From a Forest of Bone and Blood | Chapter One

[ar_richardson]

Everyone has a name. Jensen had a name.

A name does not tell one much about oneself, but of his name Jensen was absolutely certain. That was, unfortunately, the only thing Jensen was sure of when he opened his eyes that fateful spring morning. Jensen knew his name. It wasn't Jared, or Alona, or Genevieve. Jensen. He repeated it over and over in his mind - a silent chant of affirmation.

Jensen. Jensen. Jensen.

His eyelids fluttered open as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight of morning. It filtered merrily through the canopy of leaves above him, casting him in a green dappled hue. He could hear birds singing in the distance, chirping away madly while they no doubt searched the forest for their morning meals.
Jensen lay where he was for a moment, simply allowing himself to breathe and let the fogginess of sleep clear from his mind. He blinked a few times and then pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as the blood rushed from his head. He reached out and placed his hand on the trunk of the nearest tree. It was a small, spindly thing that bent somewhat under his weight. The movement caused the leaves overhead to rustle and a few flitted to the earth, dancing slowly on the breeze as they made their descent to the forest floor.

Looking around Jensen saw that the trees stretched as far as he could see on all sides, all of them of a similar height and size as the one he now leaned against. They were young trees, narrow of trunk and short in stature. Jensen had no idea how he came to be here in this forest of young trees. Aside from his name, he knew absolutely nothing about himself. His name brought with it no other clues to his identity. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

“My name is Jensen,” he said aloud. His own voice was a surprise - both lower and raspier than he'd expected it to be. As he spoke his own name aloud, a cool, gentle wind caressed his skin, from scalp to toes, and with it came an awareness of his body. He looked down at himself, cataloging what physical features he could without the aid of a mirror. He was tall, he realized. At least six feet, maybe more, and firmly muscled, but not overly so. He did not have the body of a warrior, but he was not soft either. His skin was fair and dotted here and there with freckles.

His body forced itself into a stretch which caused all kinds of popping and clicking in his joints, but was strangely satisfying. Once the stretch was done he felt better, more settled into his skin. He ran a hand through his hair, noting as he did so the weight of it, the length and texture. Too short to be pulled forward, he had no idea of the color. Blond? Brunet? He let his fingers run down his face, attempting to learn his features as his fingertips danced over cheekbones (prominent) and his nose (slightly uneven in the middle). Still, his admittedly limited observations about his height and appearance gave him no insight into just who he was.

Idly, Jensen wondered where his clothes were, and with that, all peace of mind fled as a jolt of panic coursed through his limbs. More and more questions sprang to mind. Why am I naked? Oh Gods! Worst-case scenarios raced through his head, and he checked for any discomfort in intimate places to see if he'd been violated. He wasn’t in any pain, and it became clear that despite being naked, he was uninjured and unmolested.

How did I come to be naked with only a name here in this - this forest? Where am I, anyway? Upon realizing he was naked and didn’t know who he was - not really - the fact that he didn’t know where he was should not have been at all surprising.

All of this uncertainty was making Jensen’s head hurt, and he considered lying back down and going to sleep. The patch of ground he'd been sleeping on was covered in soft grass and moss and had been quite comfortable. That was, if he had in fact been asleep and hadn’t just woken up fully formed from the earth.

Maybe he was First Man in the Forest of Plenty, like in the myths. He shook his head, a wry smile at the absurdity of the notion curling the corner of his mouth. If he was First Man, then those other names wouldn’t be floating around the edges of his consciousness like bees around a hive.

Jared. Alona. Genevieve. Who do these names belong to?

Feeling overwhelmed, Jensen took a wobbly step forward. As he did so, his world seemed to spin; his vision grayed out and what could only be memories swirled through his mind.

Fire swirled in the fallow field. It licked across dry patches of overgrown grass, inching its way toward the trees.

His trees.

A great beast of a dragon reared back on its hind legs to send a plume of fire at the army attacking it. The fire hit its mark, consuming flesh and singing armor -- more and more fire to threaten Jensen’s forest.

It came from all sides now and even as he flitted from tree to tree, stamping out the smaller flames, it wasn’t enough. His duty was to the forest, to protect the trees by any means possible. I need to stop this, Jensen thought. I need to protect my trees - I can’t let it kill me - Oh Gods, I’m going to die.

He gasped for breath and fought off the dizziness as his mind slowly returned to him. Blinking through the sudden headache that had sprung up behind his eyelids, he forced himself to breathe slowly. He hadn't fallen during the sudden onslaught of memory, thankfully, but he was clinging to the nearest tree with all of his strength. He righted himself, but let his hand linger on the trunk. He couldn't say why, but it made him feel grounded, as if he had some sort of connection to the tree besides the obvious human touch.

The bark under Jensen’s hand grew warm as he calmed down, and then it seemed to shiver. He felt a small sprig of growth form under his palm, threading through his fingers and growing quickly out from the trunk of the tree. It didn’t look quite real as it stretched its way towards the sun, joining the other branches as if it had always been there. The growth of the branch was accompanied by a warm sense of satisfaction deep in his belly. He couldn’t help but smile up at his work. My work. Somehow, he knew he’d caused that - that it hadn’t been just happenstance that a branch had magically burst out of the tree.

“I did that,” he said in wonder, his face turned upwards toward the sun. Behind him, he heard a laugh. Startled, he turned to face the source of that laugh and came face to face with another man. Jensen narrowed his eyes at this newcomer, trying ascertain if the other man was a threat. Jensen glanced around for a weapon to defend himself, if necessary and grabbed a branch from the forest floor, holding it out in front of himself. The other man seemed startled by Jensen's aggression, and held out his hands in a placating manner. Jensen lowered the branch, but remained on guard.

"Who are you?" Jensen demanded to know. Nearly as tall as the trees and definitely taller than Jensen himself, this man could probably disarm and overpower Jensen. He was earth colored, from his unruly mop of dark brown hair and sun bronzed skin to his multi-hued gemstone eyes.

“Look,” the stranger said, reaching out to the tree nearest him. His voice was soothing, like honeyed milk before bedtime. “I can do that too. What do you think it means?” The man demonstrated his words; a small new branch emerged from the bark to shoot upwards and burst forth with new leaves once it reached the canopy. A small smile came to the stranger's lips as he demonstrated his power.  "I'm not here to hurt you," he added.

“Who are you?” Jensen said again, as if a name would let Jensen know whether or not it was safe to trust him.

“My name is Jared,” the stranger replied, turning his face toward Jensen. Jared. The name clicked into place and Jensen was glad to have a person to associate the name with.

“Do I know you?” Jensen looked closer at the stranger - at Jared - desperately trying to place him. Jared returned the gaze. It was then that Jensen, who'd been distracted by the newcomer, remembered his nudity.

Well, that was one way to make a lasting impression. Jensen considered reaching down and trying to cover himself with his hand for modesty’s sake - looked like he’d need both hands to do that - but it was a little too late for that. Jensen felt his face heat up in embarrassment. Jared wasn’t naked. Granted, he was nearly naked; he wore a pair of ill-fitting breeches of coarse weave and dyed dirt brown that weren’t quite laced correctly, but at least he had clothes on. Why am I naked? Jensen wondered again.

“Maybe?” Jared mused, keeping his eyes locked on Jensen's. Either he'd already looked his fill at Jensen's body or he was trying to be polite. Either way that gaze was filled with intensity. “Who are you? Besides naked, I mean. We should probably find you some clothes.”

“Jensen,” he answered, trying to process all the words rattling about his skull. “I mean, my name is Jensen. At least I’m pretty sure it’s Jensen.”

“Jensen,” Jared said the name as if he could taste it. He gestured with his right hand, a movement that seemed to encompass the entire area. “Do you know what happened here?”

“I-I don’t know,” Jensen answered. Jared’s brow furrowed just a little and he pursed his lips. “All I can remember right now is my name.” And yours, apparently, Jensen thought.

“Looks like we’re in the same boat then,” he said. “Let’s find you something to wear.”

Jensen was confused but tried not to let on as he started to follow Jared through the trees. It wasn’t as if the trees were going to suddenly sprout clothing fit for him to wear - oh. He looked around and noticed, for the first time, small bundles of fabric littering the ground here and there. Some of the bundles were nearly ash, as if they’d been set on fire. A few pieces of charred armor lay here and there, glinting in the sunlight, and there were also little ash piles that may at one point have been clothing. Here the ground was charred. Jared bent over and started picking through one of the piles, coming up with a shirt which he discarded immediately.

“Too much blood,” he mused, moving on to the next little bundle of fabric lying on the ground. Jensen stole a glance at the shirt Jared had dismissed, noting that yes; it was indeed covered in blood. Looking at the garment and thinking about how it could have come to be in that state made Jensen a little queasy. He was suddenly grateful to Jared - it seemed he was adjusting to this strange situation with a grace and poise that Jensen seriously lacked.

“So,” Jensen said as Jared threw a shirt at him, “you don’t know what happened here either?”

“No idea,” Jared said as Jensen struggled with the shirt. It had, at some point, been a nice white shirt with embroidery around the keyhole neck, but now it was stained and dirty, with patches of soot decorating it here and there. Jensen was just happy this shirt didn’t have blood on it. It was too big for him and hung past his hips, which he was also thankful for.

“All I know is that my name is Jared,” Jared continued, picking up a pair of shoes, glancing inside and then tossing them aside in disgust. “Foot’s still in that one,” he said. “You probably don’t want that one.”

“Yeah, no,” Jensen agreed. Jared proceeded to ramble on, both physically and verbally, and Jensen only halfway paid attention to him. Instead, he tried to take in his surroundings, wondering how the earth could look so scarred and war torn, yet the trees were pristine - no marks on them at all, no blood or ash or any other residue that would indicate a battle took place here. When Jensen started paying attention again it was only because Jared chucked a pair of long trousers at him that were in fairly decent condition, all things considered. Jensen put them on gladly, noting as he did that Jared had managed to find himself a shirt to wear as well. Jensen was tugging the trousers over his hips when Jared stopped short. Jensen nearly walked into him.

“Oh, Gods,” Jared said, turning to face Jensen. Jared's nose was crinkled up and his eyes squinted in a look of displeasure. “Do you smell that?”

Jensen inhaled, and regretted it immediately. The smell was reminiscent of a trash heap on a hot summer day, like composting feces and vomit all wrapped up together with a side of rotting cabbage and human corpses.

“Jared, wait,” Jensen said, reaching out with one hand and grabbing the other man’s sleeve. His fingertips brushed against the skin of Jared’s wrist, and Jensen stopped breathing for a moment. For all he knew, this was his first human contact.

But that was ridiculous. He was human, probably. He must have known the touch of his mother, at least. He shook himself from his thoughts as what presented in front of them was inarguably more important.

“All the trees are dead.”

Jared looked left, and then right. He turned back toward Jensen with a look of confusion on his features. In front of them the forest stretched on, but these trees were dead, just as Jensen had observed, their trunks bleached white and the leaves brown and withered. The grass and brush were dead, like weeds in summer. The moss was hard and dry and crunched when Jared took a step forward.

“I - I don’t think we should continue forward,” Jensen said. He’d lowered his voice a bit, though he couldn’t say why. The area of dead forest extended in circle, and when Jensen let his eyes cast about he could see a trail of blight leading into the dead area and a trail of blight leading out. Jared noticed it as well.

“Something caused this,” he said, his own voice lowered in pitch to match Jensen’s. “I don’t like this.” Jared slapped an open palm against his forehead. “I feel like I should know what this is - I should know what caused this but I - I don’t!”

Jensen was a little unnerved to see his own emotions reflected so perfectly in another person. He also felt like he should know what caused this. A deep uneasiness roiled in his belly, and he took a step back.

“Let’s turn back,” Jensen said.

“Jensen, wait, hold very still.”

Jared stood in front of Jensen, his expression unreadable and his hand held up to emphasize his point. Jensen’s heart jumped up into his throat. There’s something behind me. The small hairs on the back of his neck prickled and the skin there grew warm, and that was when he realized with horror that whatever was behind him was close enough to be literally breathing down his neck. Jensen froze, afraid to even breathe.

“Jared, what’s behind me?”

“I-“

“I should run, yeah? Don’t you think I should run?” Under normal circumstances Jensen would probably be embarrassed about the register of his voice and how it was steadily climbing. Jared nodded dumbly.

“Yeah, um, yeah, we should probably run.”

Jensen didn’t wait; he was off like a shot, running as fast as he could straight through the dead patch of forest. Jared quickly caught up, those long legs eating up the distance in a pace that almost made Jensen envious.

Almost, because really, he had more important things to be worried about right now - like running for his life.

Priorities, he thought.

Jared quickly gained the lead and as he passed Jensen he reached out and grasped Jensen’s hand, tugging him along, urging him to go faster.

Of course, that meant that when Jared’s feet tangled in long strands of dead growth and he tumbled into a copse of dried brush, Jensen soon followed suit, landing on Jared with enough force to punch the air from his lungs.

It was then, while he was writhing around on top of Jared, trying to disentangle his own limbs from Jared’s that something new caught his attention. Lying on the ground next to them was a severed human arm, or at least it appeared to be. From just the elbow the skin began to change, rippling up into a coarse, wooden texture. It looked like bark. No, it was bark, and the earth underneath the limb was stained dark. The pinky finger on the hand had split in half length-wise, and had grown longer than all the other fingers, the ends of that digit splitting further into smaller and smaller appendages and - and that was definitely a leaf attached to end of one of the little offshoots. The leaf was dead, just like the arm it had been growing from.

“What in the depths happened here?” Jensen asked, his eyes wide and his nose wrinkling in revulsion. Jared saw the severed limb (limb, that was never a more appropriate word, Jensen thought), and jerked away from it, a disgusted look on his face.

“No time, Jensen, come on!”

Jensen freed himself from Jared and found himself sitting on the forest floor staring in horror at the creature that slithered their way. Jared managed to pull Jensen to his feet at the same time he stood up, but Jensen couldn’t tear his eyes from the creature that pursued them. Monster would be a kind description - abomination was probably more accurate.

It oozed along the forest floor toward them, almost languidly, but Jensen could sense determination in its movements. It was in no hurry to catch them, of that Jensen was sure. No, this kind of monster would simply run them to death and then devour them where they lay. It would probably eat them alive if they were unlucky enough to fall from exhaustion.

The thing resembled a bloated, bleached earthworm, if earthworms could grow to be as long as several men stretched end to end and it was as big around as a wine barrel. Its skin looked like layers of old paper, torn from books and fashioned into scales. It left in its wake a trail of slick ooze, and everything that slickness touched withered before their very eyes. This was what had caused the dead patch in the forest, and Jensen and Jared had just stumbled blindly into its path.

“I think we’re trapped,” Jensen heard Jared say he spared a glance over his shoulder. Jared was correct. Judging by how much larger the trees were here they were backed up against an older part of the forest, and the vegetation had grown so thick that no human could pass through without some sort of blade. Jensen felt a ridiculous urge to fight the creature, to stop it by any means necessary so that it would not push past the barrier from new forest to old.

I have to protect the forest. But how?

“We can’t let it pass,” Jared said, and Jensen heard his own death whispered with those words.

“No, we can’t,” Jensen said, steeling himself. “I don’t have a weapon. Do you?”

“No,” Jared said. “I should have found one. I’m so stupid!”

Jensen felt the same. There had been piles of armor scattered about, surely there must have been weapons. He didn’t acknowledge Jared, but rather kept an eye on the creature. The worm approached with aggravating slowness, as if it were simply curious about them. Five protruding red eyes - two small eyes on either side of one large one in the middle - gazed at them as it slithered back and forth on its path, carving S-shaped furrows of decay into the earth as it edged closer and closer to the two men who had nowhere else to run. Its movements were disturbingly quiet, despite its large size and gaping maw no sound at all came from the creature to mark its passage. Jared reached over and grabbed Jensen’s hand once again, squeezing tightly. At least if they were going to die, they wouldn’t die alone in this strange place.
Jensen suddenly wondered if he had a family somewhere who would miss him. Did he have children?

The sharp, unexpected crack of gunfire had Jensen hitting his knees and covering his head with his hands. Risking a glance up, he saw three holes open up in the worm’s side and a thick, creamy fluid leaked out - blood, perhaps, but unlike any blood Jensen had ever seen. That is, if he’d actually ever seen blood. There was no way to be sure.

The worm jerked to the side, and its mouth opened, issuing forth a wounded cry of pain - a loud, rasping cry that sounded both injured and enraged. It was the first sound the worm had made since it had stolen up behind Jensen, and it was a horrible sound that made him want to cover his ears.

“Don’t touch it!”

“I know!

The warning and response both came from female voices and Jensen looked around wildly to see where they were coming from. To his left he saw Jared, pressed up against the brambles of the undergrowth. To his right he saw a blonde woman, wielding a pistol and a look of fierce determination as she popped off two more rounds of ammunition into the body of the worm, which’d turned away from Jared and Jensen and now focused on the woman shooting at it.

“One more bullet!” she screamed, firing once more. This bullet hit the monster directly in its largest eye, spraying red and white gore as it screeched and charged. The worm could move fast when it wanted to. Apparently it had just been toying with Jensen and Jared.

Another woman, this one petite with long dark hair, appeared from the trees behind the worm, wielding a long, narrow sword with what looked to be practiced ease. She lunged at the worm, bringing the sword down in a bold strike at the flesh directly behind its eyes. The worm lurched, turning its body toward this new threat, and the woman jumped back, just in time. The thrashing creature hit a tree, which wilted like a summer weed in an instant. Jensen did not want to see what would happen if it touched a human.

Jared pulled himself from his stupor and started pelting the monster with rocks, with surprisingly good aim. Jensen decided to try his hand at rock throwing as well, seeing as how he didn’t have any other weapons at hand. He hefted a good sized one in his hand, and with a yell he lobbed that rock directly at the worm, aiming for and hitting one of the smaller eyes. Hitting it with the rocks wasn’t going to do much damage, but Jensen hoped that it would at least distract it enough that the women could deal a killing blow.

The blonde woman tossed the gun over her shoulder - it must have been out of ammunition - and drew her own sword, charging at the worm with a cry. The worm, now assaulted from all sides, obviously didn’t know which way to turn. Jensen would almost feel sorry for it if it weren’t such a great, ugly, decay-spreading creature of death.

Wailing now, the worm thrashed back and forth, but all four in the impromptu party knew better than to let it touch them. Darting in and out, the women made quick work of the worm, hacking off its head with strong, sure strokes of their swords. Finally the monstrous thing lay in two pieces on the forest floor. The four people now left standing over its dismembered body just stared at each other, their chests heaving from their exertions.

“Wow, thank you,” Jared finally said. “I think you saved our lives.”

“Who are you?” Jensen managed to ask. “I mean, thank you. Of course thank you. You did save our lives. What was that thing?”

All four of them looked at the ground where the worm was steadily decaying into the earth, sinking deeper and deeper until it was out of sight completely.

“Witherkin,” they all said at once, and immediately it was obvious to Jensen what the thing had been. Of course it was a Witherkin. There was nothing else it could have been. Although Jensen now knew what it was, he had no idea how he knew that.

“What’s a Witherkin, again?” Jared asked, sounding confused. His brow furrowed as he thought it over, and Jensen watched as the confusion seemed to clear. “I mean, yes, of course, Witherkin.”

“Witherkin are born of chaotic, dark magic,” Jensen said, surprising himself. “Something bad happened here - bad enough to draw the energy to birth this thing. It was larger than most Witherkin, I think. What do you think?”

The blonde woman was staring at the ground, her eyebrows drawn together. “Yes, that’s right,” she said, and the brunette nodded her agreement. “Nasty things.”

“Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?” the brunette finally piped up. Her large brown eyes settled on Jensen. “Are you Jared and Jensen?”

Jensen glanced over at Jared, gauging his reaction. Jared looked just as surprised as Jensen felt that this woman knew their names.

“Who are you?” Jared said, sounding curious and not unfriendly. “Are you Alona and Genevieve? Do we know each other?”

“Yes, I’m Alona,” the blonde woman answered. She was dressed in a long dirty shirt which she’d tied a belt - or maybe it was a sleeve from another shirt - around, fashioning it into a very short dress that showed off shapely legs. Her long hair fell just past her shoulders in soft golden waves, and Jensen thought she looked at home among the trees, like she belonged in the forest.

Jared seemed to share Jensen’s opinion. “Are you a wood sprite?” he asked, his eyes wide. Alona’s lips curved up into a wide smile, showing straight, white teeth and her eyes crinkled up in laughter.

“No, I don’t think so anyway. I’m just as human as you are. Well, except for this thing I can do making the trees-“

“Grow, yeah,” Jared said excitedly. “We can do that too.” Here he gestured wildly between himself and Jensen. “Do you know what’s going on here? Do you know where we are?”

“Sorry, no,” Alona said, the laughter subsiding. “But I’m glad we finally found each other. I woke up a little while ago all alone and all I knew was my name, and yours too apparently. Genevieve - that’s her - and I found each other. We scrounged some clothes up and decided to try and find Jensen and Jared, since your names were floating around in our heads. Then we found the Witherkin’s trail and started following it, and it led us to you.”

Genevieve gave an awkward little wave when Alona introduced her, and moved to stand closer to the blonde. She was of equal height as Alona but a little more substantial. Where Alona looked like a stiff breeze might blow her over, this woman looked more solid - more human. “I’m Genevieve. Which of you are Jared, and which is Jensen?”

Jensen and Jared quickly identified themselves to the newcomers.

“I think we need to sit down and figure out what’s going on, where we are and what we should do next. I don’t like not knowing who I am,” said Alona.

“But you know your name is Alona,” Genevieve countered. “Just like I know I’m Genevieve.”

“And I’m Jensen,” Jensen said. “But that’s all I know. Do you know more about yourself? Do you know where you came from and what you do for a living?”
Genevieve’s forehead creased as if she hadn’t thought about that, and then shook her head. “How can I not know that?” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked frustrated. Of the four of them, Genevieve looked the most put together, wearing a pair of men’s breeches which reached just past her knees. She’d procured a pair of soft leather boots which seemed to fit her well, and Jensen was jealous that she’d managed to find footwear that didn’t still have a foot in them. Like Alona, she’d found herself a shirt that she’d belted around her waist, although unlike Alona she’d found an actual belt to wear. Her thick, long dark hair was tied back in a queue with a leather thong.

“So what now?” Alona wondered aloud. “We were obviously meant to find each other. Or we know each other. From before, I guess. I mean, how else would we know each other’s names?”

Jensen and Jared shared a look and then shrugged. Genevieve didn’t respond at all, but she looked dubious. Jared sighed and sat down on the ground, cross legged. The others sat as well, forming an impromptu meeting to apparently figure out what their next move should be.

Something occurred to Jensen. He wasn’t sure where it came from - it just popped into his mind as if it had always been there, just like the information about the Witherkin had earlier.

“The nearest town is Sheppardston, to the East.”

The other three nodded in agreement, as if they knew this as well. Perhaps they did.

“We should go there,” said Genevieve, her voice a bit more confident than it had been. “Maybe we could figure out if that’s where we live, or maybe they can tell us who we are.”

“Or at least where we came from,” Jared agreed. He was quick to smile, Jensen noticed, although he tended to keep his eyes downward when he did so. Maybe it came from being so tall.

“It would be a start,” Alona said. “We should probably stick together until we figure this thing out.”

Jensen didn’t see any reason not to stick together, so he agreed with Alona. No one else voiced opinions to the contrary, and so it was settled.

They would go to Sheppardston.

Chapter Two | Back to Masterpost