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Looking for Envy

Rarely did Hawthornn remember his dreams. What images flitted through his sleeping mind were lost to the darkness behind his eyelids. This fateful evening was different.

He was just a boy in his final days before he would join mandated schooling by the Concord. He could count how many days left on his toes. His mother had spared him from joining her patrol that day under the reasoning that he would soon have no choice.

He was free to enjoy his youth that day, and with that gift he had found himself within the Wildbird Meadow. Birdsong rang out through the tall stalks of prairie grass. Flashes of their feathers appearance between the stalks and he had found himself in a low crouch. The grass bended beneath his paws as he crept forward. Closer and closer to the loudest song.

Hawthornn rushed forward, reveling in the panicked flight of the birds. Feathers were left to fall from their fleeing forms, their shadows raced across the ground as they took flight. He ran after them. His strides long and purposeful, Hawthornn flew across the meadows with them. His heart raced within his chest, thrilled by the aimless pursuit.

Without warning, his lungs seized.

He staggered to the ground, legs shaking as his mouth opened, gaping like a fish. His ribs constricted his chest, his heart hammering against his sternum to be freed. Through the blood rushing through his hears, he could his the shuttering gasps leaving his maw. Each breath lit a flame within his lungs, yet none satiated the desire for air.

Why couldn't he breathe?

Golden eyes whirl around the meadow in panic. No voice could be found within himself to beg for help. Spit foamed along his lips, each breath filled his chest, but it wasn't enough.

Why? Why?

This isn't real, is it?

Hawthornn's eyes snapped open, only to be greeted by grit and darkness. Eyes stinging, he was alarmed that he still desired so greatly a breath of air. There was a weight on his chest, had a bear sat upon him? Hawthornn opened his mouth, and took in a large mouthful of dirt.

He couldn't breathe.

Every fiber of his being sparked with fear. Instinct driving him to thrash and squirm and push against the earth that swallowed him. His legs felt sluggish. The weight of his apparent grave threatened to keep him.

A forepaw broke free into open air. The rest of him followed seconds after.

Halfway crawled out of the hole, Hawthornn hacked desperately to unclog the soil from his lungs. He was slick with mud, and cold because of it. Every muscle burned, his mouth tasted of earth, and fire crawled down his throat.

But he could breathe, and he greedily took in big gulps of air. His head bowed, his eyes hazily surveyed his periphery. Where was he?

There is a change to the air; the breeze that chilled his mud clad form halted from behind. Hawthornn does not move his head to assess it. Fire arced through his respiratory track, each hacking breath expelling grit, sand, and loom. The air is a relief, but the friction left behind lingers, a burning that brings water to his eyes. He stays in this state of being by choice. Letting the expanding and contracting of his lungs feed his body of oxygen, and soothe the rabbiting of his heart. A heart that battered itself in trying to escape.

They voice that greets him causes him to start. His head drawn over his shoulder, golden eyes round in recognition. You— A hacking cough takes his breath. You, it's you— Envy! His voice falls away as he regains the breath spent speaking. The silvered imp sat close with a delighted smirk. Her words causing him to wipe his mouth with a forepaw. Phlegm and spittle left a damp smear along his wrist.

I'm not... I'm not eating dirt, Envy. It cost him much, to speak on behalf of his pride, but when you have crawled out of a grave, you had little left to spare. Hawthornn planted his paws beneath him, and heaved the rest of his body out of the earthen tomb that held him. Not trying anyway, I was just... Goldenrod gaze lingered on the hole left in his wake.

He almost died there. Alone.

The Goldenwoode's head lowered with the weight of it all. Slouched, a sobering feeling found steel in his voice. I was buried alive.

Hawthornn's gaze came to rest on the silvered woman, exhaustion worn plainly on his face. He did not know who tried to kill him, but someone or something had to have tried. Right?

None of it made sense. This wasn't where he had fallen asleep.

Envy, where are we?

SKILL: Ranger
1 / 5

Hawthorn couldn't hold back the dry laugh that rasped from his chest. More of a croak, really. A wry smile curled across his lips. The Concord didn't have rituals, we had ceremonies. And this, he gestured to himself with a tilt of his muzzle, this was certainly not one of them.

The she-devil circles him, scrutinizing the scene. The ground, the hole, and him. He does not flinch from her investigation, nor does he comment on her subtle preening. A simple gesture, but one he appreciated quietly.

It proved she was real.

Different... huh? He repeated her description, tasting the word for himself. It was an apt word for the bizarre scenario he had found himself in. The adrenaline rush left a mind fog in its wake. It brought with it a cold dread. He surely wasn't losing control of his own mind, right? 

Did someone go after you?

Goldenrod eyes slowly drifted to the environment. The open grave was lackluster. There were no claw marks upon the ground to indicate that it had been dug and refilled. In fact, the only marks he could find were those he made digging out. Hawthorrn pulled himself to his paws, head lowering to the ground as he began to investigate for himself.

The only scents on the ground were those of the wetland itself, Envy's, and his own. Distantly, fish, frog, and heron could be scented on the air, but he presumed that to be normal given the marsh. Running water could be heard through the mist, as could the buzzing of insects as they flitted about in the early morning.

Hawthornn turned to Envy, bewilderment clear on his face. I don't remember anybody, and if I did get on someone's bad side, there's no sign of them. His eyes narrowed as he strained to bring anything to the forefront of his mind. I had fallen asleep, I didn't even dream of getting pummelled or of anyone else. I just— He shook his head in frustration, a forepaw lifting in a vague gesture to the hole. I woke up in the ground.

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soooo sorrry to have died there. here's a lil post to wrap this up into a neat little bow

That was simply it, wasn't? He had managed something.

He considers the strange events with a sour expression. Eyes pinched shut as more lines drew upon his brow. Goldenrod eyes open once more at the mention of a stream.

Hrmmmmm... It wasn't really an answer, but was an expression nonetheless. With a sharp inhale, Hawthornn stepped forward to join her. A bath would work some wonders right about now.

Trying to wrap his head around his arrival was simply just walking him in circles. At the very least, there was someone in this strange new world that he knew.