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Considering the circumstances, Will was proud to announce that he was actually doing just fine. It was an adjustment, for sure, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it’d be. He still jumped occasionally when someone yelled his name, but he was getting better, and he actually found himself enjoying the work of a park ranger. He often found himself in awe, staring at the vast, tangling expanse of the woods which sprawled before him day in and day out. It was easy to get lost, if you wandered off the path, and he sometimes found himself wondering what happened to those that did. It was terrifying…and beautiful.Each day he would patrol the park’s trails, checking out various reports of mischievous or dangerous activity, cleaning the trails, and helping the occasional hiker. It was mainly pretty quiet, which was a nice change of pace for him. It could be exhausting, all that hiking back and forth, but the work was rewarding and each day when he returned to the small cabin provided to him, he knew he could rest easy (well, about as easy as he ever could). Furthermore, the end of each day brought him the other reason he was feeling pretty good about his new circumstances: Montresor.Montresor approached him only two days after he arrived at the park, and he didn’t seem to give a damn about how nervous or withdrawn Will was. Each day he’d go up to Will and ask if he’d like to play a game of cards, and while at first Will refused, eventually he gave in to the man’s cajoling. It was a bit embarrassing to think about, and Monty would surely laugh at him if he ever admitted it, but it was Monty reaching out which saved him from the funk he had been in. Now every evening they ate dinner, played cards, and listened to the radio together. Oftentimes other rangers would join them–most notably Ada, Monty’s on-and-off-again girlfriend–which left Will with a loose ring of friends and acquaintances that he otherwise wouldn’t have had. Just thinking about it left him smiling; that one act of kindness alone made up for all the ribbing Monty put him through. Sure, sometimes his teases stung, but as Monty said on occasion: he really ought to be grateful.The day so far had been quiet, almost unnervingly so–not so much as a lost hiker or rogue troublemaker showed up. So he sat outside on an old, faded camping chair, appreciating the shade of the porch as well as the relative comfort it provided, and waiting almost anxiously by the radio for any sort of work to do. As he waited for any sort of news, he spent his time reflecting on the unexpected peace the last month or so had given him. When his radio finally buzzed to life, alerting him of some suspicious activity down by the creek, he nearly jumped out of his skin.Will quickly grabbed the radio, wincing slightly as a book which had been resting on the arm of the chair fell to the ground with a thud. The radio crackled slightly as he brought it to his ear, but he ignored it and clicked the button on its side. Eagerly, Will announced that he would be willing to check it out, excited by the prospect of finally having something to do besides reflecting on his life choices. He got up, rolling his shoulders gently in an attempt to stretch the chronically tense muscles there, and gingerly picked up his book. Carefully, he tucked it under his arm, making sure that his bookmark hadn’t fallen out when it hit the ground–it was all good. It took barely any time for him to get ready for his excursion, restless energy buzzing in his arms and legs. The thing they never tell you about being on the run is that you never stop feeling as if you are, even when it's over.He packed lightly for the trip, just basic trail supplies and other necessary items. It was swelteringly hot, so he left the top few buttons of his uniform unbuttoned, but even then the heat was suffocating. It wasn’t the type of heat he was used to; something about the woods made the heat feel alive, as if he were sitting in the maw of some giant creature. He batted at bugs absentmindedly as he picked his way down the trail, mind busy thinking of all the possible things he may see once he arrived. Maybe it was some campers that got a bit rowdy, or some teens that got horribly turned around... or maybe it was something more sinister. He knew that most likely it was just some jerks messing around with things they shouldn’t, but a man can dream. The trail he was on was a little overgrown, as the creek wasn’t nearly the most popular spot for hikers, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the paths he’d heard about. Monty once said that he’d had to jump across a ravine while clearing a trail because the bridge had collapsed, but most of the rangers around them had called bullshit. Will believed him, though; there were plenty of things that could happen in the woods, and a collapsed bridge was nowhere near the weirdest of them.He tried to listen, but the woods were as quiet as they ever could be. No shouting, no chaos, just the chirping of birds and the rustling of small animals. He pushed his way past a final bush and found himself entering a small clearing. At one end there was a small ditch through which the creek ran, and a couple of large rocks and a hillside on the other. The clearing itself was empty. Dappled shadows danced across the grass, across which just a few depressions where a tent used to be were scattered. He walked over to the small fire pit and kneeled down. The charred remains of old firewood sat lifeless at the bottom, but they seemingly posed no threat of starting a fire. He stood up, brushed off his knees, and sighed softly. The camp was abandoned, recently so, but still…abandoned.It was at that moment he heard a loud snapping sound from the direction of the creek, as if someone had cracked a large stick underfoot. His head jerked in the direction of the noise, and he carefully made his way over to the creek. He scanned the surrounding woods, hand drifting towards the walkie-talkie on his hip. As he inspected the brush around him his eyes caught on something partially buried under a rock on the bank of the creek. Was this somehow related to the ‘suspicious activity’ reported by Annabel?He felt his heart begin to race as his curiosity peaked, and he began to carefully walk down the precarious slope of the ditch the creek sat in. The dirt was rocky and loose, slipping under his boots slightly as he walked, and sticks cracked and snapped in time with his steps. He couldn’t quite make out what it was, just the disturbed dirt which surrounded it and what appeared to be some sort of strip of red fabric–though it was partially covered in mud. He tried to speed up slightly; there was a possibility that whatever was there was dangerous, and in that case it was his responsibility as a ranger to take care of it (and he tried to ignore the rising, giddy feeling of excitement and intrigue sparking in his chest). As he began to pick up the pace of his descent he felt a patch of dirt underneath his foot give way. Scrambling, he tried his best to find his footing and restore his balance, but it was no use. So he fell, skidding ass-over-teakettle down into the creek, pain lancing up his leg as his ankle twisted at an odd angle. He let out a shriek of pain as he tumbled, trying his best to pull his injured leg towards his chest as he came to a stop. Even the cold water of the creek splashing over him couldn’t relieve him of the burning pain he was feeling. He let out a small whimper and closed his eyes as tears began to prick at the corner of his vision. He needed to get up, to see whatever was lodged under that rock, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. It was like all of his (somewhat meager) strength had been sapped from his body. Shakily he retrieved his walkie-talkie and brought it to his mouth.“Will to Administration, the campsite is cleared, and I-I couldn’t see anyone nearby… I saw something in the creek and I went to go check it out, but I fell and hurt my leg. I think I need someone to come get me… I’m by the north side of the creek, near the canyon.” His hands shook slightly as the shock from his tumble, even if it was only a couple feet or so, began to fully catch up to him. He could already feel the stinging of various cuts and scrapes, as well as the aches of the bruises scattered across his body. He was lucky he didn’t hit his head on the way down, or he could be in serious trouble. Even so, he was sure his leg was messed up bad, but he couldn’t bring himself to look–growing up he never had the grit of some of the boys his age. He tried to get up once more, but when his body protested he was quick to lay back down. Luckily the water was pretty shallow in this part of the creek, more of a trickle than anything, so he wasn’t at risk of drowning, but still the cold was both unpleasant and a welcome distraction from the pain. If he couldn’t get up, he may as well resolve to just sit and wait until help came, and that’s exactly what he did.He wasn’t sure how long he lay there; it couldn’t have been more than an hour or two, yet as he opened his eyes he could have sworn it had been an eternity. The first thing he heard was the crunching of boots through the brush, followed by a low whistle he recognized as Monty’s. He found himself grinning boyishly despite the circumstances.“Hell, Will. How’d ya end up in this mess?” Monty chuckled, his shadow falling across Will from where he stood looming over him. Will did his best to shrug, though he winced when he felt the ache in his back caused by the fall. He watched as Monty sighed good naturedly and shook his head, as if Will had merely made some silly mistake rather than getting himself what at least felt like a pretty nasty injury. Monty knelt down beside him, hooking one arm around his waist and helping him to his feet. Will’s head spun for a minute, but soon he managed to right himself somewhat, even if he had to cling on tightly to Monty for support.“Come on now, let’s get ya to the med building,” Monty huffed, adjusting his grip on Will so he could better help him walk. Will began to nod slightly, before remembering the whatever-it-was still buried in the mud just ten feet away.“W-wait, the thing’s still over there… we should check,” he murmured, nodding over his shoulder towards the buried item. Monty scoffed and flicked his forehead, earning a surprised “Ow!” from Will.“Are ya stupid? Yer foot’s pointing the wrong way! We need to get you to the medical building as soon as possible—we’ll send someone to check it out later. ‘Sides, if we don’t get you fixed up soon, someone’s gotta take on yer share of the work.” Monty rolled his eyes as he said so, as if all that had been obvious and Will was dumb for missing it.Will’s shoulders jumped up towards his ears, and his cheeks burned as he muttered a simple, “Okay, Monty.”The walk back towards the rangers’ offices took longer than it should have, given Will could only hobble, and both he and Monty had to take more breaks than normal to accommodate it. He really should have known better; there was a reason they warned campers to descend slopes slowly and carefully, but he had let his curiosity get the better of him. Stupid, he was truly stupid.He sighed softly to himself, but felt his cheeks heat as Monty glanced at him with a single judging eyebrow raised. They talked a bit, mainly about their days, and the things they had done with the relative quiet. They complained about the heat, and the way the odd peace had left them all on the edge of their seats–a quiet forest does not always mean a safe forest, after all.Eventually they found themselves back at the small cluster of buildings which made up the rangers’ housing and offices. They made their way up the gravel path leading to the building which contained both the mess hall, administration headquarters, and most relevantly, the medical offices. A few rangers saw them and waved, or gave sympathetic smiles once they saw the state Will was in, but no one came to help or talk to them. They probably had better things to be doing. The hall was quiet, as there was still an hour or so until dinner was served, but he could faintly hear the kitchen staff working tirelessly to prepare the food needed to feed them all. Luckily the mess hall was much easier to walk through than the woods had been, though getting up the stairs was a bit more difficult. Soon enough they had finally made it to the medical office’s door, and Monty knocked on the door three times in rapid succession, his exhaustion and irritation at the situation beginning to show in his nonplussed expression. Will bit his lip as he felt a mix of shame and guilt sitting at the back of his throat like bile, choking out his relief at finally reaching his destination. He heard a faint sigh from behind the door, and couldn’t help but wince at the idea he was making someone else’s day worse, even if that someone was only the doctor that would be treating him. There was the faint sound of footsteps, before ever-so-slowly the door opened.Standing on the other side of the door was a man. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with olive skin and slicked back dark brown hair–with the exception of a single curl, which fell across his forehead. He wore a perfectly pressed ranger uniform top, with a pair of equally neat black slacks, and a pair of shiny black dress shoes, as well as oddly enough, a spotless white doctor’s coat. It was clear that he spent most of his time indoors, as his clothes would be ruined by so much as the quick hike to the recreation center. He stood proudly in the doorframe, head held high, and stared down with a piercing gaze which reminded Will somewhat of a hawk. His eyes were amber, a fact which stood out to Will for whatever reason. He did his best to smile up at the man, but he was sure it came out more as an awkward grimace than a genuine grin. The well-dressed man looked to Montresor and stepped aside, gesturing for the pair to enter his office. They did so hurriedly, with Montresor half escorting and half shoving Will to the bench on the other side of the room.“Well, doc, I trust he’s in good hands,” Monty said nonchalantly, already making his way towards the door, as if he couldn’t wait to leave the whole situation behind and focus on more pressing matters. Will watched as the man in the coat reached out towards Monty, but he evaded his grasp with a casual air which spoke to just how often Monty found himself having to weasel his way out of trouble.“Hold on now, someone has to–” the man spoke, and his voice was dark and smooth, with just a hint of an accent Will couldn’t quite place. European, maybe?“Sorry, prettyboy, I promised Miss Ada I would walk her to dinner, and I don’t wanna keep my girl waiting, do I?” He shrugged slightly and smirked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The man scoffed and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking as if he was going to start scolding Monty, but yet again Montresor interrupted him, calling over his shoulder as he walked away, “I’m sure Will won’t cause too much trouble.”Finally the man turned back towards Will, who had been sitting awkwardly on the bench, waiting for the two of them to be done. He sighed once more, which Will was beginning to think was common for him. The man made his way over to the desk pushed up against the far wall and began to sort through drawers of paperwork.“Could you remove your overshirt and boots please,” he pulled out a slip of paper, a clipboard, and a pen, before making his way across the room to Will. Carefully, Will removed the requested garments with the sole exception of the shoe on his right foot, which he tried to take off and was met with a wave of pain unlike anything else he had experienced. He let out a grunt of pain, hunched over slightly, and cursed himself for being so sensitive as he felt tears beginning to gather in his eyes. He heard the shifting of fabric, and when he looked back up, the man had taken a knee in front of him and was inspecting his injured ankle. He hummed slightly, and Will had to suppress the urge to jump back in surprise–how had he moved so quickly…and so quietly too?“It appears to be dislocated,” the man muttered, his eyebrows pinching together in focus, as he began to ever so carefully remove Will’s boot. “This will need to be treated immediately. Can you tell me how you became injured?” After carefully removing his boot, and further examining his ankle, he moved back to the desk across the room. Meanwhile, Will embarrassedly recounted how he had taken a tumble into the creek. Only a minute later, the man returned to his side, holding what appeared to be a mouth guard, which he held out to Will. He took it gingerly, and looked bewildered up at the man, who then sighed once more.“I’m going to have to put your ankle back in place. It can be painful, so that mouth guard will keep you from biting through your tongue,” he explained gently, though just a hint of exasperation lingered at the edge of his words. Will glanced away and sheepishly placed the mouth guard into his mouth. The man smiled at him slightly, before taking a knee in front of him once more. He carefully explained each of the steps, and Will nodded along, mind still slightly fuzzy from the pain and the exhaustion of the previous few hours. After the process had been thoroughly described, and some localized pain relievers administered, the man began to shift Will’s bones back into place.The thing they never showed in movies was that it actually takes a fairly long time to put a dislocated ankle back into place, and if Will thought he had been in pain before, now he was in complete agony. It took around 30 minutes of carefully adjusting his knee and ankle, before finally the doctor was satisfied with the state of his ankle. Even with the painkillers the man gave him, his leg burned. Afterwards the man got him a glass of water, which he drank thankfully as his head ached from the sobs which had racked him during the whole ordeal. He never had been a particularly tough man, after all. He barely paid any mind to the man placing his foot in a splint, or the rest of the patching-up progress in general. Eventually, he snapped out of his daze as the man placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.“I have a back room where you can rest if you feel you can’t make it back to your cabin,” he said, his face caring yet detached in the way only an overworked medical professional could manage. Will nodded weakly, using the man’s arm to hoist himself to his feet (or, well… foot).“T-thank you…?” his voice squeaked embarrassingly high, as he realized he never once asked the doctor’s name. Luckily he seemed to intuit Will’s question before he had to say it.“Prospero. Dr. Prospero Caruso,” the man stated, with a practiced air, as if he had done it hundreds of times before–which he may as well have, for all Will knew. Will nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, and smiled weakly up at him. The man he now knew was named Prospero brought him into the medical office’s back room and helped him to the cot pushed to the corner of the room in order to make space for what seemed to be a series of overly-filled bookshelves nearly buckling under their own weight. While the room was neat, it was nowhere near as perfectly organized as the other room, and touches of life could be seen scattered across the space. An abandoned mug of coffee, a bookmarked book, and even a stray paper or two. Will found himself wondering just how much time the man spent in the room, if there were many nights spent sitting in the worn-out armchair directly across the room, pouring over books and studying various areas of academic interest. He shook his head, what was he thinking? It was no business of his what Prospero spent his time doing, they were practically strangers–it was weird to wonder about his life, like he would have if they were friends. He really had to get his curiosity in check, maybe soon it would land him in more trouble than a dislocated ankle.He watched from his place on the cot as Dr. Caruso grabbed a piece of scratch paper from a small table next to that old armchair and scribbled down something, before walking over and handing it to Will.“A list of instructions, so you know exactly what to do once you return to your cabin.” He placed the slip of paper on the rickety nightstand to the left of the cot he was resting on. Will could feel the exhaustion clouding his mind, and he yawned automatically, before humming slightly in acknowledgement of what the doctor had said. Without another word, the doctor nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and exited the room. Will could vaguely remember him previously saying something about elevating his foot, and took one of the cot’s pillows (of which there were two… for more comfortable resting, he supposed) and placed it underneath his right leg, wincing slightly as he did so. After that was settled he did his best to get comfortable, closing his eyes as the soft golden rays of sunlight which managed to peek through the shudders danced ethereally across the room, painting everything in warm golds and oranges. It was cooler in the properly air-conditioned space of the main hall, and he soon found himself drifting off to sleep. Even so, a voice in the back of his mind whispered: what was it, exactly, that was buried at the bottom of the creek?-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Will woke up an hour or two later. The sun had set, and the room was coated in inky black shadows. A small sliver of light shone from underneath the door, so it was likely Prospero was still working in the other room. Oddly enough, what caught Will’s attention most upon waking up was the sound of rain battering against the window and roof, which was strange as there had been no signs indicating that it would rain that day. The air had been hot and dry, almost strangely so, and there were no storms nearby that could have blown in–it made no sense, especially given the storm’s intensity. But, he supposed, maybe this sort of weird weather happened all the time, and he simply hadn’t been there long enough to witness it.Sitting up groggily, and stretching his arms over his head with a yawn, he glanced around the darkened interior of the room. He noticed that around 2 feet away from the cot, leaned up against the wall, was a pair of crutches. He smiled slightly at the thoughtfulness of the gesture and began to carefully get up out of the cot. His ankle protested at the movement, but he grit his teeth and got up anyway. No need to be such a baby about it, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Monty’s chimed in mentally. Using the crutches, he slowly made his way over to the door, and opened it with a low creak.Sitting at his desk, pouring over the day’s paperwork, was Dr. Caruso. His hair was slightly mussed, as if he had run his hands through it once or twice, and he leaned his head against his hand, elbow propped up on the desk next to the paperwork he was looking at. He had taken off his coat, which was resting over the back of the chair he was sitting in, and Will couldn’t help but feel as if he were intruding on something he was never meant to see. He cleared his throat once, hoping to break the silence and the tension which accompanied it. The doctor’s head turned to him, and his expression quickly shifted from startled to a look of tired indifference.“Ah, you’re awake. Good,” the man muttered, his voice flat as he turned back to his paperwork once more.“Yep… I, uh, I sure am!” he chuckled, cringing internally at the stilted nature of what he had said. The man simply nodded, seemingly content with the return to silence. Will, however, tried to spark up conversation once more. “It's a bit of a weird storm, isn’t it?”“What?” Prospero glanced over his shoulder, a single perfect eyebrow raised in confusion.“Y'know, it just was rather unexpected, was it not?”“I suppose so,” Prospero shrugged, before pausing to consider it briefly. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to stay the night here, seeing as it would be dangerous to hike back to your cabin in this state.”“If you wouldn’t mind…” Will rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck, wishing he was better at striking up conversation. Any of his other friends would have been fine, making small talk and chattering away, but he just sat there silently, like a particularly bothersome insect. Dr. Caruso made no attempt to restart the conversation, so Will simply turned around and entered the back room once more.This time, upon entering the backroom, he moved over to the bookshelves, as he decided he would spend the rest of his evening reading whatever interesting book he could find. He carefully scanned each shelf, looking for any titles that jumped out at him. Most were variations of either medical texts or historical novels (both nonfiction and otherwise). The majority of the novels were in English, and clearly a bit newer, but some were written in what appeared to be Italian, or a similar language. Their pages were worn, edges bent and yellowed, and he couldn’t help but run his hand along the spines of a few of them. They were clearly well cared for, and it brought a smile to his face to see the occasional scribbled note or bookmark left halfway through. He ended up choosing what he came to find was a historical horror novel, set during the Victorian Era. It told the story of a heroic doctor, doing his best to save the lives of the townsfolk he watched over while they were besieged by some mysterious threat. It was gripping, and he had to admit the sound of the rain and the yellowed light from the room’s singular lamp helped to create a truly immersive atmosphere. He had his foot propped up to the best of his ability, and an ice pack wrapped around it to help reduce the swelling. He could faintly hear the sound of footsteps, or the door opening and closing occasionally as Dr. Caruso went about his business. Wrapped in a blanket, listening to the growing drum of rain on the roof and reading his book, Will couldn’t help but feel a burgeoning sense of peace. It helped that he could hear Prospero moving in the other room; it helped the silence feel less overpowering, and a vague feeling of nostalgia sat heavy in his bones. It was easy to lose himself in the words on the page, and he let his mind wander as he read, exploring a world far beyond his own imagination.It was around two hours later that he was shaken from his reverie. It started barely perceptible, just a faint vibration going through the room, so low as to not be heard by human ears, but then it got louder. A low roar, a rumbling which must have shook the forest with its volume. Will shot to his feet, crying out in pain as he stood on his bad leg instinctively. He grit his teeth once more, and grabbed his pair of crutches. Hurriedly, he made his way to the other room and burst through the door, and was greeted by the sight of an equally alarmed and confused Prospero.“What’s going–” Will began, but his voice was cut off as the main hall’s alarms began to blare. Red lights flashed, turning an already unnerving situation into a downright panic-inducing one. Soon, Annabel’s voice could be heard over the announcement system, requesting rangers stay calm and warning them about the dangers of panic in a situation such as this.“Unexpected heavy rain has led to minor flooding in some areas,” she announced, her voice eerily calm, “as well as causing a landslide on the nearest side of Mount Somnis.” Will looked to Prospero, whose eyebrows were furrowed in worry and concentration. Annabel continued, “Luckily, there were no known hikers in that area, so the risk of loss of life is low. Rangers currently on patrol, please direct any campers or hikers towards either a ranger station, or some other form of higher ground…” Her voice continued to drone on, though Will had trouble paying attention to her due to the crashing sound of the rain outside. It was unlike anything he had ever heard, and he felt his breaths begin to come in rapid and uneven. The sound just kept getting louder, as if building to some thunderous crescendo. He could feel the walls and floor begin to shake from the force of the rain, and pure animal terror clouded his mind, his heart racing in time to the rain falling outside. Surely any minute the ceiling would collapse, and he and Prospero would be buried under the rubble. Perhaps it was some sort of reckoning, some great flood sent by God. His chest ached, and he felt as if his heart was beating out of his chest. His vision narrowed, and he was sure he was about to die, when all of a sudden the rain stopped. Not petered out, not simply reduced in ferocity, but stopped completely and utterly. It was completely silent; not even the alarms continued to sound.He could hear the faint sound of footsteps over the ringing in his ears, and felt as Prospero’s presence left his side. His eyes remained glued to the floor, fear still coursing electric through his veins, making it hard to think. He distantly recognized the sound of the blinds being opened, and whipped around at the sound of Prospero’s shocked gasp.Light. There was red light pouring through the window. Slowly, he hobbled over to where Prospero was standing, and soon they were shoulder to shoulder and gazing up at the sky. The clouds had parted, revealing the clear, dark sky beyond, and splashed across it like splattered ink was red light. It reminded him slightly of the Northern Lights, twisting and moving through the sky. It bathed the trees, the mountains, and the two of them in a hazy red glow. It looked unearthly, it looked terrifying, and it looked…serene. He couldn’t help but feel in awe of the dazzling lights before him, even as some base animalistic part of him was screaming that something was very, very wrong. He heard a faint release of breath from the man beside him, but even then he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from that wonderful, haunting light. It was beautiful, despite the terror still coursing through his veins, the only thing he could think to say was…“It’s beautiful…”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Will groaned slightly as he awoke once more, a pounding headache settling itself in the space behind his eyes. In fact, all of him ached, his ankle especially. He sat up slowly, wincing at the twinge of pain which went through his body, and ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. The previous night sat heavy in his mind; confusion, fear, and awe mixing into a toxic cocktail in his stomach. The storm’s sudden formation and intensity, its sudden stop, and the weaving red lights which pierced the sky and bathed everything in their unearthly glow. None of it made any sense…maybe it had all been a dream? Dream or not, he supposed he would get his answer when Prospero returned to check in on him.While he waited he went over the previous day’s events again and again in his mind. After a minute, he jolted to his feet with a start. The creek! What if the storm had something to do with the thing in the creek?Immediately, his leg buckled from the sudden pain of standing, and he had to catch himself on the cot as he nearly fell to the floor. He scolded himself internally: not only was he stupid, but he was acting crazy too, as Monty surely would have told him. It was just a storm; a bit of a weird one, but just a storm nonetheless. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check, would it? He would simply stop by Annabel’s office on his way to breakfast, and ask if anything had been found in the creek. Easy-peasy, no big deal.Carefully, Will shambled to the door, doing his best to avoid his bad foot. If he could just get down the stairs and make it to Annabel’s office, then he could ask what they found at the creek. It was probably nothing, but if it was something… Maybe it could give him some answers. Maybe the unease that squeezed around his heart from the moment he saw that red light would be justified. He gripped the doorknob tightly–perhaps a bit tighter than was necessary–and was shocked as the door suddenly opened, pulling him right along with it. Will stumbled forward, nearly knocking into Prospero, who had returned holding a small pill bottle in one hand, as well as what appeared to be a medical boot in the other. In a flash Prospero dropped the boot, grabbing Will’s shoulder in order to stabilize him.“Will!” The man hissed incredulously, his eyebrows pinching together slightly. Will stepped back, wobbling slightly on his bad foot, and laughed nervously.“S-sorry! I was just going to go talk to Annabel,” he stammered, cringing internally at the way his voice squeaked. Prospero’s expression shifted from confused to slightly exasperated, and after a pause he let out a drawn out sigh. Will glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck, as he muttered another apology under his breath. Of course, in his haste to sate his curiosity he only made things more difficult for the people around him. Maybe he was right…all Will was good for was dragging other people down. A good-for-nothing. Stupid, and weak. The taste of iron filled his mouth as he bit down hard on his lip.“...Could you go sit down on the cot, please? It will make this a bit easier,” Prospero asked, as he picked up the boot once more. His voice was soft but firm; he had a doctor’s tone, which made sense, of course. The request shook Will from his spiral, and his eyes snapped up from where they had been glued to the floor. He nodded slightly, before making his way to the cot yet again. What if it had been a dream after all? What if Prospero thought he was crazy when he told him what he had seen? The very idea felt like a fist around his heart, and he could feel as his hands began to tremble slightly. He had to get himself under control–he was a grown man, he should act like one. Monty had told him that once, when he had found Will curled up on the floor, weeping and gasping for air like a fish out of water. He couldn’t remember what had happened, just the fog of terror which had clouded his mind. He was sure it must have been stupid.Will glanced down, turning the small bottle of pills over in hand. The label was faded, and a part of him wondered how old it was, or if the pills were even safe to use anymore. Probably, or else Prospero–Dr. Caruso, he reminded himself, the doctor was not his friend–wouldn’t have given them to him. The pills clinked slightly as he shook the bottle. Beside him the floorboards creaked slightly, and Will watched as Prospero’s shadow stretched across the floor just to meld with his own. The medical boot was placed next to his injured foot with a dull thud against the wooden floor. A hand once more came to rest upon his shoulder, only for a second, followed by Prospero clearing his throat.“Take two, they’ll help with the pain,” Prospero murmured as he took a knee in front of Will once more, and even shot him a brief smile. It wasn’t particularly warm, in fact it was more awkward than anything, but something about it caught in Will’s chest. He couldn’t help but smile awkwardly back, and did his best to ignore the fluttering sensation making itself known in his gut. It wasn’t real, a part of him knew; Prospero was just being professional, that’s all. But even then he had to admit, it was nice being cared for.Unceremoniously, Will popped off the cap, took out two pills, and downed them. He hardly even bothered with the small paper cup of water Prospero had bought. Prospero hummed approvingly as he did so, barely looking up from the delicate work of removing Will’s foot from the splint it was currently in. It was a slow process, taking at least several minutes of work, but eventually they managed to secure Will’s foot into the boot. The first thing he noticed was that it was heavy, and Will could already tell his leg would ache after walking around in it all day, but he supposed he probably wouldn’t be doing too much hiking given his current state. As soon as he was done, Prospero stood up, and looked Will over. Will squirmed slightly, uncomfortable under the weight of the doctor’s gaze–what was he looking at? Had Will done something wrong? Was he–nope!“Do you think you could try to walk?” Prospero tilted his head ever so slightly as he asked, eyes still locked on Will. Of course, that’s what he was doing! He was simply assessing Will’s condition…duh. Stupid, he thought to himself. He shook his head, trying to clear the idea from his mind.“No? Is there any abnormal pain? Is your foot positioned incorrectly?” Will felt a gloved hand settle on his shoulder, as Prospero began to get into position before him once more.“N-No! No, I can walk,” he grinned, though he was sure it looked more like a grimace than anything. Will brought his hand to the one on his shoulder, and gently removed it, “I’m fine."“...Alright,” Prospero sighed, quickly pulling his hand away from Will to pinch the bridge of his nose. Will ducked his head slightly, as he felt the brief sting of rejection. The air was thick, and he swore he could hear the faint sound of voices from the floor below. He grimaced slightly as he hobbled a step or two forward–and he quickly took note of the dull ache in his leg–but other than that he felt right as rain. Well, at least as good as he could feel considering he took quite the tumble yesterday.“So… I’m going to go check in with Annabel,” he laughed awkwardly, bringing his right hand to his neck, “she’s probably going to be pissed, huh?” Prospero glanced back at Will from where he had turned away to inspect the cot where he had slept the night before. He hummed non committedly, before returning back to the task of stripping the bedding from the cot. Will paused for a second–waiting for a further response–but when the doctor was quiet, he turned to leave. Deep down, a needy, weak part of Will ached for one last response: one last “get better soon.” Even if it was hollow, it was a gesture, an acknowledgement. Instead he just left, and closed the door to the hall quietly behind himself.The hallway itself was quiet, yet humming with an energy just barely contained. The faint sound of frazzled discussion could be heard from down the hall, echoing slightly as it did. Will slowly limped his way down the hall, still trying to adjust to the new weight strapped to his leg, and ever so carefully descended the stairs to the ground floor. Upon reaching the bottom, the sound of conversation became much louder, and the smell of coffee and a nice, warm breakfast permeated the air. He could feel his mouth watering at the scent, but shook himself mentally–the thing in the creek, he had to find out what had happened to the thing in the creek. His head shot up as he heard the PA system suddenly crackle to life.“This is a reminder to all sent to inspect the area around Mount Somnis, please be careful to avoid injury. The landslide which occurred last night has caused some areas of the slope to become potentially unstable, and we must be cautious while working in that area,” and Will couldn’t help but admire how Annabel’s crisp, accented voice delivered the announcement with a type of removed professionalism which was present only in the administrative staff. Will had discovered that you could not stay distant in the forest; it had a way of sucking you in, twisting you around, and you’d be lost if you didn’t give it the attention it deserved. Unbidden, the thought of Prospero’s perfect uniform and his perfect hair came to him. How had someone like that ended up somewhere like this?The announcements droned on, something about roads, and marking off trails? He probably should have paid attention, but he supposed it would probably be a while before he did that kind of work again… Suddenly a wave of panic crashed over him–what if he was laid off? What if they realized just how stupid he could be, and they decided he wasn’t worth it? He had nowhere else to go. The world seemed to spin around him, the ground drifting from beneath him, and his stomach flipping where it sat in his abdomen. His vision narrowed as he began to hack and cough, soft wheezes slipping in and out between his lips. Will’s balance faltered, and he felt dully–as if through layers of fabric, or a cloud of smoke–his hand connect with the wall beside him. He leaned heavily against it, his head falling backwards with a dull thud. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than a steady arm to wrap around his shoulders and hold him tight. A low, quiet voice–oddly similar to his own, or maybe the southern twang which he thought of more than he’d like to admit…he wasn’t sure which it was anymore–whispered to him as a hand brushed his hair back. The voice would tell him that it’s ok, everything would be fine, and he was safe. But there was no voice, and there was no arm holding him close. There was just a nearly silent hall (outside of his own desperate gasping), and the curious yet cold stare of his boss, Annabel Lee Whitlock.“William? Are you alright, love?” Annabel asked, her voice ringing with the dulcet sound of a silver bell, sweet almost to the point of fakeness. “Here let me help you up,” she extended a hand towards him and he took it reluctantly, swaying slightly as he got to his feet.“I-I’m fine Miss Lee, just… y’know, head injury,” he pointed to his head with his right hand, and she narrowed her eyes slightly at him. Whatever it was she was looking for, she seemed to have found it, then she turned her back to him and began to make her way down the hall.“That’s good, now I think it's time we had a discussion about your…predicament,” her tone was light and airy as she said it, but Will could feel his stomach drop–the axe was swinging now, he was sure of it. He took a deep breath, fixing his expression into the best facsimile of a smile he could manage, and followed a pace or two behind her–never quite managing to fall into step with her. The door to her office opened silently, none of the groaning hinges he was used to in the ranger housing (even the door to Prospero’s office had creaked slightly, she must take care to keep it silent). He stepped through the door after her, timid as a mouse, and quickly took in his surroundings–two windows facing the forest, a large, neatly-organized desk, a bookshelf, a portable chess set, a couple chairs facing the desk, and a large photo of Annabel herself labeled ‘park manager’--before taking a seat. Annabel sat before him with all the grace and dignity of a queen on her throne, and she carefully removed a single file from her desk.“Now, William, you know in regular circumstances you would be sent on leave while you recovered, yes?” Her eyes were locked on his face, watching attentively for any twitch or tell, so he nodded feebly, avoiding her piercing stare. She finally tore her gaze from his face and looked down towards the open file on the desk, “however, I am aware you are not here under ‘regular circumstances’.” Again he nodded, his voice seeming to have withered away in his throat. His heart beat with a wild abandon, and he could feel himself shaking slightly. The feeling of doom which pervaded his mind and mood seemingly had no effect on Annabel, she was as pleasant and efficient as ever–deep down, Will envied her unnerving ability to keep cool under even the most intense of pressure.“In your state, however, you are not fit to carry out the work you would usually do,” she continued before pausing slightly and giving him a small smile, “therefore you will be reassigned for the duration of your recovery. You are to help Morella with her work in the radio tower.” Relief flooded over him, his muscles relaxing for the first time in nearly ten minutes, and, embarrassingly, he felt tears begin to well in his eyes. He wiped them quickly, hoping Annabel didn’t notice, but of course she did (though she did not mention it).“I…thank you so much, Ms. Lee. I know it can’t be easy to… thank you,” he rambled, his voice barely rising above a frantic whisper. She raised a hand slightly to silence him.“Do you have any additional questions, William?” She paused only a second or so before continuing, “you will begin work tomorrow, for now, enjoy the day off,” She sighed, the tiniest hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. Will paused beneath the serene smile and perfectly put-together appearance, something was off. He paused for a moment to think, but could not place what exactly it was that was wrong. She seemed tired maybe? Her eyes seemed a touch more wild and frantic than usual?“Actually, I do have a question… did you end up sending anyone to grab the thing I saw in the creek?” With one hand he rubbed anxiously at the back of his neck, and with the other he tapped a staccato rhythm against the metal frame of the chair he was sitting on. Annabel considered his question for a second, before nodding.“Yes, Ada stopped by and picked it up an hour or so after your injury.”“What was it?” Will asked, leaning forward ever so slightly in his chair, curiosity and nerves fizzling throughout him.“It was a backpack, probably dropped by some careless camper into the stream,” Annabel stated off-handedly, and Will deflated slightly.“...What was in it?” He pushed, trying to find something, anything to explain what had happened the previous night.“That, I can not disclose,” Annabel snapped, before clearing her throat and continuing, “however, I can reassure you, we searched it and found nothing dangerous, love.” The smile she gave him was sweet, cloyingly so, and he couldn’t help but think of the phrase he himself had internalized sometime in the past: you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.“Annabel, surely–I–there…there had to be something in there, right?” Will murmured, barely loud enough for the woman across the desk to hear. She focused her gaze on him once more, and if he had thought her attention had been intense before, he had seen nothing yet. Her eyes bore into him, as if he were a beautiful butterfly–or more realistically, a particularly odd moth–pinned with its wings and secrets spread. Of course she already knew what he was hiding, it was kept in the file locked in her desk. She knew all of the secrets in this neck of the woods, and she kept her cards close to her chest. After pausing only a couple seconds, she seemed to reach a decision, and her smile morphed from saccharine to prideful, as if she were the cat that got the cream–or perhaps the cat that ate the canary.“William, the contents of the backpack is someone's private belongings, and I can assure you, nothing dangerous was being kept inside,” Will sighed and deflated slightly as she spoke, “...but, what I can tell you is that it’s being held in storage closet 2C.” Annabel stood up suddenly, running her hands along her already perfectly smooth uniform as if to fix some invisible flaw, “and… I can tell you that the storm caused some issues with the station’s power supply, which has caused the security cameras to go on the fritz.” Carefully, she stepped out from behind the desk and made her way towards the door. “Additionally, I am not responsible for any actions you should take if you were to somehow gain access to the storage closet,” with that she daintily plucked her key ring from her pocket, and dropped them to the floor. Without looking back at him she stepped to the door, grasping its worn brass handle and pausing slightly. For a second Will stood there gaping like a fish, before he rushed to pick up the keys.“I… thank you, Ms. Lee,” he smiled up at her, gratitude weaving its way into his tone and expression. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, Annabel’s stare pierced him, but her smile remained as serene as ever.“Thank me for what?” She hummed melodically, but after a moment she turned and finished her statement in a much graver tone, “you owe me a favor, William.”Dread settled like a stone in his gut, and he was almost comforted by the familiarity of the sensation. Will nodded slightly, and watched as she closed the door gently behind her. He stumbled back up from where he had hunched to grab the keys, wincing at the slight pain in his injured leg. Maybe he should take it easier? He shook his head, no need to be a baby about it, he chided himself. It didn’t matter, his wild curiosity could finally be appeased.After a minute or two he carefully opened the door and stepped into the hall, luckily there was no one there to ask him any questions. As quick as he could he darted towards the wing of the building used for storage, his heart beating in time to the staccato rhythm of his footsteps. A noxious mixture of dread and excitement was bubbling in his veins as he finally came across the door to storage closet 2C, and, hands shaking, inserted the key into the lock. The door swung open with only the slightest of creaking sounds, and the small space beyond it was cloaked in shadows. Taking a deep, shuddering breath–the fear of being caught, and some nebulous anxiety he could not place coiling tightly in his chest–he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The room smelt strongly of dust, and just a little like mildew, which struck him as odd because as far as he could tell, the room was fairly clean. Fumbling slightly in the dark he flipped on the light switch, and the lights flickered to life. Shadows still clung to the corners of the room like spiderwebs, but now that he could see it confirmed what he had thought before: the room was clean and well kept with the exception of one item.The backpack must have been the source of the smell, as it was clearly somewhat filthy. Its red color was slightly dulled by the thin coating of mud which clung to its bottom half, and it was clear it had been left outside at least a day or two, though not long enough for the thing to fully fall apart. Will glanced over his shoulder towards the door, trying to listen for any footsteps coming down the hall, but he heard nothing. With a sigh he crossed the small space and reached for the bag, pulling it towards him slightly to look inside. It smelled much worse closer up, and as the bag unzipped with a wet, ripping sound, he nearly gagged. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find inside, but his heart beat wildly as he sifted through the various soggy items it contained: clothes, deodorant, some basic provisions, a flashlight, some bug spray, a compass, and what appeared to be a radio, though it was clearly broken. He released the breath he hadn't realized he’d been holding, and couldn’t help but feel a wave of…disappointment wash over him. He ran his hand over the bottom of the bag, searching in vain for any strange item he hadn’t yet found, when he realized something odd…the bottom of the bag was much higher up than it should be given the size of the backpack. He brought his hand to the edge of the bag and sure enough found a slight seam where a piece of canvas had been sewn to act as a false bottom. He was so caught up in his discovery he failed to notice the sound of footsteps approaching, or even the sound of the door unlocking, no, it was only when the door fully opened that he turned around. There was Prosp–Dr. Caruso, he reminded himself–standing in the doorway, staring at him with a look of confusion and mild suspicion.“Will?” He took a step forward, his eyebrows furrowing and tone taking on an edge of admonishment, “what are you doing here?”“A-Annabel! She, um, asked me to grab…something…for her?” He mumbled, the statement coming out more like a question than anything else. He scolded himself internally for the sheer transparency of his lie–why on earth would he say that. Prospero arched a single stately eyebrow at him, and a small scowl made its way onto his face. Will shrunk back slightly as a response.“Has anyone told you that you are a terrible liar, William,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Will, at a loss for what to do, just smiled dumbly and nodded up at him. What an idiot, he thought to himself. “Now,” Prospero continued, “are you going to tell me what you’re really doing?” He crossed his arms, and tilted his chin up slightly in a way which made him look both incredibly regal and conceited at the same time. Will sighed and ran a hand through his hair before leaning forward and reaching around Prospero to the door, closing it with a quiet click. The doctor let out a small huff of surprise and took an instinctual step back, nearly colliding with the newly shut door, and only relaxed once Will had stepped back to his place by the red backpack.“Ok, so this is going to sound crazy,” he winced internally at the way he already sounded like a complete nutcase, “but, do you remember the storm last night?”“...Yes, and what does that have to do with this?” Prospero gestured vaguely at Will in his disheveled state, sort-of stolen keys gripped tightly in his left hand.“Well, I couldn’t shake the feeling it had something to do with whatever I saw in the creek,” he was crazy, he was totally crazy wasn’t he? Prospero looked at him as if he completely agreed with Will's internal assessment. “So, I went to check, and at first I thought it was nothing… but then I-I found that maybe there was something after all!” His voice had risen in pitch and fervor slightly, as he desperately tried to salvage whatever was left of his brief…acquaintanceship…with Prospero.“What do you mean?” The doctor’s eyes narrowed, but he leaned ever so slightly forward, as if even his disbelief could not save him from the pull of morbid curiosity.“The bottom of the bag, it's false. There could be something hidden underneath. I-I don’t know for sure… but, maybe!” He brought a hand to the back of his neck, and scratched there slightly.“Do you have your multitool?” Prospero asked after a moment of consideration, apparently deciding to humor Will’s paranoia. Instinctively Will reached for the spot on his belt that it should be sitting, but found it empty…he must have forgotten it back in his cabin. He shook his head slightly, his cheeks heating minutely from the shame. Prospero sighed once more, and Will was starting to believe it was his default response to most things. With a dignity Will could only dream of having, he unclipped his park-issued multitool from his belt and stepped up to the bag, forcing Will to take a step back towards the door. Wrinkling his nose and grimacing, Prospero pushed aside the sodden items and found the seam at the “bottom” of the bag, using the knife tool to carefully rip it open. Instantly, his hand sunk into the space beyond, and Prospero shot a quick alarmed glance back at Will, who smiled nervously in return. The doctor rooted around for a second, before he seemed to find something of interest, and hesitantly drew it out. It was a grimy, waterproof bag in a dark gray color. It was slightly damp due to the water which had evidently soaked into the bag during its time in the creek. The two men both stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do.Slowly, Will outstretched his hands and took the bag from Prospero’s hands. It was heavy, and evidently fairly full–how had Annabel not noticed the compartment at the bottom of the backpack? Will glanced up at Prospero, who was absorbed in peeling off his now sullied gloves from his hands with a look of utter disgust. He took a deep breath, and with as much courage as he could muster, opened the bag. Nothing popped out, no horrible curse was released, it just opened up to reveal the contents inside. The contents of the bag, however, was where the normalcy ended: there was a book or perhaps a journal which was locked shut, a small crystal attached to a silver chain, a pair of dowsing rods, a bag of salt, a small container of iron nails, a small leather pouch, and a slightly crinkled envelope. Delicately, Will removed the envelope from inside the bag and inspected it. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he read the addresses on the front (sent to some office building in New York, from the ranger station itself), and his heart nearly stopped as he read the names written in neat cursive written alongside them: To Leo Vandernacht, from Annabel L. Whitlock.It was at that moment that Prospero’s walkie-talkie buzzed to life with a shrill staticky sound, causing both of them to jump. Quickly, Will tucked the letter back into the bag and slung it over his shoulder, as Prospero removed the device from his belt. At first all that could be heard was the faint sound of heavy breathing, before a trembling, familiar voice began to mutter in a panicked tone “H-help, I don’t care who you send, I just need help! Please!” Will would recognize her voice anywhere, its shrill nagging tone lodged itself into his skulls, and gave him headaches whenever he would be forced to listen to her chatter at dinner–it was Ada. Even his contempt for the woman couldn’t stop the surge of panic which came over him at the sound of her so obviously distressed.“I’m at the south side of Mt. Somnis, I was sent to check the flood damage–I, god, I need someone to come help, there’s… there’s a woman. I’m pretty sure…” her voice trailed off, followed by a short sob, “I’m pretty sure she’s dead. Something… I can’t…” Suddenly, Will felt a strong hand on his shoulder, as he was pushed out the door by Prospero. He followed a step or two behind the man, doing his best to keep up despite his injured leg. His mind was racing–what had happened? Did it have something to do with the storm? Finally they made it back to the medical office, and Prospero opened the door with a slight bang, too focused on the situation at hand to care about something as inane as the state of his door. Will stood behind him, panting slightly from exertion, yet full of restless energy as he watched Prospero grab a duffel bag labeled ‘emergency’ from a small closet across the room. He crossed his arms, and bit his lip as a feeling of helplessness washed over him. Even if he didn’t like Ada–and deep down he knew that was a bit of an understatement–he didn’t want her to get hurt. He could hear the static of the walkie-talkie still buzzing from across the room, and as he waited for Prospero to finish gathering his things he let the dread within him grow with every passing second. When Prospero turned to exit his amber eyes looked sharp enough to cut glass, and he pushed past Will in a nearly careless manner, not even sparing him a glance.He wasn’t quite sure why, but Will found himself reaching out and grabbing Prospero’s wrist. The man froze suddenly, almost involuntarily, and Will felt him try to recoil but he held on, only loosening his grip a little.“Wait! Let me... You spend most of your time here, you...you don't know the trails like I do... I can get you there faster... p-please. I want to help... let me help..." his mouth formed the words without his input, as his mind was too focused on the grim stare Prospero was leveling at him. It was the type of glare which froze you in place, filled with such cold disregard for you as a person to make one recoil and wither away. Will shook slightly, half expecting the sharp sting of a slap across the face–already bracing himself for the pain which he was sure was going to come–when Prospero’s expression shifted. It was still grim, as serious and dignified as a hero of old, but it was tired too, and almost the tiniest bit unsettled. “L-let me help you…” Will whispered, his voice dropping to something low and desperate, a plea from the deepest part of his soul–the part of him that still ached for an old friend he could not save.It felt like an eternity as Will waited with bated breath for his response, and the static buzzed louder and louder inside his ears, echoing with the lingering dread of Ada’s sobs.“Fine,” the doctor sighed, pulling his arm free from Will’s weak grasp, “but do not make me wait for you.”“I won’t” he promised, and felt relief wash over him as Prospero nodded slightly.“Use your crutches, you shouldn’t be exerting yourself so much, and it will help you move more quickly,” Prospero tutted as he went to exit the room once more. Will glanced around, noticing the pair of crutches he had used last night leaned up against the wall, and grabbed them quickly before following behind him–Prospero was right, it was much quicker. He caught up to the doctor only a minute or two later, as he was wrapped up in a hushed conversation with Annabel, which he only caught the end of.“--They’re down. I’ll have to use the radio tower to send a message,” Annabel murmured, her tone uncharacteristically frazzled. Which made sense, given they possibly had a corpse to deal with, if Ada was right about the state of the woman she saw.“That’s…far from ideal,” Prospero sighed, tapping his foot slightly against the linoleum floor.“Normally I’d simply radio Morella to get the message sent, but she reported sick this morning. I didn’t think there would be any emergencies like this, so I left the tower unmanned for today. I’ll start making my way there as soon as possible, but for now, do you think you could handle the immediate aftermath?” It struck him as odd that Morella had called in sick, as she almost never did. She manned the radio tower with the dedication and devotion of a soldier, and come rain or shine you could always count on her to get shit done.“Well, I suppose I’ll have to,” Prospero remarked, and Annabel smiled slightly, amused by his dry delivery. At this she nodded, bid him farewell, and made her way past Will in the direction of the Radio tower. She didn’t even acknowledge him as she passed, as if he were a ghost. He exhaled slightly, and walked over to where Prospero was standing. They marched in silence to the door of the Admin building, and Will noticed that somewhere along the way Prospero had replaced his gloves with a new, spotless pair. As they stepped into the sunlight, the heat made itself apparent to both of them–though Will was grateful for the fact it had cooled slightly from the previous day’s hellish temperature.The initial minutes of the walk were quiet, the two of them making their way down the hill as quick as they possibly could while injured and carrying a large bag of supplies respectively. As soon as they reached the bottom Will made his way in front of Prospero, picking out the trail he knew would get them to the southern base of Mt. Somnis the fastest: the Lookout trail. It seemed the horror of the situation had settled itself upon them, wrapping itself tightly around their hearts and weighing down their legs with every step. The heat certainly didn’t help, and both were sweaty and miserable within fifteen minutes of setting out–though Will couldn’t help but notice that Prospero looked considerably better while in this state than he did himself. He pushed that thought down into the depths as soon as it surfaced, barely giving it enough time to make his cheeks heat slightly. It was not the time, it would never be the time.As Will walked he couldn’t help but notice that something about the forest felt…off. The shadows danced and clung to the forest floor, the birds normal song was absent, and instead only the occasional clatter of the wind through the trees could be heard. The branches twisted and reached out for them, snagging on their clothes and leaving faint scratches in their wake, and though it was somewhat crazy, Will was under the distinct impression that the path was somehow moving. It twisted and writhed like a snake through the grass, and his internal compass became more and more confused by the second, yet he pressed on. Each passing minute the feeling that something was deeply, uncomfortably wrong wormed its way deeper and deeper into his soul. He could feel the edges of his thoughts fraying as he tried hard to remember if he had seen that tall, twisting oak tree before. He glanced behind him at Prospero, but his expression gave away nothing but focused determination. So, Will carried onwards, doing his best to shrug off the unsettling certainty deep in his bones that something about the woods had changed.The minutes passed by irregularly, some dripping slowly, as sticky as molasses, while others rushed by him in the blink of an eye. The closer he got to whatever Ada had found, the more he found himself overcome by the idea that whatever it was, he was not supposed to see it. Some innate aversion that made his hands clammy and his heart race. It was as if some voice from deep within his soul was whispering to him, “turn back. This was not meant for you, save yourself and turn back.”The first thing he noticed was how the ground became swampy, clearly the result of the minor flooding which had affected the area. The mud was thick and tainted faintly red, and it clung to everything it came into contact with, weighing them down even further. Most of the time it merely coated their shoes and stuck their feet to the ground, but at some points where the water lay still and putrid, the mud came up to above their ankles and each step was a herculean effort. Will found himself panting, and he could feel his legs shaking with each footfall as he began to lag behind Prospero. The second thing he noticed was the smell. At first it was nothing but the scent of earth and stagnant water, but soon another scent began to overwhelm his senses: rot. It was a foul mixture of earthy, with hints of iron, and something much more sweet, magnolias perhaps? It clung to his nose and throat and made him hack and gag the closer they got.Finally they came across a clearing in the woods. At the center lay a campfire, though it was long since put out, and off to the side laid what appeared to be a shredded tent. The metal was twisted and warped, and the fabric hung off of the frame in tattered strips. There was what appeared to be a large container of food, and a cooler beside it, yet both sat untouched only a few feet away from the wreckage. However, Will did not notice any of that, he was too busy staring at the large tree on the northernmost side of the clearing. At first, he was not sure what it was, to be honest it didn’t really look like anything he had seen before… then he noticed what appeared to be the remains of a head suspended half way between two branches. The only way he could think to describe it was a web; intestines and ligaments and skin all dripping and hanging while entangled amongst the branches. Each bit of gore and viscera was strung together by thin, viscous strands of black slime. At the center of the mess that might once have been a human woman–a woman with her own life, a family–was the remains of her ribcage, coated in more of that horrible substance. Will looked up at it, mesmerized by this terrifying centerpiece–when had he gotten so close? He could not remember stepping forwards. A heart… dangling from a single strand, was the woman’s heart. Will almost could have sworn it was still beating, due the pulsating, rhythmic hum which burrowed its way into his skull. He…could still hear it…beating. A single drop of blood, blackened slightly by whatever substance it was hung from, fell like a raindrop onto his face.William was pulled from his reverie by a strong set of hands grabbing his shoulders and yanking him backwards.“William! What the hell are you doing?” Prospero scolded, and for the first time, Will could hear the fear laced through his voice. His normally calm and sharp eyes were wild, and his perfect hair was mussed, as if he had run his hand through it. Will noticed then the frantic beating of his own heart, his ragged breathing, and a dizzy spell fell over him. He could still hear it, even as he pitched forward into the doctor’s arms. It still rang deep and hollow in the shadowy recesses of his skull: th-thump, th-thump. It made bile rise in his throat, and he pushed himself away from Prospero suddenly as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor, which wasn’t much considering he hadn’t eaten breakfast. He could still feel the drop of blood slowly inching down his face. It was not normal blood, it oozed or crawled down his skin slowly, and made everything it touched reek of that horrible, cloyingly sweet, deathly smell. Retching still, he ran his hand over his face, only succeeding in spreading it further. He let out a small whine, as he stared at his hand now stained by the substance. Deep down, he was certain of one fact, it would never come out–he was now tainted, marked, and nothing could ever get him truly clean again.Poor William, a voice echoed in his mind. Tried to make yourself useful and all you did was get in the way. He flinched, as if he could pull away from the memories which haunted him still, the arms which he swore he could feel wrapping around him, the whisper in his ear. Useless…a poor, stupid, useless boy. His eyes burned with unshed tears, as the heartbeat pulsated within his skull, and his own began to beat in time with its wretched rhythm. He needed to make himself useful, to prove to Monty, Annabel, and Prospero that they had made the right choice in keeping him around–that he was worth the trouble he caused.Will’s legs felt like jelly, partially from the strain he underwent to get to the clearing, and partially from the fear which still sat like a stone in his gut. Jerkily, he made his way towards the western edge of the clearing, calling out for Ada, whom neither he nor Prospero had seen, but she did not respond. Faintly, through the ringing in his ears he could hear the sound of Prospero talking, most likely reporting back to Annabel that the woman Ada found was definitively, unquestionably dead. Then, Will trudged over to the eastern side of the clearing and called out, his voice cracking as he did so–surely, it would be hoarse tomorrow. He waited for a few seconds, taking notice of the fact that the woods around them were completely, and utterly silent. There was no rustling wind, no chirping birds, just dead, still air. Then a few seconds later, he heard a voice respond, weak and clearly frightened, but present.“I-I’m over here,” a grin spread over his face as he heard the equally hoarse voice of Ada from a little ways outside of the clearing. Without thinking he made his way in her direction, not minding the protest his legs issued as he pushed them well beyond their limit. He found her hiding amongst the gnarled roots of an old oak tree. Her hair was messy, and her eyes were puffy and red from crying. Her voice was even more wrecked than his, as if she had been screaming for the better part of an hour, which was possible. What stuck out to him though was the blackened blood matting her hair, and dripping down her face, as if she too had stood underneath, staring up enraptured at the grisly remains of that poor camper, strung like twisted Christmas lights amongst the branches. Then he noticed what she was clutching to her chest, her hands and lower arms coated in that thick, blackened blood. It was a person, their body limp and clearly unconscious, with raven hair streaked through with white. Their eyes were closed, and they looked almost peaceful, as if they were merely sleeping. They wore dark clothes: a black coat, charcoal pants, with some dark, mud-coated, leather boots. It appeared as if they had been mauled, deep lacerations and dark bruises bloomed over what little he could see of their flesh, and their clothes were torn and soaked with blood and more of that strange black substance. Whatever had happened had clearly left them in bad shape.“I-I found them here, I think they tried to run away once they were…attacked,” Ada muttered, sniffing softly as tears began to well in her eyes once more. “They’re still alive, I think, but I don’t… I don’t know how much longer they can hold on.” Finally, she broke down into sobs, clutching the broken body in her arms closer to herself, as if she could keep the life in them if only she held them tight enough. He could hear Prospero’s footsteps through the brush, but did not turn to look at him, instead dropping to one knee in front of Ada, wincing at the burning pain now growing in his injured leg.“It’s alright, Ada,” he grabbed her face in his hands, tilting her face so she would look in his eyes, “you’ve done all you could.” His voice was soft, the way he would have liked to be spoken to on the night when life was ruined. She sobbed once more, and buried her face in his shoulder. The heartbeat was still ringing in his ears, and the stench of death clung to him, staining him in a way which could never be removed. He glanced up, watching as the light in the clearing slowly bled out, leaving them huddled in the shade. He was greeted by the towering visage of Mt. Somnis, and the terrifying certainty that he had stumbled upon something older, and bigger than he could even comprehend. A shadow large enough to blot out the sun.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Only a moment later, still clutching a sobbing Ada to him, Will noticed Prospero had made his way over to them. The doctor knelt down, inspecting the scene before him with a discerning eye. Gently, Will removed Ada from his shoulder, and turned to face Prospero. His expression was grim, and Will could feel the focus of his gaze shifting from place to place. He flushed and shied away briefly as he felt that focus land on him–his face, which was coated in smeared blood, his shaking hands, and nervous demeanor–all things he was sure were being categorized and sorted away, yet Will couldn’t help but feel as if Prospero was looking through him to his beating core. The rhythm of the heartbeat still rattled in his chest, and it seemed as if the sound had dug its claws deep into his soul and refused to let go. Then, Prospero’s gaze focused on Ada, and Will let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.“What happened?” Prospero asked, his tone flat and impersonal, yet there was a slight hint of worry in the way his words tumbled together slightly, his accent briefly becoming a touch stronger in his hurry to get them out. Ada sucked in a sharp breath, and bit her lip absentmindedly, eyes unfocused, as she thought. Prospero had already begun to look over the figure she had been clutching while she answered.“I-I was sent out earlier, to catalog flood damage and make sure no campers had been injured. It was mostly normal, e-except for the stench in some places–it was death! Death and flowers… it…it smelled like death and flowers,” she trailed off, her grimy hands playing with her hair absentmindedly. “She was already dead when I found her–the camper that is. I don’t know what could do that to a person, but whatever it is… I don’t want to find out. I stood there for a while, I’m not sure how long, but then I…” she glanced to the side, clearly choosing her next words carefully, eyebrows pinched together, “...heard them.” Prospero at that point, had finished his inspection, and was busy treating and wrapping some of the wounds with the supplies he had on hand. His eyebrows were pinched, and he had a faint frown on his face, as if something was wrong, yet he continued working normally as Ada finished her story.“S-So I radioed in, and…I stayed with them,” Ada glanced down at the pallid face of the stranger in her arms, before glancing away once more, “do you think they’re going to make it?” Her voice was soft, softer than Will had ever heard, which made sense seeing as he only really saw her when she was buzzing around Montresor and talking their ears off in that shrill whine of hers. Will shook his head, now was not the time. Prospero tied off another bandage–wrapped firmly around a deep gash on their upper arm–and hummed slightly in lieu of a response. They sat like that for another minute or so, until Prospero looked up to make eye contact with Will.“Take the bag, I’ll carry the camper,” he announced, already beginning to remove it from his shoulder and pass it over to Will. Will took it with an eager nod, though he let out a faint huff of surprise when he felt how heavy it was–Prospero had carried it as if it were nothing! He wondered briefly about how strong he must be, how he maintained his strength when he spent most of his time inside. Could… could he carry Will? For the second time in a minute or so, Will shook his head, as if he could shake his racing thoughts from his mind like water from a dog. Carefully, he got to his feet, offering Ada a hand to help her to hers. Prospero knelt down by the camper, slotting his arms under their shoulders and knees, and lifted them gracefully from the forest floor. Will couldn’t help but marvel at the way the mud stuck to his boots and coat, and how his hair fell slightly out of its perfect style and revealed his natural curls. It was a small glimpse behind the curtain, but it satisfied Will’s voracious desire–deep down inside of him–to see and know the mysterious man. Will always had been too curious for his own good.“You two lead the way,” Prospero huffed, which was the only indication of the strain the effort must be putting on him, “you know the woods better than I do.” They both nodded, and began to pick their way through the undergrowth towards the administration building.The mud sloshed beneath them as they walked, sticking to their boots and pants, and staining them irrevocably. His crutches, which had been so helpful on the solid ground, only got bogged down in the muck, dragging him further in as he painstakingly pulled them free again and again. Will had never been the squeamish type when it came to nature–part of why he chose the job–and he could remember spending many days as a young boy exploring the fields nearby his house. He would catch bugs, and pretend they were some new species, something unique that only he had seen. He remembered that sometimes, in the winter, the fields near the lake, around half an hour from his childhood home, would turn into marshes briefly. Will could feel these childhood memories clinging to him like the mud on his clothes, weighing him down with misplaced nostalgia, again he reminded himself: now was not the time. Yet as they slogged on through the brush and undergrowth Will could not help but get lost in the reverie which plagued him. It was as if the forest were something out of a dream, or a long forgotten adventure…or perhaps a nightmare. The trees were carved from childhood fears, the buzzing of insects a mockery of his mother’s voice, or perhaps even his own. He couldn’t help but stare as he noticed the twisting branches of those ancient trees looked like hands raised to the sky, clawing and reaching–clinging on to anything they could grasp. His focus turned to the ground, he didn’t want to see such an ugly portrait.He could feel the blood drying on his face and matting his hair, he winced slightly as he realized the stench would linger. As soon as he got back he would take a shower or two…or three. His mind continuously reminded him of just how filthy he was, how he would sully any clean thing he came into contact with. Ada walked a step or two behind him, her usual loud, brash demeanor tamped down by the circumstances. Her eyes were large and vacant, as if she too was lost within her own mind. He recognized those eyes, they were the same as the ones his mother had had when they got the letter from overseas: his brother wasn’t coming home, the jungle had eaten him. Will shook his head, why was he thinking about that? He had much more pressing things to worry about, like leading Prospero and Ada back to the administration building!It was as if a thick fog had rolled into his mind, obscuring everything in the mist of his own wandering thoughts and recollections. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, hoping that the woozy feeling would pass, and he could focus once more. He glanced behind him to Prospero, who had switched to carrying the camper piggyback style, their arms wrapped loosely around him, and with their head hanging limply on his shoulder. Sweat stuck his curls to his forehead, and he was frowning slightly, eyebrows pinched and squinting just a little. It was almost cu–it was admirable, his quiet determination. However, his eyes too seemed slightly unfocused, whether it was from the effort of carrying the camper through the harsh wilderness of the Appalachian Mountains, or from the carnage they had witnessed earlier, or perhaps from the strange feeling which clouded Will’s own mind, he could not be sure. Will looked forwards once more, they needed him, and while he felt sparks of joy go off deep within his chest at the thought, he also felt a deep, crushing dread at the thought of failing them. So, he did his best to clear his mind, focusing only on the path ahead.They continued on for a while more, they were nearly back to the Rangers’ settlement, he was sure, but the path seemed to twist before him. He scanned the path ahead, looking to see any signs of danger, or perhaps an end to their perpetual slog through the muck and undergrowth, but all he could see ahead was the path snaking through the trees. A tired sigh escaped him, and he wondered just how long it was they had been walking–with his exhausted limbs, tired mind, and the migraine which was beginning to thrum within his skull in time with the faint echo of the heartbeat in his ears–he wondered if it had been days. Maybe they never were going to leave, swallowed up by the winding woods.Will felt a prickle on the back of his neck, as if he were being watched, yet when he turned to look he saw nothing except for his exhausted companions. The feeling lingered, every time he thought it had gone it would reappear, yet every time he checked there was no-one there. He noted absentmindedly that the woods felt much too hot, at least much too hot for the circumstances, as shadows danced through the air casting everything into darkness. He did his best to push the feeling down, yet a voice at the back of his mind–the same as the one which nagged at him about the bag in the creek–kept insisting that something was wrong, they were being followed, there was something there and it wanted them dead, worse than dead probably. Whatever it was that was out there wanted them to suffer.Finally, they broached into the clearing at the base of the hill where the Administration building was located. The windows glinted in the afternoon light, and Will’s heart swelled with joy and relief at the sight of it–finally, they had made it back! He took one step, then one more, before he collapsed in a heap at the foot of the hill, his crutches clanging as they fell. His legs were screaming in protest at the day’s abuses, and he could feel his injured ankle throbbing as his bones creaked and muscles gave way. Will let out a faint grunt as he hit the ground, wincing as the gravel of the path dug into his palms, and he watched as Prospero, still forging ahead, stopped for a second to look down at him. Feeling the shame rise within him, Will glanced away, he had failed to keep his promise. The scared, animal part of him expected an attack–cold words, or maybe even if his failure was particularly egregious, a sharp, stinging slap across the face.“William, are you alright?” Prospero asked, concern lacing through his voice. Will looked up at him and tried to smile, and he noticed how tired the doctor seemed. He mused silently that it was really the doctor’s eyes which gave him away, his tell, as he could see the depth of his concern, his fear, in those striking eyes. Will’s shoulders, previously hunched almost all the way to his ears, relaxed, and for a moment, just a moment, he was safe.“I-I’m fine, it’s just my legs,” he mumbled, doing his best to mask the pain in his voice. Prospero looked at him for a moment more, before sighing deeply and turning to continue up the hill.“You really shouldn’t push yourself, you’ll only make it worse. Ada, help him up, why don’t you?” His tone was airy, almost dismissive, as if he had much better things to do, but Will could sense the worry in his voice–the stress of the day had left its mark upon him after all.As if woken from a trance, Ada returned briefly to her usual self. “‘Help him up, why don’t you?’ Who does he think he is?” she huffed, yet obeyed nonetheless. Carefully, she looped her arm around Will’s shoulders and helped him to his feet, acting somewhat as a crutch to help take weight off of his foot. They inched up the hill maybe 20 feet behind Prospero, who marched onwards with a resolve which inspired Will as much as it intimidated him. Ada grumbled the whole way up, and while it annoyed Will to no end, he had to admit it was good to see her back to being herself. Quiet and distant didn’t suit her at all…though he would never admit it out loud. When they entered the building it was quiet, much more so than when they had left. It seemed most people had moved on to other things while they had been gone. It was almost unsettling how quickly such a lively spot could lose all traces of life. They made their way up the stairs behind Prospero slowly, as Will’s legs were becoming more and more useless by the second. When he reached the door to his office, Prospero did not bother with setting the figure down and opening it carefully, instead he sighed, braced his shoulder against the door, and shoved it open. It swung open easily, with only a high, whining sound denoting the undue stress that was put upon it–something in the closing mechanism must have been broken, for it to open with so little resistance.It was almost strange, stepping into the orderly office after trudging through the dense woods for what felt like days, but must have been only an hour or two in reality. The red-tinged mud which clung to their boots was beginning to cake onto the floor, and the stench of sweat, blood, and that sickly smell unique to the area around the campsite began to permeate the air. Will couldn’t help but feel guilty for sullying the space. With a practiced ease and sure competence Prospero placed the figure on the bench along the far wall, and moved to what appeared to be a glass cabinet in the corner nearby. Once there, he took out his key ring from his pocket, choosing a small gold key, and inserting it into the cabinet’s lock. The doors swung open, and, carefully, Prospero took what seemed to be a folding cot or examiner’s table out of it. Placing it on the ground, he got to work assembling it before glancing over his shoulder at where Ada and Will stood huddled in the doorway.“Ada, could you please escort William to the cot in the other room? He’s been on his feet far too long, and he’s risking making his injury worse if he continues to do so,” Prospero then turned back to the mysterious hiker, lifting them gently from their place on the bench and bringing them to the makeshift table. Will couldn’t help but wince at the way their head lolled to the side slightly, and their limbs dangled limply at their sides, reminding him vaguely of a marionette with its strings cut. He watched as droplets of blackened blood dribbled occasionally from the stranger’s unconscious form, staining everything it came into contact with. It was oddly mesmerizing, watching the faint drip, drip, drip of the blackened blood, he could hardly tear his eyes away. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt Ada tugging on his shoulder.“C’mon you idiot, stop staring and start shufflin’” her accent peaked through her words, as it did when she was emotional. He remembered that from overhearing one too many of the screaming matches that occasionally erupted between her and Monty–usually right before they broke up. In the short time he’d been there, the two of them had broken up three times, but they always got back together by the end of the week. He hated that, if he had his way then they would just stay broken up, it was clear they weren’t a good match. He felt his mood curdle like spoiled milk, a strange flicker of jealousy creeping into his heart. He didn't even like Ada, why would he be jealous of Monty? Glancing one last time over his shoulder he watched as Prospero began to carefully inspect the hiker’s wounds.The room was exactly the way it had been earlier that morning. Dust floated through the air, highlighted by the faint sunlight peeking through a crack in the curtains. It was warm, tranquil, and felt wrong to be in after the day they’d had. Haltingly, they shuffled together towards the cot in the corner of the room–the same one he’d spent the previous night in–and with less care than perhaps was necessary, Ada shoved him to it. After stumbling for a second, he flopped down, wincing slightly as the metal supports creaked and groaned.“Could you try being more careful next time?” He hissed, sitting up fully from his slouched position.“There won’t be a next time if I can help it, William,” Ada huffed, crossing her arms with a scowl. Will grumbled sourly to himself–something about Ada (maybe her faux-sophistication, haughty attitude, or desperation to be loved) got to Will. There was something ugly deep down inside her, he could tell, and it ruffled his feathers. He tried to ignore how he had that same ugliness deep down inside him as well–at least he had the conscience to be ashamed of it, he reasoned.The two of them stood there for a moment, at an impasse about what to do. Will fidgeted with the blanket, eyes occasionally drifting to where the blood and muck stained her uniform. Usually she did her best to pretty it up, even going as far as to have Morella tailor her outfit to be more fitted. It didn’t make any sense to him, it was just going to get muddy and torn up eventually, no point in trying to make it look nice when the woods would surely snatch it away. No one stayed beautiful in the woods, eventually you had to get your hands dirty. However, he couldn’t help but feel a jab of sadness at the way the blood and mud had soaked into the garments, staining them, and ruining any attempt she had made at gussying them up.“You…should go get changed,” he muttered, “you’re covered in mud.” Ada scoffed in response.“I could say the same to you,” but her rebuttal was half-hearted. For a moment, she stared at him, green eyes narrowing before her demeanor softened slightly with a sigh. “I can see why you and Monty get along,” absentmindedly she played with the necklace she was wearing, he could see that the cheap metal was starting to tarnish in places, the gold coating flaking off, “you two can both be real assholes.” With that she turned and stalked out the door, leaving Will slightly at a loss.William sighed deeply, running a hand through his matted hair, and cringed slightly at the way his fingers pulled at it. When he pulled his hand back, he could see smudges of that strange black substance, mixed with the reddish-brown of dried blood. The combination of the smell coming from the mixture, as well as the pain radiating from his leg, was a nauseating blend. Suddenly, it was all too much, and he felt tears begin to gather at the corners of his eyes. His breathing started to pick up, and he frantically sniffled and wiped at his eyes–he couldn’t cry, not now. Stop being such a sissy, the voice in his head whispered, an odd mix of Montresor’s Southern drawl, and a more familiar–achingly so–sound. Frustration bubbled in his veins, turning the shame, fear, and sadness in his chest to an even more caustic mixture. He doubled over suddenly, scrambling for the mechanisms which held the boot on his leg in place. Fighting back sobs, he undid them one by one, jostling his injured ankle in the process. He heard himself let out a low animal whine, and paused for a second, resting his forehead against his knee. Will brought both hands to the back of his neck, and for a second just sat there, panting, and scared. It had been such a good week, he mused to himself. It had all been so good…It took another couple of minutes before his leg was free from the medical boot. He inspected his ankle, and noticed how it was swollen once more, and bruising tinged the flesh blue and purple. Prospero had been right, he had probably made it much worse by walking around on it all day. Once his leg was free, he carefully curled up on the cot, half-heartedly pulling the blanket over himself. He wasn’t really cold, but the weight was nice. He considered trying to close his eyes and go to sleep, but his mind was far too restless, and when he closed his eyes, images of that poor woman filled his mind and turned his stomach. Had she struggled? Was she awake when it happened? What did happen to her? What could even do that to a person? So instead of sleeping he stared at the wall, going over the morning’s events in his head again and again.He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard the door swing open, but he shifted to see Prospero entering the room. He looked even more harried than he had been the last time Will saw him: eyebrows pinched together, mouth set in a concerned frown, movements slightly frantic, and white gloves soaked almost entirely in that blackened blood. The doctor was rooting through a drawer, taking out what appeared to be supplies for doing stitches, and Will propped himself up on his elbows to watch. He had noticed that when Prospero focused on something, it became his entire world. Every single bit of his attention would turn to the task at hand, no matter how small. However, Will took note of how Prospero’s eyes continually came back to his sullied gloves, how his frown would deepen, and he would pick at the places it stuck to his skin with a shudder. It must have been bothering him an awful lot to distract him so, Will mused, half delirious from the horrors he had witnessed that morning, and the throbbing pain in his ankle. The painkillers must have worn off a bit ago, he concluded. Slowly, he pushed himself up to sit properly.“Prospero?” He croaked, nearly letting out a chuckle as the doctor’s head whipped around in surprise. Clearly he had thought Will was asleep, “if you tell me where to find them, I can get you a new pair.” Will kept his tone light, ignoring the wave of giddiness that washed over him at the idea–helping someone, getting close to them, it made his heart race a little. Prospero paused, staring at Will for a second. He looked a little bit like a deer caught in the headlights–a look Will never thought he’d see on Dr. Caruso–his eyes wide, and mouth slightly parted. Will felt the strange urge to get up, walk over to him, and fix the stray curl which had fallen down into his eyes. Prospero then cleared his throat, standing up to his full height and shoving the supplies he needed into the pocket of his doctor’s coat.“No need, William,” he uttered, his voice warm and smooth, “I’ll get a new pair once I’m done.” He paused for a moment, glancing at Will, then away once more. Prospero bit his lip slightly, and Will felt his eyes pulled there, before he glanced away hurriedly. Shame welled in his heart, dampening the joy he had been feeling just a moment prior. He nearly jumped out of his skin as the other man approached him. His heart thudded in his chest, as some sort of energy pulsed through him, making his skin buzz…Was he going to–no, no no! He scolded himself internally; he’s not like you, he thought to himself, he’s an upstanding man, not some kind of per–his mind blanked suddenly as Prospero placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.“Thank you for the offer though,” Prospero whispered, and Will felt as if he was going to pass out. Then the door clicked behind the doctor, and Will was alone once more. Carelessly, he flopped down onto the cot, not paying any mind to the way the supports squeaked at his weight. With a groan Will covered both of his eyes, then dragged his palms down his face. It felt like his face was on fire, and Will cursed himself as his mind stubbornly refused to let go of just how strong and sure Pr–Dr. Caruso’s grip had been. He ran a hand through his hair, and let his eyes fall closed. His entire body felt like molten metal–warm and heavy. His mind was racing, but each thought was blurred at the edges–intangible and hazy. He let himself doze for a moment, half connected to the world around him, he could almost forget about the things he had seen. Blood, a beating heart, and the cold press of steel against his head…almost.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Will wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time he shook off the reveries which still swam through his mind. Everything still felt as if it were separated by some thin layer of gauze, and both his head and leg ached fiercely. He didn’t know whether or not he had fallen asleep, or had simply been so deep within his own thoughts that, just for a bit, he was dead to the world. Whatever state he had been in, it was evidently disconnected enough that he hadn’t noticed Prospero dropping some food off for him. As soon as the smell hit his nose, his stomach growled loudly–he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. When he was younger he could go quite a while without eating–a side-effect of living on the run–but he had grown accustomed to his daily meals with the other rangers, even if he only really hung out with Monty… and Ada.Feeling as if he had lost control of his body, he lunged towards the food, left considerately on the nightstand so Will wouldn’t have to get up to get it, and ate it with concerning speed. He then took the glass of water beside it, and gulped it down. The meal helped to alleviate some of the fog in his head, but did not eradicate it entirely. He sighed heavily once he was done, and slumped against the back wall. He had had one hell of a day, and he could feel the exhaustion etching itself deep into his bones. For a moment he just sat there, before he noticed the faint sound of conversation from the other room. It was muffled so he couldn’t really make anything out, but he could tell it was Prospero speaking at the moment, followed by a high, even, and feminine voice–Annabel, most likely. His mind flashed back, unbidden, to the letter they had found within the bag. Who exactly had Annabel been trying to contact? He sat bolt upright, looking around for the bag, and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw it half-shoved under the cot–right where he had left it when Ada had unceremoniously dropped him there.Carefully, Will got to his feet, leaning heavily on the nightstand beside him. He reached for the crutches Prospero must have left for him alongside the food, flailing his arms slightly when he found them just a touch too far away–Prospero must have forgotten to make sure they were close enough, which struck him as odd. Makes sense given all he’s had to worry about today, Will reasoned. Gritting his teeth, he took one single step towards them, and nearly toppled to the floor–yep, he had definitely re-injured his ankle. Once he had the crutches in place, he used them to make his way across the room to the door. Will paused once more, listening to the pair of voices still deep in conversation, and winced at the thought of interrupting them. Would they yell? His heartbeat spiked as memories wormed their way from his subconscious: a disparaging glare, a scoff, and a punch to the shoulder a touch too forceful to be friendly. He rubbed the area absentmindedly, even though the bruise had faded long ago. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and grasped the door handle with one hand, turning it slowly.The door swung open with a faint squeak, and two pairs of eyes swiveled at once to stare at him. Prospero’s expression was one of surprise, while Annabel’s was one of detached categorization, a faint smile across her face that spoke more of an expectation fulfilled than genuine warmth. He smiled nervously back at her, and she nodded faintly, then turned back to Prospero.“As I was saying, I was successful in radioing the police… However, it appears that many of the roads in the area have washed out, making it nearly impossible for them to get here by car.” Annabel fiddled slightly with one of her ringlets, which were still perfect despite the trek she had presumably just completed. It was a tell, just a small one, but a tell nonetheless. Deep down inside him, part of Will’s mind, the part that always checked for entrances and exits when he entered a room, squirreled that information away–she was thinking about something.“So, we’re on our own?” Prospero sighed, worry etching itself into the lines of his face. It was a look Will was becoming increasingly familiar with.“Not exactly,” Annabel hummed, “while it’s true that they cannot come in by car, they can still come in by air.” For a brief second silence filled the room, as the two men processed what Annabel had just said, then she continued, “it will take a few days for them to acquire a helicopter, and to make the journey here, but once they do, they should be able take this whole mess off our plates.” She smiled then, fragile and thin as ice over abyssal depths, liable to crack at any minute.Prospero nodded, and smoothed out his doctor’s coat, which had become wrinkled and partially stained due to the day’s activities. At that moment, he turned to Will and smiled, though it looked a bit forced.“Now that that’s taken care of, what was it that you needed, William?” He sighed, his voice reminded Will of high-quality coffee–the stuff he’d only ever had once or twice–rich, and velvet smooth, with equal notes of bitter and sweet. He shook his head slightly to clear the fuzz from his brain.“Uh…” he mumbled, cringing internally at his own response. “C-could you help me put on the boot?” He finally squeaked out, and felt a part of him shrivel up and die from the shame. Annabel stared at him, a singular eyebrow raised, though her face held no trace of judgment or malice–just cool consideration. He felt himself flush bright red, he was making a gosh-darned fool of himself, he mused. Prospero, however, relaxed slightly, easing back into the role of the diligent doctor once more. It almost made Will feel a little better. Even if he couldn’t be useful in other ways, he could still do this.“Ah, of course,” Prospero said, gently weaving around Will to get to the door to the other room, opening it quickly and quietly. Glancing over his shoulder at Will, he announced “follow me.” Will glanced behind at Annabel, who had drifted like a ghost over to the medicine cabinet, and made no move to follow the two of them. Reluctantly, he followed Prospero into the other room. Annabel was hiding something, he was sure of it.As soon as he entered the side room, Prospero ushered him back to the cot where he had spent most of the last 24 hours. Will bit his lip, biding his time as Prospero strutted to and fro, busying himself with the task at hand. Nervous energy bubbled in his chest, causing his fingers to tap erratically at the cot’s metal frame. Yet he waited patiently, his eyes occasionally darting to the door–mostly closed, but still slightly ajar–he would have to be quiet. Will found himself so caught up in his racing thoughts, he was almost surprised when Prospero knelt before him once more. Gently, as if Will were made of delicate porcelain, he gripped Will’s injured leg, preparing to ease it into the boot once more. Suddenly, it was as if the world had been plunged underwater, distant and muffled, though his chest filled with a sparking excitement, Prospero’s hands burning like hot coals as they worked. It was only as Prospero was getting ready to get to his feet, that Will remembered what he had wanted to do.“Wait!” He hissed, his hand reflexively reaching out to grab Prospero’s shoulder, though his hand pulled back as he saw the other man flinch.“Yes?” Prospero inquired, one perfect eyebrow arched. This close he could see the stress etched into the other man’s face, the weariness around his eyes, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him–stupid, paranoid boy, he thought, dragging him into your mess. His cheeks, already hot for a reason he couldn’t quite place (when had he started blushing?), flushed even further.“The- um… the l-letter,” Will whispered, one hand habitually drifting to the back of his neck. Prospero’s expression morphed from one of mild exasperation, to one of confusion. Will noticed the faint crease which once again formed on his brow when his eyebrows pinched together, it was almost cute, he mused.“The letter…” Prospero repeated, his gaze skittering to the side as he searched his memory for what William was referring to.“From the bag,” Will clarified, glancing at the door–was Annabel listening? Had it been a bad idea to leave her all alone with the strange hiker? Was she dangerous? What exactly was she up to? He leaned closer, so he was sure only Prospero and Prospero alone could hear him, “it was from Annabel. I-I don’t know what it means, but it’s weird isn’t it?” He heard himself let out an involuntary nervous giggle, “first the bag, then the storm, and now the hiker?” There was a moment of silence, Prospero staring at him, his eyes searching for something Will couldn't place–a sign Will was crazy? Honestly, it probably wouldn’t be hard to find.“Do you still have it? The letter?” The doctor whispered instead, and Will nodded enthusiastically, and a hint of pride shimmered in Prospero’s eyes, as if he were very pleased with Will’s–albeit, unintentional–cleverness. “Good. We’ll meet later, once all this is taken care of. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?” he stood, slowly, a hand lingering at Will’s shoulder.“Works for me,” Will responded, perhaps a bit overly-casual, as he was trying to contain the odd mixture of joy and nerves filling his chest–Prospero had believed him! Involuntarily, his mind flickered to Monty, and to him. Would they have believed him, he wondered. He pushed it down, confused as to why his mind would make that comparison; this had nothing to do with either of them, he asserted.“Alright! It looks like your ankle is doing fine, you should be ready to return to your cabin and rest,” Prospero announced, his voice slightly raised with a performative edge. Carefully, Will got to his feet, leaning on Prospero like a crutch as he did, before grabbing the actual pair of crutches that was provided to him. Together the two of them made their way into the other room, Will hobbling slightly behind as his muscles ached from their earlier exertion.Annabel was standing at the stranger’s bedside, staring down at them with an odd softness, an affection that Will had never seen on her face before, so used to her polite professionalism. It was like a candle in the window of some long-abandoned manor, haunting for its warmth in such a hostile environment. Quickly, however, the light was snuffed, and Annabel’s characteristic soft smile returned to her face. A kernel of envy formed in his stomach–how was it she was so good at hiding her emotions? How was it she could put on the mask so easily, as if it wasn’t rotting her from the inside out. Slowly, Will exhaled, his paranoia was getting to him. He listened as Prospero and Annabel exchanged some words, something about his condition and getting some rest back at his cabin. He felt a bottle pressed into his hand–painkillers, for his leg, should the pain flare up again. His thoughts were distant however, circling like vultures as he thought of his meeting with Prospero, and that strange warmth on Annabel’s face. It was probably nothing, he tried to convince himself, but given the circumstances of the past day or so, it was really hard to believe that.The administration building, usually so full of life, was still empty. Will didn’t know whether to be relieved or unnerved. The silence echoed in time with his footsteps and the clack of the crutches on tile as he carefully made his way down the hall. The stairs were trickier, but he managed, though some choice words were uttered in his frustration. Eventually he made it to the pair of glass double-doors which separated the building’s interior. It was almost dark outside, the last bits of dusk-light clinging to the horizon, but still dark enough that he made sure to borrow a flashlight from the staff supply cabinet as he made his way out. The trail was well-maintained, the dirt packed tightly, and any branches or weeds which intruded upon it were removed by the rangers that passed. Normally, it would’ve taken about fifteen to twenty minutes to make the hike to his cabin, which unfortunately was towards the far edge of the clearing from the building. The crutches slowed him down however, and he found that time seemed to stretch as he picked his way through the rapidly darkening woods. The trees seemed to breathe and shift out of the corner of his eye, and he could feel a cold sweat starting to bead upon his neck. He wouldn’t be able to run, if there was some sort of dangerous animal out there, and images of that poor woman, torn to shreds and hung in an awful, gory display, flashed across his mind. He tried to pick up the pace.It was around halfway down the trail that he heard it, the cracking of branches being pushed out of the way. It was dark now, the sun having finally found its resting place over the horizon, and Will whipped around with his flashlight. Scanning the treeline, at first he didn’t see it, but then its head twitched and he saw… a deer.A white-tailed deer to be exact, they were common in the area and one of his favorite animals. It stood, frozen, on the path behind him, and the more he looked at it the more sure he became that this wasn’t a deer. It’s head was held low, its legs bent at crooked, unnatural angles, and the way it stared at him wasn’t the way a startled prey animal would do so–no, this was the stare of a predator caught just before it could pounce, a quiet, vicious reassessment. His heart pounded in his chest, and nausea bubbled in his stomach, tying it into knots and making his breaths come in too quick, too short. Will took a step back, and the- the thing took a step towards him, its head low, staring straight forward. There was something about how it moved–each limb, each muscle working independently of each other, the way it jittered and stumbled as if manipulated by invisible strings–that filled his mind and soul with a type of revulsion he’d never quite felt before, an animalistic desire to flee, but more importantly, to look away. Yet deep in his chest, somewhere between his mind, his heart, and his stomach a sickly desire to know crept in, curling around him as he took it all in. Its eyes were vacant, those of a dead animal or a doll. His breaths came in quick ragged gasps, as the air was periodically torn from his throat. It was all wrong and he knew it, but something about the not-deer called to him–it felt familiar, like a long-forgotten dream. He was standing still, shaking like a leaf, a voice in his head calling out for him to run, but he couldn’t move, he was as transfixed as he’d been staring up at the woman's heart. It still rang in his ears–ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–pulsing in time with the not-deer’s staggering steps. Perhaps this was all a bad dream, he mused, maybe it would all go away if he could just open his eyes. He’d be safe, in his cabin, the only true home he had known in years, and all this would be was another nightmare to record in his dream journal. Maybe if he gave in it would all just stop, no more toying with him. He closed his eyes, his world already spinning from a lack of oxygen, and pictured himself on the porch. Monty would be there, Ada too, maybe even Prospero… it would be nice, and he would be safe–god, how he desperately wanted to be safe.It was just then that he heard the rustling of the brush on the side of the trail, and when he opened his eyes the not-deer was gone. All that was left in its wake was his terror, and a few drops of something dark on the dusty ground. Will felt a strangled sob leave his throat–partially elated at having survived whatever strange encounter he had just experienced, and partially disappointed because it wasn’t over. The dream kept on going, devolving, and he wasn’t waking up. Will felt his legs waver as he nearly collapsed, instead he gripped his crutches tighter, willing himself to move as quickly back to his cabin as he could.Wincing, Will did his best to ignore the pain which wracked his lower body. He couldn’t run–of course! Just his luck… but after placing his flashlight back in his pocket he hobbled as fast he could using the crutches, glancing over his shoulder to try and see if he was being followed, but it was no use. It was too dark, and the woods were too dense. Finally, he made it back to his little ramshackle cabin towards the back edge of the clearing. It was hard to fumble for his key while leaning heavily on the crutches, but eventually he managed. As soon as the door swung open he barreled inside, locking it immediately behind him. Finally, back against the door, he let out a sigh of relief, and let himself slump the floor.Will wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed by the time he had managed to calm himself enough to start thinking straight again. Achingly slow, he staggered back up to his feet, ignoring how every part of his body protested at the motion–he could deal with that later. It was difficult, dragging a chair from the small table in the corner of the cabin, but he had seen enough movies to know it would probably be a good idea to barricade the door. He took the time to check every window too, making sure each was locked, and their curtains tightly drawn. His heart still rattled a staccato rhythm in his chest, and he could feel how his hands were faintly shaking. Every slight noise set him on edge, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when the small antique clock he’d bought (a small, odd little thing, and strangely charming too) chimed the hour. Each minute passed like liquid, dripping feebly for some moments, and rushing past for others. He tried to sleep–he really did! But every time he closed his eyes, all he could hear was the frantic beating of his own heart accompanied faintly by some low, distant rumble, as if the very mountains were echoing his pulse. It was unnerving to say the least.Eventually, with a low groan he dragged himself out of bed and to the small table. There was a small cup–swiped from the dining hall on impulse, though he regretted it–filled with dead flowers he had yet to replace. A newspaper sat, hastily folded, at his place. It was a couple weeks out of date by now, as the ranger station was so remote that it was too much of a hassle to regularly deliver papers to them. They were kept up to date primarily through rumors and the occasional announcement by Annabel (who somehow always seemed to know what was going on), or Morella (who operated the radio tower, and was generally their only contact with the outside world). With less care than he’d like to admit, he swept the newspaper off the table and haphazardly dumped the contents of the backpack–including those in the secret compartment–onto it instead. He winced, as they clattered and bounced across its surface. Hopefully nothing’s broken, he thought to himself.Luckily, the contents of the backpack all seemed designed to handle some rough treatment–an experienced camper then, he noted–and so their undignified tumble onto the table did no real damage. Will sorted through them carefully, creating two distinct piles of ‘interesting/confusing’ and ‘normal stuff’. First, he inspected the book, but could make little progress due to the lock holding it closed. Quietly, he cursed to himself, and looked around… his multitool! If he could find his multitool then it would be hardly any trouble to open the lock. A cursory glance around the cabin did not reveal its location, so he sighed and resigned himself to standing once more. Prospero would probably be mad at him for being on his feet so much, the thought made him wince, and he felt a flicker of dismay pass through him at the thought of disappointing the man. He would be kind, most likely, but Will could picture the look of tired disappointment in his amber eyes so clearly, the way his eyebrows would pinch with worry, even as he sighed and made his annoyance clear. He was so focused on studying the expression of this imagined version of the doctor, that he nearly fell on his face as he stumbled over the very multitool he was searching for.“There you are…little rascal” he huffed, and hobbled back over to the table, plopping down in the (now) singular chair pulled up next to it. Carefully, he examined the lock. It was simple, but well made. It would take some finesse to open it, and he took a deep breath trying to steady his hands as much as possible. He inserted the tip of the knife into the lock, connecting faintly with the tumblers, and carefully levering them to open the lock and reveal the secrets of this strange book. Unbidden, a memory flashed to the surface of the mind.“C’mon Will, don’t be a sissy. It’s no big deal! Kids do stuff like this all the time–I mean they didn’t even buy a good lock, practically asking for someone to break in if you ask me!” He remembered sure, calloused hands on his shoulders, urging him forwards, ever forwards without caution or care, towards his first real act of teenage rebellion. It was a bittersweet memory, half thrill and half fear, and tainted ever so faintly bitter with the knowledge of what was to come, just how far he would be pushed. He swallowed the bile in his throat, shaking his head to clear the memories which caused his brain to fog over, and his heart to beat harder in his chest. The cold press of steel to his head, the rough grip on his collar, and the shouting, god the shouting.With a slight creak, the lock gave way, and eager to escape the overwhelming flood of memories and regrets which threatened to swamp him, he threw the book open and peered eagerly inside. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to find, but complete and utter gibberish was not at the top of his list. Of course it wasn’t that easy, it never was for him. He flipped absentmindedly through the pages, noting that every single one of them was encoded, except for the last third or so of the book, which was blank. Whoever had left this backpack was still writing, still active, and he thought of the strange hiker–had it been theirs? Were they dangerous? Should he warn Prospero? Probably, it's better to be safe than sorry. Anxiety tied knots in his stomach, and he let his head fall to the table with a groan. He’d have to ask Prospero if he had any books on code-breaking in his library. So many things to do… and yet it seemed no matter what he did he only dug himself in deeper. He kept running, desperately, towards the answers but they never seemed to get any closer. The letter, maybe the letter would finally give him something concrete to work with. Something more than vague suspicions and fear. Leaning both elbows on the table, he reached for the letter, inspecting the fine, delicate handwriting on the envelope once more. Despite his racing mind, exhaustion lingered heavy in his bones, and he yawned slightly as he opened the envelope. The seal had already been broken, but the letter itself had been carefully maintained–not even a single crease or fold on its surface. It was clear that this ‘Leo Vandernacht’ had valued its contents greatly, enough to take immense care to preserve it. He read the letter anxiously, one hand practically glued to the back of his neck, and his heart filled with a mixture of curiosity, fear, and excitement as he took in the words in front of him. The letter read:Dear Mr. Vandernacht,I am certain you’re curious as to how I found out where you were staying, but I am afraid I cannot tell you. You’ll just have to trust me, pet, when I say my sources would rather remain anonymous. I know it has been quite some time since we last spoke, but I know you, and so I must assume you have continued on with your business–you never could give up the chase, could you? To be quite frank, I need your help. There is something stirring here, deep in the woods, and while I have spent much of my life running away, I cannot bring myself to run now. There are people here, and they have no idea about the shadow which looms over us all.I know we have fought in the past, and that you may be reluctant to help me, but I also know you cannot bear the thought of innocents being hurt. You were always so kind, even when it was to your detriment. I know of no-one else that can help me, and part of me fears that the unrest of the area may be due to my own attempts to carve out a destiny for myself. For this reason I beg of you, pet, if not for me and the connection we shared, then for the lives which unknowingly hang in the balance, come and visit. Bring your friends if you must. You are the only one I know with the strength to deal with this, and I must admit I have missed you so. I will keep this letter short and sweet, and simply ask you to come speak to me directly once you arrive. I will tell you more then. But for now, goodbye, and please be careful, I know you tend to scoff in the face of the impossible, but these are not forces to be trifled with.–Your dearest, Annabel Lee Whitlock.Will didn't know what to think, his mind swimming from one feeling to the next. Annabel knew something, he was right, and vindication surged in his chest, but it was tempered by his fear and uncertainty. What great shadow? Was she talking about monsters? She must be talking about the stranger, right? It had to be them, he reasoned. Was the stranger what killed the woman? Had something else? His vision blurred, as the rhythmic beating of the heart filled his ears once more, followed by a shrill ringing which left him doubled over and clutching his head. Will could feel the panic starting to settle in once more–what the hell was going on?! Why did it have to happen to him? Was it some sort of punishment? Annabel knew something, something she wouldn’t even reveal in this letter to her…friend? God, he just wanted to hide, or to know, for once, what was going on in his trainwreck of a life.Will could barely hear himself think, even as the ringing receded, and he dragged both hands down his face. It had been a long day, perhaps the longest in his life, and even through the fear he wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep. He’d deal with it all tomorrow, when he didn’t feel like he was losing his mind. Everything was coated in the haze of exhaustion, and he only barely managed to unfasten the boot, shrug out of his old clothes, and change into his pajamas. He’d shower and brush his teeth in the morning. Finally, he closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift into the oblivion of sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Will could barely pry his eyes open, the light felt like sandpaper against his eyes, and his eyelashes clung together oddly. He partially expected to wake to see the faintest bit of sunlight streaming through the window, casting a golden beam across the wooden ceiling of his cabin, making the dust dance like sparks through the air. What he saw was…not that. It was dark wherever he was, and almost humid. Carefully he sat upright, blearily scanning his surroundings, as his pulse started to pick up and flicker as his anxiety increased. He wiped at his eyes, trying to clear the sticky, hazy feeling from them, and was shocked to see his hand coated in some strange substance. It was slightly crusty, as if it had dried upon his skin, but carried the unmistakable appearance of the substance which had dripped from the woman’s heart, and hung in thick strands amongst her tangled remains. Panic welled inside him, and he immediately looked to the rest of his body, assessing for any sort of damage or wound, but there was none. His vision wavered, and took on a staticky quality around the edges. There was a faint after-image each time he moved his eyes, and strange colors lingered in their aftermath, but other than that he could detect nothing amiss.Shakily, he got to his feet, gazing around at his surroundings, which at some point had clarified from some abyssal expanse of red-tinted darkness, into a forest very similar to the one he had begun to build a new life in. It smelled awful, a putrid mix of stagnant water, rot, blood, and the sweet perfume of magnolias. There was no trail, just the small clearing he had awoken in and the forest around him. It seemed to sway, and shift, as the wind sighed through the branches–far too hot, and far too cold all at once.It came to him, suddenly; he was dreaming. He had to be, even as some little voice whispered doubts into his ear. If he was dreaming, there had to be something he could do, and with renewed vigor Will looked around. Finally, he spotted a light in the distance, and while he knew it wasn’t there just a moment before, he supposed that this was simply how the dream worked. This wasn’t his first rodeo with nightmares, after all. After taking another deep breath–and coughing as the stench of the place settled on his tongue, and curled into his throat and lungs–he began his trek towards the light. His legs hurt, but the ache was dull and distant, and as he meandered through the endless, twisting trees, he came under the distinct impression he and his body weren't quite one and the same.The silence hung heavy in the air around him. There was no movement besides the rhythmic sighing of the wind, and his own heavy footfalls. The ground squelched under his boots, and distantly Will remembered his childhood–trying to prove to the other boys that he was tough by staying up and reading the scariest books he could find. He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to prove how tough he was, but it had made sense at the time. He had had nightmares then, and when the doctor was brought in to treat him, he had said Will’s insomnia had been due to his ‘excitable temperament’. ‘Sensitive’, he remembered them calling him, he had always been a sensitive child. It was easy to fall into his memories, as the veil between past and present, his mind and the world around him, seemed thin and gauzy. Yet he trudged onwards, hoping desperately that soon this nightmare would pass, and he would wake up safe in his nice, warm bed. Everyone would be fine, and maybe if he was lucky, he would find that he had simply dozed in his chair that too-warm afternoon, and none of it had been real.The light, a shining smear across the sky, flickering almost like a candle's flame, flared once more. It burned into his eyes, and he found himself blinking the spots from them, shaken from his reveries yet again. The forest had shifted, and the path was more rugged than it had been–the trees and undergrowth encroaching, grasping at him, trying to bring him down into the muck… the filth. Will scolded himself internally, he had to focus!The new (the old?) path in front of him twisted, like a snake in the grass, and he followed it dutifully. It was getting darker, and as it clustered at the edge of his vision, he couldn’t help the growing discomfort and unease which settled in his stomach. Nevertheless he continued, the minutes warping and bleeding together. At one point he stumbled, a root which he had previously not seen tripping him, and he reached out to a tree to stabilize himself. When he made contact with it, he could feel some sort of sap coating its trunk and quickly pulled his hand back, his nose scrunching in revulsion as the thick substance–black, warm, and oddly sweet-smelling–clung to his hand in viscous strands. Will shook his head, clutching his hand to his chest, and continued. Each second spent in this strange dream-world disoriented him further, and yet he had to continue. There was something about that light, like the one in the storm, which called to him, and drove him to march forwards. It tugged like a fishhook in his brain, and he was helpless against it.Finally, he came upon...a clearing. The ground was barren, the vegetation shriveled and long dead. He could no longer see the light, but what he saw instead was a spire made of twisting bone. He could tell it was bone because no rock had that texture. It wasn’t a structure, it was not made, not by any creature he knew of at least. It seemed to grow straight out of the ground, yet there was something distinctly unnatural about it. The spire was alive, but not living, yet he found a sort of comfort in its comparative sterility and sureness. It did not shift or move like the trees, and it certainly wasn’t filthy. Will heard a loud noise, like the call of a bird, and nearly jumped out of his skin. He felt a grin break out across his face–there was something else here! An animal, something familiar. He managed to glance it then, high up, perched upon the top of the spire was a raven. In his excitement, he darted–well...attempted to dart–forwards, and reached for the strange ivory structure. As his palm made contact, the same one which had touched that tree (still coated in that oily, black sap) he felt a shift in the air. Suddenly, the bone underneath his hand warped, and quicker than he could process it, in less than the blink of an eye, a spike erupted from the main mass of the thing, and skewered his hand. He cried out, cursing his goddamn horrible luck, and tried to pull away. Will quickly stopped as he felt barbs, spreading from the spike’s main body, digging into the hand of his flesh, rooting him to the spot. Removing it would mean tearing the majority of the flesh from his hand.He nearly did so by accident, startling again as the bird cawed once more, and a strange raspy voice touched the back of his mind. It wasn’t human, that was for sure, the words sounded strange and garbled as if its tongue wasn’t made for the sounds, and… y’know…it was telekinetic.“Oh, you weren’t meant to find me…” it whispered, and he watched as the raven took off from its perch and began to fly down to him. He realized then that he had made a mistake, it was no raven, no it was far, far too large. Absent-mindedly, Will huddled closer to the spire, as if he could avoid its detection, or perhaps find some sort of protection. It tilted its massive head at him, and warbled a low, throaty approximation of a laugh, “how curious…how delicious.”Will had no response, he simply squeaked, which caused it to laugh at him again. It laughed with a familiar laugh, the laugh of all the boys who had teased him growing up, with Monty’s, with his mother’s, with his own.“Oh, little morsel, do not be afraid! How curious, indeed, what an odd development. You see, I was expecting a friend of mine, not you.” It ducked its head, as if inspecting him in all his shaking, filthy glory.“Uhhh,” he murmured, intelligently, “I-I’m sorry?” It tittered at that, and stood up straight once more.“Ooh, a funny little thing, aren’t you? A fool!” Its eyes sparkled and danced, as its wings fluttered slightly. “You are not meant to be here, yet here you are!” It spoke as if this all was some fantastic joke, as if Will wasn’t standing there with his hand impaled. So, he simply nodded.“Tell me, did they send you?” It chortled, strutting back and forth.“P-pardon?” He croaked.“Mr. Shadow and Mr. Light, the double, the eye?” It spoke as if it were clarifying something, and it approached him once more, each word punctuated with another step. After another second of Will’s dumbfounded silence, it sighed. “No, I suppose not… you’re simply unlucky.” It almost seemed disappointed, which gave Will the absurd desire to apologize for his ignorance of what it was talking about. In a burst of feathers it darted towards him, he flinched, preparing for impact, but when he opened his eyes he found that the bird had shrunk and landed on his shoulder.“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Raven, but I just want to wake up,” he cringed as he heard how his words morphed into a whine. The bird, the voice, it scoffed.“How…boring…though sensible, I suppose, Mr. Nobody. Not everyone can be so entertaining, sadly, as my dear friend. But, I see potential in you, little doe, and if you’d like… I could answer some questions, grant advice. I’m quite knowledgeable, you know!”In spite of the frankly horrifying circumstances, and all the stories he’d heard warning him of crossroads and the spirits which lived there, Will could not help the excitement which sparked at the prospect. That animal curiosity was still lodged under his ribs, and it wasn’t going anywhere. Still, he had to be careful. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, doing his best to mimic the clever Annabel Lee.“What’s the catch?” His tone was even, as he grit his teeth to stop his jaw from shaking. The raven simply laughed.“The catch? Nothing, I already have what I want,” it crooned, arrogant and superior.“...and what is that?” He felt his mouth move on its own, despite his better judgment.“Well! That would be spoiling the fun, wouldn’t it? But I suppose I could give you a hint,” it leaned close to his head, its beak next to his ear as if whispering some grand secret, “I’ve always loved to play with my food.” Will felt a shiver go down his spine.“Now! For your answers,” it continued on as if nothing had happened at all.“Wait! I haven’t even asked anything!” Will exclaimed, trying his best to look the raven in the eye, but failing to do so without jostling his hand.“Oh little one, you wouldn’t know what to ask, it’s better this way. Now, hush. First, the stranger will be your light; protect it, never let it go out. Second, keep a lighter on you. You never know when you’ll need a cigarette. And third…this path was not made for you, walk it and you walk to your doom. You are already halfway to the land of the dead.”It took a moment for him to process what it had said, and by the time he managed to croak out a feeble response, it had already begun to cackle. It rang in his skull, echoing in time with his frantic breaths. He wanted to run, to flee, to hide somewhere safe where he could never be found. Desperately, he tugged on his hand, which was still pinned to the tree–like a bug, he mused, he was little more than a fascinating insect. Will felt the bird's talons tighten, as if it were about to take off, and felt himself scream out before he even knew what he was going to say.“Wait!” he cried, his voice ragged and torn at the edges, “was any of this real? A-Am I going crazy?!”Again the monster chuckled, low and dark, and it echoed in his skull as if he were hearing it from the bottom of a well, “Oh little doll, why are you asking me? If you want my two cents then I’d say it’s possible that you’ve finally snapped. That wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibilities, would it William?”-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------He really needed to make sure this didn’t become a habit. He had shot up, shaking, covered in sweat, and absolutely scared shitless. It was dark, the curtains blocking out most of the sun, but from the small slivers of light adventuring out across his cabin floor, he’d wager it's early morning. Just after dawn, perhaps? Relief flooded him, and he nearly burst out into tears. He was alive, he was safe, he was hidden. His arm had gone numb, but for a second he ignored it, shutting it out with the rest of the horrible bullshit he’d had to deal with over the last few days. But he couldn’t ignore it forever, and a rush of memories pertaining to the letter flashed to the forefront of his mind. The meeting! He was going to meet Prospero, and despite it all he felt a bit of giddy excitement at the prospect–wait, where had they agreed to meet again? He frantically wracked his brain, while other, insignificant worries popped into his head: what should he wear? How should he greet the doctor? What if he made a fool of himself? Prospero was so dignified, so strong, so handsome… it made him nervous–excited too, he had to admit, despite the part of him that curled away at the observation.It hit him suddenly, the absurdity of it all, here he was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush! It was stupid, utterly stupid, and he couldn’t help but think of Monty’s unamused glare, how he had scoffed when some other ranger had asked him if he’d had a sweetheart–a genuine question, a nice question, the type Will wasn’t used to receiving–back home, how he looked at Will sometimes like he knew. He knew there was something off about him. Will was laughing now, though to be honest it bordered on sobs, and he brought a hand up to wipe the tears gathering in his eyes. It took a second for it to register, the slick heat, the iron smell–blood, his hand was covered in blood. He looked at the sheets, and there it was, dark and damning. It was ridiculous-monsters, crazy dreams, and reading doom in the clouds. It was all the plot of some new horror flick, or maybe it was all just a figment of his clearly deranged imagination. But there he was, sitting in the dark with his hand covered in blood from a wound that did not–could not–exist.