Vortex’s feet imprint through the dirt path created from travelers. This forest, while wild, is maintained by the local dryads, fairies, and various woodland creatures that inhabit it. Certain paths were carved out from constant travel- some paved paths to fairy circles. Vortex took extra care to avoid those. Last thing she needed was to be whisked away to her own end when she was so close to the cure. Gripping Axle with both hands, she jogs briskly, following their directions. If Axle can feel the moonstone telling them where to go, she has to give the shovel-axe one hundred percent of her attention. Being inside this forest is dangerous enough; this is practically the mist’s domain. If she’s caught, it’ll drag her and worsen her cursed state. Each time it aggravates the curse, Vortex feels less human than before. She’s been having a difficult time eating because of it. Each bite, she finds her teeth becoming sharper and sharper. In the night time, the foliage adopts an eerie stillness to it. Rather than the vibrant, luscious evergreens the pines display in the daytime, it stands pitch black. Log among log twists and entangle along the ground, the bark split in various directions. Crickets hum and sing in the blades of grass. Lizards scatter in fear when the werewolf takes a step forward nearby, Vortex unaware that they were there. Fallen branches occasionally scratch at her legs- she only lets out a quiet “ow” and moves onward.
Scents she couldn’t pick up from before started surrounding her body, taunting her. Like the deer in the area- their scent permeates the air thickly. Vortex gulps audibly, straining to keep herself under control. The curse is getting stronger. Every night, she transforms with new abilities. Ones that remind her of her constant predicament. Vortex thinks that there will be a night where she transforms and the last vestiges of her humanity are thrown away, and she will be powerless to stop it. She’ll have to witness no longer recognizing herself, her body, or her friends. Shaking those thoughts away, she continues walking with Axle in both hands, acting as an oversized compass to show her the way to the next moonstone. She hears a faint rattling in her mini satchel, turning her head to look at it while still following Axle’s magnetism.
With the company of the current moonstone, its powers extended out as soothing waves. The light blue-green aura wisps and dances in the air, enticing the werewolf to take a deep breath in. The power was prickly on the nostrils- a bit minty in its delivery. The tension in her shoulders left her all the same, refocusing the lanky lycanthrope to get back on track with a clearer mind. She continues to tread carefully along the forest floor, watching for any precarious vines or tree roots that threaten to trip her.
Ear flicking faster than she can react, she hears something. That something sounds like it’s coming towards her. Ducking down low to the ground, Vortex crawls towards a bush rapidly, trying her best to not crunch any leaves. Once she is situated in the foliage, she scans the area again. She forgot there were others out here tonight. Hunters for overnight catches, poachers, possibly both. The mist never made noise on the ground- rather, she’d hear the crackling whispers and clammy dread up her neck when it was close. Sniffing the air, she focuses her senses on identifying the company. It wasn’t a deer, nor a rabbit. But it did smell like fresh blood. Vortex crawled on the forest floor to distance herself away from it. Sniffling and snorting away the bloody copper invading her nose, she could feel her pupils enlarging.
Creeping low, Vortex follows Axle’s whispered metal guidances.While they weren’t literally whispering into her ear, the brown werewolf felt a connection hum in her bones. Agile crouching was not a skill she had, what with the weapon still in her hands. Still, with Axle in her grasp, she follows the pull.
Then, she picks up the scent of the blood. Only this time, it’s coming her way. Breath picking up, Vortex pushes herself to quicken her pace, her thighs crying out in pain from the strain of running while being pressed down on. Clusters of leaves smack her face while she zig zags for her life. She wants to preserve whatever human she has left. Her breath catches sharply, feeling a strong pain in her ribs. No, no, no! Not another growth pain! Running for P.E was hard enough to deal with these stretches. Darting her eyes around, she finally spots a hollowed out log on the ground- large enough to fit her frame inside. She stays deathly quiet, holding Axle tightly to her chest. “What are you-” the metal shimmers, yet Vortex attempts to cover their mouth. It was shortly after that the werewolf realized that Axle doesn’t have a physical mouth. Smooth move.
A strong thud rattles against the log. She freezes firmly in place, refusing to let her breathing be louder than a whisper. Peeking out from a tiny rotten hole from the wood, she watches for any movement. Another thud shakes the dead tree. A set of antlers cover her vision for a brief moment. The dead deer is then picked up with a heavy grunt by- oh no. No, no, no.
The Wild Slayer is traveling in the forest.
Why at a time like this? It’s so late into the night that deer hunting is too dangerous. Resting upon his skull pauldrons is the bleeding buck, its form limp. Suddenly, the deer jerks about, grunting and bleating breathlessly in his grasp. The hunter simply huffs, pulling the deer’s neck far down. Sickening cracks echo in the air, causing Vortex to push her ears down as far as she could. The cervid is no more, and the hunter continues his journey to wherever he is headed. She hears him mutter to himself, but the words fall on deaf ears. He shifts the deer on his shoulder further up, the fresh blood getting caught in the wind. She catches a strong whiff of the fresh kill, and tries desperately to hold it in.
There’s nothing she can do here. If she keeps up her silent breathing, she’ll continuously be battered by the kill’s scent. Attempting to hold her breath was out of the question- the blood will stay inside her lungs, and gasping out will give her position away. If she’s caught by the hunter, she knows he will kill her on the spot. The deer is starting to smell more and more tantalizing. Her vision blurs slightly. She has not dared to eat venison in either form; she fears that if she gets a taste of it, her animal side will not relent in pursuing it again. She has killed, but never eaten one.
Redirecting her attention to the moonstone, Axle’s grasp on the gem continues to glow. It’s emanating that same sickly green. Vortex quietly moves the end of the shovel-axe, tilting it about to see if the glow changes. All she finds is the rock dimly glowing from the left and right. It lights the brightest in the hunter’s direction. Great. Just great. She can’t afford to run away- time is of the essence. Sinking very low to the ground, Vortex crawls out of the hollow log. It’s dark, but there is a shred of moonlight that shines the way for her. Tiny twigs the length of pretzel sticks litter the space. Moving around here without making noise is a tall task, but she has to try. She moves quietly with each step. Her thighs wobble and jitter from the intensity of crouch walking. She’s holding onto her breath while she crawls on the thick, warbling landscape of the forest. Were it not for her super smelling capabilities while in this form, she would have easily gotten lost in the trees long ago. Her armor gently clinks together, yet the sound is deafening to her ears. He’s going to hear it. He’s going to hear it.
Soon, she reaches the top of the curve. Observing with watchful eyes, Vortex studies the hunter’s movements. The deer is on his back as he moves further away from her. Good. He hasn’t spotted her. The last thing she needs is him, of all people, trying to hunt her down. Vortex glances at Axle and her belt. They still shine brightly in his direction. The moonstone is in his general direction. How is she going to avoid the hunter while making progress with the time running down the clock? He checks the area around him, examining any flutters of movement beyond the trees. When nothing is in sight, he retreats to the right, presumably to exit the forest. Vortex stares at him, waiting for his form to be far enough to move forward. But then, her stomach cuts the quiet, cool air with a loud and adamant growl. The hunter’s head snaps to the sound. His eyes are inconceivable from her perspective, but the looming shadows surrounding him terrify her bones further.
She scrambles to bundle herself, resembling a rock in the cluster next to her. She tries to camouflage with the earth itself, staying frighteningly still. Her ears pick up his steel-toed steps; each creak and crack the leather makes against the floor makes her hackles rise further up. Vortex is forced to take deep breaths in, absorbing the powerful scent of the fresh kill on his shoulder. It smells heavenly- the metallic blood becomes a refreshing source of hydration when she goes in for the kill. The raw venison lying underneath the furry skin of the prey satiates her animalistic urges. Must… keep a level head… must… eat.
Something whizzes by, striking the hunter’s catch. His attention shifts to see who shot at him, and rushes over to catch the culprit. The hunter’s speed and dexterity makes for a nimble escape. Axle rumbles in Vortex’s hold, gesturing towards the right direction. However, Vortex does not listen. She lifts herself up and begins stalking after the dead deer. The weapon tries rumbling again- no success. She still follows after the hunter mindlessly, her pupils growing larger and larger to cover her sclera. Axle clunks and shuffles in the werewolf’s grasp, trying to get through her without raising their voice. If they speak, it might worsen their state of bloodthirst like it did with their previous master. Vortex runs to the hunter, ready to steal his kill.
They throw caution to the wind and channel their inner power to activate the moonstone floating around their orbit, causing a powerful stream of energy to release from the gem. It envelopes the werewolf’s form, cloaking their body in a safe blanket. In mere seconds, the she-wolf comes down from her wolfish drive, looking around her wondering why she’s thirty feet away from where she originally was.
“Huh?” She whispers out.
“Oh thank the gods,” Axle communicates. “You were going to go after the hunter.”
“I was?” Vortex asks. “But the moonstone is… that way…” she realizes the strange blackout in memory. It happened again. But how did she get pulled out of it?
“It appears the moonstone indeed has powers to quell the curse. I had to evoke its energy to bring you back to your senses.” So the moonstones do work? They can calm her lycanthropy?! That means she can get back to normal! With her resolve strengthened, Vortex clambers back up the small mound to get back on track. As she bobs and weaves through the trees, she can’t help but pick up a strange and out-of-place smell. It reminded her of… rocks. But hot rocks? Not quite burning volcanic rock, yet it feels as if someone tried to cook a piece and burnt it. She also gets a whiff of the sea with it. Did a ship crash nearby?
“There you are!” A voice rings out close to her ear. Vortex yelps, comically leaping off the ground to catch herself on a sturdy tree branch. The wood wiggles with her weight on it, holding steadfast. Vortex glances down to see it’s- the siren?
“Don’t scare me like that!” she scolds, unwrapping her legs from the branch to land on the floor. “What are you doing out here? It’s not safe to wander around on your own.”
“I’m sorry,” Nebula quietly apologizes to Vortex. “But I couldn’t let you go looking for the moonstone on your own. I want to help out too.” Vortex’s ears twitch in agitation. “I can find it just fine alone,” she bites back. “Now go back to Garriz’s and stay put.” The harshness from her voice causes the cosmic siren to flinch, shrinking her body inwards. “I- I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I don’t want to be flipping my fin around while you do all the hard work,” Nebula rationalizes. “Let me at least try. Please?” Vortex peers down at the siren. She’s already come this far trying to look for her. The werewolf groans, rubbing her armored snout with her equally plated right hand. “Fine. Better two heads than one…”
With that, the two continue down the path, finding themselves fast approaching the coastal cliffside. Vortex wiggles her snout around in her helmet trying to pinpoint the burnt rock smell. It comes the strongest when she tilts her head to the right, where Nebula is float-swimming. “Forgive me if this is rude to ask, but you smell like someone tried to fry a rock,” Vortex says. Nebula cranks her head up to the sky at the werewolf, registering the words. “I smell like a fried rock-? Ohhhh! You must be talking about my stardust,” Nebula realizes. Vortex’s eyes squint. “Stardust…?” she hesitantly questions. The space siren explains, “Back on Chelonia, the planet would attract stardust to its trees, and we grind the dusted petals into a paste to keep our tenchelles (tensheels) clean. Terranians call it hair, right?”
The forest thins out, leaving a clear dirt path. She continues, “but the stardust keeps them sleek and healthy. I haven’t been able to clean my tenchelles properly other than water and whatever ‘shampoo’ Garriz got for me.” Vortex cocks her eyebrow, and sniffs the air again. “... it smells like honey dew.” Mentally, the werewolf rolls her eyes. She knows what Garriz is trying to do- he’s implicitly trying to get Vortex to associate Nebula with her favorite fruit so she warms up to her. She’s smarter than that. It’s gonna take more than smelling good to make her want to be friends. This will remain strictly business. Then, a thought pops in her head. “Wait a second. How did you survive the mist’s influence?” Vortex asks. “What mist?” Nebula asks back. “The-the mist!! Don’t you see it right over there?!” She points off to the distance- true to her word, the deep, dark purple mist blankets the forest. “Any time I’m in there, it makes me lose more and more of myself!” Nebula stares at the mist, just as perplexed as the werewolf. “I never ran into it.” “It could be due to her extraterrestrial nature,” Axle suggests in the werewolf’s brain. “She may have some sort of power that repels the wet fog. Perhaps that is why she did not encounter it.” Vortex wonders about the probability of such a thing. If Nebula never saw it, then she could have some sort of anti-mist power. She should keep her close to protect herself from it.
They continue to walk through the clearing. A sea breeze blows, filling their nostrils with salt, fish, and damp rocks. Vortex gazes out to the beach shore far below the cliffside. The ocean waves crash on the rocky coast side of the cliff, climbing along the sedimentary before descending downwards.
Vortex’s magical belt situated at her hips begins to glow brightly. Axle sharply magnetizes northwards. Vortex follows, not resisting the pull. The trio are drawn towards the top of the cliff- a cave sits beside the peak. Something about the structure feels strange. The aura surrounding this entrance makes her fur stand on end. Then, her astute brown eyes see the indents around the edges. If she turns her head a certain way, it almost looks like…
‘Hold on,’ Axle rumbles out. ‘Bring me up to the dip on the rock.’ Vortex does so, lifting them by the handle. Axle hums, and the sickly light green moonstone shines as bright as the sun inside the satchel. She tries to free one of her hands to fish it out, but the sudden weight shift from Axle forces her to swiftly stay the course. Her legs buckle underneath the center of gravity change. If only she had an extra set of hands.
‘Ask for help,’ the weapon rattles in her mind. ‘Miss Nebula is right there.’ Vortex lets out an irritated, yet defeated sigh. Only because holding the weapon up so high is stressing her entire upper body. “Nebula,” she grits out. “Please get the moonstone from my pocket.” Nebula perks up, and swims close to help. She easily locates the blazingly bright gem, worming it out with her webbed hands. “Got it!” The siren wiggle flies herself up to around Vortex’s height, catching the werewolf off guard. “You can fly?!” she asks, mouth agape. “Yes- but no?” the siren starts. “I can swim through the air, but not very far on this planet,” she answers.”The atmospheric pressure is so much rougher. If I weren’t wearing my traveling gear, I don’t think I would last very long down here.”
“You have traveling gear? Where??” Vortex questions. “I’m- I’m wearing it. Right now…” Nebula stammers out. She gestures to her neck and sides, poking at the jelly-like substance. “These are my water pouches. I was going to observe Luna with my family. There’s a safe zone on this planet.”
“Where on Earth would that be??”
“It’s close to an island translated as the ‘Rich Door’,” Nebula says. Vortex’s brain processes this information. Where in the world is there an island called “Rich Door”? Rich door, rich door, rich door. Was this another situation where Nebula took it too literally? Was it- “Puerto Rico??” Vortex throws out, her accent persevering. “Ay dios mio, no puedo. Es mi casa de isla. En serio?” Nebula stares at her with a blank look in her eyes. “I…I'm sorry, I don't…”, she says. “I said ‘I can’t- it’s my home island. Are you serious?’ in Spanish,” Vortex reassures the mermaid. “No wonder my mother was always wary of the waters. The sirens of the island’s shores were always fickle about being guardians or deathbringers.” Everything rapidly clicks in her brain. An area close by to Puerto Rico that would be a safe zone, undetectable to any human activity? “Wait- are you referring to the Bermuda Triangle?! So that’s why all of the aircraft that travel through there never return!” Vortex always thought aliens were real, but for them to visit next door geographically? The odds were impeccably coincidental.
“Ahem,” Axle echoes in Vortex’s mind. She snaps back to the task at hand, coughing out of embarrassment. “Right. The moonstone, please?” Nebula quickly gets back to work, sliding the moonstone into Axle’s “eye”. She shimmies back down to float a half meter off the ground. The gem snaps in place, and their “eye” strikes through the emanating aura. Axle peers into the concave hole decorating the top of the cave, and the wisps of green pounce forward. It fills multiple cracks and crevices, the design coming together as an intentional choice. The power locks into place. Inside Axle’s eye, the gem gleams with a crescent light.
“As I thought,” the weapon says in Vortex’s mind. “The next moonstone is here.” Vortex’s ears and tail perk up. “Awesome! Now we can go get it and find the next one from there.” She jumps forth, but a strong forcefield barricades her entry. Her body makes a sudden impact with it, and she is sent back a few feet, nursing her snout from the unexpected impact. “OW,” she shouts, drilling her head to “reset” the pain. Axle’s eye spirals around from the hit as well. Can sentient weapons like them see stars from something like that? Who knows. She tries again- this time, by pressing a cautious hand to the entrance. A magical barrier ripples with a brilliant blue, reminiscent of a rock breaking the surface of water. Unlike a rock, her palm lays flat on it. She pushes to no avail. Nebula joins in, her average hand appearing comedically dwarfish compared to Vortex’s. Her frilly ears wiggle and wave about- a shiver goes down her spine. “I’ve seen this in my books,” Nebula says, breaking the eerie silence.
“There is something on Terrania that connects this planet to Chelonia.” Vortex tilts her head down, paying close attention to the siren’s words. “Sacred moonstones can be collected here, but they require an energy source: Moon gates. We traverse through the world through moon gates as if they were portals.” Nebula continues to study the structure of the moon gate carefully. “The Southern Sirens of the Tail in Chelonia were the first to make contact with Terranians. Geographically, the first humans to learn about us live in the east. Some of them settled in an attempt to create colonies, but we never knew what happened to them.”
Vortex dares not to breathe. This is valuable information. “There are three things a moon gate needs to work: a garden of plants, a pool of water beneath it, and the moon at a certain phase. Only then will it open.” Nebula examines the rocks further, closing the distance to study the cracks up close. “There’s moss. That’s a suitable garden. But there’s no water.” The two back away from the entrance, pondering how they’ll make this activate. The siren looks at the ground and claps her hands together. “There!” she shouts. “How did I not notice this divot before? If we can fill this up with enough water, it should open the moon gate further.” She flicks her gaze to the sentient shovel axe. “Can you raise Axle to that hole again?” Nodding, she does as instructed, pulling Axle above her head with two hands. The moonstone is still latching onto their eye, and reveals the same silhouette from the gem’s backing. The space siren stares intensely, closing her eyes. Then, she has her “a-ha!” moment, fins perking up.
“That’s it! The moon phase is revealed at the back of the moonstone!” Nebula turns quickly to face the floating rock and cross references. “We should be able to open this gate up if we pour some water on the floor.” Vortex brings Axle back down and sheaths them on her back, frisking the area with her eyes trying to find a water source. She finds a steady stream off to the side and gets to work, hollowing out an emergency honeydew melon ration with a ravenous appetite into a makeshift bowl. She uses her newfound dash power (that she will definitely have a name for later) to zip back and forth, filling the ground up with rapid speed. The ground is amply filled with water in no time. She steps back, away from the water, and watches the gate closely.
As Nebula had theorized, the gate quakes, light crackling through, shining brightly. Some of the stones in the moon gate itself begin to glow brightly from within. A webbing pattern from the in-between cracks is made evident. Vortex’s otherworldly belt lights up, the pearly center revving up with a mighty roar. The barrier slowly melts away. In the cave, the three can see it littered with unassuming stalagmites and stalactites. The subtle, constant dripping of droplets does little to comfort them. The cave rings hollow from the droplet. Vortex can feel the air come to a standstill, and her hackles rise like needles at the back of her neck. She doesn’t have much of a choice. This is her shot at trying to reverse this curse once and for all.
“Let’s go,” Vortex commands. She strides in, the soft light of the now tempered moonstone still in Axle’s hold her only means of sight. Nebula follows suit, albeit with great reluctance. She sticks close to the werewolf, grasping the tip of her tail for support. The werewolf would normally tell the siren to not do that, but with how dark the cave was, she allows this touch to slide. They need to stick together.
Unbeknownst to the group, the barrier reforms, sealing them in the cave.