NOVEL FROG Ch. 5: Frack
Ch. 5
"Frack"
Without another thought, I dive toward the direction of the man, and his shadows faded into the forest, my wings pressed flat against my back to muffle their sound as I glide through the torrid dark. I find and land silently on a branch of a tree closer to the source of my curiosity, my heart racing at the prospect ahead. Years of stagnation in the castle had left me starved for anything that might capture my attention, whether good or bad.
I can’t tear myself away, even though I know I am intruding on something profoundly secretive. The possible conclusion pulses beneath my skin, overpowering my senses, urging me to retreat and never look back.
Fear will no longer dictate my actions out here. The fog of my past may loom large, but I refuse to let them clip my wings. I will soar. My beast, that wild creature lurking within, won’t steer me away from the unknown. Be the dragon, Oana's soft voice fades in and out of my memory.
I am the one who decides my path. Each choice I make, whether wise or reckless, is mine alone to bear. The thrill of the unknown courses through me, kindling a fire that banishes the lingering cold hesitation. I am embracing the uncertainty ahead, knowing it is part of my journey. This time, I will now cower. I will soar no matter the danger.
No wards, no walls, no Mother. My voice bounces off the edges of my mind. Just another layer to steel myself for what lies ahead.
My eyes move toward that man who has halted in a secluded clearing, surrounded by towering pines that stand like giant guards. The man stands serenely in his meddling darkness, some shadows twirl around his fingers, while others start to consume everything around him. A few stragglers merge with him, seeping into his very being and amplifying his strange, alluring presence.
An inky curtain of shadows covers everything, casting an ominous veil over the clearing and making the air snap as they move. The normal, constant chill moves across my skin, but I refuse to let fear seep into my resolve. Instead, I lean into the unknown, reminding myself that I control my choices out here. The darkness, the shadows, may cling to him, but I will not be ensnared by it. My wings, once heavy with trepidation, now feel lighter as I prepare to uncover the secrets lurking in the shadows.
The forest seems to freeze as something emerges from its depths. A ghostly silence blankets the area, heralding the new creature’s arrival. As it steps into view, sagging eyes gleam with an unsettling light and hollowness, like twin grim celestial lanterns. The creature is strikingly at home with the towering trees, as if woven from the very fabric of this forest itself. Though her face is cast in the shadows that twist in the air, she appears to be a disheveled older-looking woman, her features a haunting blend of age and timeless beauty. She has clumps of hair missing as if torn from her skull in handfuls, leaving a knotted nest filled with leaves, sticks, and moss.
I grip the branch beneath me, determined to hold to my control, but a flicker of doubt slithers through my mind, like the shadows moving through the area. Is this what drew me to the forest, what I longed to uncover, or is this reflection of the beast within me ready to guide me away from my desired path? I force myself to breathe, reminding myself that I choose my fate, even if the deities of fate itself make me question my role.
My focus is pulled back as the woman moves. Every step she takes is deliberate and weighted, as if the very ground acknowledges her presence. Her long, bony fingers brush along the autumn wind, weaving unseen threads from the night that connect the forest to her essence. The timber shudders at her approach, branches bending away as if bowing to her unspoken power. A bitter tangy smell pricks my nose.
The woman is clad in tattered garments, encrusted with layers of dirt and earth that speak of centuries entwined with the land. To an untrained eye, she might appear as merely an old decaying tree, but I know her true nature. I have read about her, seen her images and depictions in countless tomes. The Grand Library back at the castle holds many stories of her — a being who emerged from the very recesses of the Endless Forest, a guardian of a realm she herself has woven together.
I feel a twinge of fear at the edge of my skin, a reminder of the power that lurks in this forest, yet I stand firm, grappling with the truth that this ancient guardian embodies what I could become if I don’t surrender to my darker instincts.
Muma Padurii. The Mother of the Forest.
A tremendous witch, revered for her fierce protection of all that dwell within these woodlands — creatures, plants, and the very spirit of life she has weaved together. Few are fortunate enough to witness Muma Padurii in her true form, her appearance is a rare spectacle, hidden in legends and hushed talks.
Why is she here? What secrets and knowledge lie with her ancient being? What purpose does this covert meeting serve? I grapple with the bubbling thoughts. Why was Muma Padurii at ease with his man, allowing her sacred form to unfold before him? What connections do they share that elude my understanding? Doubt creeps in, whispering that I am not meant to be part of this world — an interloper in a realm where shadows and magic intertwine, and where my own nature may someday betray me. If I don’t understand this encounter, I may lose my chance to unravel my own struggles and desperations, searching for my place in the world outside the castle walls.
Each second stretches painfully, a taunt string inside me ready to snap as I hold my breath, waiting for their next move. The forest is still as if holding its breath with me. My heartbeat reverberates in my ears, a frantic drum against the silence surrounding me. Muma Padurii’s presence is a vivid reminder that the forest is no mere picture in a book or a simple curiosity, it is alive with its authoritative guardian.
The air is thick with mist as I feel like there is a Hyrda around my throat, leaving me starting to wonder if I am the month unwittingly stepping into a trap woven by the cruel hands of fate.
Muma Padurii’s gaze locks onto the man, her luminous eyes illuminating his figure as shadows recoil in wild abandonment. Her lips move in a whisper so soft that it evades even my keen sense in this form.
But as I lean closer, my heart races, desperate to grasp their words and uncover a world beyond my reach. Just as the tension builds, the branch beneath me betrays me, snapping with a sharp crack that shatters the stillness.
I flutter down the tree to a more suitable branch, but when I glance back, the man and Muma Padurii have vanished without a trace. The darkness creeps through all the holes and crevices, grasping at the air like a greedy phantom. I blink, and suddenly, the man stands at the edge of the treeline, where they once stood.
Shadows swirl around him, slithering across his skin yet retreating from the sharp angles of his face. My breath hitches as I realize he is staring directly at me, a glimmer of delight sparking in his cerulean eyes, as if he is savoring every exposed part I have left to be devoured — and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
A single claw drags across the mental door I have fortified, then was weakened by others. The claw drags from the door to the walls I have erected to shield myself — from myself. Yet, as fear boils inside, part of me aches to swing that door wide open.
The minty scent intensifies, spiraling through the air, emanating from this man, this creature who I have beckoned like a tempting feast. My teeth grind together, a low growl rising in my throat — I can’t let the beast loose from its confines, not now, please.
Remember what you’ve been taught. Mother’s voice was commanding.
I flex my wings, stretching them wide, using the movement to conceal my satchel behind my back. This satchel holds secrets that could unravel me, its contents a perilous reflection of my true self.
Shit. I curse silently, the thought echoing in my mind. Even here, the words feel too loud, too dangerous, as if they might summon attention from the shadow that fills my mind.
Slow your breathing. Embrace your form. Control your scent. I chant the words in my mind, a mantra echoing the lessons of my past. I hear her sharp, dominating tone drilling into me. Power is a devious thing, and your scent can deceive you in an instant. I cling to the hope that my days without bathing might mask it — a desperate gamble, and I have never been a good gambler.
I feign a nibble at my side, striving to appear as natural as this form allows, all the while keeping my gaze on the man. I blink, and he is standing at the base of the tree — his existence both alarming and like the Feystone.
How did he move so quickly? What manner of man — or creature — is this? I must keep my wits cutting, the night has a way of playing dangerous tricks. Every encounter feels like a game, and I refuse to be a proper loser.
Perched high in the tree, my position should offer safety, but the man’s eyes seek mine out, locking them into place, intense and unyielding. I have been spotted. The darkness that circles him — breaths live and with wicked forces slithers up the tree truck with chilling speed and purpose, closing the distance between us.
FUCK. The word playing on a relentless loop within my head, each iteration pressing deeper into my consciousness, drowning out all other thoughts.