Shadow
Mangrove roots squeeze in against her pelt, trapping her tail. Ahead, wardens. She dips her head low, cheek to the muddied ground to cover… what? She has no glow in this form. The Fanged Dread hovers above her, the mask both mocking and comforting.
‘Escape. Comrades. Together.’ it hums, a stilted lullabye of promises that fill her with warmth. Together. Yes, Together is important. A rustle beside her, a beak. Behind the roots, the faintest outline of elemental construct, the beak dips its approval. Together we are stronger. Always together. She crouches, seeking her opportunity. Reddened water and lame grass sprout before her, her eyes water at the heady copper scent milling around her paws. Together. The Fanged Dread moves first, darting to the next shadow. The beak flickers and is gone, followed by the briefest brush of a thick tail. She is last. A bird calls overhead. Hurry up, hurry up. She steps from the concealing roots. Lights blind her and rip away the last of the protecting shadows. The rest are gone. No sound or smell left, just the shouts of wardens and eager saplings, rocks in hand. She is dangerous. She is wrong. Her shadow is gone--where? How can there be so much light and now shadow? Her paws dig into the soft sand, turning herself about, straining to see. But no dark form attaches itself her feline shape, only light surrounds her. A rock stings her shoulder, another on her hide. The saplings laugh. ‘We’re not afraid. She can’t do anything.’ they jeer. Her wrists feel tight. Clamped. She is chained. Shifted to the shape of herself cross-legged, dodging stones. They heard she broke a warden’s nose, they’ve come to prove their strength while she cannot fight back. Her mind roars, feelings unfamiliar in this new solid body, the connection too close and too invasive. What is her own and what is not? She doesn’t know. Why do they have shadows and she does not?
‘Get up.’ a gruff voice. ‘You’re a sylvari. Not a dog.’ She stands on shaking legs, reaches with a hand to push back the hood of the one standing over her. Is it Fanged Dread? Has he come back at last? But it disappears to smoke. The Reach winds out around her, sharp cobblestones beneath bare feet.
Paws.
Paws again?
The tavern is north. She moves for it. That is where shadows are. The Golden Sun shines and casts shadows across Kryta, she has found them here before. Found them. Loved them. Revelled in all that made them different. Hope blooms, but all she finds are corpses. Tree-mounted macabre displays of Gin and Crow. The beach, again. The red sky she’s always known and rivers of sap, oceans of blood. She looks down at her paws, forcing one ahead of the other. She makes them walk until the sand runs to smooth stone. A gathering. Colours and shapes she recognises. Family. Stood above them, a figure in pale green. It speaks. Waves its arms.
‘Grom.’ it says. Her paws begin to thump against the stone, racing toward him. ‘Grom is.’
No!
She lunges. Knocks the teal one from his perch, silences him. Looks up. There. The shadow lingers on the edge of the group. She pushes her way through. The others notice, grabbing for her ears and tail. Slowing her. Wanting to stop her. She tears through all the same. One of the gathered grabs the Shadow. Her shadow. Squeezes it until the sensation of pain radiates from the shifting form. She yowls from it. Feels it from nose to tail, and only at the realisation of her pain does the other stop. Tosses the Shadow to the side like a rag, lets it fall limp to the ground. She is left with it .The Shadow. It slinks away from her, and she follows. Slowly, not wishing to spook it. She doesn’t notice the black nothing until it’s swallowed the ocean and sand. It tugs at the Shadow, pulls it closer.
No.
The nothing creeps closer, the Shadow loses grip on the smooth stone. Slides toward it inch by inch. She claws at the Shadow to hold it in place, but her claws catch nothing but air. She tries again, and again, grabbing for it with desperate paws and teeth.
No. Don’t let it go to the nothing. Don’t let it be sucked into uncertainty. The space between them widens suddenly, miles of stone appearing between her and the Shadow. She runs. Bounding on four and then two legs, her breath in ragged sobs. She runs to the edge where the Shadow teeters to the nothing, stumbles to her knees and grabs for the Shadow once more.
No. It’s gone. Absorbed into the void. She stares into the black.
And she screams. ----------------------
She makes no sound. Her eyes open, head pressed against a saturated pillow. She reaches for him. The couch is narrow, her hand falls on Spinach’s head. He whines, and Elzy growls in soft warning. The heavy jaguar is sprawled across her legs.Why? That’s what she does to him, not to her. She reaches again. No, he’s gone.
He won’t be there again. Even beneath the big cat, the night is suddenly cold. The narrow couch seems enormous. She muffles her sobs back into the pillow, squeezes her hands tight and forces enough focus to keep her empathy wrapped up. Keiranon and Oriaen have enough trouble without being woken by her sorrow. Spinach sits up, licks what tears he can from her exposed cheek. Elzy bats him back down to the floor. She pulls the blanket tight around her shoulders and imagines he’s holding her. Whispering those nonsense things that made the dark dreams go away. She, and the animals, are gone before the sun rises. Blanket folded, and pillow missing. A note to say she’ll replace it. Pillows, at least, are replaceable.
