[PRP] The Harvest [All In - Chosen One vs. Witch Hunt)

[Ruriska]

The afternoon sky was the colour of blood. "It’s an omen," Chosen One told the kin that stood beside him, his family. No Mercy, Badlands and Second Nature. His chest swelled with pride as he turned his head to look at each of them in turn, demanding and receiving eye contact and affirmation.

"We’re here to set Badlands free and to destroy her tormentors." It was all so simple in his mind. With their combined strength, the evil would fall and the swamp would be made a better place.





No Mercy had made the requested eye contact, but only briefly. He was twitchy and already filled with adrenaline. The heat of the upcoming fight was rushing through his veins and it was all he could do not to rush ahead. With gritted teeth and flared nostrils, he shifted on the spot and waiting to be set free.

Badlands and her little crusade was irrelevant, all that mattered was that Chosen One had told him this was a good thing and blood would be spilled.


Ahead of them all, in a dark corner of the swamp, surrounded by dense, wet foliage and murky water, was Witch Hunt’s den.  

[Ruriska]

In the clearing, protected by trees and overhanging branches, Witch Hunt was napping. Her old, frail body was tucked into the roots, her chest rising and falling, each time with a soft tremble. The last winter had been a hard one and the weakness that had settled in her chest had not yet abated. It still lingered, making each breath an effort and her temper on the thinnest edge. Her speciality was poison and death. Healing did not come naturally to her.







Healing came naturally to Spellbound but the small doe had yet to convince her mother that she could actually be of use. She stood quietly nearby, watching her mother, expression downcast. Their relationship from birth to now had been nothing short of abusive but Spellbound had yet to run. It was if an invisible tie had wrapped around her heart and kept her captive. From the moment she had stood up and toddled after her mother and brother, she’d had no other path to follow.





"Stop frowning," Bloodhound snapped. Incapable, as always, of expressing any other feeling than anger, the orange buck had been turning his discomfit into irritation and was close to breaking point. "It's making me sick. Why don’t you go find something else to do?" Not that he actually wanted her gone but when she was alone and didn’t think he was watching, she always looked that little bit happier. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for the both of them to just stand there watching their sickly mother sleep.