Daylight

[Falconstar100]

Hello! Falcy here, to entertain you with a taster of my original story, Daylight! I plan to put the prologue up here and see how that goes, as I could really use the feedback. Whether its praise, suggestions, or critique, I'll gladly accept it. Even if you are a flamer, for then I will simply laugh at you.
Artwork:
Cover page: viewtopic.php?t=486934
Other art: viewtopic.php?t=515007
BlueCynder is wonderful. Anywho, on with the show!

PROLOGUE
This is a story about magic.
I won’t waste time. I won’t go on about ancient times, or wars, or good and evil. I’m sure you’ve heard it all before. This type of story is old.
Just imagine a time, long, long ago; a time of sorcerers and dragons and unicorns, a time when humans and animals could have an amiable chat about the weather and no one think it strange, when all things wonderful and weird walked the Earth, lit by starlight. Because let me tell you- there was a time like this, a time that has almost completely fallen out of the memories of mortals such as ourselves. If you’re curious, look at the legends and myths and fairytales. They contain a remnant of a fragment of a memory. A lot of stories contain memories.
And fear, of course.
You know what I’m talking about- shadows on the wall that don’t have an owner, but still move. Those strange, dark places in the world where you could swear that someone is whispering your name. That chill down your spine when you realize that the wolf howling you hear is no ordinary wolf…
You see, during that time, many mortal creatures lived in fear of these things, because they were real.
But, time passed, and, half because of science starting to seem so sensible, and half to other things, going on beyond the surface, people moved on. They forgot almost completely about the monsters and the shadows, and the world of magic slept through the centuries.
Of course, there were a few who stayed ever-so-slightly awake. And they planned, like chess masters; plotting each move and tactic.
And then, once upon a time, there was a wolf pack, which had been living peacefully in their home until one fateful day.
I’m finding it hard to begin here, because, really, where can I start? This is such an old story.
But I think I’ll start with the wolves. One tiny event that was beyond their control ended up as so much more.
So, once upon a time, there was a wolf pack, which lived by a lake…

He dives into the bush, desperately trying to wriggle through. He's dizzy, the thorns claw at him, and he struggles to keep down a previous meal. Behind him he can hear the bangs and the stomp of hooves and the bay of hounds. This time is not like the others.
When he emerges from the tangling thorns the others are waiting for him. What is left of them, anyway. Casting his gaze around, he counts four, including him. Frogspots, the alpha, Blacken, and-
"Leaf!" She turns her head, and truth be told, she looks like hell. She must have run all the way from the den to find the others without stopping. But her eyes light up as she stumbles over to help him.
"I'd thought they'd got you." She says. "Your leg..."
"I can move well enough on three." A lie. His left fore-leg is throbbing, the pain maddening. Not even a recent injury. A stupid accident from the nursery had left it weak and unreliable, but he could still keep in front of the hounds. For now at least.
It was funny, almost. A little less than a day ago, Blacken and Twilight had finally deemed him fit to take a fighter's name after facing an armed human, stripping his former name away. Had the hunt begun just a little later, he would be standing here with at least an identity, but now he is nameless, and too preoccupied on the hunt to really care at the moment.
"Where are the others?" He asks, not sure he wants to know.
"They got Moon and Wisp first," Leaf says softly. "We can't find anyone else. Twilight was here, but she ran back..."
"She ran back?"
"We tried to stop her, but the cubs, Wish and Fox, they were back there-"
"This is your fault!"
Both he and Leaf turn to see who has spoken. It's Frogspots. He's not the laughing, bright-eyed wolf they know. He's a wreck; dark brown fur in a state and his face contorted into a snarl at Blacken.
"You said we should stay here, in spite of all that was happening!" He screams, and it looks like he is ready to lunge. "Even when the hunts, the poison came, you said we should stay here!"
"There was no sign that this would happen," Blacken's voice is a low growl.
"Yet you were happy to sit while they picked us off, one by one! This is just faster! Now we're going to die, and you-"
"Shut up!" Blacken bellows, and Frogspots backs down, ears flat against his head. "Do you smell that? Hound! If you don't shut your mouth and take orders when you're told-"
"Lake Pack!'
All four turn to the sound of the voice. The smell of hound grows stronger, but they keep their ground. Finally a large grey dog bounds into view.
"Ralt!" Cries Leaf. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm trying to help you," He pants. "While I still can."
He looks to Blacken, who coolly nods.
"I know you're probably thinking of going to the marshes, until it dies down. But listen to me, you can’t. "
"Why not?" Frogspots asks.
"They know you'll try that now, too. Some of them are waiting there with guns. You can't risk it."
"Then what do you suppose we do?" Blacken says, giving him a hard stare. Friend of the Pack or not, Ralt was still a hound.
"Head into the woods. The deep woods in the west."
"Are you mad?" Blacken's hackles rise. "That’s dark ground. You know the legends. No one sane would set paw in there."
"Listen to me," Ralt begs. "The rest of your Pack is going to the marshes. I can't help them. You have a chance if you go deep as you can."
"We'd have to go back."
"Just do it. It won't be long before someone follows me." With that, Ralt turns and heads back the way he came. "Good luck!" And he is gone.
Slowly, all three turn to watch their leader, awaiting his decision.
"Follow me," He growls at last. "We're going to the dark grounds."
As they make their way, the scent of hounds and men and gunpowder becomes stronger. The nameless is frightened, frightened of being left behind, frightened of. He trips, a jolt of pain goes up his leg, and he sprawls on the ground. There is a moment of sheer panic, before he realizes that Leaf is running back towards him.
"Leaf!" Frogspots shouts, slowing to a halt. Blacken stops too as she leans down to him.
"What are you doing?" He hisses. "Go on!"
"Not without you." She grabs him by the scruff of his neck and gives him a painful tug to his feet.
"Are you going to sit around all day? Move!" Blacken glares at him, and he feels a burn of shame underneath his fur.
"What's that?" Leaf says suddenly, head jerking up.
"It's..." Frogspots' eyes widen.
"It's coming from the den." Whispers Leaf.
The nameless lifts his head, and he catches the scent too.
Smoke.
"They couldn't." He chokes out. "They’d never-"
Suddenly Frogspots takes off in the direction of the smell.
"Frog!" The nameless wolf yells after him.
"Frogspots!" Hisses Blacken. "Get back here, you stupid whelp!"
But he doesn't appear to hear them, and dashes on ahead, soon almost out of view. For a minute, it seems to the nameless as if a scarlet glow is seeping through the trees. But not fire. This red light is... wrong, somehow. But then it is gone.
A shot rings out, and Frogspots yelps and falls, disappearing from sight.
"Frog!"He yells again, hobbling forward- his leg is still in pain from the fall- but Blacken blocks his path.
"You can't help him." He says. "Now they're onto us. Move!"
Speechless, the two younger wolves turn away from what once as the den, and follow their leader. They do not see the second shot.
"Frogspots, you poor fool." Blacken says quietly, more to himself than Leaf and the nameless.
Soon they can smell the fire spreading behind them. The nameless can see it in his mind- the den that had been home to Lake Pack for generations, lost in the red flares and the hungry crackle of the flames.
It's when he has this thought that Blacken stops them again.
"Well be heading into the dark grounds now, over that ridge." He tells them, indicating the ridge with his head. He looks tired. So tired. "I know that neither of you have ever been there, so stay close to-"
A howl cuts him off, and not a wolf howl. The nameless turns his head sharply towards the sound, and sees a hound, huge, grey and snarling, leap over the ridge.
"They must have run behind the flames..." Blacken mutters.
For a moment the hound appears not to see or scent them. It casts its eyes around and shakes itself, looking almost as frightened as the nameless himself must appear. But then it catches sight of them and the fear is gone, replaced by a hunter’s instinct. It bays like a demon, the cries from the rest of its hunt close behind.
This time Blacken doesn't have to give an order. The wolves take off in the other direction.
The nameless is running faster than he's ever done in his life. The foliage blurs past, but he barely notices, too busy checking the ground in front of him, praying that he won't fall again.
Heart in his mouth, he looks up and sees an opening in the trees. He makes a clumsy leap out of the undergrowth, and sees the Lake stretched out before him, reflecting the darkening evening sky. With all that has happened, the serenity of the Lake feels strange.
Looking around, he gets an idea. "We can hide in the reeds," He suggests, turning back. "After that-" He pauses. "Where's Blacken?"
Leaf's ears prick and she turns around, only just noticing the Alpha's absence.
"He... Do you..."
Unable to reply, the nameless ushers her into the water until they are both hidden by the reeds. They wait in the mud, catching their breath.
"Look," Leaf says softly. "Across the water."
He looks, and sees smoke rising up into the sky. The flames are raging along the tree line there too, staining the shore of the Lake red as blood as it reflects the fire's dance.
"I would never have thought...." Leaf trails off. When she speaks again, her voice is wavering. "Why would they do this?"
"They hate us." The nameless is surprised by the bitterness in his voice. "They don't care what happens as long as they get rid of us."
Suddenly, further down their side of the shore, a dark shape emerges, and starts running along the bank, away from them.
"Blacken!" The nameless breathes.
But now the hounds emerge from the trees as well, and take after him. The nameless counts six, all large and powerful.
"He's not going to make it," Leaf whispers fearfully. "He's... wait-"
The nameless stares. "He's heading for the fire."
Both watch as Blacken leaps up a slope, the flames roaring in front of him. With a snarl, he turns to face the dogs, which slow to a halt, wary of the heat. For a minute no one makes a move; Blacken watches the hounds, the hounds watch Blacken. Then one, who has been fighting through the standoff, leaps up at the wolf. Blacken sinks his jaws into the dog’s leg and throws it back again.
The smell of fresh blood finally causes the other hounds to attack. Blacken snaps and lunges and doesn't give an inch, and for a moment, the nameless is foolish enough to believe that he might win. But then the biggest hound leaps up, latching onto the alpha's shoulder.
"Blacken!" He yells, getting to his feet, but Leaf pulls him back down again.
Blacken struggles, his dark fur staining red, and then jerks back. Leaf and the nameless stare in horror as Blacken and the hound tumble into the inferno.
Their world shattering, the last wolves of Lake Pack crouch low in the reeds, pressing their shivering bodies together for comfort and warmth. Humans are appearing from the woods now, calling the hounds back to them. The nameless hates them, hates them more than he's ever hated anything.
"Let's go." Leaf whispers in his ear.
"What?"
"They're too busy looking for Blacken's body and their missing hound. Now's our chance."
"Leaf, I can't-"
"You can." Her golden eyes meet his. "I'm not going alone."
With nothing to say, he simply nods.
"When I say, run."
"All right."
He pulls himself from the mud, heart beating like a drum. He jumps as a rat scuttles past, and then slowly makes his way out.
"Ready?" Leaf asks.
"If you are."
"Then go."
They burst out of cover, trying to keep quiet, but mostly concerned with moving fast. Leaf reaches the bank first, then turns back to help him. As the nameless looks up, he sees a shape charging towards her from behind- one of the hounds, wounded from Blacken's last stand.
"Leaf look-!"
It barrels into her before he finishes his sentence, knocking her down and pinning her to the ground. The nameless wolf watches as the dog opens its mouth in a snarl, and lunges-
But he strikes first.
Without thinking, the nameless aims directly for the throat, sinking his teeth as deep as they can go, tearing and ripping. As he pulls back, he can feel one come loose from his mouth, embedding itself within the hound’s neck. He tastes blood, both the dogs and his own, as it lets out a weak yelp and tumbles down the bank, staining the mud a dark crimson.
Slowly, Leaf gets to her paws, breathing heavily. "You all right?" She manages to say.
He nods, feeling strangely calm as he looks down at the body of the dog. "I think I killed it. I lost a fang."
Leaf approaches him. She seems to be unharmed. "Thanks."
He smiles a little. "Guess I get to save your life for -"
Leaf suddenly pushes him out of the way, sending him sprawling. A bang echoes over the Lake, and then the world seems to go completely silent.
In a slow, terrible moment, Leaf locks him in a gaze, her eyes awful and clear... and then without a word, she falls, making a gentle thump as she hits the ground.
"L-leaf?" He whispers. "Leaf? Leaf!"
He rushes forward, nudging her, begging her.
"Leaf, get up, please get up, please, we've got to get out of here, Leaf, Leaf please..." He tries to pull her up by the scruff, but with no success. There's blood, blood is pouring like red river, but he can't find from where; maybe if he can find it, he can stop the bleeding, help her, he can do that if he can just stop the bleed-
"Get... Look..."
"Leaf?" He whispers, leaning close.
With a visible effort, she turns her head to face him.
"Di'n mean get shot..." She mumbles.
"I know. It's my fault. I'm sorry."
"No... You... To the woods. P-please. You've got... got to live... Pr...promise?"
He nods. "But you're coming, right? You can't leave me, right?" Stupid question. Stupid hope.
She closes her eyes for a second, and he knows the answer.
"B-but... You... I...”
There’s urgency in her tone now that makes him lean closer. "What is it, Leaf?"
"He's..." Her eyes grow wide and terrified. "Right behind you!'"
He turns around, but sees nothing. "What do you mean?"
"He... gonna wait... waiting for you... Listen! Pl-please..."
"What?"
"Fang... don't..." She peers up at him, looking almost apologetic, and then with a final, shuddering gasp, she closes her eyes. The nameless doesn't understand what she meant. He waits for her to open her eyes again.
She doesn't.
A bullet strays over his head, making him jump. Confused, he looks over at the humans, then back at Leaf, wondering what to do.
Get to the woods. Yes. The dark grounds, as they were called. Hide, like Leaf told him to. Then what? He doesn't know.
He doesn’t care.
His journey into the dark grounds takes him several hours as he limps his way deeper and deeper. Soon he is making his way in near-darkness; the curled and ancient trees blocked out almost all light from the stars or moon. The long, cruel thorns tear at him, roots entangle him, but he carries on.
Eventually, he becomes too tired to run, falling to the ground, the same thought playing over and over in his head:
I'm sorry, Leaf. I'm sorry, Leaf.
Nameless and bloodied, he finally drags himself into in the darkness, where it engulfs him and, as time passes, gradually consumes him.
This was the beginning.

[Falconstar100]

Hello! We're onto Chapter one now! I think I'll only post about five of the chapters up, though, but hey- that's a whole fifth of the story! Anyway, we're about to meet the person who narrating the opening of the prologue. Hope you enjoy:

Chapter One: The Calm After the Storm
A storm had raged over the Lake the night before.
It was the worst storm in living memory, and all that could be heard was the roar of the wind and the lashing rain as it ripped through the water and the forest that surrounded it, leaves torn from their branches and swept away like flood victims. There was even some thunder and lightning, bright against the sky and roaring like a gargantuan lion.
Most of the inhabitants of the Lake spent the duration of the storm in the deepest shelter they could find, some even retreating to the woods, hoping to avoid the worst of the tempest.
The storm caused a lot of damage, as it was discovered by both humans and animals the next morning, but what was most noticeable was what happened to the Twisted Tree.
In the height of the storm, a bolt of lightning had hit it, cracking it partly open, sending embers spraying all around it, lighting the shattered pieces of bark for a moment, then dying, hammered by the cold rain.
But while the tree was now an interesting sight to behold, it would not have gotten so much attention, if it weren’t for... other things.
Some claimed to have seen a black mist surround the tree from afar after the lightning struck.
Others claimed to have heard a terrible, high-pitched howling rang out when the wood was sent flying, as if the tree itself was in pain.
As for me, all I know is that I had bad dreams that night.

The morning afterwards- the morning it started to begin and really started to end- was far more peaceful. The sun shone down from a clear blue May sky, as if trying to make up for the awful weather the night before. Barely a breeze stirred the tattered leaves, leaving the forest and Lake inhabitants who had risen to repair their lives; their broken nests and burrows. Many had already been busy and done by the time I woke up.
I had escaped the worst of the storm, taking shelter under the trees, but it didn’t stop all the rain. Even now, with the sun smiling down, I still felt damp. Still, I was content enough to keep my eyes closed and let the sun warm me up.
Unfortunately, the water-laden branch above me didn’t quite agree with that. Just as I was about to doze back into sleep, a large, cold droplet of water trickled down the bark, and dropped down onto my head.
That did the trick.
I raised my head, spluttering and blinking, coming out the little dream I had slipped into. I heard sniggering, and turned to see a pair of mallard ducks on the opposite bank who quickly turned away.
I sighed, blinking the last bit of sleep from my eyes, and got up.
Well, tried to. My feet remained stuck to the ground.
Weird...
My name is Oliver Beaking. Everyone calls me Olly. Had you ever visited our Lake, you would have never noticed me- I kept to myself most of the time, and often didn’t loiter around anyway, so you would have probably not have even seen me. You would notice me even less is you’re human. All you would have seen is a swan.
Confused, I looked down, and then I remembered.
“Oh no...”
I was several inches deep in mud.
Well, I guess I deserved it. I’d known it wasn’t a good idea to fall asleep so exposed, but at the time I had just been grateful to be sort of dry, and now...
I could save the excuses to myself later. Now, I had to get out. Somehow.
I gave a few beats of my wings. I didn’t budge.
Great.
“Hey!”
I looked down. A small drake, bobbing up and down in the water, had stopped, looking up at me. “You were out here last night, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” I said. “Why?”
“Did you see it?”
I blinked. “See what?”
“The Twisted Tree!” He squeaked. “It got hit by lightning!”
“And... what’s so great about that?” I asked, confused.
“Well, it cleared off all the stuff growing on it, and there’re markings underneath! And I heard it looks really weird now that all the moss and stuff is off. Everyone’s talking about it.”
With a flurry of wings, he was off, eyes bright with excitement.
It was only when he was out of shouting range that I realised I could have asked for help.
...Drat.
Oh well, I thought glumly. It would just have been embarrassing, anyway.
As for the matter of the Twisted Tree... it did sound interesting. I made a mental note to check it out later, after I got out of the mud.
I twisted, turned, pulled, pushed and flapped, and still nothing worked. In fact, it only seemed to make matters worse, causing me to sink deeper.
I’d turned my neck around, and was trying to dig my way out – which wasn’t very pleasant when your only tool to do so it your beak, when a voice called out; “Let me guess- you’re hanging out with plants now, Beaking?”
I turned around, only to have the owner of the voice, along with her companions, start sniggering at the clump of earth on my beak.
I glared, shook my head, and spat out dirt. “What do you want, Arabella?”
Arabella White was a swan, like me. Not to put too fine a point on it, she was one of the popular birds of the Lake. Well, most swans were, actually. Except for me. I was at the other end of the spectrum.
One swan looked around in confusion. “You must say, Beaking, is this really the abode you chose to slumber in?”
That was Lance. Lancelot, to be precise (a great deal of swans tended to give their offspring rather grand names, I’m afraid). He always spoke like that, and there were even times when Arabella needed to translate for him.
“Yes, yes, I stayed here.” I said grumpily. “Now, are you lot going to sit here and mock me, or are you going to go already?”
The swans exchanged glances, then one giggled. “He’s stuck!”
“That’s what I said,” Snapped Arabella. “Stuck in the mud, like a plant.”
“Do you think we should pull him out?” Asked a duck I recognised as Rupert.
The six of them- two ducks, four swans- glanced around, making pretence at deep thought.
“Maybe we should,” Said one at last. “Of course, it could be a little tricky.”
“Oh, definitely,” Agreed Arabella. “We might need some help. What do you suppose we do?”
“Lubricant!” Said Lance. “A variation of liquid would help him slip out of his earthen bonds, do you not agree?”
There was a pause.
“Yes, I do agree,” Said Arabella loudly. “Covering him in mud so he could slip out would be an excellent idea, Lance.”
I swallowed. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Oh, but we insist!” Grinned a duck nastily.”You should be used to it, after all- don’t you always hang out in the marsh?”
Maybe I should explain what this was about.
There was a sort of social order at the Lake. You see, with humans, those at the top are usually those with the big house, the newest gadgets, etc. For animals at the Lake, it was a matter of what species you were.
Swans were at the top. And our Lake had a lot of swans. They weren’t a bad lot; not all of them, but a decent percentage of them were slightly... well, stuck up is the only way to put it. And not just the swans. Ducks, of any kind, were usually pretty high up in the social ranking too. After that came the other animals- tree birds, dogs and cats, rats, and so on.
And then there were marshies.
Marsh animals were considered lowly creatures compared to a swan. It had started a long time ago, some silly event that started a feud between swans and herons, and the rest of the Lake had been caught up in it.
Speaking of herons...
Lance and the other swan that I didn’t know advanced on me, grins on their faces. They weren’t violent, thank God for that, but I had no desire to get covered in the stuff I was sunk in.
As they started to gather large clumps of dirt in their wings, I looked up to see a shape in the sky. A grey shape, hurriedly approaching with a speed that implied the shape wasn’t exactly skilled at airborne activities.
“I don’t think it’s... wet enough.” Rupert said thoughtfully. The three dropped the clumps of earth and headed back to the bank. And all the while, that shape was approaching.
“Um... you may want to get out of the water,” I said.
“Oh my,” Said Arabella sarcastically, grinning all the while. “I’m so scared.”
“No, I really think you all should.”
The group chuckled to themselves and paid no heed.
I shrugged. “Fine. Don’t blame me.”
The female duck looked up, confused. “For what?”
“This.”
The shape dived down, trying to slow down but not doing it very well, and hit the water.
Well, hit it, but that didn’t stop it.
It skidded forwards uncontrollably, wings flapping madly, though it wasn’t really helping. Arabella and her gang turned at the cry of “L-look out!” And a few of them dived out of the way, but Lance and the other two weren’t fast enough, and before they could think, the grey shape barrelled into them and knocked them into the water.
Feathers, grey, brown and white, went flying into the air. Spluttering, the four of them picked themselves up, only to be nearly bowled over again by a little black ball which landed with a plop.
The arrivals were marshies, and they were not pleased. Both of them pulled themselves up, shook themselves, and stood in front of me, glaring at Arabella’s gang.
“Okay,” Said the first arrival, drawing herself up to full height; which was easy for a heron. “I suggest you back away.”
The second arrival, a small moorhen, nodded. He paused, and then thoughtfully rummaged around in the water as though looking for something.
Time for me to make some more introductions. These two were my friends, the ones who had landed me in such trouble with the other swans in the first place.
The heron’s name was Alexandra Weed, though, like me, she preferred the shorter version of her name. Alex was known for her short temper as well as her questionable flying skills, which was why even the snobbiest swans hadn't tried to drive her off the Lake.
The moorhen’s name was Dewey Worth. Dewey was a little more laid-back than Alex- he was cheerful, and easily excited. And also very small, even for a moorhen. But don’t tell him I said that.
And then there was the Problem Stick, of course, which was what Dewey was pulling up from the mud now.
The Problem Stick was two feet of pure pain. Dewey, in order to make up for his “lack of big-ness”, had somehow managed to hack it from the old Twisted Tree, whose branches had been growing tough and strong for centuries. It was now his constant companion, and he claimed to be master (and only participant) of the art he called Stick-Fu.
Arabella got up, brushing mud off herself. “You idiot!” She hissed. “Look what you did!”
“Oh yes.” Alex didn’t seem to be particularly remorseful about it. “Tragedy.”
Dewey brandished the Problem Stick. “Now, are we going to move along, or will this end with an unfortunate trip to the vets for someone?”
For a moment they all looked at each other, first glaring at the new arrivals, then glancing at one another, no one wanting to be the one facing the wrath of the Problem Stick.
Finally, Arabella snorted. “Whatever. Now if you morons don’t mind, we’re off to see what this tree business is about.”
She swam off, head held high, and the rest of her group quickly followed suit.
“You got lucky this time, Blue-Eyes!” Yelled a duck.
I glared after her. That was one step too far.
It might have been something my mother ate, they said. Or maybe my egg had been exposed to too much sunlight, or not enough. Perhaps, those with wilder imaginations would suggest, I was the product of some sort of human experiment, or maybe it was just a coming from a history of swans not as well-bred as others.
Whatever the cause, my one defining feature was a pair of sky-blue eyes, which I absolutely hated.
Alex and Dewey exchanged glances as Arabella’s gang disappeared from view.
“Tree business?” Wondered Dewey aloud.
“Yeah,” I said. “The Twisted Tree.”
Alex shook her head. “I hate those stupid frogbrains.” She growled. She turned to me. “Were they the ones who did that to you?”
“What?” I asked, before catching on. “Oh, no. I uh, got caught in the rain last night... And really, I’m fine. I don’t need you guys fighting my battles for me.”
“All right, suit yourself.” Sniffed Dewey. “So, what about the Twisted Tree?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” I said. They both approached, trying to look for a good way to get me out of the mud. Alex’s long legs helped her move through it, while Dewey was just too light to sink. I can’t say I wasn’t jealous.
“It got struck by lightning last night,” I explained. “Everyone’s saying it looks really weird now.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Dewey tapped the ground with his foot. “What kind of weird?”
I shrugged. “I heard something about markings. Why, wanna check it out?”
“Sure, sounds great.” Alex said. “But first...” She reached out to me with her wings and pulled. I didn’t budge. “...Right.”
“Don’t struggle,” Dewey told me. “It just makes you go deeper.”
“I don’t think I can go deeper.”
“Right.” Dewey nodded to himself. “Right, desperate times, desperate measures-” He aimed the Problem Stick.
“Oh no,” I said. “No no no no no no no no-”
“It’s for your own good, Olly-boy.” He said.
“No! No no no no no- Dewey-!”
And he Stick Fu’d me.
What is such a thing like, you ask?
Ow. That’s all you need to know, and that’s all I’m going to say.

Thus concludes Chapter One! Thoughts? Feelings? Opinions or advice? Post 'em here!