The Vampire & Her Witch

Ashlynn stood nervously among the roots of the Ancient Oak as the tree and Virve got to know each other. At first, she’d sensed a bit of what the tree chose to share with the woman she hoped would become the third member of her coven, but beyond a feeling of struggle against cold and snow and an innumerable number of years, she’d sensed very little from the tree.

Now, as Virve descended deeper into her exchange with the mighty Oak, she sensed almost nothing from the tree itself as it seemed to direct all of its attention toward the veteran soldier who had come to meet it.

Virve’s face was more informative as her expression shifted through a myriad of emotions. At first, there was tender, gentle curiosity, followed by a soft, smiling look of wonder. All of that shifted, however, when Virve’s entire body tensed and began to shake and tremble. Her hand that touched the Ancient Oak clenched into a fist and her claws scraped along the tough bark of the venerable tree, leaving behind faint scratches that would have been deep gouges on any normal, less resilient tree.

”Oh Virve,” Ashlynn said, stepping close to set a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. She couldn’t intervene in what the older woman was experiencing, or if she could, she felt it wouldn’t be wise to do so, but she hoped that simple touch could provide at least some comfort to her friend.

Suddenly, the mask of fury on Virve’s face crumpled and soft wimpers began to spill from her lips as her body curled on itself like a young cub in great pain. Ashlynn had seen Virve charge into battle against twice their number of towering Tuscan hunters, suffering bone crushing injuries as she fought on the surface of a frozen lake and not once had she seen the veteran soldier reduced to childlike wimpers of pain the way she was now.

”I understand that your long life contains moments of joy and moments of sorrow,” Ashlynn said as an emerald green glow gathered in her eyes. ”But whatever you are sharing with Virve, do not forget that she is my friend and my dear companion,” she warned in a voice that grew as frosty as the High Pass. ”You may test her, but do not torment her!”

Above her, the wind rustling through the branches intensified and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air as the Ancient Oak reacted to Ashlynn’s admonishment.

”I don’t care if you are older than I,” Ashlynn said firmly. ”Age gives birth to wisdom that should be shared, but be mindful of passing on unnecessary suffering,” she said. A vision of Ollie standing up again and again as Thane gave him painful ’reminders’ of his virtues flickered through her mind.

Briefly, she wondered how many knights endured that punishing tradition for no other reason than that their predecessors had before she pushed thoughts about Ollie to the back of her mind and focused on the Ancient Oak before her.

”She is my friend,” Ashlyn said again, gently caressing the silver-gray fur between Virve’s brows as she debated whether or not she should pull Virve free of the Ancient Oak’s vision. ”Be kind to her, or I’ll put an end to this,” she warned, turning to look at the tree’s mighty trunk.

The threat seemed to work, and moments later, Virve’s expression softened as the golden-green energy flowing from the Ancient Oak grew more vibrant, taking on an aura that Ashlynn associated with healing, growth and renewal.

”Thank you,” she told the Ancient Oak as she continued to gently stroke Virve’s soft fur. The tree wasn’t done with her yet, but it had clearly moved on to something less distressing.

Several minutes later, the golden-green aura surrounding Virve slowly withdrew into the majestic tree’s roots, leaving behind a Virve who looked stronger and more refreshed than she had been when they arrived at the tree.

”My lady,” Virve said softly, blinking several times as she adjusted to the real world after emerging from the tree’s vision. Everything she had seen had felt so real, with sights and smells and countless other sensations that nearly overwhelmed her senses that for a brief moment, the real world felt... somehow less real than the visions she’d just emerged from.

Her paws trembled as she flexed her claws, half-expecting to find them stained with Bors Lothian’s blood. She could still hear the -CRUNCH- of the Lothian Lord’s ax handle snapping under her claws echoing in her ears and feel the sting of impact in her palms as she tore into the human lord’s heavy armor.

The phantom scent of sawdust and sap still filled her nostrils, and the echoes of that horrible grinding against wood, against the still living flesh of the fallen Ancient Oak, sent shivers down her spine. In her chest, her heart pounded with a mixture of pain, rage and dark exhilaration that left her gasping for breath in the cool autumn air.

”The Ancient Oak showed me...” she began, her voice thick with emotion emotions she had yet to sort out as one vision jumbled with the next in her thoughts. ”It showed me what the Lothians did to one of its children. Not just cutting it down, but...” Her voice caught as a knot formed in her throat and she struggled to find a way to express what she had seen.

”You don’t have to force yourself,” Ashlynn said softly. Reaching into the pack that Virve had brought for their hike, Ashlynn retrieved a waterskin and a small wooden cup, quickly filling the cup before passing it to her disoriented companion.

”The visions bestowed by ancient trees can be intense,” she said, recalling her own experience with the Ancient Willow. ”You don’t have to explain everything all at once. Take your time to sort your thoughts,” she said gently as Virve took the cup in her paws and began to sip. ”You don’t have to tell me everything it showed you either,” she added. ”The visions you’ve experienced belong to you alone. Unless I have a good reason to, I won’t demand you share them with me,” she promised.

”Thank you, my lady,” Virve said as she drew a deep, comforting breath of the cool, misty air of the Vale of Mists. After spending so long traveling with Lady Nyrielle, just the simple act of breathing in air that wasn’t bone dry and bitter cold, or filled with strange and foreign scents did a great deal to calm her racing heart.

It took several minutes for her to organize her scattered thoughts, sifting through the memories that were hers and separating them from the visions the Ancient Oak had shared with her as she reminded herself again and again that those visions weren’t her own memories, and that she hadn’t been the one chopped up and carved up by Lothian woodworkers, even if she could still recall the feeling of dull saw blades digging into her flesh.

Those memories of human cruelty had become tangled in her memories of her own pain. The day she’d learned her father fell in battle blended with the feeling of Lothian axes chopping down the Ancient Oak until she briefly felt like she knew what her father must have felt in the moments before his death.

But that feeling, she fought to remind herself. That feeling wasn’t real and it didn’t belong to her. And yet, and yet all of it had felt so intense that she struggled to free herself from the lingering feelings those memories evoked.

For her part, Ashlynn said nothing as she watched the bearish woman struggle to compose herself. When Virve gulped down the last of her water, Ashlynn silently refilled the wooden cup and waited patiently until Virve finally seemed ready to continue her tale...