders!" Ewan murmured sulkily.

The imp whirled and waggled a finger at the boy, who suddenly yelped, feeling something pinch his back. "Got a smart mouth!" Thistle sneered, turning to Cara, "And you! Had enough of your wailing. Could be lots worse you know! Got a warm bed here. Where were you before? Wandering the woods? Pfah!"

The trio turned down a corridor and into a library. It was a dark and dreary, lit only by moonlight, and filled with three stories of books and taxidermied beasts the likes of which they'd never seen (tigers and dragons from Kishahn). Thistle lead them to the third floor of the estate and turned down a cramped and dusty corridor.

Cara whimpered, nodding to Ewan. "W-w-we...just g-gotta wait..." She whispered, barely audible. "H-he'll come...s-save us." She stumbled after Ewan, wearily, glancing about the glorious hall, with opulent marble columns, and statues of eldritch entities.

Cara was decidedly unimpressed.

The girl slowly turned to the imp, as it yelled at her. She stared at it, wearily, unable to truly figure out what it was on about. Was wandering the woods a bad thing? No. It decidedly was not. In Cara's honest opinion (and she was absolutely unbiased) wandering the woods was decidedly the best thing one could be doing.

"H-how'd...the e-evil...d-demon...kn-know that?" Cara asked, to Ewan, legitimately confused.

Cara staggered on after the demon, glancing about the library. Now, this was slightly more interesting to her. She didn't understand taxidermy, not at all, so it was likely no surprise when she whispered. "W-why's the t-tiger and giuorv not attacking us...?" to Ewan, truly and totally befuddled.

As the two entered the corridor, Cara mumbled, pleading. "L-lemme go...pl-please...you wont die...i-if you lemme go..." She said, trying to convince Thistle the same way she had tried to convince the bandits.

"Daemons and faeries and things can look at your soul, I suppose. Or him and that ugly hunter had words.

"And the tiger's dead. They stuffed with cotton and wool to make it look live," Ewan replied, giving her a cockeyed look. "Though I suppose elves don't that."

The little imp rolled his eyes at her remark, "Don't think you'll be magicking me to death anytime soon. Whatever power you had is the Lady's. Now you'd best behave unless you wanna spend your time here as a mouse!"

Ewan glowered at the imp, "She's just scared. We'll be good or whatever you like; get on with it." The boy gave Cara a look and trudged on.

The trio wound down a maze of corridors in the attic. It was filled with the art-wok and furniture of dozens of strange peoples. They passed a mirror which showed the two children, but not the daemon, as animals (Ewan some kind of ape; Cara a lamb); a broken and limbless statue which greeted them cheerfully; and a bird-cage holding a sleep pixie. Finally they reached a door at the end of a corridor.

Thistle nudged it open revealing a tiny room, barely a closet. There were tiny beds on either side of the room and a little desk with a candle. The floor was littered with a pair of wooden swords, a raggedy looking doll, and a checker set; children clearly resided here before but where were they now? Moonlight filtered in through a tiny window. Thistle lazily ushered them inside, "Whelp! Best get some shut-eye. Don't go creeping around at night. If I don't get you, the cat will. Any questions?"

Cara followed, unable to do anything else, really. "...mice are nice." She mumbled, mostly to Ewan, at the threat of being turned into a mouse. "They're squeaky and tell good jokes..." She said, a little more oddly.

As the girl followed the group, she looked at the things she passed. Mostly, it was a mixture of confusion at the things she had seen before. When she saw the art and furniture, she was, again, decidedly unimpressed. As she saw the mirror, she thought they were real animals, trying to speak with them, but growing distressed as they didn't follow. Cara greeted the living statue rather benignly, as if it wasn't even that surprising.

Cara glanced about the room. Her look was one of true and total hatred, a look a child should never really have. "...I-I don't...w-w-wanna...be in here..." She said, to the imp. "I-I wanna go home. When can I go home...?" She asked, rubbing at her eye, sniffling. It looked like she was going to begin crying again.

Thistle tisked and turned away; with a snap of the imp's fingers the door creaked shut.

"I know. She's keeping us here with magic, though. We'll have to look for a way to undo... whatever she did." Ewan sighed and scurried over to the window, squinting out at the lights of the city. Her desperation wasn't helping his own mood; she could use some cheering.

"So you can talk to animals? What... where did you live before all this?" he changed the subject, trying to smile.

Cara nodded, slightly, looking about the area. She fixed her eyes to the doll. "A-a...vessel..." She mumbled, before disregarding it. She hadn't the power, unless she drained her eye.

Her eye!

She stuffed her hand in her pocket, nodding to Ewan, again. "I-I can talk to a-animals...and plants...too. I...I lived in the forest." She said, shakily. It was calming her, though. She took the chunk of the orb out of her pocket. She had successfully smuggled it in, and it still hummed with power. It was still working.

"...I-I could...drain this. B-but...then he w-wouldn't know where I was..." She said, to Ewan, as if he'd understand.

"What forest did you live in? And this was with your parents?

"When I was a grown up - an adult - I used to live in Ravensway on a big estate. That's near the Draconi Forest. Left home to find stuff for stuff to improve my rejuvenation spell until I got caught... turning into a kid ate some of my grown-up memories," the boy frowned, blushing.

Ewan squinted at Cara. She had something up her sleeve, but he was sure elven children, like their human counterparts, were not renowned planner and tacticians.

"Drain it to get your magic back? Do you think you could undo her spell if you did? And whose looking for you? Your dad? And how'd you lose your eye anyway?" questions spat out of his mouth one after the other in a hushed whisper; she couldn't possibly answer them all.

"...I can't live without my magic...I'm going to die." She said, to Ewan. "...if I drain it...it'll only keep me...alive...for a little while longer. Father is looking for me, now. He'll kill everyone just to get me...it wont be pretty...oh, and he took out my eye when I was little!"

Cara took out the chunk of the orb, rubbing at her empty socket with her free hand. "It...it is calling him. He'll be here, eventually. B-but it could take days...I don't want to be here for days and days with evil demons and an evil woman." She turned her one-eyed gaze to Ewan, now asking him a question.

"Can you get your magic back?"

The boy held out and hand and whispered an old faerie phrase, "od pukha!" Nothing happened. He tried gain and failed, clenching his fist in frustration. "I suppose I'm just a regular boy now. Or I'd be a giant wolf."

The boy leaned forward and knit his brow. If they held out long enough her father, who at the very least was in the business of making otherworldly wooden eyes, might be able to match the witch. Even if he failed it might be enough for Ewan to escape. But would Cara last that long? It was so tempting... be he couldn't let her risk it. Could he?

"If you think you're going to die you'd ought to drain it. We'll just have to find another way out of here," he gave a reassuring smile and a heavy sigh. "Just why did he... did he do that to you anyway? Was your old eye hurt?"

Her "Father" sounded like no elf Ewan was aware of...

"Well, he made it so...so I had a source...of power...in case it was stolen. And so I had...something to cast upon...if I was in the city. He had one, once, as well. So did his father. And his father. And his father. And his father.

I-I'm g-gonna die...I need my magic back..." She said, looking down at her hands in utter fear and revilement. She focused on the shard of magical wood, as if it could save her.

Mainly because it could save her.

"...but...but...if I l-let it...re-remain...father will come...and save us." She whispered, to Ewan. It seemed it was a very, very, very tough decision for her to make. "...b-but if I drain it...I c-could cast...s-some minor sp-spells...or live longer..."

"...I hate this place."

"But if you're gonna die without it you have to do it!" Ewan pointed to the eye, "Please? We'll find another way to escape.

"And I don't like it either. But we'll find a way to escape, alright?" a yawn escaped the boy's mouth and he looked to the soft bed "Its been awful stuck in that cage for days and days. Just a little sleep then we'll go, okay?"

Ewan looked at the nearby changing screen, then wandered over to one of the dressers. He yanked forth a billowy nightdress and frowned at the frills, stuffing it back into the drawer before moving on in search of something more masculine... or at least meant for a boy.

Cara hesitated. She paused a long, long, long while.

Then, she had an epiphany.

"...I'll just drain some of it."

That would be a smart idea. "Drain...drain most of it. And leave a little bit of it...that we he can find us...but it'll take longer." Cara grinned, weakly. It was a brilliant idea, in fact! She gripped the shard in her hand, focusing for a moment, before sapping out a chunk of the power. She seemed stronger. Better. More prominent. Less tired.

And, best of all, she wasn't slowly dying!

She pocketed the wooden shard, going to wander over to Ewan and the dressers. She seemed perplexed by them, as if they're some sort of ancient artefact from a dead civilisation.

"Wha's this?" She asked, going to open one of them.

"Well if you're sure you'll be safe," Ewan mumbled hesitantly. Was it an elf thing? If the girl was missing an eye was she held together by magic?

In her dresser Cara found some night-gowns, along with dresses and stockings. They were finely embroidered with lace and frills, but no doubt tight and itchy beneath their pretty veneer. Ewan wrinkled his nose a the collection of starchy shirts and short-pants he found.

The boy turned to her with a teasing smirk. "Clothes. Like the coat you've got on? Don't tell me you've only ever wore that your life?"

"Ewww..." She responded, scrunching her face up at the clothing. It seemed she didn't like these clothes at all. "These are stupid. My coat is better! So are my boots. So is everything I've got." She said, voicing her opinion confidently.

Cara then glanced at Ewan, a frown crossing her face. "Coats are good. More people should wear them. I just want one my size." She then glanced at the horrid clothing. "Do they expect us to wear these? These are stupid. I'm not gonna wear them."

"And I'm sure your coat's nicer. But I bet it could use a wash," Ewan stuck his tongue out.

"And thee are what children on estates are meant to wear. They're meant to look pretty, not be comfy." Ewan fished a puffy nightshirt from his drawer and dragged it behind the changing screen with a sigh. "This one's for sleeping in."

A few moments later he tossed a balled up tunic and trousers onto the floor, and emerged dressed in the billowy nightdress. Between that, his long wild hair, and slim frame he looked decided girlish. "Well... I guess we're sleeping here. Where are you gonna put that eye?"

"'s...not an eye. It's a shard. It's not big enough to be a whole one...I could make another...I just need a tree..." Cara's mumbled, to Ewan. "...these clothes aren't nice. I'm not wearing them." Cara proclaimed, glancing about the area.

She was rather annoyed, it seemed, if not entirely angry and fearful.

Indeed, it seemed she was quite hateful. Quite angry with this predicament. "...I don't wanna sleep in a stupid city building! I've never slept in a stupid city building! Don't make me!" She cried out, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Still you'd ought to hide it if there's magic left.

"And I know you don't. But they're just going to find us again with these marks" Ewan bristled a little; she was becoming petulant. But what else is expected of an elf raised in some magical forest?

The boy slid from his bed to the floor, wincing at the dust it kicked up. "Well if you can't sleep. Do you want to tell stories or play a game or something?" His eyes darted to the chessboard. Might keep her mind off things.

"...I-I don't...o-okay. O-okay..." Cara nodded, slowly. She followed Ewan's gaze, fixing on the chessboard. It almost immediately distracted her, thankfully, wandering over to it. "...what's this?" She asked, moving to poke it with wide eyes, as if it'd make some sort of movement, or have some sort of reaction when touched.

"...is this some sort of..."

Cara attempted to run through her mind, hunting for anything she could compare this to.

She found nothing.

Ewan gathered up the crude wooden chess pieces and lined them up on the board. Cara was black and he was white. And then the boy began a long-winded and officious explanation of the game, "This is called chess. When one piece moves on top of another piece it captures it. Different pieces move different ways. What you want is to capture these ones here. These with the crowns are the Kings. And this one here moves like an 'L' and this one moves diagonal and..."

He showed Cara how to slide a pawn forward, though it hardly seemed the sort of game she'd like. But, he wasn't going to dignify the 'toys' in the room with any attention. In the back of his mind he wondered where the attic room's previous occupant had gone.

"...okay." Cara said, nodding all the while. She seemed to only be paying vague attention, being more interested in literally everything else. Though, especially in the wooden dolls. They were of a certain note to her, apparaently.

Cara continued to nod, until after the exolaination had ended. She watched Ewan intently, before slowly reaching over to the queen. "So this one moves anywhere?" She would ask. Without waiting for an answer, she would pick it up and going to place it next to his king.

"I win. Why didn't you do that?"

Ewan would've laughed if he hadn't spent five minutes explaining the rules and spent three days locked in a cage. Instead he scowled and pouted, "Because! The queen can't jump over them. Only these horses can jump. This pawn is blocking her. And that one too. See?" He plucked her queen from the board, straightened his King, and emphatically slammed her's back into place with a sigh.

"Well, what did you and your father do for fun in the woods?"

The trunk by the window held a pair of intricately carved dolls with an assortment of combs and lace dresses to match, painted soldiers, wooden swords, a leather ball, a stuffed bear, and many other wonders surely new to the forest child.

"Well, he mostly taught me how to not kill things by accident with my magic. I played with the golems more than anything though." Cara explained, oblivious to Ewan and his anger. The girl wandered over to the chest, going to take a wooden sword, "And this!" She said, as if that helped explain things to him.

She weighed the weapon in her hand, watching it. Then, a massive realisation began to dawn on her, a grin crossing her face as she stared at the weapon in awe.

"Golems? Like made from trees?" Ewan cocked his head as she spoke. The girl had a very unusual idea of what was natural and what was not. But then again she had quite the unusual upbringing. Either way the chess wasn't going well so he followed her to the window.

"He taught you swords too? Though I guess elves have lots of time to learn, huh? I used to fight a little when I was a grown-up, you know," the boy gave her a shy smile and picked up the other wooden sword, feeling a hair self-conscious. He hadn't dueled seriously in years and he usually cheated with magic whenever he picked up a sword. Still, he'd just be pretending to lose to her anyway. Whole point of the affair was to lift her spirits.

He clutched the weapon and took a few paces back, "Wanna try?"

"They're made of wood and screams." Cara replied to Ewan, benignly, as if that statement needed no further explanation or indulgence. She nodded to Ewan, not paying attention as she turned around to prepare to fight. As he asked, she nodded, before her eye widened and an odd look went about her face.

"You were a grown up?" She asked, surprised. Confusion then crossed her look, it seemed she was going to get increasingly more confused if this wasn't elaborated on.

"Well I used to be a grown up - an adult. I was trying to do a make a new spell so people wouldn't get old and grey. But since I wasn't so old to begin with it made me a kid when I tried," he blushed with embarrassment as she pressed him. "Elves don't have to worry about that I guess.

"En garde!" the boy lifted the wooden sword and stepped forward, swinging it in clumsy arcs. If he'd ever been good at swordfighting it didn't show, and the girl had a few inches on him to boot.

Cara frowned. "Okay..." she mumbled at Ewan's explanation, not sure of what to think about it. After he had explained she nodded, before going to step forwards and join him in the fighting.

She would go to slide PSAT Ewan, before moving to send a punch at him. Not a sword swing, just a regular old punch.

"Ow! That's not fair!" Ewan yelped and danced back with a scowl. It hurt. He rubbed his shoulder and got back into position.  Maybe he should actually try this time? She was bigger after all. The boy raised up the wooden sword, moving cautiously, though his grip was certainly weak.

"What sots of magic does and doesn't your Father allow, anyway? Would I make him unhappy?"

"How's it not fair?" Cara asked, with legitimate and honest curiosity. She saw nothing wrong with her attack, or it seemed that way. Cara continued to stalk around Ewan, tilting her head to think at his question.

"No necromancy, demons, or fire!" Cara proclaims, after Ewan's questions.

The boy screwed up his face, getting more worked up than he'd ought to "Well I don't know. I suppose its not. Just wasn't expecting it because its swords!" Then he jumped forward with an exaggerated chop.

"So he won't be cross with me when he comes? Didn't seem too pleased when I said I could turn into squirrels and birds." For the moment it was easy to forget they were held captive in a witch's attic.

Cara was not quick enough, being struck about the head and falling or he ground with a cry. "Ooowww..." she mumbled, rubbing her head, looking to Ewan and blinking rapidly.

"I don't think he'll kill you. He will probably kill the lady very badly. She will be hurting forever." She replied, with a wide grin. Her lack of an eye, and general cheeriness about this whole situation would be rather concerning to some.

"Sorry!" here was a loud bang as Cara hit the floor and Ewan dropped the wooden sword in shock. He hadn't meant to do that, and he suddenly remembered where they were, and how drawing the attention of Lad Selwin and her lackey would be a horrible thing. There was something unsettling about her gleeful love of violence; it seemed more a matter of entertainment than anger. It made him sad. The boy reached down and offered her a hand.

"Are you okay? Maybe we should sleep. You gave me a lot of bruises," he cracked a small smile and rubbed his arm ruefully. "I think there's a dress like this for you, too. If you want. Its not itchy."

Ewan crept toward his bed on the right, stopping to blow out the drippy candle. A full moon thown through the window.

"I'll never wear one of their stupid dresses." Cara responded, as she pulled hereslf up with Ewan's aid. "And you didn't hurt me! We played games like that all the time back at home..." She mumbled, a sad smile crossing her face.

The child paused, before going to slowly move over to her bed, and crawl into it. She would stare out, in dead silence, thinking about what could be done, about how they could escape.

"I hate this place. I hope all the things in here who aren't us die."

"I know..." he whispered back sadly. "We'll find a way to 'scape. Tomorrow maybe. Or your Father will come. But you oughtn't say that. She's probably grabbed other kids or mages before us and maybe they're still about.

"Does... does your father usually kill people?" the boy asked as though they were telling ghost stories. Part of him knew he should cheer her up, but curiosity got the better of him. Was she better off with this creature?

Fatigue began to get the better of Ewan. The sheets were scratchy and threadbare but preferible to the cold night eye. He didn't notice a red eye glower, ever so briefly, at them through the keyhole.

"Ye! He gets all the things that hurt nature!" Cara responded, rather benignly. She didn't seem to be particularly worried by the fact her father killed things, or was implied to do so. "Why? Is that a bad thing?" She asked, genuinely curious.

After a brief pause, she found herself settling into the bed. She wasn't used to beds like the one she was lying in now, and found herself getting rather comfortable in a rather short amount of time.

"So humans making fires and chopping trees, though not lightning and beavers?" Ewan cocked his head to the side. He wondered if there was much use in debating morality with nine-year-old.

"Goodnight Cara. And- um, don't be frightened. Alright?" the boy stifled a yawn, staring up at the ceiling. It didn't seem they'd be killed, eaten, or sacrificed so much as left to do housework and live in an attic. Still, he felt a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach as he drifted off.

It was ten in the evening by now, and it would be six by the time a servant came to wake them...

Cara replied, rather bluntly. "Lightning is normal. Beavers are normal. Humans cutting a few trees is normal. Fire...I don't know. I've always hated it. It doesn't make sense. But when a person cuts all the trees they're being bad and need to learn a lesson!"

She then replied to Ewan's request. "I-I...okay. I hate this place." She mumbled, again reinforcing her opinion on what they were stuck doing.

When the servant came to awaken them, Cara was already beginning to wake up. She was used to getting up at dawn, and sleeping at dusk, but the fact she had gone to bed far later than normal meant she was being quite slow in her awakening.

The winter sun cast a pale light in over the room as it rose. It was, most assuredly, the sort of gloomy day that made you want to burrow beneath the blankets and never get up. Ewan tossed and turned, trying to ignroe his bladder, when a series of boming knocks battered their door which then swung open. The little imp was back, pointy teeth worked into a horrid grin.

"Best get up and about, little mites. Lady Selwin's expects you at breakfast. Oh yes. Scrubbed and smiling. Washbasin's across the hall. Report to the library stairs when you're done. Any questions? No? Good!"

Ewan stared at Thistle in silent contempt. Not moving.

"Up!" the imp snapped his fingers, and the boy yelped as he mark flared. Thistle turned his attention to Cara. "Ah. You've been awake since dawn girl. I like that. Not a layabout."

"It's cause the dawn is the time people get up. Because of the light. If you remain asleep too long you may also get eaten by a bear or something..." she explained, to Thistle, a vague incoherence about her. "When can I leave?" She asked, simply. "...oh, also. I have a name. It's Cara and you should call me by it!"

She then paused, again, before going to ask another question. "Do you have a garden? Can I go there...?" She asked, a slyness creeping into her voice. She was planning something. Words, still, was that she wasn't a particularly skilled liar. Were the devil not to be paying attention, perhaps she would go unnoticed. Or, he may not care. Regardless, she asked her question, waiting for an answer.

(Been a busy week. Apologies!)

"Cara and Ewan and Ewan and Cara, yes, yes, I know. And I am Master Thistle. Mind you, the Lady can rename you if she so pleases." the imp uttered a snort of amusement at Cara's babbling, squinting at the girl like she was some rare bird. "You'll have breakfast with Lady Selwin first. She wishes to be amused. After that I'd a mind to make the boy clear the garden and you dust the library... but such enthusiasm!

"I'm sure he could use your help eh? Such a scrawny little thing he is!" the imp gave a toothy smile and stalked down the hall to await them at the stairs.

"Hope your Father kills him first. Ugh! Let's get this over with." Ewan fumed and hopped out of bed. The water in the washroom across the hall was freezing but it woke him up. His wardrobe consisted of itchy shirts, stockings, short-pants which suspenders. The boy emerged blushing from the changing screen. "I look like a doll..."

The finrey in Cara's wardrobe was no doubt confusing to a forest elf. Stockings, Lace, frills and bows. Nothing she'd want to wear.

"Come along! You've five more minutes!" the shrill imp called out.

(It's ok)

She glared at the imp, as he spoke. It was clear, she had a total and complete hatred of him and was almost certainly going to do disregard everything he said once he left. After he left, Cara decided to voice her opinion.

"He's dumb. I'm not gonna cdust anything, that's stupid. Where would you get the dust?"

Cara decided the best thing to dow as mimic Ewan, going over to the wardrobe and looking into it. What she found was greatly confusing to her. She decided she hated that stuff, shoving it all back in roughly and pushing the wardrobe closed.

"I'm not wearing that.." she mumbled, mostly to hereslf. Hearing Thistle's call, she decided to disregard it, loitering in the bedroom, looking about it with a great intent.

The boy smiled at her remark but bit his tongue, "No. He wants you to wipe the dust and dirt off things. Things in old houses get covered in it.

"But he's going to be cross if you don't get dressed." Since when did he care so much about getting in trouble? It was a discomforting thought, "I mean... I didn't want to nag you I just... didn't want you to get hurt or nothing."

In the distance they heard the claw of hooves on floorboards. Thistle was coming. "Oy! I told you to hurry. What's taking you little mites so long?"

"I don't care. Demons are an unnatural aff-afro...afrrun...bad thing!" Cara got out, clearly mimicking something that someone else had said to her once. "And dust isn't a bad thing. It just shows something hasn't been used for a while." She continued.

Cara was adamant, simply remaining still. She would not be scared by the creature, she would not fear him. Demons were horrible, and evil, and against everything she had grown up around. And this was why she was acting as she was, remaining silent as she waited for Thistle to arrive.

"You gotta be patient and do what he says until-" the boy froze as the small, point eared figure appeared in the doorway.

"Until what? The Mistress gives you this lovely home, fine clothes, and a place at her table and you can't even be bothered to dress? Hrmph! You'll not be allowed out in the garden if you keep this up girl." The little imp twirled his fingers and the door to Cara's dress slid open. Various of articles of clothing slithered into the air, surrounding her and floating expectantly.

"Look! She'll dress herself. She just, uh, doesn't know-"

"She has a tongue and a brain hasn't she? I'll give you one last chance, deary." Thistle gave Cara a toothy smile.

"Your clothing is stupid and I don't want to. In fact, I don't want to be here-so let me go!" She yelled out again, shooting Thistle a glare of true and utter hatred.

She waited, then. She had nothing more to say, glaring at the demon with all the anger she could muster. Sooner or later, she'd be out of here, and she'd kill the demon and she would be free. Until then, Cara had no real chance of cooperating. At least, not on most requests.

"Doing this the hard way, eh? So be it!" the imp lazily waved his hands, almost like an orchestra conductor, and the the animated clothing lunged at Cara. They had surprising strength for disembodied garments. A a scarf tugged her rudely behind the changing screen; gloves tugged at her overcot and a lacy green dress came down over her head in an effort to blind and disorient the girl...

Truly horrifying!

"Hey!" Ewan snapped. The boy wished he could turn himself into a tiger, or swarm the imp with bees, or something! But he could not. Settling for the next best thing he kicked the imp squarely in the stomach. The imp recoiled in pain, seething.

"Hnh! If you won't behave, girl, I'll be takin' it out on your friend!" Thistle spoke an arcane phrase. An unseen force sent Ewan flying into the wall with a scream as motes of light swirled about the boy, changing him....

"NO!" Cara screamed and struggled and raged and failed. She pulled at the clothing, going to rip and tear it so that it'd be unusable. She fought with the fury of a wolf-

-a wolf pup, that is. Angry, but with no true effect.

However, Cara would not bend. Not for now, at least. She continued screaming, and raging, and cursing in a language neither of the two could understand. "L YUBH GQX! UCM! WZGH BCTOMTV! CYB PM IR!" So it seemed, she either didn't care about Ewan, or didn't think he'd suffer any truly dark fate.

Perhaps it was simply good craftsmanship, or the imp's magic held holding it all in place, but Cara found herself dressed in a matter of seconds. A satin bow cinched about her waist as a final touch.

"St-stop!" the boy felt a tickle as his thick hair bristled up from his skin, covering his whole body. He sneared in disgust, "Ch-change me back!" Ewan had changed into animals before... useful things like birds or tigers... but he was sure the imp had something much worse in mind!

"Keep misbehavin' and he'll be one of the Mistresses pets, yeah?" Thistle crossed his arms in satisfaction.

Ewan meanwhile gave Cara a sullen look. It was an awful position to put her in... though he didn't want to be devoured or left a freak all the same.

Cara blinked, staring down at the dress. She glared at it. She hated it. Then again, she hated a lot of things around her at this point in time.

She paused, for a moment, clenching her fists.

Then, she did something one would regard as foolish. Suicidal, even. But Cara was angry and she was vicious. She stepped forwards, with a grand intent, for a moment. Then, she stepped forwards again, before rushing over towards Thistle and going to pounce on the fiend. "XJYTHAU, XXFG, IZGDB!"

The little imp locked arms with Cara and the pair struggled. The little daemon was deceptively strong, but the girl certainly had size and torque in her favor. Thistle's strength was beginning to waver. The littl imp began to rattle off a rhyming verse... and once more Cara felt her clothes begin to ruffle and tighten. The dress began to strain against her, trying to drag her backwards with surprising force.

Ewan scurried forward to help but found his own garments betrayed him. "Nggh! Stop baiting her and she'll behave for you! We'll go to breakfast!"

The imp snarled, "Every object and every servant in this house... does... what... I... say!"

"DEMON, HELLSPAWN, VILE...THING!" Cara screeched, and without warning, went to attempt to fling Thistle at the wall. Her rage was palpable, her hate hung in the air like a vicious thing lashing out at everything around her.

Cara seemed to disregard Thistle, and his threat and the clothing itself fighting against her. "Let me go, let me go, die, die, die, die!"

"Hell? Pfah! I am a member in good standing of the Winter Court! A dear cousin to your little pixie friends. Someone's got to see dead leaves and old bones made into dirt, mm? You pretty elves have no appreciation for such things.

"And I can wait all morning if you'll not behave. But the Lady will be disappointed..." Arms folded the unseelie imp simply watched as the girl trashed about. It was clear, judging by gritted teeth, he was growing impatient.

Ewan stood with a scowl, unhappy about being so hairy, and even less so for the girl. It was only a matter of time before she got hurt and he wanted to make her understand. Even if the imp dare not hurt them the daemon clearly had other tricks which would surely be awful...

Cara seethed, continuing her raging and lashing out. In truth, though, Cara was unable to continue for ages, eventually settling into a low and vile hiss, breathing in and out in a slow and careful manner.  Her anger was present, filling the room and burning inside of her body. Of course, it was now even more worthless than before, as she had no more energy left to do anything with it.

"L-let...me...go...or you will...regret it. You'll be made...into a penitent..." She threatened, as if that was enough to sway him.

The animate garments did not yield. In fact, they began to clumsily frog-walk Cara toward the door. The imp simply snorted at her threat, "Of course, of course, of course. But you are looking tired, yeah? Why don't you just just say 'I'm sorry Mister Thistle. I will take breakfast with the Mistress' and I'll let you go."

The imp motioned for them to follow. Ewan tip-toed silently after him while the ever-resistant Cara was made to trudge after them at a snail's pace...

"You...are lying. You are lying." She repeated, her rage and hate going from a roaring and mighty flame to a dim flicker. Cara walked, and kept walking. It was not of her own volition, fighting as weakly as she could. "You're a...bad person. You will..regret this." She mumbled, quietly and distantly. She wasn't entirely there, likely too tired to even fully process what was going on.

"Ssh..." Ewan gave Cara's hand a reassuring squeeze as they trailed after the imp. Of course, his palm's were coarse and hairy. He itched horribly under the shirt. The pair were marched down from the attic full of forgotten wonders, through the library, and into the dining hall. It was a vast room with high ceilings, checkered floors, posh drapes, with a chandelier carved of dragonbone. Even the morning sun couldn't stop it from being dreary.

"My sincerest and deepest and humbling apologies, mistress!" Thistle gave a sweeping bow as he ushered the tired children into the room.

Lady Selwin sat in a high-backed chair, clutching a cup of tea. There were two place settings beside her. The red witch looked regal in spite of her lazy morning attire, "Thistle. Why is one of my little darlings covered in hair?"

"He turned me into one! He made trouble with Cara and hexed me to... turn against her!" Ewan blurted out indignantly.

"Well if they insist on being so uncivilized, he may as well look like a little monkey to match, mm?" Thistle gave a toothy smile. Ewan gave Cara a panicked look. This wasn't going to end well for him.

Lady Selwin held up a hand and trained her gaze on Cara and beckoned her forward. The girl found the spell had faded from her clothing. She was free to move. "Now, now, don't fret. I'm certain Mister Thistle understands how frightening this must be. Those men were rough with you weren't they?

"Why don't you come sit and I'll change your friend back, mm?"

The ape-boy's mouth hung agape. Was this a trick?

Cara stumbled into the dining hall, struggling and fighting all the while. "L-let me go! Gvgwq! Jgdjn! Awcrlu wcu!" She yelled out, at Thistle. Slowly, she turned her head to stare at the room. The dragonbone, and the drapes and even the checked floors were all strange to her. She took it all in, though it didn't stop her struggling, not until Selwin had acted.

Cara staggered forwards, after the spell vanished. She stared at Selwin, as she spoke, narrowing her eye. There was a fierceness and a wildness within her eye, though despite that, she wandered over towards Selwin. Carefully. There was fear and fierceness within her, like a cornered animal.

"Be nice. Please..." Ewan barely whispered as he toddled after Cara. As they neared Lady Selwin the sorceress gave a simple wave and a pair of high-back, embroidered chairs slid out on command. Ewan scrambled atop one and it crawled back beneath the table. Bread, an apple, and a cup of tea was set for the boy. His stomach 'was' growling.

"Its Ewan and Cara, yes? I am sorry those men frightened you. But now that you're mine I'll make sure you're treated with the utmost care," the red woman gave a smile but it was hardly warm. She was icy and regal. "I bought you both for your magic. I'll be borrowing it from you for some time. Surely you've heard stories of witches who keep cats and imps and dragons as their familiar beasts, yes? It will be just like that.

"I'll keep you fed and warm. You'll have the run of the house and garden, of course, though I will need you to do as Mister Thistle says sometimes. Can you do that?"

Ewan crossed his arms. "Ya know we could teach you the spells we know if you asked. We don't need to be slaves -- and can you change me back?"

"I don't see Cara with any magic books, do you, child? No. I'm afraid this is how it has to be." Lady Selwin fixed her gaze on Cara and beckoned her to sit. "Perhaps if you both apologized for the rucus I might turn Ewan back. Perhaps you'd like to tend my garden, Cara? The magic you've given me will make it bloom you know. And I'm certain suitable chores for the boy could be found..."

Slowly, wearily, and most importantly, preapredly, Cara went to sit on the chair. It was odd, and opulent, and far better than any chair she had ever sat in before.

Suffice to say, like everything else in this place, she hated it.

Cara looked to Selwin, shooting her an evil eye. "..." She said nothing. Cara placed her hands upon the table, tapping it over and over again. She was nervous, or scheming, or angry. But, what was far more likely, it was all three. She glared and glared and glared as Selwin spoke, occasionally glancing to Ewan when he was mentioned, or when he spoke.

The girl paused, for a moment, as Selwin finished speaking, making her offer clear; and convincing. But...not convincing enough. However, instead of outright denying her, or yelling, or doing anything so overtly aggressive, Cara simply sat and said nothing at all.

"I understand you must be feeling frightened, Cara. I think some time in the garden after breakfast might lift your spirits. But how might we get you feeling better? Hm?" the red sorceress leaned forward, green eyes fixed on the quiet girl, trying to coax something from her.

"And you both may eat."

Ewan picked up the apple and took a noisy bite almost immediately. It had been over a day since he had a proper meal. Something in the very back of his mind thought better of doing it without his host's permission. Being a captive audience didn't put him much in the mood for conversation either.

As was her nature, Cara took a long pause before speaking once more. "Give me back my powers!" Her exclamation wasn't exactly riveting, nor convincing, but it'd have to do. Cara stared at her food, grumpily, at least for a moment. Then she shot her gaze back to Selwin, yelling at her accusingly. "You stole it! You gotta give me back my powers or you're gonna regret it

"Bfo'to jg d gyvlbgqk mwrv gqfook..." She mumbled, quietly and after the fact.

"I would remember, little Cara, that someone a great deal nastier than I might have bought you. They are a small price to pay for warmth and comfort, I think.

"Your magic, both of yours', is in my capable hands. I will put it to good use, and you both may reap its fruits. I will even show you when we are done breakfast. And what was that you just said?" the lady inclined her head at the unfamiliar tongue. Or did she know it? It was so hard to tell.

Ewan let his apple core fall to the plate with a louder clatter, idly scratching a furry arm. He looked between Lady Selwin and Cara, "Can't I be turned back? This' just... annoying." Lady Selwin did, at least, seem to have patience for whining.

Cara glared and glared and glared and glared, and when she was eventually asked a question she smiled a little smile of knowledge. "Nothing!" She exclaimed rather abruptly and in a rather chipper mood. She was absolutely not going to let Cara learn her language, no. That was reserved for friends.

Which she was distinctly not.

Cara glanced at Ewan, as he spoke, then back at Selwin. She was inclined to agree, nodding and speaking. "Change him back! He's a bad...thing, and that's not nice. If you're so nice...why don't you change him back?" She implored, thinking she made a rather good point this time.

"The poor dear might be a touch hairy but as you can see I've not harmed any of the hairs on his head," the sorceress gave a wry smile. "And I think it will serve as a reminder you'd both best behave, mm?"

"But I didn't even do anything!" he grumbled and looked to Cara with a sigh. He supposed making them mistrust eachother was the whole point so he let it go. The boy rudely gulped down his tea and they finished the meal in silence.

Lady Selwin clapped her hands to signal the end of the meal, and a mouse-like little imp shuffled in from the kitchens to collect the plates. "Thistle think you'd both be well suited to tend my garden. I am inclined to agree. I think you will appreciate seeing your magic put to good use. Come along!" She lead them toward the back hall.

"Thanks for, um, standing up for me..." Ewan gave Cara a shy smile as the two followed after the witch.

When they reached the back of the estate lady Selwin nudged open the door to reveal a vast garden of wintered trees, brambles, and scummy fountains. It was not very pretty. Probably a consequence of the season.

Cara scowled, as she wandered after Selwin. She didn't really pay attention to her, finding her explanations and statements and such to be droll and drab and rather uninteresting. In one ear, out the other.

Now, Cara thought Ewan was worth paying attention to, looking over to him as he spoke. She rose an eyebrow, for a brief moment, before giving him a nod and moving on. She figured that, if she were to be...imprisoned...she would, at the very least, make friends with the person she was imprisoned with.

But, sooner or later, they'd be free.

Cara trudged through the estate in a rather annoyed manner. Contempt was the perfect word to describe her attitude towards the building. However, that changed when Selwin showed the garden to Cara.

Even if the garden was quite frigid and half-dead, it was better than the mansion, better than the estate. By a wide, wide, wide margin. Cara went to stumble on into it, a grin crossing her face as she glanced about, before it swiftly faded.

Then, Cara began to madly claw at her ears.

Lady Selwin traced her finger along the stonework of a nearby planter, carved with images of fauns, nymphs and child-like fey. As her finger touched the soil tiny bits of green began to sprout. In a manner of seconds it was filled with azaleas in full bloom. The Red Witch smiled. "Simply marvelous. Why don't the pair of you clear the rest of this rot away," she gestures to the mess of dead leaves and detritus scattered throughout the garden. "It would be lovely to have it blooming year round, wouldn't it Cara?"

"Could've hired gardeners for cheaper..." Ewan crossed his arms and grumbled. Cara and himself both likely cost a small fortune. The boy's eyes darted to the girl. Was she having another fit? She really wasn't doing well. He gently put a hand on her shoulder "Um, Cara...?"

Lady Selwin simply frowned and watched with interest, aristocratic and uncaring.

Cara reeled around, grabbing at Ewan and hissing to him. "Whispers! S-so many whispers! Their voices aren't cl-clear! I can't! I d-don't! Make them stop! Give them their voices back!"

She was not coping with this 'issue' very well. She seemed quite mad, in fact. She was panting, and glancing about, and seemed to be afraid of everything that made the slightest bit of noise and moving.

But, that wasn't madness. No, that was panic!

Ewan tried to hold Cara steady, but found himself pulled in front of the girl as she ducked around him hissing. "Is he co-" the boy shut himself up before giving anything away. Was this father of her's coming? Or was the entire garden in a seething rage at the witch? Best not to ask.

"I keep telling you she really isn-"

"Hardly the first mageling I've taken into my care. I own a home for wayward children with special talents. It's frightening to be away from home. In time I think you will be comfortable here." Isaura made an attempt at a reassuring smile,  but you could see in her eyes  I she wasn't. The sorceress paused to admire the azaleas, unconcerned with Cara's fit. "It should take you some days to clear all this rot for my garden. If you do well this morning you may take lunch with me."

She turned toward the house.

The boy watched Isaura go with a heavy sigh, "Are you okay? Whose whispering? Your- your father?" his brow was knitted half with  a worry and half with interest.

"No! No. He is far away! No! But-but they hiss! Angry! All around us and I can't...hear them..." She stuttered out to Ewan. She gestured about the area, as if that was helpful. Perhaps it was. Regardless, she shot Selwin a glare as she wandered off, turning to Ewan and going to hiss.

Now, she was a slight more coherent. "Th-the things that are here-they're angry. The...flora. I can't...quite...hear them!" She paused, of course, before continuing. "Th-this woman is e-e-evil! Can we...her!" She suggested, rather grimly for a young child. Then again, Cara was a box of surprises.

Cara, regardless of Ewan's response, grabbed at her ears again. She looked uncomfortable. She looked distressed.

"You can hear them? I guess... I guess that's what elves do." The boy frowned and wandered over to the azaleas. The rest of the garden had wintered over and was mostly a gathering of dead leaves and scrappy bushes.

"Are these any different from the others?" he reached out to touch the pink bloom, casting his gaze back to the nervous girl. "She made 'em with your powers after all." What would she do with his? Live forever he supposed. Or create some awful chimeras.

"...Lk bcubu..." Cara mumbled, as Ewan went to touch the flower. Cara wandered up behind him, peering down at it. "D-don't...you get it...I c-can't hear it! It's so...

...quiet." She said that word 'quiet' as if it was distasteful. As if the merest utterance of it would harm her. "...why-why can't it be loud again? W-with the voices..." She mumbled, mostly to herself. Regardless, Cara glanced about the garden. Here, she was in her element. She had a tiny spark of her strength left, and could get a little bit more if she needed some. Surely, there was something she could do to escape. Or, at least, get a message out.

"...Oh," Ewan slapped his forehead. Was it worse for plants to be screaming in agony or quiet? "I don't know. I suppose she doesn't... grow them right? But you said yourself she didn't take all your mag-"

Ewan hushed up. That was meant to be a secret. "Wonder what she plans to do with my power? Make monsters?" the boy sounded almost excited, flexing a furry hand. He'd hoped he enough in him to do something like that.

At the very edge of the garden a pair of birds fluttered around a spindly tree, pecking at the cold earth to dredge up seeds. "Hey! You can talk to those right?" he hissed.

Cara slowly turned to the birds, grinning and nodding. She hurried over to them, clenching her fists and closing her eyes and going to say. "Hi!"

She paused, for a moment, staring at them. They hadn't had reacted. Cara tilted her head, before sitting down and bowing her head down towards the ground, shutting her eyes once more. She began to seemingly meditate.

Then, she spoke again. And the birds looked to her with a great interest in her.

"...gree-tings...bir-dies?" Cara asked, her voice being quite strained.

Ewan toddled after Cara. The boy was feeling useless when it came to making an escape. At least it was his idea. Maybe she'd show him how to talk to animals too, not that now was the time, but it would be handy. But at the rate things were going he was going to be an animal soon enough...

The pair of cardinals settled into the tree as Cara approached. Birds hadn't much fear of humans in Zantaric. They were good for scavenging. The female cocked her head at Cara, "Hello ... new fledglings? Red Lady ... flew away. We miss them."

"What are they saying?" Ewan whispered. He didn't want to disturb Cara but curiosity won out.

Cara twitched, breaking out of her trance and shooting Ewan a glare. "I'm not really very strong at the moment!" She chirped out, angrily. "So it's taking...a lot of effort to talk to these ones! B-but...they're saying that we're 'new fledglings' and that 'Red lady flew away'. And they miss them."

Cara then turned back to the birds, falling into her dream-like trance. It was quite evident she was doing something magical. Well, hopefully nobody would want to stop that or bother her. She turned her attention to the birds, going to speak with them.

"I. Am Ca-ra. I...I am. Tr-apped. Hee-ar." She spoke, spluttering afterwards. "Pl-ease. Help?" She asked, looking to them. Cara felt some terrible weary weakness. Her powers had faded. Where animals once followed all her commands, they now had their own thoughts. Own opinions. Own agendas. Not so easily swayed.

Worst of all, she didn't know this, as she waited with bated breath.

Ewan scrwed up his face at Cara's remark, he didn't much like being scolded by the younger girl extenuating circumstances aside. "So what's that mean? There were other kids before us?"

"Little humans fed us, danced and played. grew bored with them and sent them away. Won't you stay?" the male regarded them lazily, stretched his wings

The female at least seemed to sense Cara was upset. Though she certainly took a patronizing tone, "Why do you need help? Is good nest!"

Cara frowned, going to hiss quite accusingly at the bird. "N-no! Need to g-go home! Sp-speak with fa-ther. He g-gets m-m-mad if I am-aw-ay. Pl-ease help?" She implored again.

After a small pause to catch her breath, she turned to Ewan. Cara had sweat forming on her brow. "Yes! They were fed by 'little humans'. Then...they were sent away..." She said, realisation burning into her voice, as worry began to make its way across her face. "I don't...like this place." She mumbled, as if she hadn't already made that sentiment crystal clear.

"You suppose she's gonna eat us?" the boy said dumbly, reddening at how foolish it sounded in retrospect. But that brought other questions to mind. Drain them until there was nothing? It was an unsettling thought and he didn't want to upset Cara further if their situation was so dire. He kept his mouth shut.

"Little fledgelings have no sires, no nest, no brood." the male clucked, as though delivering some hard-truth. "...why she keeps you, yes?"

"...not orphaned. Lost." The female pecked at him, then fixed her gaze on Cara. "Many fathers many males. Big and small. Tall and fat. Speak the name, yes?" Where beasts once saw Cara for what she was on sight, perhaps, these did not.

"The name...?" Cara mumbled, to herself. Her eyes lit up, nodding. "The name! Y-you mean my...father's name?" She asked, carefully to the birds. "...my fath-er's name. Is. Tharron. Ovun. Tha-rron. O-vun." She nodded. "...I am Ca-ra. O-vun." Her father's name carried weight, to some animals. But...it was a hit or miss thing. While an undoubtedly powerful, and primal, bloodline she was from; her father had withdrew. He had focused on one specific grove of his.

This was not good for her, or his, notability. But, with a little bit of luck, perhaps the animals would recognise it. Still, Cara waited with bated breath. This was her chance!

"Tharron Ovun! Yes! And I am his good friend the Lost Prince of Owls!" Ovun was more myth to them than anything. They chirped with laughter until they realized the little girl was pouting.  "You do not laugh and joke little grub... you do not lie?" the female leaned forward, inspecting Cara with renewed interest.

Ewan lazed against a wall as his friend talked to the birds. The boy suddenly heard crunching leaves and whirled. Thistle was making his way toward the pair... thrashing toward the overgrowth. "C-care... hurry up he's coming!" he glanced between Cara and the imp in a panic, pondering how he might distract their captor.

Cara stared at the birds. She was absolutely livid. "...i-if he learns that you didn't help me...h-he...will...kill you." Cara said, gravely. This was no lie. Either Cara truly believed this, or was truly deluded into thinking this. Regardless, she stared back. She did not flinch. She did not blink. SHe knew, wholly and truly, that what she said was true.

Regardless, Cara was very swiftly drawn away from their attention, turning back to Ewan. She listened to him, and then, made the decision not to care what he said, looking back to the birds. All or nothing. She would either gain everything or...well...be punished? Surely, it couldn't be that bad. She spoke to the birds, a hushed whisper. "W-will you...h-help me?"

The male cardinal gave a chirp of annoyance, or perhaps concession to the girl. "Fine. Help. Bring words. Where is nest of Ovun?" The bird hopped cautiously from the tree to the garden wall, nearer Cara's face so she could whisper her plea.

"Hullo Thistle," Ewan called out, perhaps a litle too cheerful. "We were, um, just playing is all. Does Sel -- I mean the mistress -- want us back inside?"

"Told ya to wait for me is what she said. Garden needs weeding. And what's that little brat up to? Singing to birds? Oy!" Thistle tried to edge past.

"Nuh uh! She said to play!" Ewan stood in his way, kicking out a foot to trip the imp. The boy only then saw how hairy his limbs had gotten. This was going to be costly.

"Niahi! Niahi woods! B-but...he should be travelling towards here...y-you can't...miss...him!" She explained, a grin forming on her face. "I-If you help...you'll be rewarded! Pro-mise. More food. No predators. E-everything...bird could want!" Cara whispered, as if to sweeten the deal.

Moments after this, she heard Ewan speaking. She reeled around, wiping the grin off of her face. "HitheredemonhowareyouIhopethatyougetkillednevermindIwasjustplayingagamewithEwanheisnicedidyouknowheisreallygoodat-knucklebones!" Cara said in one terribly panicked, and impressively quick breath, only needing to pause in between the last two words. She smiled, vacuously, as she awaited her threat with a new terror. Maybe their punishment...would...be nightmarish.

The male looked to his mate, then gave Cara a quick nod before the pair fluttered off. Hopefully toward help.

"Pfah!" the imp yelped in surprise, skipping out of Ewan's way. With a frown he looked from one child to the next. "Knucklebones? What is she blathering about? you haven't any dice!"

"We found them near the fence. Dropped them in the leaves. Its no matter we'll help clean..." Ewan looked from Thistle to Cara. He studied the girl's face for some indication if the birds were helpful.

"Like hells you were kid. Told you not to make trouble, yeah? Next time you get an order you better hop to it!" the daemon twirled his fingers, air crackling with magic...

Cara didn't seem to show any emotion on her face, other than her empty smile. She simply stared at the imp in dead silent, waiting for him to ramble and order the two about.

As the magic was invoked, Cara couldn't help but snarl, raising her hands carefully. "Leave us be!" She snapped, angrily. "Or you'll regret it! I promise." She continued, narrowing her eyes and watching very, very carefully.

Thistle threw up his arms and the air around Ewan crackled with electricity. The downy brown hairs sprouting from his arms turned into a pelt of fur. And his ears rounded, jutting out at a wide angle. The boy yelped in surprise. "Hey! We didn't say we wouldn't work!"

"Promised not to give me lip too, eh kid? Get your friend to shape up or you'll be a dumb animal," the imp dusted himself off, yellow eyes flickering from Ewan to Cara. The now furry little sorcerer heaved a sigh and stepped forward to follow the imp.

Thistle beckoned them through the garden toward a tiny cottage on the edge of the property. Mismatched statues glowered at them through the overgrowth. A roaring Minotaur, a kishahni tyrant, and a pair of cherubic children clutching a harp. Although weather-beaten, the detail was uncanny. Ewan had only ever seen a tyrant lizard once. "Said you'd behave! I don't wanna be a mouse!" he hissed.

Cara stared at Thistle, eyes wide as dinner plates as he casted upon Ewan. "N-no!" She spluttered out, but she was quite a bit too late. After a few moments, she scowled, stumbling after Thistle and Ewan. She didn't even look at the statues, glancing at Ewan as he hissed to her.

"No! These people are evil! Th-they're not nice. I feel dizzy..." Cara hissed, adding the last part in nearly after the fact as she gripped at her head. She didn't stop moving, however she did go to grab at Ewan to steady herself as she continued to march to her unknown fate.

Ewan sighed softly at Cara's mewling and crying. The boy was still quite cross as he pondered it. Dumb girl - she was going to get him killed or worse! He trotted along beside her silence, eyes probing for any escape routes. Or maybe the statues were really petrified animals and he could break the curse and... oh right he could't.

The imp lead them a garden shed. It might have been nice once with its slate roof and styled window panes, but the paint was chipping and there were holes in the sides. Thistle waves a hand and the doors flung open. An assortment of rakes, rusty sheers, croquette and badminton sets rested within. "Right. I suppose you little runts know what to do? There's a rubbish heap around back. All these leaves and dead bushes you're going to clear off. Any questions?"

The boy gave him a blank look and trudged toward the shed to grab a rake.

Cara wandered after Ewan, saying nothing and simply holding Ewan to steady herself. She was leaning on him, even. When Cara approached the garden shed, she thought it looked strange. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. It had a strange roof, and it seemed to have been built for some unknown reason. She had been in civilised areas before, and while there she had noted people with gardens. Those things were strange, but why put another building in them? What a redundancy!

Cara stared at the strange tools, tilting her head. "...what...are...all of those?" She mumbled, mostly to Ewan. Cara saw Ewan move into the shed, and decided to mimic his movements. She moved over to a rake, grabbing one a few moments after he had. She had no better option, and Ewan seemed to be knowing what he was doing.

"...we can do it..." Ewan mumbled to Thistle, sounding for a moment like an ordinary child asked to do some yard work. Maybe that was the case. The imp cast one last look at the pair and turned away.

"Hey, um, sorry I got mad. I just didn't want to get furrier is all..." the boy turned to Cara, giving her small smile. It wasn't really her fault she didn't understand human civilization. It was all probably pretty overwhelming.

With a sigh he began to rake dead leaves and detritus from the planters and into the midden heap. "And these are rakes to clear the garden. See? We need to put these leaves in the midden.

"I guess she doesn't need to grow things the usual way on account of, uh, your power and all. We'll get it back! Don't worry..."

Cara nodded, grimly, to Ewan as she went to copy him. Raking leaves, in the most inefficient manner imaginable, into Ewan's pile. It was rather pathetic, actually. "Okay." She said, as Ewan explained.

She paused, at least for a little while, before she decided to speak. "Don't worry, Ewan! Father's coming! He's gonna make all the peoples penitents and then he'll get the power back and give it to me. And then the evil woman will alive but dead and it'll all be good!" Was the girl speaking in metaphor? Or was she speaking about something she didn't understand. Regardless, she seemed in a chipper mood.

They worked from midmorning until noon, muscles aching as the sun rose higher. The stiff winter air made Ewan almost grateful for he gray fur that coated his forearms and ankles. Half the garden and the frightening statuary had been cleared. All that remained was a brittle hedgemaze and patio. The boy was grateful Cara calmed down enough to do her chores. She seemed almost cheery - but she always was when talking about death - it still took getting used to.

"Well I guess you weren't lying about him. How long's he take to to get here? Does he fly or swim through tree-roots or something?" the boy flashed a smile, catching a reflection of his pointy snout in a nearby fountain, formed in the coils of a gargantuan and very lifelike naga. "And if you get me stuck with a tail by the time he arrives... he'll remove it, yeah?" Ewan playfully jabbed her with the butt of a rake.

Cara stumbled, as she is jabbed, shooting Ewan a glare. "No. He walks. But he never hungers, and he never tires, and he never fears." She said, cryptically. She sauntered over towards Ewan before sending a sweeping strike, aimed at his legs, at him. It was slow and sluggish and tired. She seemed tired, deathly so, as if she was about to collapse.

Regardless of whether she hit Ewan or not, she'd pull the thing back to her side, clutching it in her hands as if it was some measure of comfort. "I dunno when he'll get here. M-maybe a day. If we're really lucky...but it'll probably be a lot lot lot longer." She said, being quite vague.

"Oh..." the boy frowned in disappoinment. At least he was coming. And was hopefully as magical as Cara made him out to be.  The skipped back as the rake caught his foot. "Hey!

"And did you eat anything?" Cara seemed delirious still. The managed to muster up some indignant anger, "She'd ought to feed us if she means to keep us here. Let's make that imp fetch us lunch." Ewan's gaze flickered to toward the big house. It looked like an ice-palace in the sun with its many windows.

"Nooo...I'm hungry. If I starve it'll be bad. Father wont be happy if I'm dead..." She mumbled, a hint of fear entering her voice. "We should go there." She said, looking to the house. It seemed Cara held no fear of it, for she did not see it as the lair of the beast. She saw it as anther citadel of civilisation, a ruinous and empty thing.

"...let's go." She uttered, casting aside her rake and moving to wander towards the house. "If we die then bad things will happen. They wont let us die..." She said, distantly. Did Cara really believe that?

"I don't think they're gonna. Who'd rake the yard then? Let's go annoy 'em into feeding us!" Ewan cracked a smile and tugged Cara toward the patio. Thistle was nowhere to be found; no doubt barking orders elsewhere. "Hello!? We're hungry!" the boy shouted, voice echoing faintly over the courtyard and garden.

With no one in sight they nudged open the pane-glass doors, the frames of which were shaped in a verdant pattern. "Okay. So, um, which way back to the-"

There came a sudden shriek of fear and rage. A pretty girl, clad in a lace apron - and with a pair of tigerlily wings on her back, darted into view and proceeded to swat them toward the door with a broom. "Through the scullery! Oh! You're both filthy!" Sure enough the muddy foot and paw prints dotted the tiled floor behind the children. Both of them were a little grimy.

"Hey! Wait! Where is it?!" he yelped, dancing backwards toward the door.

Cara nodded and followed after Ewan. She said nothing of note, and she did nothing of note, simply wandering along. So, when they wandered up to the pine-glass doors and Cara reached out to touch and admire the pattern, it was a bit unusual.

Her intrigue was short-lived, however, and she was pushed very quickly back along with Ewan, gasping and getting out a quick "GAH!". She moved along, without any real chance to fight, as she stumbled back to the door. "S-stop!" She implored.

"Well you'd ought to know better! Just look at this floor!" the servant positioned herself between the children and the door with a scowl. "Master Thistle says you're to tend the grounds. That means you and that little beast can't be tracking dirt and dust!

"Oh I am sorry. This all must be very frightening!" seeming to sense Cara's apprehension she lowered the broom and gave a tired smile. "You like the out-doors better, don't you? Just head downstairs and take the little door at the bottom. That will get you into the kitchen." Sure enough there was an inconspicuous, white-painted door at the very bottom of the patio stairs. No doubt the servant's quarters.

Cara stumbled outside, nodding to the servant as she instructed them on where to go. She replied with a vaguely, possibly even forced, chipperness and stated "Th-thanks..."

With that being said, Cara turned and moved on to head towards the kitchen, and presumably Ewan would follow. Were he not to, she would say nothing, but were he to follow she would have a few strange comments. "She called you a beast! She must like you." She said with a grin and a confident and confirmatory nod.

Ewan huffed as they made their way to the scullery, stopping to knock on the door. "That really makes me want to throw a big glob of mud at her...

"And is beast actually a compliment where you come from?" the boy cracked a smile, looking down nervously to his clawed toes and downy ankles. He'd almost forgotten about all that.

Cara nodded in response, as she stood next to Ewan. "Beasts are closer to nature then us! They're so lucky. The ants and the spiders and the wolves and the cats and the everything are far closer to the forests then us." She explained, nodding as if this was clearly and evidently true.

Cara frowned, for a moment. "What're the stupid compliments in your place?" She asked, realisation and confusion flooding her face.

"Um, things like smart, pretty, clever, fair, strong, magnificent, beautiful," Ewan cracked a smile and took a deep breath, "wise, fantastic, amazing... um, stuff that like that, yeah?"

The boy reached for the knob when the door swung was torn open. An enormous figure loomed in the doorway. It had hairy arms, slabs of muscle and fat, tusks jutting from its mouth, and a frilled patron. It was an ogre. "Hells be that racket?!" he bellows. His eyes scan the pair of children, settling on Cara with a squint of amusement. "You're the new whelps, eh? Hear yer trouble"

"Um..." the boy darted back, squeezing Cara's hand. "...yeah? We, uh, Thistle said to get lunch here a-and..."

"Names first, runt."

"Those are stupid compliments. We have good words like..." Cara paused. Then, she listed off a string of words in her strange, grating, harsh tongue. "Sicudt, xliothvv, olwqg, twuzx, dlwnhen, euivkwot, pwxlea..." However, she stopped as the door was flung open, blinking animatedly in surprise.

Cara stared at the ogre, in a mixture of surprise and awe. Then befuddlement crossed her face as she saw the fact that the ogre had frilled clothing. She winced as he spoke, grabbing at the tips of her ears in a pained gesture.

"...C-cara." She responded, shyly, thinking it better not to give her last name.

The boy suppress a snicker at Cara's reply. It was always funny her talk like that; it sounded like she was playing at being some primordial giant.

"I'm Ewan," he squinted at the ogre. "Now what about you, um, big guy?"

"Bargush. I'm the Chef." the giant jerked a thumb into the kitchen and stood aside. The heat of the stove and scent of dried herbs, most of which were bunched and hung from the rafters, permeated the place. No sooner had the children stepped through the door than Bargush grabbed them each by the shirt, as if by the scruffs of their neck, and sat them atop a pair of enormous stools at the central island.  "My kitchen. Has been for ten years. You two don't take nothing unless I say. And you don't go there unless you're clean. Aye?" the ogre pointed a surprisingly well-manicured finger toward a rounded, swinging door in the corner.

He then proceeded to rummage for bread and cheese, setting a basket between the two. "Now what do you whelps say?"

Ewan scowled and gave the ogre an incredulous look. "Can we get some meat? Or fruit? Or something sweet?"

"I-I'm not a whelp!" Cara retorted, a frown appearing across her face. "Father says I'm gonna grow up and be the strongest! Th-that I'll be better than even him!" However, it took a mere moment before she had changed her attitude. She grinned. "M-meat's nice! Fruit, as well! Yes! Meat and fruit." She said, nodding.

She then scanned the kitchen, taking in every little detail. She peered about the room, strangely. Every time she focused on a bit of crockery, or a tool of cookery, or a station for cooking she seemed more and more bemused. Had she even seen anything like this before? Quite possibly not. Regardless, she stared with wide and befuddled eyes.

The boy munched happily on his bread, ravenously hungry from the work. It seemed strange for an elf to eat meat. Then again Cara seemed the wild sort; probably liked blood and sacrifice too.

"Ye'll get a new name when that happens, lass." Bargush gave Cara's boasting a cock-eyed look and shook his head. The demands for better fare were, of course, outright ignored. "Lucky you're both downstairs now, eh? Not under that imp's eye so much. Ye'll get dirty but no need for them costumes. Bet they itch."

Cara paused, tilting her head. "No I wouldn't! My name is my name. I am who I am." She said with a nod. She then reached into the basket, idly taking out a random piece of food, a loaf of bread, and going to begin eating. She did this without any thought, and when she spoke she spoke with her mouth full in an incredibly rude and uncivilised manner.

"Yeah! Shtupid imp! He should goh to the red realm he came from!" She said, nodding with a grin to the chef.

Ewan joined Cara in devouring the ogre's meal, talking between bites. "So because we made trouble we're going to be slaving for you instead of Thistle?" he added sullenly.

Bagrush let out a snort of amusement. "Stuck here either way. Should make the best of it. Don't answer to Thistle either. Don't care for him. Might let ya tweak his nose a little if your good." The ogre stomped past the pair and began rooting through a cupboard, filled with rags. He dropped the bundle out onto the counter and slid a dress, which looked to have been stitched from a burlap sack, over to Cara. "Start ya on pots once the garden's done..."

Ewan gave Cara an uncertain look.  Jovial as Bagrush was, were man-eating giants more trustworthy than imps? "I don't suppose you could turn me back? No one seems particularly concerned about this!" the boy frowned, tugging at a murine ear.

Cara didn't really listen to their conversation, greedily eating her meal. However, she did pick out a few various terms. She didn't speak, not really wanting to chat, and it wasn't until Ewan finally spoke about his 'condition' that she finally paid her full attention to the goings-on.

She looked to him, grinning a little wildly. "I can't help! But father could. Cause you're halfway between man and beast and that's not normal! So he'd help you reach one." She said, nodding as she affirmed her own statement. She looked over to the table, now paying attention to the burlap-dress.

She stared at it, a look of utter disgust crossing her face. She had no words to express this, but her contempt for this clothing was palpable.

"Don't do magic." Bagrush snorted, waving them toward a nearby closet to change. "Suppose it'll wear off. Most things do, eh? Mistress likes things looking pretty round here beside." For a kitchen run by an ogre it was spick and span, if a little rustic.

"The way you talk he can do anything! How do I know after all the trouble I've gotten into he isn't just some giant tree?" Ewan screwed up his face, half-teasing and half-pouting. Neither Cara nor he ogre seemed terribly concerned. Only then did his gut start to sink. Oh gosh! Bagrush was in this just as much as the imp. The boy slid from the stool and rolled up his sleeves, "Okay! So, um, you just need those pots scrubbed? And what did you wanna do to that imp anyways?"

The ogre leaned in, as if listening to juicy gossip at a bar. "Lady Isaura isn't in the habbit of kidnapping. Too risky. Must have wanted you really bad, girl. Tell me about your da..."

Cara grinned, eyes sparkling as if she had some great story to tell. Without hesitation, she began telling it. "My father's name is Tharron! He's the guardian of the forests and protects us from all the bad things that would hurt them! The undead, the demons, the colourless! He goes out and he destroys them! He also protected me and all our friends, but they all faded away. He's really strong and the forest moves to his will and all the penitent and animals help him!" She proclaimed. After a moment, though, her look went a bit melancholic.

"...but he's sleeping. And he's been sleeping for a while. And he doesn't wake up much..." She mumbled. "...but he's gonna come. I know he'll come! I know it." She nodded, utterly certain that this was the way of things.

Bagrush grunted in reply. If the ogre was interested he wasn't showing it. Ogres were supposed to be straight-forward and dumb, weren't they? But then again they also weren't meant to be chefs. "I'm sure he'll come pick ya up any time lass. Though the mistress might have somethin to say about it..."

Ewan let out a sigh as Cara went on about her father. Blathering about it to everyone wasn't going to do them much good! The mouse-boy was just about to pick her when something piqued his curiosity, "Just what is a colourless, anyway?" he leaned across the counter-top, wide-eyed, unable to resist.

Cara blinked, before nodding. She began, once more, in what she thought were perfectly reasonable and rational statements. "They're evil things. They drink and eat colour, and that causes everything to become bad because it all slowly drains of life, dying and becoming bad. Colour's important because everyone has colour, and so when it's stolen it's very bad. The colourless are people who have lost all their colour, or beings made up when enough of the colourless blight gets together and forms an entity. It spreads and spreads and it doesn't stop unless it's all cleansed away and everything is sent back to normal."

She nodded, affirming her own statements.

Ewan screwed up his face in disbelief, giving Cara a cock-eyed look as he tried to understand. The boy splayed his clawed fingers. "Do you mean actual color, like how my skin is pink?

"Or like... your spirit? How a gardener would be green, yeah?"

Cara blinked, looking to Ewan and nodding with a grin. "Mhm! Actual colour! If you got hurt by it, you'd go grey or black or white and you'd walk around and it'd be hurtful for you and you wouldn't like it very much and you'd rip the colour out of things!" She said, rather cheerily. She then looked to the Bagrush, smiling. "Can I have some more food?"

"Well now you're just making up stuff!" he cracked a smile, jabbing Cara in the arm. He almost forgot they were captive for a minute.

"Don't see how something so small can eat so much." Bagrush snorted, reaching out to tousle the elf-girl's hair as he passed. "Got a sweetroll left over from last eve. Tell ya both what - I've got a bone to pick with that imp - you two slip him a little potion to teach him a lesson, and I'll give you a little treat. How's that sound?"

Ewan gave a long, drawn out sigh. "Well I think he'd suspect us of all people! And you're really gonna give us candy in exchange for pissing off a daemon?" Of course food that wasn't crumbly bread and sour cheese was mouth-watering...

Cara blinked, as she was poked, jolting a little. She looked to Ewan, glaring at him. "Nuh-uh! It's real! Father's showed me them. They've very spooky." She said, nodding to herself. Her eyes trailed after Bagrush as he spoke, lighting up with a grin as he talked about the sweetroll. "That sounds nice..." Her voice trailed off, before she heard something even better.

A chance to torment an imp.

"Yes! We should do that, Ewan! Let's hurt the imp." She seemed absolutely giddy about this idea. "It's a good idea! I like this big one already!"

"I don't want to turn into a mouse!" Ewan pouted, shooting Cara a look.

"Thistle's got a taste for Alar Amber, all the way from Connlaoth. Little bastar - uh - bugger keeps a flask in his chambers. Not that you twerps know anything of wine," he scoffed and turned to fetch a small brass tin from the larder, filled with dried fruit. "Now these are Wychberries, from a dryad tree. They'll ruin the innards of an imp like him. Turn him wrinkled and gray. Be a right shame if they found their way into his favorite drink, eh?" The ogre snorted with gleeful laughter.

"Seems stupid dangerous for us," the boy crossed his arms, leaning closer to the ogre. He might have looked business-like if not for being a grubby 10-year-old. "Why don't you make it worth our while. How do we get these marks off so we can work magic?"

As the two spoke, Cara lapsed into half of a trance. Idly, she rubbed at her face, tugging at her ears a bit worriedly. "Hmmm..." She thought to herself, before looking up as Ewan made the point of danger.

"Ewan's right..." She mumbled, quietly. "That's really dangerous! I-I agree, you should get this stupid mark off of me! It's too quiet, anyway. I want to hear them speak!" She proclaimed, a near-religious fervour burning in her voice. Her eyes sparkled at the possibility of being able to grasp the stolen power once more. It seemed Cara was quite invigorated by the mere suggestion.

"Plus, if you want us to hurt the imp, you'd definitely want to give us all the advantages!"

The ogre let out a booming snort. "I like my job here. Ain't risking my hide. And you kids ain't risking yours' neither. Keep my entertained and maybe we'll talk in a few months, once the Lady of the house gets some new pets, eh?" Bagrush reached out and took both Ewan and Cara by the shirt-collars, setting them down on the floor. He offered the berries to Cara.

The boy scowled. "Well... better than dusting. I guess. Its gonna be one of your faults if I end up a mouse..."

Cara took the berries, grinning. "Yes. C'mon, Ewan, let's go!" She said, nodding once, twice, thrice.

She marched off, immediately beginning in a rant. "I don't think that we'll end up as rats, that'd not be very fun, anyway mice are pretty nice! They're very squeaky, and they're very cute! Though, they get on my nerves, always talking about where to hide."

She was fleet-footed and it seemed that Cara was enjoying this idea. It intoxicated her, and it seemed that her hate and spite of Imps were propelling her; in a troublingly gleeful way.

"You're not the one whose gonna be growing a tail soon!" Ewan playfully jabbed Cara in the arm as they slunk down the corridor. His nails were a bit pointy now, though not over-sharp. They ascended a rickety old stairwell draped in cobwebs; there were no furnishings in the scullery. Soon enough the children found themselves in the dining hall once more. The places were cleared and the candles were doused. It seemed almost a mausoleum in the pale light of the winter sun. "And I don't really wanna be squeaking and eating kitchen scraps the rest of my life. Or have you cooing over how cute I am."

From the dining hall they went to the library, under the watchful gaze of a taxidermied wyvern and sabercat. Ewan paused to study them more carefully. Something about them was just unsettling and it made his little heard pound. "S-o his room is in the attic up top, yeah? How do you wanna do it? I guess one of us should keep look-out." The boy wasn't sure whether Cara had the worldly, guile to discretely poison a flask, or be able to keep Master Thistle at bay without earning a horrible punishment.

Cara grinned at Ewan. "What's wrong with a tail?" She retorted. "I know lots of animals! They all like having tails!" She responded with a wide, toothy, vaguely idiotic grin. She followed after him as they made their way through the corridor. She was silent as she did so, her voice dropping low and her movements becoming more stealthy. But, she was quite bad at this.

She peered into the dining hall as they entered. She narrowed her eyes. "...if you were a rodent you'd like kitchen scraps very much! You'd think they'd taste nice." She mumbled. She followed after him, and watched the areas as they flicked by. The dining hall, library, kitchen, all were things she was quite interested by. She looked to Ewan, snapping back to reality as he spoke. "...hrm. Up in the attic? Urm. What's an attic?"

His stubby fingers were tipped with curved nails now. It made scratching hurt.  "Well I kinda prefer being a boy. I want to - you know - have hands to read books, and eat with a fork, and sleep in a bed. If I did become an animal I'd want to be something amazing. Like a dragon! Once I did a potion that made you breathe fire like one only it turned you green too. So I suppose I've sort of been one. But a mouse? No way!" Ewan bounced on his heels. Some moments later it occurred to the now-blushing boy where he was, and how his imagination wandered.

"And the attic is the top of a house. Its where people put junk or, um, where servants like us sometimes live. You've slept in bushes and trees your whole life, huh?"

Cara didn't have a direct response to the question. Instead, she had a question that likely allowed Ewan to infer her answer.

"What's a servant?" And then she went on her first tangent. "And being a boy's stupid! You're not close to nature at all! I wish I was an animal. Then I could be closer to nature. Instead I'm a stupid elf and I gotta protect nature..." She mumbled, a little disappointed.

Then, Cara glanced around the library. She idly went to pull a book from the shelves. "What's all this...?" She asked. "Why'd you want all this stupid stuff? What a big room! You could have lots of weapons, or golems, or materials, or other things in here! What gives?" She asked, confused as she went to open the book and stare dumbly at it.

"I don't really see the difference. I eat and sleep and play and whatever just like any other animal." Ewan sighed heavily at Cara's barrage of questions. Of course each one would lead to another. "Now come on! The ogre said he'd help us you know. And wait! We're going to get in trouble and--" The boy slapped his forehead, feeling stupid. One of those books might have helped them escape. If it was magic.

The page Cara opened to revealed several swirling diagrams and mathematical equations. Quite clearly it was instructions for some type of spell. Whatever it did was anyone's guess. As the children paged through the book it began to flap and wiggle in their grip, like cat tired of being pet...

"Whoah - this is so weird. What's all this?" She asked, staring at the swirling designs. She gripped the twitching, writhing book, eyes drifting down towards it. "Oh, that's...weird." She mumbled, very quiet. She went to toss the book away, lightly.

"...why's it - why's it moving, Ewan? Th-that's not normal..." She mumbled, a little afraid, looking to Ewan with wide, wide eyes. "Do all of them move?" She asked, reaching for another book...

The tome seemed relieved to leave Cara's grip. But instead of falling to the floor it fluttered back into place, wriggling between two larger tomes.  "Nope! Only the magic ones. See? Puts itself back when you're done reading." He cracked a smile. Gray eyes darted up and down the shelves in search of anything familiar. And there it was: a ratty old tome with an ouroboros, a snake devouring its tail, embossed on the spine.

"That one! Its an animancy book! Bet I could, uh, heal away those marks. Give it here!" the boy squeaked just a bit too loud, urging Cara to grab it. If allowed he'd snatch the tome and begin paging through it. The prose was swirling and verdant. It was the language of the fair folk and used to invoke life and growth. The letters were recognizable, maybe, even to the elven girl.

A more astute observer might have noticed the edge of the pages curling an d crimping upwards...

Cara blinked once, twice, thrice. She stared at the book, eyes wide. "Ummm..." She said, nervously. She glanced at Ewan, as he spoke, very concerned. However, she was going to follow instructions, too nervous to do anything else. Against her better judgement, she reached up to the tome that Ewan instructed. "This isn't natural, Ewan..." She mumbled, quietly, fetching the book he had pointed out. She offered it to Ewan.

"I-I don't trust it..." She said, as she watched over the text. She screwed her face up, and didn't seem to understand what was there. "A-are you sure that's okay?" She asked, not pointing anything in particular out as dangerous or malicious - it was a feeling of general discomfort that she was acting on.

"Its just magic. Its not so bad. Just lemme read and I'll fix it!" Ewan replied haughtily, trying to shoo the elf girl from the books. Weren't elves supposed to like magic? Spells to make trees fruit, purge hexes from soil, cure cattle rot, turn farm-hands into donkeys... something to undo brands had to be in here! And there it was:[/i] "Unbrandy your cattle for sale... that's it! We've just gotta- ow!"

The crimped pages of the old almanac had become teeth, which now gnawed on the mouse-boys fingers. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Help me hold it open!" he yelped, trying to work his fingers between the book's gnashing teeth. Some of the nearby books rustled angrily at seeing their friend so abused.

Cara let out a scream. She stumbled over to the book, going to reach in with her hands and grip the teeth. She expected that it wouldn't help, and that she would do not much, for she was weak and frail and small, but she did as best she could.

She turned her eyes around, looking and hunting and hunting and looking for anything that could help them. A tool - a stick - or some flora or fauna or animals or anything. "E-Ewan!" She yelled out, sccared. "E-Ewan I can't do this f-forever!"

Cara's delicate little fingers were fighting a losing battle with the grimoire. It was enormous, and it had teeth. She'd just have to bare it. "I'm trying! I'm trying! Just a few more seconds; I gotta concentrate!"

Ewan took a deep breathe and tried to ignore the jittery tome, the rivulets of blood on the floor. He began to utter the old elven verse printed on the page. No sooner had the words left his lips than the brand on his backside flared up. "Ow!" A thin, wormy tail forced its way from Ewan's spine, waggling to and fro. Concentrate. Enunciate. Puffs of sporedust and golden pollen filled the room as life-giving energies emanated from the boy and the book.

Meanwhile several spell books had wriggled from the stacks and were circling like hawks. One took a dangerous dive toward Cara! And then girl saw it. From the corner of her eyes a potted plant, a strange sort of spiky one from the southern desserts, sat by the window...

Cara blinked. "I got-I got...I can hold -" She held it open as long as she could, fighting fierce. She knew she'd falter, soon.

She blinked, then, as she turned her gaze to the potted plant. Her gaze pierced it. After an instant, she went to hurl away the book and clench her fists. The plant would grow, massively, the thing shooting out towards them, the thorns of the plant going to impale and disable the books, a vicious attempt, wicked and deadly. She cared not for writing, so she didn't even flinch at its potential destruction.

Cara, of course, then collapsed, her body going pale. Well, paler than normal. "...blood..." was the only thing she said.

The house plant, now a mass of horrible razor-vines, struck true. Kiara's Kishahn 4th Ed., The Jadenshine Almanac, and Maergath's Manual of Murder fell to the floor in shreds. Ewan paused to flash a grin at Cara- oh no! The girl was slumped on the floor, pale and babbling. Did she try bitten that badly? Spent of magic more likely. He had to fix the brand and fast!

"-Sania pueria ix!" the boy completed his invocation. A flurry of leaves and pollen filled the room. Both children felt their skin itch and crawl as new, healthy skin devoured the scar tissue of their brands. The magic-thieving marks were gone like a weight off their shoulders. Ewan heaved a sigh of relief, but soon felt a pressure building in his face and spine... and in a matter of seconds was more mouse than boy. "-ow! Aw gosh, I told you this would happen...

"Cara?" he bent down to rouse the little elf.

Cara blinked. She looked up, with a hideous and malevolent gleam in her eye. "...I can hear...everything." She whispered, quietly. She grabbed at Ewan, and used him to pull her up. "I can hear everyone!" She turned her eyes up, raising her arms. The needle-edged plant all around her shifting like a hideous snake.

Cara looked inebriated on her own power, and she grinned madly. It became clear that giving a small child massive amounts of magical potential was not a particularly good idea, but that was neither here nor there. She looked to Ewan. "Let's kill everyone and feed them to the forest..."

"Let's!" The mouse-boy tugged Cara to her feet, flashing a rather buck-toothed smile. His expression faltered, just a bit, at her glee. Was she always this way? Well, the world could do with one murderous little mage girl, if it meant  "We'e got to escape. Remember? We've got to go fast before that stupid ba-bast-buttface Thistle starts tossing chamber pots at us." The children pattered down the Library steps in a mad dash for the back halls. So far nothing else stirred. But surely they made a ruckus? They weren't branded but Thistle had power over the house itself. Curtains, rugs, and brooms were all fair game.

The back hall featured two enormous, glass doors which opened into the courtyard. But the back gardens had changed tremendously since they cleared leaves from it just hours ago. The planters were filled to the brim with despite the winter season. The scrubby pines lining the paths were replaced by towering cherry-blossoms, forming a canopy of pink and white. "She did this with your magic? Gosh that's amazing. Well, mine too, hey?"

Cara stumbled up, a hideous grin crossing her face at Ewan's smile. Her expression did not falter, and it was clear that arrogance had welled up in her. She nodded. "Let's get out of here..." She muttered, following after Ewan. She didn't care about the ruckus they were making, she thought herself totally invincible.

She stumbled out, into the back hall, blinking as she looked around at the flora. She blinked, a prideful smirk coming to her face. "Well! I'm real strong!" She gloated, pacing forwards towards the flora, as if drawn towards it, magnetically.

The children carefully pried upon the paned double-doors and slipped into th courtyard. The newly grown flora almost seemed to perk up as Cara stepped into the patio. Of course, the trees were frown with her magic. Still, there was something odd about the garden. None of the plants were naturally occurring or even recognizable: fusions of dogwood and spruce; tulips and cacti.

"Just don't go playing with the trees, okay?" Ewan prodded Cara in the shoulder, forgetting how sharp his nails had turned.

Cara grinned as the trees shifted. She clenched her fists, rising them up, hoping to begin growing and overgrowing them. "They're my friends." She responded.

Cara looked about the area, her eyes scanning over the strange mixtures of plants. "Th-these aren't normal. These are unnatural..." She mumbled to Ewan, walking a little closer to him. "Um. This isn't good. Is someone watching us. I think we'd better hurry..." She whispered, fear in her voice, a neurotic paranoia beginning to creep its way into her actions.

"Well I don't know. Its like how if you want to breed a big dog you make sure the mom and dad are big. Only you do it with magic." Ewan huffed. It wasn't the time to squabble, but there was hardly anything wrong with transmutation! Ewan trotted alongside Cara. "Do you think you could make the trees, um, smash the gates or something?"

Unnatural and strange as they were the plants seemed to perk up at Cara's presence, as if monsters begging their creator for affection. A few scrubby pines, unwarped by magic, did remain in the bunch. The children continued their way down the overgrown path. One of the fountains, once scummy and bare, was now filled with water and koi. But something definitely was not right! The nymph statue, sitting at its edge, seemed to glower at them... with just the faintest hint of malevolence beneath her peaceful smile. Ewan was too busy trying to argue that transmutation was a fine and natural sort of magic to notice.

Cara didn't really perceive Ewan's arguments. It wasn't that she didn't hear them - she heard them perfectly well. It was that she simply let them pass through her like it was nothing, not registering them at all. Cara took a deep, deep breath, as she walked, padding over towards the gate. She tried her best to ignore the plants, but found herself stopping when she was within the garden.

"They're speaking, Ewan. They want me to talk to them." She said. "I-I..." She looked around, glancing at all the fountains and gates and flora and then to Ewan. "...urm. We need to go..." She mumbled, forcing forwards the courage to rush over towards the gate.

"Well, its a big gate and we're pretty little. Maybe we can squeeze-"

And just like that two statues along the path, a cherubic boy and nymph clutching a conch, stepped off their pedestals and onto the path. A glare of malevolence flickered behind their playful faces. From behind the children came Thistle's shrill voice. "Oh ho!  Did you two little insignificant shit-stinking rat-faced little mongrels think you could just ruin the mistresses library and trot out of here like nothing? After all her kindness and hospitality you just think you can go!" the imp's claws tightened with rage. Ewan and Cara both felt their clothes shift and tighten as the imp seized control of their garments.

"There will be consequences you snot-nosed, lice-ridden, ill-mannered brats. Oh you mark my word."

Through the hedges they could, perhaps, catch a glimpse Bagrush idling out of the kitchens to fetch firewood.

"Gah!" Cara got out, quickly trying to grab at the area. Around her, the flora flared. She reeled around, trying to get her gaze onto Thistle, glancing about, madly. She looked to Bagrush, and Thistle, and Ewan, and spluttered out. "E-ewan?! B-bagrush?! F-father?! A-anyone?!" She seemed to say, panicking. As she finally got her gaze on Ewan, she pointed at him with her free hand, her grip quickly slipping.

All the flora around her, seemed to shift into malevolence. Angry, hateful, the empty green life grew a dangerous intent as it pointed at Thistle. "Get away! GET AWAY!" She roared. No, demanded.

"I'm stuck too!" the mouse-boy yelped, struggling against his vest and tunic. The children soon found themselves frogwalked forward by the enchanted garments.

"What the sodding 'ells?" Bagrush grunted in annoyance, snatching up his hatchet. "Five years I've worked under ya, ya little shit. I'm getting bored of it!"

Thistle sneered in annoyance at the ogre, pointing madly. "G-get him!" and with that the cherub and nymph lept from their pedestal. Marching to engage the ogre. "I run this household. And you stinking rotten verminous little rats will obey!"

One advantage to being a ratboy was Ewan's clothes didn't quite fit. His tail and fat little stomach provided just enough opening to wriggle from the shirt and vest. Thistle was, luckily, preoccupied with Bagrush. The little wizard darted forward, tackling the imp! They tustled about, shrieking and clawing at one another.

Meanwhile Bagrush, already bloody, was trading blows with the states. Despite his muscle, his hatchet proved a poor choice against the stone. Cara was left snared in fabric, but the garden was her's. As was, perhaps, a choice...

Cara was not a particularly intelligent or wise child. She was violent, spiteful, and impulsive. There was a strangeness about her, and a stupidity to her actions and words. But she was powerful, and with great power came great irresponsibility. Cara pointed, directly, at Thistle, struggling to be unbound. The garden twisted, and writhed, and aimed itself at Thistle, and then it lurched at him, going to strike and lash at him. Violent and thrashing all the flora aimed to do whatever it could. Crush or impale or just bop him on the head.

As she did so, Cara clawed at the wretched fabric. "Let...me...go!" She spat out, angry, the flora bristling and twitching in wrath.

"You nasty, filthy, scum-chewing-" Thistle spat curses between angry snarls. While though about Ewan's height he had far more muscle than the boy. He'd nearly pinned the little wizard when a rush of thorny vegetation ensnared his limbs, pulling tight and in unnatural directions. The imp screamed in pain.

Ewan clambered off him with a kick to the gut, panting. "Th-thanks Cara..." The girl was having her own struggles with the enchanted dress. Thistle had locked eyes on her and doing all he could do hurt her in turn. "I've got you!" he scampered over, working his clawed nails into the seams, tearing at her best to free at least one arm.... though his grip seemed to be weakening.

From across the courtyard came a howl of pain. One of the statues slammed had wrenched Bagrush's axe away and slammed a fist into the helpful ogre's chest, bringing him to the ground.

Cara blinked, ripping and tearing. She looked over to the imp, then to the ogre, then to the imp, back, and so on and so forth. She was confused, and her arm seemed to come free, and she seemed to point it at Bagrush. There was a weak, chaotic lashing out of flora, all trying to help the statue. It was evident that Cara wasn't particularly refined in her approach. The warlike flora was more likely to harm both the poor ogre and the animated statues.

As Cara stumbled out of her bindings, she couldn't help but gasp, eyes darting across the area. "W-we need to go! N-now!"

"Good! Careful, eh?" the ogre bellowed as vines tugged the cherub statue backward. He hefted his axe to finish it. One of the vines, however, curled around the weapon as well. "Oy! Careful lass, I-" Bagrush never finished his sentence. The nymph landed a blow on the ogre and he fell...

"But--! We need to save him!" the mouse-boy squeaked in horror. The boy scurried forward from Cara'a side, ready to mend the ogre. No sooner had he taken a few steps than he tripped over his shortpants, which once fit nicely. Ewan was shrinking and becoming more mouse-like by the moment. Some feet away Thistlr, bloodied but not dead, was croking out some vial curse. "Gah! Cara! Get him before the spell's done!"

And that was not the worst of it. The air was now thick with smoke. On the far side of the courtyard, near the big glass doors, a red woman hovered in the air. Flames whipped from her fingertips, lashing a monstrous tree now squirming in her direction.

Cara watched with wide, wide eyes. She stumbled forwards, going to push her hands out towards Thistle worthlessly. The flora thrashed and flailed at him, but it wasn't with the precision of a deadly attack, but more the wounded flailing of a dying and hopeless animal. All focus would fade from Bagrush, and leave the corpse to wither and rot away, Cara focusing all of her power on the more immediate threats.

But it was still weakness, and her power was withering all the same. She could not kill both Thistle and the woman, and Cara was fairly certain she was soon to die. So, she panicked, looking for any way out, escape avenue - something, anything!

The dying imp sneered, hissing with pain."Cara?" the mouse boy called out, tugging at the fur on his arms as if that might halt the curse. He was a head shorter than her now and shrinking. The girl seemed lost in her head. To their north was the manor, but also the witch and her fire. To the south was the garden gate, which was locked. He tugged at her in that direction. "I don't think I'm gonna be human very long. But we gotta go! Maybe we can squeeze through the gate?"

***

In the distance a bell was starting to ring. Drawn by the fire, a large crowd had assembled at the back gate. Some appeared to be guards; others were conscripts lugging a wagon and water-barrel. Ewan pulled Cara behind a decorative planter.

"Quit yer gawking, shit-stinkers, break it down!" came a snarl. A dwarf in black armor strode forward, and struck at the chain binding the gate. It took two blows from his hammer and the chain was off. The fire brigade poured into the courtyard. No sooner had they entered than one of the willows, now loyal to Cara in some twisted way, brought its branch down on the cart-driver. The man went flying. The rest of the aberrant plantlife joined in the ambush. "They're damned trees ya half-wits. Chop em!" the dwarf in black iron spat, heaving his axe into one of the smaller treants, mangling it.

"You gotta be quiet, okay? We'll just sneak past..." Ewan coaxed.

"...he's here." She whispered, like a gust of wind ebbing all around her. She stumbled towards Ewan. "My...father is here." She turned her gaze up, and to the gate, and then back to Ewan. A strangeness was about her. An aura of great fear, and terrible, awful excitement. "Ewan-!" She began, going to grab at his ill-fitting collar. "You need to stay with me!" She said, deciding not to explain why.

---

Slowly, and with great intent, did Tharron step from the shadows of the town. His greatsword dragged behind him. The being was clad in wooden-plate, horrible armour of ironbark. Six eyes burnt in the helm, power flowing to the back of his head, welling up in a seeping point of green light. The creature walked towards the fire, and fire-fighters. Behind it, a collection of wooden golems lay, waiting. They did not move. They would not move until he returned.

He saw the mansion, and he saw it not as a wonderful place of wealth, and splendour, but instead a hideous, wretched, edifice of civilisation, the corpse-that-grew. He walked, and moved towards the cart and treants. "Give me back my daughter." He demanded of the fire-fighters. As he moved towards them. The greatsword let out a shimmering sound, like glass, as it scraped across the ground, fixing his eyes on the dwarf. "Where is she, Stonepraiser? I sense her. I sense my heir." He glanced to the treants, and he did not steal the treants' power from Cara, as he could, but instead bolstered them. His daughter would have her warriors, and he would let them butcher everything that stood in her way.

After all, it was unlikely that his empowered treants could be stolen from her, he reasoned.

(So sorry for the late reply. I've been moving.)

Narlis pulled his axe from the shrieking treant with a sharp laugh, eyes locked on the elf. Was it an elf? Too many eyes, but gangly and creepy enough. Least this bastard might make a decent fight! "If we had your brat, elf, wouldn't have to hack through this mess! And stonepraiser? Hah! We ain't a bunch of mewling nancies. My kin don't praise stone. We shape it, make it so as we please, while your lot dither and cry about yer sacred trees being cut.

"Now why don't my boys help you find the exit?" the dwarf's tobacco-stained teeth split into a smile, and he made a sweeping gesture. It was best to see what this elf could do. And so a trio of desperate men, and a goblin, turned their attention to Tharron.

***

"Well isn't he going to help?" Ewan huffed. "Make him do the gate and fix me!"

(It's all good.)

"You may have mercy." Tharron stated, his gauntlet up. He clenched his fist, and all around the trio roots burst from the ground, going to entangle them. They seemed to grow sharp, hardening and strengthening themselves. Were he not stopped, they would proceed to bore into the trio, giving them a painful, but ultimately quick, death. Tharron approached the dwarf, dragging his sword behind him, his gauntlet trailing a fine, green mist, as the spell ebbed from him. "Cast aside your weapons...and I will take your head from your shoulders, only." He stated, blandly.

--

"Ewan..." Cara whispered, pulling him down. "F-father loves me. V-very much. But...he's not very nice. He's...going to...kill everything between him and m-me. And if you d-on't stay with me, he'll kill you too. And I don't want you to die." She begged, staring out the gate, trying to get a glimpse of her father. The treeants blocked her view, and she cursed in her violent tongue.

The hunched goblin and trio of miltiamen faltered. They had been pulled from the gutter and it was determination, not training, which made them dangerous. They had killed fellow men easily enough, but this?

Narlis just cackled, narrowing his beady eyes. "Feh! Best case ya kill him and ya make something of yourselves. Worst case he whacks ya down to the shit pile you crawled from. Go on! And with that the trio advanced on Tharron. The taller and burlier ones rushed him together with their axes, while the goblin and a wiry youth darted to his left and right for flanking.

***

"That's really your father?" Ewan narrowed his eyes at the spindly figure, glowing with foxfire. Maybe it could be an elf, or maybe Cara wasn't an ordinary elf. It sure explained a lot.

"And thanks for, um, not wanting me to die." The boy smiled at her words. "But shouldn't we help?" Ewan had to remind himself he shouldn't be afraid of thugs or even some weird elf either. One of Le'raana's greatest wizards ever should not afraid of greasy thugs or weird elves. He stepped out from behind the column and began to whisper an old spell.

First one bee began to encircle him. Then three or so. And then the swarm began to grow...

Tharron did not give them another chance. He rose his hand into the air, and roots, all around them wrenched from the ground. They cast up, twisting and turning and writhing. He clenched his fist, and they would rush to entangle and bind the the assailants. He would move to step forwards, as axes buried into him. The ironwood splintered, a little, but it didn't seem to slow him down very much at all. It seemed the being's armour was unnaturally thick, thick enough that an axe strike at full force didn't even register as a blow to the being.

"Give me back my daughter." He demanded, as he went to hurl his arm forwards. The entangled beings - if there were any - would be flung up and down, thrashed upon the ground over and over and over and over and over. Until their corpses were beaten and broken. And as he did that, in the dark alleyway he had emerged from, wooden golems began to rise up, twitching. Three of them staggered forwards, pawing at their own faces. Whispers came from them. "Soorrrrryyyy..." "Forgi-ve-me-pl-e-a-se?" "...it hurts..." and they repeated over and over as Tharron advanced towards the dwarf. "Give me back my daughter." He repeated.

---

Cara pointed at her father as he stepped forwards, ignoring everything. "He's angry - he's angry..." She was terrified, more than she'd ever been. "Ewan, th-that short beard-sprite is dead. W-why are you summoning bees?" She asked, looking to the bees with wide eyes. "Y-you need to go..." She whispered, quietly, afraid, ignoring Ewan's happiness that she had admitted she valued his life.

"Right shame that is. Two of those rotters near bough their freedom from me, ya know. As for your daughter? I suppose we want her too. Red Witch paid us a hefty some. We could be after her now, ya know, but coin comes and goes. Ain't had a proper fight in a while. Ought to be happy she ain't here to see me break yer limbs and shit on your face, eh?

"Hierocoatlyx!" The dwarf shrugged his shoulders. The feathery cloak he wore, dulled by grit and smoke, spread itself into a pair of feathery wings and a sickening glow spread over the courtyard.  The cloak was stitched from the wings of a noble dragon, and enchanted by some hideous necromancy. With a single flap they propelled the dwarf into the air with unnatural grace. And with pollaxe in hand, grinning madly beneath his visor, Narlis swooped toward the elf! Who even was this pissant? It didn't matter. Vines, storms, toxic gas - the dwarf had faced it all, a wicked imagination planning for each and every contingency. Nothing mattered more than killing and not dying.

***

Ewan watched the dwarf and elf fight, gritting his teeth. They didn't even line up right anymore! He could, and should, eclipse magic wings and a few vines. Easy! "The dwarf's not not dead yet. And you heard him. They're looking for us. Without that tattoo I can fight us out of here. I'm okay now, so long as we can avoid that imp. Why don't you just try telling him I'm a friend?" The boy scratched at his furry arm. The swarm of conjured insects had grown thick, droning and seething with anger.

Ewan darted from behind a pillar, expecting Cara to follow. Two mercenaries we're standing at the gate, uneasily watching Tharron's fight with their boss. "Hey!" They saw Ewan, but the swarm was already on the mail clad figures, each sting delivering paralytic venom as they thrashed and flailed.

Tharron watched. He - it did not flinch as the dwarf took to the skies. Didn't even move. He simply walked forwards. The golems, the hideous howling golems, begging for forgiveness staggered forwards. They clawed at their own faces, trying to hunt out Cara as death came to the poor mercenaries were brutalised. The golems passed by the mercenaries, as they were assailed by the insects. They stumbled straight by, approaching Cara - and Ewan.

"Sorrryyy..." They howled out as they staggered forwards. Cara stumbled out towards them, extending her hands. "Stop." She demanded. They did. Cara glanced back to Ewan. "Come out! I-it might be safe..." She said, turning her gaze to her father and the dwarf.

The dwarf's pollaxe struck true, grazing across Tharron. It was as if it had swung against a slab of iron, a few splinters of ironbark chipping away. Tharron waved his hand, and the roots let the bludgeoned corpses of the mercenaries flop to the ground. He shifted his gaze to the dwarf, raising his hand up again, clenching his fist. All around him, the roots dug themselves up, spinning and swirling around him, coiled like snakes. They twitched, hunting, active, ready to strike at any moment. Tharron pointed at the dwarf with his free hand, and they lashed out, pushing forwards and trying to get a grip on him, or his clothing, or even the weapon.

Cara frowned, seeming to hesitate. And then, she stumbled forwards, going to run towards the battle, clenching her fists, leaving the golems staring blankly at Ewan as they whispered frail apologies.

How in the hells? Blow like that should've caved his breastplate! Feh! A chink in the armor was all you needed. Just had to break a bone; pain and stiffness would follow and it would be down hill. Narlis took another heavy swing at the elf, even as the vines closed in, aiming the dull axe-head toward the chipped ironwood. Vines began to close around the dwarf. They gripped the haft of his axe, and there was no room for another blow. The dwarf took a leap backward, propelled by the rotting cloak. He managed to break away, but was left with a sprained wrist "Kia's crabby cunny!" Disarmed now, thanks to that damned nancy elf, but no matter...

Plated fingers snatched a lacquered phial from his belt and uncorked it, releasing a gout of red-and-black smoke. It was Drake'sblood. The dwarf hurled the alchemical infusion, primed to explode, toward the mass of roots.

***

Somewhere, choked beneath a mass of tree-roots, Thistle had worked up the strength to worm free. "Stupid, nasty, wretched little humans. Oh I'll- I'll-!" Suddenly the little imp's ears were ringing. He smelled smoke. There was fire all around him and it was warm. Perhaps the mistress was teaching them all a lesson with her fire spell? He had to tell her was trapped. But his body and jaw did not seem to work anymore.

***

Ewan stumbled forward, the rat fur sloughing off is skin, his receeding tail throwing the boy off balance. "Gods that was annoying! Did you do that?" The little wizard, looking more human by the second, grinned and felt his backside. No tail! "Well I guess your dad can help us forge a path, yeah?" The children found themselves standing between Narlis and Tharron. The elf had a mass of vines on his side, and the dwarf clutching some alchemical tincture.

"You're- you're outnumbered now, ya know. Just let us go and we won't fight!" Was his voice always so shrill and annoying? Ewan winced at the cho.

Narlis' eyes bugged out at the sight of Ewan and Cara, more with manic joy than fear or even relief. "Well ain't this a nice coincidence!

"Light up your arrows boys! And don't go easy on the kids. One of ya bastards bring Toad out here, too!"

Tharron was neither numbed nor concerned by the near-instant immolation of the mass of roots. They burnt, slumping over as he released his control. He had more pressing matters, slowly twisting his sword within his hands, as if looking for something to butcher. There was no emotion on his mask, none at all, but every moment that passed cause Tharron's movements to grow more and more erratic.

Cara stared up, blinking. She heard the order, snapping her eyes around and about, hunting keenly for these new threats. "F-Father!" She called out, stepping in front of Ewan and trying to block his body with her arm, as if to say 'Do not harm this one.'. Tharron shot his gaze to her, nodding, before snapping his gaze to the dwarf.

"DO NOT HARM MY DAUGHTER."

The golems that had stopped lurched up, shuffling forwards like some form of hideous, animated dead. They were slow, wretched and vile, looking as if they were to fall over as they rushed to guard Cara and Ewan. As they gathered close, Cara placed her hands upon the beings, their wooden forms beginning to shift, twitching as they slowly grew into a great bulwark, a physical protection.

As they did this, Tharron stared at the dwarf. He rose his hand into the air, clenching the gauntlet. Slowly, carefully, flora began to spring forth, large greens of a rich, dark hue.

Narlis' eye twitched at the elf. More damnable spellcraft! The dwarf hurled the second drakesblood flask toward Tharron, not quite able to aim it, in order to avoid the root and vines. His sword, a sickly black thing that weeped poison, hacked at the foliage to reach a better position near the cobbled streets. This was a game of patience; no sense getting torn up. Dying to an elf was a shit way to go. "Wood don't do too well against fire and my warlock is on his way. We'll do this fun! No dancing flowers and no goons. I'll try and make it nicer than getting roasted alive!"

The assortment of slave-soldiers standing at the gate seemed less enthusiastic. One, a droopy-eared kulshredra, skittered back from the wood golems, only for a squat goblin to step on his tail The Grimguts had formed a phalanx around the garden.

***

A volley of burning bolts, aimed at Ewan and Cara, thunked into the tree golems. The boy winced at the sound, curling up behind one of the legs. Whatever Tharron was he did not seem too interested in Ewan's safety. "Golly! Your father doesn't get out much, hey? You aren't like normal elves at all, more like faeries, but I guess the ancient sort of elf was-!" He screamed. There was another crunch as more flaming bolts struck at the girl's tree-wall.

"You know we don't have to stay here. We can cut through the house!" he pointed down the garden path back toward the manor. The witch and her familiar were dead, probably?

Cara flinched at the suggestion. She turned, slowly. There was a deep fire within her, an ancient, primal aura. It was fed by something beyond her, and it was clear that she was possessed by it. She said, in a voice darker than any child should ever hold.

"If you want to run away...okay. But I wont leave my father."

And with that, she did another foolhardy thing. She decided that the dwarf was going to be fighting a war on two fronts. She twisted her hands, placing them on the bulwark, as spines began to form upon the top of them. She waited one, two, three seconds, as they slowly formed, before flicking them. The spines launched forwards, a scattershot that would glide through the sky, deadly.

Of course, Cara did reduce the amount of shielding that she had Ewan had, and she quickly cowered behind the golems, placing her hands on them and getting them to regrow.

---

Tharron was struck with the flask. His armour lit up, burning, glorious, resplendent, mortifying. A roar? It wasn't a roar. It was a sound that was not a sound. It emerged from nowhere. It was agony, and wrath beyond measure.

Perhaps it was a bad idea to anger Tharron. The greens drifting through the air suddenly launched out tiny thorns, small enough not to kill, but containing a tiny amount of an agonising toxin, potent enough to feel a pain that was never there. The greens would simply drift to the ground, after this, their only purpose fulfilled.

Tharron himself did not flounder, did not falter. Instead, it was as if the dwarf had rendered him berserk. The creature launched itself forwards, rushing towards the gate, dragging his sword behind him. Roots burst from the ground, following after him, tearing up the city. He rose up his sword, leaping forwards at the closest hostile, living beings - the slave soldiers, going to swing the gnarled ironbark weapon.

"Well I don't think he wants you to die either! Even if ya can fight off those thugs, the Red Witch is out there. Bet she has more stolen magic than ours.

"Hey elf!" he called to Tharron. "We got to go. Make them trees cover us." If the elf was like Cara he would be too stubborn to go. It was kind of admirable, but also kind of dumb. That was fine. Ewan won all his wizard duels back at Wyrdwood and was a top tier strategist! The elf girl simply must be moved and her father would follow. She his size him but he could just shapechange and be bigger. But into what? He didn't have his staff or a bit of anything to turn into- wait! An ogre! He scampered over to the fallen cook to collect some... hair?

***

The line of crossbowmen shrieked in pain at the venomous barbs. All of them collapsed, gasping in pain. The phalanx near the gate fared better behind their shields, though some broke ranks rather than engage the elf-thing. Whatever it was, many decided, was beyond mortal.

Narlis bristled with fury, his brigadine having kept the thorns at bay. Lose anymore of these whelps and his reputation would be down the shitter. But he saw the elf's game now and it was just a matter of the right tools. Fire did good, a pollaxe not so much. Had to stop the regrowth and keep this pissant too busy to do magic until Toad or the Witch arrived. The mercenary advanced on Tharron, sword and shield dancing to and fro, taking cautious jabs at joints in the elf's armor. His sword, black and greasy, oozed an eldritch toxin capable of rotting dragonscale. "Ya got some tricks up your sleeve, eh? Well me too! Only I got more. Ain't some primitive howling to gods for the same magic over and over. I got engineers under me. Alchemists. Always devising new ways- oof!" He panted, "-to kill!"

Where was that Red Witch? Where was Toad the little shit?