(TW: implied suicide, wanted to write smth with a fairy tale ish feel, essentially a novelization of this song)
The beast lies before her wounded and snarling, but it makes no moves towards her. Its back is turned, choosing to flee rather than striking back at its attacker. A devil whose size well eclipses her, killing it has been no easy task as evidenced by the numerous arrows digging into its hide. The first had shorn its wings, sending it crashing down into the mud and grime. The second had rendered its lungs useless, puncture wounds digging into the tissue and allowing it to slowly drown in its own blood. How could it bare its fangs at her, when just days prior those same eyes looked at her as if she hung the moon in the sky? She draws ragged breaths and calms herself, not allowing tears to obscure her vision.
But before we watch our heroine vanquish the beast perhaps we should turn back the page.
A boy.
A girl.
A chance encounter in the dense forest.
A day of foraging had gone awry, for she was always a better hunter than gatherer. Before she realized, the sun has slipped beneath the horizon, and her negligent attitude towards the curfew had condemned her to wandering the forest at far too late an hour. She prayed to every deity she knew when she first heard a beastly growl in the distance. An animal's senses were keener than a man's; if she had heard it, it had most certainly heard her.
A mad dash carried her from claws that wanted to rend the flesh from her bone, from white eyes that glowed in a way no man's could, from the scent of death and the tangible malice that blanketed her senses. The nightmare was interrupted by the glint of metal under the moonlight. The monstrosity bearing down upon her recoiled in agony, now blind in its right eye. The thing spun in the direction of its attacker only to be met with another piercing blow to its chest, and another, and yet another. Mad with pain and fury it rushed towards its assailant and the girl's eyes followed the action.
There in the distance, a silhouette was partially illuminated by the moon's rays. An archer standing tall and proud had nocked one more arrow, but the grotesquerie was already upon him. It launched itself at him, teeth gnashing and rake like claws raised.....Only to hesitate mere feet away. The creature tumbled forward, its wild charge partially halted, and its newfound clumsiness allowed the bowman just enough time to step aside before its claws could tear his head from his neck. Leaden feet prevent the monster from truly giving chase, and a final arrow is let loose to find a home between its eyes.
The wretched thing falls dead at the youth's feet, and he himself drops to his knees in exhaustion, adrenaline no longer coursing through his body to keep him alert. The girl snaps out of her trance like state and runs to help her savior to his feet only to stop when he raises his hand in a halting motion and points to the ground between them.
Ah, she thinks, quite the clever move to scatter caltrops on the ground.
With some careful maneuvering she makes her way to the boy and offers him her shoulder; he is not gravely wounded by any means, but the terror's last slash had grazed his shoulder. They make their way back home in relative silence, both shaken by the experience. Upon their arrival their fellow villagers help the boy into the infirmary and the girl is escorted home to retire for the night.
The next morning she stands in the infirmary, a basket of fresh baked bread and fruits in hand. The boy in front of her with a bandaged shoulder is, well, exactly that. A boy. Her age, give or take a year perhaps, with a freckled face, surprisingly soft features, and bags under his eyes from an undoubtedly troubled sleep. She gives her sincere thanks and apologizes for the meager offering, she's sure he won't mind however.
Aren't heroes supposed to help out of the goodness of their heart?
This one is full of surprises though because he tells her this simply isn't going to suffice as payment. Her nervous surprise is replaced with amusement and something close to endearment when he tells her he expects her to keep him company until he's fully healed as compensation. And so, the girl and her clever, audacious hero pass the days by getting to know each other. He was a lover of nature, flowers especially, and while she never saw the appeal, she nonetheless spent hours gathering them from the fields (and, perhaps, a few from a neighbor's garden) for him. When he weaves a crown of flowers together the next day and places them upon her head she begins to understand why people find them so lovely. The following day, he complains to her that he hates the night, and that the inky black of the sky disturbed him. When she names the constellations, speaks of how they guide travelers on their journeys and brought the two of them home safely the night they met, he thinks that maybe the night sky too can be admired.
On the evening of his discharge from the infirmary, he asks that the girl follow him one last time. Under a shimmering night sky they sit in a patch of flowers just on the outskirts of the village, and they promise that they'll meet here again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Having stolen one kiss, they wanted ten more. Having shared ten glances, they yearned yet for another hundred. The flame of desire burned blue in the night and the two would know the joys of love, and the pain of loss.
But you already knew this story wasn't going to have a happy ending.
It was a sudden development, the boy falling ill; his temperature reached a fever pitch, his limbs began to twist into misshapen figures, voice becoming gravelly and akin to a growl. The village healer, wisened and wrinkled, turns solemn as his condition grows worse and speaks to the girl of an ancient legend, one that had been around for even longer than she.
Those injured by creatures of the dark are doomed to join their ranks.
It's nonsense, the girl thinks. A cautionary tale meant to keep children from heading into the woods at night. But she recalls the vaguely humanoid shape of the woodland monster, and when she looks at her love, his nails growing long and blackened, teeth sharper than they were the day before, she can't bring herself to get the old woman's words out of her head. Nor can any other villagers, as she picks up bits and pieces of their muttered conversation. Many fear for their lives, others say to kill the boy before he slaughters them all. Even in his deteriorating state he's lucid enough to pick up on it. That or as he awakens to his monstrous instincts he can smell the fear-sweat on them. As the hours tick by and she clings to his bedside he opens his eyes and says his final words to her.
If he must die, let it be by her loving hands.
As the seconds crawl past dark veins like thorny vines creep up his body, his movements becoming more and more animated as he breaks from his lethargy, his words slur together and become completely unintelligible. When he rises with a start from his bed and snaps his jaws at the village healer's throat it's evident that they've well and truly lost him. As the room breaks into chaos he leaps out the open bedside window, batlike wings breaking through the skin of his back with a snap, carrying him off into the night. The village is in chaos, the children cry and the adults panic about what to do.
But the girl remembers the boy's parting words and gives chase, grabbing the bow and quiver he kept by his bedside. Her aim true, she fells the beast with a flurry of arrows. In its final moments, it glances back at her, and she swears its eyes crease as if it were smiling. It's head hangs limp when an arrow breaks through its skull.
It's finally over.
There is one arrow left in the quiver and she brings it to her neck. She wonders: In a world in which I've lost my love, what color do the flowers bloom?
In a world in which I've lost my love, what color do the flowers bloom?
I n a w o r l d i n w h i c h I v e l o s t m y l o v e w h a t c o l o r d o t h e f l o w e r s b l o o m ?
