The First Hellhound

Yaga strikes the ground 5 times and exclaims that the Grand Council can now begin; hearing that, Yuras straightens up and his face turns serious. I observe with interest as one of the women – probably a Witch – brings out a wooden bowl with some liquid and gives it to him. The Chieftain then raises it above his head and proclaims loudly and solemnly: “Oh, Silvertongued Miron, bless this gathering and all those who participate in it; bestow upon us your wisdom, your foresight and your understanding in all of those who will speak!” He invokes what I believe to be some sort of a deity and ends by taking a sip of the mysterious substance, then gives it to the Witch that helped me earlier; I believe her name was Tika. The Beaverwoman repeats his action – the only difference being that she omits the invocation – and gives it to the next person, who repeats the process.

As the cup makes rounds in crowd in silence, I notice not everyone partakes in it; while every Elder and Witch drink from the wooden chalice, most of the people gathered by the sides do not. I wonder why it is such, but as it approaches our group, I start worrying – should I take a sip? Or is it okay for me to skip it? My head starts hurting… but there is no time, as it finally arrived and Pola’s brother, Miron… wait – wasn’t it the name of the god? But he’s got a very similar one… was it Miro? Ah, yes – Miro and Mira, I’ll have to remember…

However, I’m not given time to think as I’m presented with the cup and all my thoughts immediately leave my head. I freeze, feeling the gaze of everyone crushing me and making blood recede from my face. Additionally, my heart beats extremely fast, as if it wants to escape my chest. Worse off, the pounding in my head becomes more noticeable – to the point of making me nauseous.

I’m awakened from my stupor when someone warmly grabs my leg – it’s Nugund; he smiles and nods encouragingly. It’s enough to put me over the edge and I muster enough energy to take the cup from Pola’s hands, reluctantly raise it above my head and sip the clear liquid in it. I’m so nervous I cannot even taste, nor smell what it is; heck, I’m not even sure of its temperature! Luckily, I manage not to spill anything and I give it back to the Lisitha, who seems surprised for a split second. She looks at me and ponders something – then she suddenly repeats my gestures, instead of giving it to Olka who’s waiting. When the Foxwoman is finished, the Risitha and – after some deliberation and a quick glance at me – the Volkhlun continue the ritual.

As the otherworldly communion continues, my nerves start to soothe – thanks to my close ones giving me support and physical contact. I grab the hands of my lovers and wrap my fingers around them. I have no idea I yearned for it so much and I certainly didn’t expect it to calm me down so much as it does. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. Only when my heartbeat is slowed and I feel safer do I open my eyes – and it seems the things are wrapping up, as the first Vodyakin has just received the cup – which she drinks from… and then gives it back to the Witches; it surprises me massively – I still don’t really understand the significance of what is happening, but… isn’t it rude not to partake in? Then again, I don’t know what is going on and it might be perfectly normal – in fact, nobody but me seems to even notice, much less mind it.

Baba Yaga is the last person who sips the mysterious liquid… then she spills the rest of it! I’m flabbergasted, but she soon follows her actions by striking the ground 5 times, mirroring the beginning. I wonder what the significance of that number is; it seems that I will have to get to know local mythology, whether I like it or not. But I don’t have time to speculate, as the Wylderkin proclaims that the Great Council can now begin and urges the Chieftain – who got back to his normal, jovial self – to speak; it seems the ritualistic part of the gathering is over.

“Everyone – rejoice!” He smiles widely and throws his arms in the air. “Rejoice, because the Gods have heard our cries and prayers and sent help!” I have a bad feelings about this. “Not only did they provide us with materials – they’ve even gave us one of their Kin to assist our task!” Shit! I knew it! Everyone is now looking at me, measuring and judging me – especially the Witches and monks; what’s worse, they start whispering! I am sure it’s because I didn’t make a good first impression, with my anxious behaviour; fuck, why did I even agree to Alchemist’s request!? “But let’s tell everything in order – and so, I urge you, Olka of clan Lesin, to describe what happened on your journey to the Great Oak and back!”

I feel the gazes of the crowd move away from me… but it still does not allow me to relax. While most turned to focus on my friend, not everyone did so – and it’s those who keep observing me that cause me distress. Especially five of them: both warrior-monks – and the hostility of the younger one gives me creeps; then there is the Troll leader of Taborites, curious and mischievous; the Vodyakin woman who drank from the cup, whose feelings I cannot read; finally, Baba Yaga, whose gaze makes cold sweat drip on my back. Luckily, the old Beaverwoman who helped me earlier also observes me – and the compassion and empathetic worry I see on her face are the only things keeping me from hiding behind my lovers – or outright passing out.

“Are you unwell?” Asks Pola, distracting me from all the pressure those people put on me; I shake my head, still too tense to speak. “I see” she says and ponders for a moment. “When you are called out to tell your story, I believe you should put the collar down and let everyone feel your Aura… and smell” I freeze at that – how could I forget about the importance of scent among Beastkin! I am sure some people here at looking at me with such intensity because they cannot smell me!

“Sh-should I t-t-take it off n-now?” I manage to whisper and my Moonberry shakes her head.

“No. But I have to admit it would have worked better had you removed the collar earlier. Now it’s too late – it might be perceived as a threat” she smiles encouragingly and massages my shoulder; it’s really nice and relaxing – especially when Nugund joins in; overall I manage to relax enough to finally be able to pay attention to Olka and her report – just in time to hear everyone gasp in shock.

“No way!” Shouts the female monk as agitated whispers break out; I can finally gleam what has happened when I notice many gazes shift between me and the skin of the bear I killed: it seems that the young Risitha has just mentioned that I defeated the Tyrant under the Mountain – and some folks have trouble believing that. “That… barbarian couldn’t have defeated the Embodiment of Frost! And claiming she’s of Divine origin on top?! When her Aura is so weak it’s practically non-existent?! Are you a blasphemer as well, you disloyal son?!” She points at the Chieftain in an accusatorial fashion and, to my relief and surprise, garners attention – and even hostility – of the crowd. Even her master shakes his head disapprovingly.

“For someone who’s so quick to throw a charges, you are no better than those you demean as ‘barbarians’ – in fact, you’re even worse!” The elder monk admonishes her quite harshly. “You did not partake in the rite to Miron, so you have no right to speak to this assembly” ah! So that’s what drinking that liquid signified – I feel satisfaction at the knowledge gained, but at the same time I realise I’ll probably have to speak in front of everyone – and that prospect fills me with dread. But the old Krolsun is not finished yet.

“The fact you are so easily deceived by magic items means your training is still far from finished. Now go, meditate and reflect upon your misdeeds and missteps” she tries to protest, but Pan Leto cuts it shorts and sends her away; she finally relents and walks away, right after throwing one last glance – one that makes me shudder – at me. When she disappears, her mentor bows to the Elders. “I am honest in sorry by my youngling-monk; do no grudge her, I be to punishment her”

“Huh. So his Kolokolan is this bad; no wonder he was using only Tamaran earlier” mutters Nugund as all three of the Lisithi siblings chuckle – and the Troll Taborite leader even laughs out loud, garnering some offended looks. Alas, after everyone calms down, Pola can continue her report.

The most unexpected result of the small commotion caused by the warrior-monks of Zorya is that people focus shifted from me to Master Summer; only Baba Yaga still observes me, and when our eyes meet it still makes cold sweat run down my back. There’s something deeply unnerving in a way she looks at me; I’m sure she’s going to test me in some way – and it frightens me. (“And how can you be so arrogant to believe you can defeat the dragon, little Kora, if that’s enough to scare you?”)

All that thoughts make me stop listening to the young Lynxkin and turn my focus internally – and doubts start settling in. Doubts – and guilt.

Am I really strong enough to kill the dragon? (“No. Nobody is able to do it alone.”)

Am I really strong enough to help in the hunt? (“No. Some random girl cannot compare to trained monster slayers and experienced hunters.”)

Maybe I can at least protect them? (“How? The same way one stops an avalanche?”)

Maybe I can give them the first aid? If only I knew how… (“…”)

Why did I make promises back then? (“Why indeed.”)

Why have I been so arrogant? So conceited? I know nothing about this world – and especially about dragons! (“Everybody is serious about the hunt.”) Am I? (“No. Those are fantasies of a stupid, little girl.”)

I am not. (“…”)

I’m a clown, so full of myself. (“So naive.”) So silly. (“So gullible.”) So dumb.

Worse – I’m a liar; I know

I’m not divine, so why did I stop correcting it? Why did I agree to Alchemist’s request to begin with. (“It doesn’t care about you or any others, but its research. It never cared about you, Kora, or about your wellbeing; you are being used. You are just a tool. You naive, little fool.”)

I slump down, all my energy leaving me as voices in my head make my confidence crumble. All that is left is me and my feelings. I want to cry, I want to run away, I want to disappear. Nothing from the outside reaches me anymore, no noise, no speech. What is even Olka talking about? She was definitely talking about how I defeated the Tyrant under the Mountains – it should be the one thing that fills me with a sense of accomplishment, but… can I really be proud of that? I was extremely lucky in that fight. (“Without the artifacts, the bear would still be there.”)

I pause. What was that last thought about? How I needed Nyx and the collar to beat the Tyrant? When I know for sure I did it bare-handed and bare-assed?! Where that thoughts even come from?! (“…!”)

Then it dawns on me: I know that feeling. (“…”)

It’s a feeling of somebody manipulating my mind – and I HATE it! And I feel RAGE overtaking me, as my inner flame rises and my Aura leaks out; I feel HURT; I feel ENDANGERED; I feel VIOLATED! (“…”)

GET OUT OF MY HEAD! (“…!”)

GET OUT! (“…!!”)

GET OUT!! (“…!!!”)

“GET OUT!!!” I roar, blinded by my FURY, and my Aura explodes; I know who did it to me – it was Baba Yaga. I don’t know if it’s an instinct, or if I recognised her voice, or if it’s her shocked and hurt grimace that gives her away – or maybe it’s all three – but I’ve had enough and I lash out at her! Or at least try, as when I jump out to attack her, two burly Rabbitmen stop me in my tracks – but to be honest, I feel many other hands holding me down, hands I ignored in my tunnel vision. Still, I struggle, trying to get to the Witch who’s now bleeding from eyes, nose, ears and mouth; nonetheless, she’s smiling smugly – and it IRRITATES me to no end!

“Apologise” alas, I’m not able to wipe this smirk off her face as someone’s heavy fist connects with my skull; the feeling is strangely familiar, but clearly different, as if weakened. Still, my consciousness slowly fades away and that ANNOYING smirk is the last thing that imprints in my mind before the darkness finally overtakes me.