BlackwaterDnD

Em:
Welcome to BlackwaterDnD, where good friends tell better stories. This series, Wayward Autumnal, is a four part miniseries using Under the Autumn Strangely by Graham Gentz, now available at itch.io for purchase, and is produced in proud partnership with All My Friends are Stories. This series is sponsored by the Mycologist’s Primer from Double Proficiency and Hunter’s Entertainment. This tale sees us dive deep into all things agrarian as we find ourselves lost in the terrifying dreamscape of the Never Was. For this story, our traveller is played by myself, Em Carlson, our Arcadian is Anne Monteverdi, and our Terrors are played by Cameron Strittmater, Candace Marie, and Josephine Kim. As this game falls within a pastoral folk horror genre, it may contain themes and depictions that are triggering for some listeners. Please take care of yourself and access safe support as you see fit.

Content warnings for this episode include: knife violence // graphic descriptions of harm to animals, animal death // meat and animal gore (skinning) // gaslighting // death of a parent // hallucinations // storms (thunder sound effects) // blood // fire (being surrounded), fire sound effects // burn injury // being watched // religious overtones // whispering sound effects

So sit back and relax, fellow travellers. And welcome to Wayward Autumnal.

Chapter 2: A Field Aflame

Em:
The music for this chapter starts with discordant wind instruments, clashing against each other, with a soft rumbling in the background. It could be the wind, it could be the quaking of the forest around her, as Roslyn stands in this clearing, covered in blood and dirt, with a knife as big as a machete in her hand. Her hands are shaking and we hear that echoed in the instruments themselves. It's not cacophonous, not yet, but it will be. Roslyn stands in the clearing as Micah has, not Micah, has slithered down into this pit, a rabbit snare snapping at the bottom. And she knows she can't wait. The bigses are coming, whatever those are, and she doesn't want to be prey. She wants to feel powerful, and she wants to feel strong, and she knows she's not quite there yet, but she could be. The forest sways around her, and that might be a nauseousness in her stomach, that might be her swaying, trying to come to grips with what she's done. I think she peeks open her basket and sees what was Micah's tongue, but is now this piece of rope, that is actively bleeding on the amethyst deceivers that are glowing so bright. There is an aliveness that I think she feels inside. Something that she knows she would have never touched on otherwise. Because now she's taking control. These are not her woods. Not yet. And the question we have to answer is, how far will Roslyn go to make them her woods? As Roslyn looks around, she sees an opening between two tall paper birches, and her mind draws back to… What a wishbone looks like. These trees are bowed together, and almost seem to join into one over top, an archway. An archway is an opening. It's an invitation. And Roslyn's not gonna check that one twice. She takes one last look at the pit, grips the bone knife harder than she's ever gripped anything in her life, and she sets off through the woods.

Anne:
You walk, and it's only a moment before the crunch of dirt turns to the clack of shoes on stone again, as that redstone path reemerges. Beneath that invitation, there is a full route laid out for you. Between the stones, the brush starts to overgrow, to curl around them, and above you, you hear the pitter patter as it starts to rain, just gently, so little that it's mostly caught by the canopy of trees, it barely makes it to you. It's only as you proceed further and the birches turn to maple, that you see how the rain clings to their bright red leaves, in a way that makes them heavy and poignant. They seem to glow and lean towards you.

Candace:
Out of the edges of your vision, you can see the storm gathering, but it doesn't seem to only hang in the sky. It seems to be descending upon you, the periphery of your vision, dark shadows stalking, uncertain if it's the clouds, the weather, the impending fog, or if there's something watching you. As you try to focus in, and listen, as you're hurrying along this path, hearing your footsteps clack and clack, the sound starts to echo. It feels as though you are the only thing in this place that's making any kind of noise. As you see the shape start to take form in the shadows around you.

Em:
Last time, I was caught... Unawares. Unprepared. Unready. For... Whatever was pretending to be Micah. Or, maybe that was him, and that's what he's been all along. I will be more ready this time, and though this storm should scare me, I think at this time Roslyn feels a bit of comfort that at least this strange, awful place, a perversion of the woods that I used to feel so at home in, so connected to, that the sky at least, is mirroring how I feel inside. A storm. And that anger feels like it's at the tips of my fingertips, almost electric, as if a lightning could strike from my fingers. So instead of running, I turn towards whatever this shape is. And I don't even wait. I bring the knife out, grip it in my hand. I don't hide it in my skirts. I plant my feet solid on the ground on this red brick road that I knew brought me here, and maybe I just hold a tiny sliver of hope that it'll take me home again, and I stand my ground and I wait.

Candace:
[giggling sound] You hear the sound of childish laughter echoing from all around you.

Candace (as The Fox):
[giggling] “You have to be a lot faster than that.” [giggling]

Candace:
Lightning crashes overhead. You can't see anything light up the sky, but you can hear the thunder, and like the rumble, and the electric crack. Maybe it's not that electricity in the sky? Maybe it's a branch nearby? As you grip your basket a little tighter and the knife a little firmer. That shadow winds again, diving almost into view and then back out again, going around you to the other side of this clearing.

Anne:
The canopy held the rain at bay, but the storm has worsened and it can no longer. You are beneath the leaves of the maples, when they finally give way, and the drops start to fall on you. But instead of falling, clear, refreshing, they carry that red pigment. They land on your linen shift. And they stain it bright red, mixing in with Micah's blood, the beet juice that has spilled out, and all the gore that you have incurred on this path so far. They pool in your footsteps, and then they trace… new shapes on the forest floor, mimicking that of the red stone.

Em:
I turn and pinpoint the sound of the voice. The giggling feels like it surrounds me. Maybe it's multiple people, but the voice. There was a voice that spoke to me that I think is mine, but this is different. This is jeering. This is... This is something trying to goad me, and I won't be taken advantage of again. Nobody will ever… take advantage of me again, not my kindness, not my time, certainly not my body, and not… Nobody will ever put expectation on me of how I am supposed to exist in the world again. I will be quick, because I want to be quick. And I wait.

Candace (as The Fox):
“You think very, very loudly. I'm not here to make you do anything. You're going to do it all on your own. Nothing to worry about! Little kitten in the big, scary, dark forest. Are you sure you're supposed to be here?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I've been coming to these woods my whole life. I'm allowed to be here.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Not alone! You never come alone.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“You're right. I never have before. And I'm not here alone by my own choice. I would have brought her if she was here.”

Candace (as The Fox):
[gasps] “I hope I haven't said anything rude. I know that you had a problem with, um, the other one. [giggles] He's a trickster. You shouldn't trust him.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“A problem would be putting it mildly, whoever you are. I would appreciate if we are going based on politeness, and civility that you show yourself. Rudeness would be you continuing to hide from me, and expecting me to have a fair conversation with you.”

Candace:
You hear heavy footsteps in the distance, that seem a lot further away than you'd expect, branches snapping under a great weight. It feels like there is a dark presence that is staring at you, and as you whirl around, you can see glowing eyes looking at you. They crouch down into the tall grass in the forest and the outskirts until they're gone. And as that shadow looms and looms ever closer, a bright orange fox peeks its head out of the underbrush, and prances out. Quite jolly. Big bushy tail, bright orange fur, adorable smile.

Candace (as Fox):
[giggles] “You need a friend. I'm not saying that's me. I'm just saying you need a friend.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I don't think I have any in here. So I'm on my own for now.”

Candace:
Bright eyes blink at you.

Candace (as The Fox):
“Well, you've got a much better head on your shoulders than the other ones.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“The other ones?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“I like your basket. Most of the ones in here are broken, but that one sure is nice.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“So you're not here for me, you're here because there are people like me who have been through these woods?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh no, I'm not here for you. I'm kind of here for her, but also, I just like to get around. [giggles] It's really fun to see what's going on, especially because I'm so small, and it can be hard to see above all of this.”

Em:
Do I see any tether, or tie, from this fox to whatever that big large shadow was? Is this an avatar of that? A small personification? A illusion, of something much bigger? Those… bigses… that the boy in the burlap talked about?

Anne:
I think you're trying to see that, when the lightning finally catches up to you. The gaps between the little flashes of light that peek through the canopy, and the boom of the thunder have been growing smaller and smaller. And it's this little fox that comes up playful, standing beside you, looking towards this looming shadow. And you're trying to see the connection between them, when there is suddenly a crash right above you, and you smell it, burning wood. And for a moment you are completely blinded. You just see stars and dots after. It was too much light, and the shadow seems to be gone. The shadow has been pushed away and is no longer there. I'm spending a token.

Em:
I don’t trust that this fox isn't that thing, but it hasn't aggressed towards me yet, so… Politeness, and civility. For now.

Em (as Roslyn):
“My basket, yes. I've got mushrooms in it. Would you like some?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh no, that's okay. I eat mice, and other little things. Mushrooms, that's more for you. The big ones.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Right. Um, I found a patch of them, on my way in here. That's why I was here. Why I'm-”

Candace (as The Fox):
“I can show you where there's more mushrooms.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Oh, um, sure. I, if you, I'm sure you know them, but I'm generally pretty handy with identifying them.”

Candace (as The Fox):
The fox, like, blinks at you again, and gives you like, a tongue wagging smile, and begins to prance its little black booted feet along this beautiful road in front of you. You can see that storm, further and further behind you, as you walk through. It's not quite sunlight, it's late in the day, but that dappling is coming through, little glints of light, so it's not completely pitch dark. Little fireflies are kind of descending, almost like leftovers from the summer haze. And the fox just sort of trots alongside. You can hear him humming a little tune. She seems content.

Em:
I think I've heard the tune that the fox is humming. It's an old church hymn. Not one that is often sung on Sundays, sometimes at the Wednesday service, but, I hum it along with them, as a sign of fellow travelers, for now, of convenience, not enjoyment.

Anne:
You follow the fox down the red road, until you come to a crossroads, a place where it branches, where there are two sets of markings now, that one strays into a darker wood, one strays into a grassy field. At the center of the crossroad, there is a gnarled oak tree. Something that has clearly been injured, has grown burls in strange shapes, and that stretches out impossibly tall, and impossibly old. And it seems to shiver as you approach. Its roots creaking, maybe just in the wind, maybe in reaction to the storm, and whatever pressures have been put on it. But it seems to react as you approach.

Em:
I look down to the fox.

Em (as Roslyn):
“Do you know this tree? This waypoint?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“This is an old one. It's been here since time immemorial. To see how thick and gigantic it is, and impressive it is. It's one of the pieces of the heart of this forest. It's important. And whichever way you choose, that's important too.

Candace:
The fox looks ahead at both sides of this fork in the road. One is light, and airy. Kind of like a dusky, its light filtering through the leaves. The other seems dark. The deep kind of mist rolling in, from the sides of this pathway. Still the same cobblestones that you're walking on, both still paved, but one clearly much more bright and unassuming, and the other one very dark and ominous.

Em (as Roslyn):
“It feels like it's trying to tell me which one to pick. Simply by the way the weather is. Do you know what's on either side of these paths?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Well, there's mushrooms on both sides. It depends on what you're looking for. And honestly, you don't strike me as the type to back down from a challenge. There's something else in that basket, isn't there?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“A prize.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“A prize! My goodness! A kitten with a prize. A kitten with big eyes and pink paws. Pink paws from… what?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Beets. My family farms beets.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“That's all?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“No.”

Em:
And I look down at my very stained dress, and the blood of Micah's, and maybe mine, from where the raven threw that acorn at me, and the scratches from the countless brambles that I have run through.

Em (as Roslyn):
“It's beets and beet juice and blood. So no, not just beets.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Hmm. And you're afraid of a little intimidation in the forest? Sounds to me like maybe you can handle yourself.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I'm trying to. I'm trying to…”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Hm!”

Em:
What… Hmm… Where is the smell of the fire coming from?

Anne:
Mmm.

Em:
Because I know what kind of mushrooms are often present around burns.

Anne:
You try to catch the wind, and it's over, it twists in a way that catches and rustles the high grass, in the lighter side. And there you catch a bit of the scent of fire. But with that, is the scent of ozone and petrichor, something that is somewhere between a nostalgia, a hearth, a campfire, and something ominous. Both intertwined on the wind.

Em:
I think part of Roslyn wonders that if she was to go into the dark of the woods, which is where she was leaning, that she would find more of the same. And that's not, it's not unexpected, it's not good, but perhaps a change of pace, a change of scenery. The light feels… Like a mirage. Like I'm supposed to find this alluring, I'm supposed to think that this is going to be better. And, while Roslyn has always been someone who's carried a little bit of hope, the hope is not for that. Wherever she goes, it's going to be bad, until I get my way out of here and find my way home. But I'm curious about the smell of burning and fire. So I looked down to the fox again.

Em (as Roslyn):
“Will you be accompanying me?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Yes!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Or... Okay.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“I'll stay with you.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Alright, I'm gonna go to the field. There's a smell of fire over there and I'm curious.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Alright! That seems like a good idea.”

Em:
So I think I wait a second for the fox to lead, and then I realize that it's not going to, so I do. I clack off the soles of my leather shoes, starting to pad on down the road. And I suppose I take a half look back to see if the fox is actually going to follow me.

Candace:
When you turn around, there's nothing behind you, but you hear a voice at your side.

Candace (as The Fox):
“You didn't think I would let you go away this quickly, did you? Of course not. I want to know all the things you choose. It's my job to figure out whether or not you're ready.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Ready for what?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh, um… Micah didn't tell you about her?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“The voice in the wood?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh you’ve heard her!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Yes.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“That's exciting.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Is it?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“She must really want to meet you!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“She could just come out and meet me, rather than all this game of cat and mouse.”

Candace (as The Fox):
[giggles] “Cat and mouse, you're the kitten, silly.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Right. My mother always did say that curiosity was going to be my downfall, so perhaps that's fitting. Okay, on we go then.”

Candace:
As you hear the sound of your footsteps kind of crush on the floor of this forest, there's kind of a more familiar crunch as pieces of grass and little bits of detritus are kind of littering there. The fox keeps an even pace next to you, just sort of chatting about nothing, commenting on, you know, the weather and the area around you, and asking you questions, random questions about your family, and your siblings. It's like you're talking to a girl in the village, or one of the washerwomen by the lake that you usually go to to do all of your laundering. It seems quite ordinary, except every once in a while, the fox stops, stock still, looks off into the distance into a shadowy place you can't quite make out, tilts their head, raises an ear and says,

Candace (as The Fox):
“Mhmm! Thank you! I will!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Are you speaking with her?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Hm?! Oh! I mean, I'm not really supposed to talk about her with you, but yeah!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Why is she interested in me?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Why wouldn't she be? You've come so far. Most people don't make it past the bunny.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“The bunny?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Yes, the prize in your basket.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I only saw… Were Micah and the boy in the burlap and the rabbit all one in the same?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Now you're getting it. This is exciting!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Okay? If you're excited, then I am... glad for your excitement, then. On we go. Let's keep moving.”

Anne:
The grass of the field grows taller and taller, until it's well above chest height, almost at your neck. It's, you can't see your feet anymore, you can't see your basket. There are only a few trees dotting the landscape to orient you now. It's barely a forest at this point, and it's the sky that's strange, because it's night, and you can tell that it's night, but there's a thick layer of fog hanging just above your head, clouds so low that they make a blanket pressing down upon you, and they are bright, and they seem to almost reflect a luminance that comes from beneath, and so you're bathed in this impossible cold light as you proceed. But it has a disorienting effect coming straight from above. Nothing seems to cast a shadow at all.

Em:
I think I'm looking for one light source where this could be coming from, and I don't find it. And I have to stop remembering that things don't work here like they do. There is not a simple fire that is going to cast shadow over one part of the room, and leave everything else dark. There isn't going to be a candle that will provide me some form of illumination, some... I don't... I never use the word magic to describe it, but something... beyond what is real. I have to stay grounded in what is real. Because if not, I'm going to lose myself. And I can't do that. I do need to make it out of here at some point. And… I would like to spend a token because I know that this is trying to cloud me, and cloud my judgment. But I think Roslyn, through this, has a moment of clarity. So while this cloud is hanging low, and it is first blocking my vision, it's almost like I step outside of myself and try and extend my vision, so that I can see through it, and chart a path where I'm going.

Anne:
The clouds above you seem to thin enough that if you look closely, you can see the constellations beyond them. They are some unfamiliar, but a few that you can make out, at least enough to find a cardinal direction, to know that you're not walking in a circle, if nothing else. You don't know which direction your destination is in at this point, because you don't know which way you've gone, but you at least know that you're going forward.

Em:
My hand hasn't left my knife. I carry it and, grip it proudly, alongside me. I don't brandish it, or threaten the fox with it, but it will no longer be hidden in my skirts. It stays out now as I continue to walk forward.

Candace (as The Fox):
“Sometimes it's important to show our teeth, isn't it?”

Candace:
And the fox looks up at you and grins, a smile showing a little too broadly for such a small creature. Just a few too many teeth. And it's dark eyes blink gold, orange, green, back to brown.

Candace (as The Fox):
“It's important that we make sure that people know who they're dealing with!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Yes, when people show you their teeth, whether through their smiles, through their grimaces, or through snarls, they are showing you who they truly are.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Hmm. That's really good advice. Too bad the people back home don't show you who they really are.”

Em (as Roslyn):
[sigh] “I think they have been, I just haven't been paying attention.”

Anne:
You walk this way, the grass grows higher ‘till it's finally above your head, and you're almost swimming through it, as though you're having to dive through a murky pond just to get to your destination. But you put one foot in front of the other, because what else would you do? And you smell that fire again, that strange, noxious fire up ahead. And then mixed in with it is the smell of food.

Em:
I look down at the fox.

Em (as Roslyn):
“I'm hungry.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“We're in a forest.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Yes.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Plenty to eat.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“If she wants to meet me so badly, and she would like me to make it through whatever is set out before me, I am going to need food that I can trust that I can eat.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Hmm.”

Candace:
The fox kind of cocks its head. They look back at you.

Candace (as The Fox):
“I mean, the mushrooms are safe. The ones you foraged. The glowing ones? You might glow for a little while, but you should be okay. I don’t know about the, um, other food you might find. I imagine meat is probably okay, like the rabbit. You can eat that.”

Candace:
When you look down at your basket, thick, viscous blood is leaking from in between the wickers. It's dripped down your forearm. It's dripped onto your pinafore, and onto the beautiful white cotton skirt underneath. As you start to realize that that blood has been seeping and seeping, wondering how long it's been going on, you can feel that stickiness as you continue to walk. It's gotten down into your socks, darned by your mother, made of really soft wool from last year's sheep. Into your leather boots. One of them squeaks now, from the friction, between this disgusting goo. It's starting to congeal. And for the first time, you can smell it, turning your stomach, a sickly sweet vitriolic scent cut with decay and acid.

Em:
I open the basket.

Anne:
No but, my second token. You can smell it, but it doesn't turn your stomach. It smells like food.

Em:
I think there is an animalistic nature to Roslyn's hunger, because we're past the point of where you can put it off. She would eat anything, and that, even though this thing smells like it's on the cusp of rotting, it's meat. I can eat meat. I know how to prepare meat. I watched at the butcher shop, I paid attention. I am good at paying attention. I know how to skin rabbit. I know how to do all the cooking, I’ve been doing that for years. I open the basket. What do I find inside?

Candace:
There's a rabbit there. It's nice, and juicy, and fattened up. Looks like it hasn't really worked a day in its life. A rabbit that's hopped, and hopped, and eaten the grass, and tasted all of the pollen, and the sweet meats of the forest. Its fur is clean. Surprisingly, tail is dark red with blood. The insides have been splayed open, clearly by your knife. But the face is soft and sweet, lop ears, lying still, eyes in a dead stare.

Anne:
And lodged in the back of its head is a spiked chestnut.

Em:
This rabbit reminds me of my mother's brother. Never worked a day in his life. And leeched off of my family, anytime he came to town. Demanded the most outlandish things for how much money my family makes. My mother and I slaved over the stove for hours, and no audacity to say thank you. Didn't even participate in prayer. If you're not gonna thank me, you better thank God. But God didn't put food on the table in front of him. We did. I grip my hand, the free one, I don't let go of my knife, around the neck of the rabbit. And as I pull it up out of the basket, I crunch it hard. And I show it to the fox.

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh… so ferocious.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Just practical. Are you hungry?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“I could eat. If you're sharing.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“It's fat. There's enough for the two of us. I think.”

Candace:
The fox weaves in between your legs as you walk, making little figure eights, careful to not trip you up. And eventually kind of herds you to an area where the stones are kind of worn, and all of that tall grass is kind of part, parted a little bit. It looks like this might have been like a campsite, or something like, that that people would use when they had long days in the field, something like that. There is a log there, long dead, and earthy. Prime real estate for sitting. And the fox brings over, of tugs with its mouth, a bushel of this dried grass for kindling.

Candace (as The Fox):
“You prefer to cook, right?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Generally, yes, meat-”

Candace (as The Fox):
“It's a waste of time.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“For you, I think, but I don't think my stomach works like your stomach.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Not yet.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Not yet. Right.”

Em:
Well, I think Roslyn really chews on that. The ‘not yet’. ‘Cause of course she feels it. I pause for a moment as I hold this rabbit. And I take one of the stones that seems more flat, maybe that is curved slightly away and out of the pit. Knowing that if blood from this rabbit or any viscera gush into the pit, it will ruin my opportunity to make a fire here. So, I think I place the rabbit down. The knife, briefly, goes back into my apron, never far from my person, and certainly not left on the ground. I make quick work of the grass, tying it into bundles and arranging it in an approximation of kindling. And I then turn my attention to the rabbit. And I take the knife out, and in maybe four quick cuts, already have the skin mostly off. It is a... My mother often described it as pulling a sleeve inside out. You make the right cuts in the right places, and things come away clean. There is nothing… Unmeasured, about the way Roslyn skins this rabbit and starts to prepare it. And, I think, in one swift motion, without even looking where she's cutting, it is a quick slice down. The head comes off, and I am left with a skinned rabbit. The body of it. my mind flashes briefly to the coney of rabbits that Micah had. His didn't look skinned properly. This one is. And I look at the fox.

Em (as Roslyn):
“I don't have a flint. I'm not sure how to light this fire.”

Candace:
The fox kind of paces in a half moon shape around the outskirts of this pit, looking at you, looking at it, looking at the sunlight. They dip into the tall grass, and come back with a shard of glass in its mouth, it looks reflective, almost metallic. And as they kind of turn it back and forth, you can see the light kind of refracting inside of it, causing it to go into a single beam of light.

Candace (as The Fox):
“I don't know much about how you start fires, but I think this might work?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Thank you. Um, I... Thank you. Yes, that should work nicely.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Mmm!”

Em:
I extend my hand for the piece of glass.

Candace:
The fox pops it right into your hand.

Candace (as The Fox):
“Be careful. You don't want to burn yourself.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Or cut myself.”
Em:
And you would see two large gashes on the inside of my hand that look self-inflicted.

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh no, that won't do.”

Candace:
I think the fox tries to lick at your palm.

Em:
I let it.

Candace:
You can feel the rough tongue running over your wounds. And at first it stings, and it hurts a little bit. But you realize after a couple of licks, that you start kind of focusing in on turning this piece of glass in your hand. Your hand doesn't hurt anymore, the other one. This one still stings. As you raise the other hand to your face, you can see that that gash is gone. And the fox sits licking its chops looking at you, intent on getting the taste of your blood out of its fur. But as it's kind of looking at you, and gazing at you, and its tongue running over its whiskers, and the white patch of fur beneath its chin, you see its eyes turn this golden orange color. It's pleased. It's hungry. And you taste delicious.

Em (as Roslyn):
“Did you want the other one?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh, um!”

Em:
And I extend my hand and I switch the glass over.

Candace (as The Fox):
“I- I don’t want to be a bother.” [giggles]

Em (as Roslyn):
“You can't have my hand. But if you can do what you did with this one, with this one, I would appreciate that.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh! Uh, yes, I can do that. Hold it out… like that.”

Candace:
The fox dives toward your hand, nose snuffling. You can hear a growl coming from this creature, that sounds a little bit too big for it. Maybe not as big as the shadow you saw earlier, but certainly larger than this small body. You can feel the vibrations coming from its lungs up through its throat and into your hand. Up your wrist, into your elbow. It feels almost comforting, but also extremely menacing. And as you kind of lose yourself in looking in this piece of glass, you get a flash of looking into the glass of your home, the polished windows, looking out into the courtyard, the village where you live. You can see the streets bustling, people walking around you. And as that starts to fall away, almost moving you involuntarily, you don't feel like you're walking anywhere. But this place is moving around you instead. You start to hear it. The voices of the women from your village.

Candace (as The Grass):
“That poor darling. Did you hear? Yes, dead. Very dead. What is he going to do? Do you think he's ready to move on? The girl isn't ready to take her place! No, no, no. We need a new woman in there to take care of her, guide her. I mean, she's a little scrap of a thing. What's she going to do?”

Candace:
Whispers. Whispers that have been following you for almost three months.

Em (as Roslyn):
Every time I heard them, it was bile in my throat. Made me want to be sick. The thought of my mother being replaceable, not just to my father, but to me. No one would ever replace her. The dirt is barely settled over her grave, and they are thinking about replacing her.

Anne:
You come back to your surroundings, startled out of it, by the sound of crackling. The fire started. You don't remember using it to, the, the, anchoring a light source, or anything like that. It doesn't matter. The bundles of dry grass are a bonfire in front of you, and they are tall. This fire is raging far more than the fuel that would feed it. And the wind has caught now. It is shaking the fields around you. The grass is rustling. It's whispering. And you hear the women's voices in that shaking grass, towering over you, leaning in as this fire billows out and that fire catches in your eyes, and it catches in the fox's eyes, and it sees some likeness there.

Em:
I try to ignore it. Just like I did at home. They don't know anything. They know nothing of me. They know nothing of my mother.

Candace:
You feel a tickle against your cheek, a caress almost, but scratchy and dry. Reedy. The end of one of these fronds of grass, these blades licking at your skin. You look down, and the fox is dozing, benign. The shadows around you rise with the flames. And that bit of grass whispers in a reedy voice,

Candace (as The Grass):
“Replace her. It's easy. The girl needs guidance. Someone should have raised her better. Do you see how she looked at Micah in service on Sunday? Embarrassing. What are we going to do with her?”

Em:
They get one. I turn my head to the side, and start to pick up some sticks to make a spit for the rabbit.

Anne:
You pick up a stick, and beneath it there is a mushroom. It is a strange shape, almost looks like a small brain, all folds and crevices, tucked into this, almost like the shape of a saddle, malformed, brown, tough to the touch, leathery.

Em:
I know those.

Anne:
You do.

Em:
And I know the mushroom they're trying to be. Someone with less knowledge than me could mistake this for a morel. This is not. False morels, often present near the sight of a burn. Poisonous. Unless you know how to prepare them properly.

Anne:
You lean over the false morels, and the grass begins to tangle in your hair.

Em (as Roslyn):
“Get off me. You had your one.”

Candace (as The Grass):
“We’ll have your father before the week is out. How long have you been in here, Rosaline? How long? Left your family to fend for themselves? [gasp] What kind of woman would do that to her family? Up and leave! You could have hunted at the edge of the forest, you could have taken someone with you, but here you are, all alone. And no one is coming to save you.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“These mushrooms can be more poisonous than your words ever will be. I'm not afraid of you. And my name is Roslyn!”

Anne:
You say that, and it's like throwing gasoline on the fire. The bonfire erupts in a fireball, and immediately the grass around the clearing starts to catch and singe. The blades flail wildly, like injured animals, but the whispers don't stop. The same, chiding, judgmental voices. The ones that you should be so far away. Even as whatever these things are, writhe around you, their placid tones continue.

Candace:
You feel a hand grab yours, as the flames grow out of control. You pick up your rabbit, stuck on its spit, just as this person pulls you from the log that's on fire. The ruffles around the edge of your petticoat starting to singe and smoke with the fire as it descends upon you. The fox has abandoned you. But there's a new person here. Long dark robes, a cloak pulled up around their face. Their fingers interlock with yours. And as you run through this tall grass, higher than over your head, even taller than you thought you had seen before, you can smell the unmistakable scent of cedar, flowers, a little bit of milk… Your mother. The figure is wordless. You can hear the footsteps, along with your own, clacking against this overgrown road that you know must be somewhere underneath all of this grass. The light that filters in from above starts to dim, growing ever darker, that large shadow keeping pace with you, about five hundred feet, six hundred feet away. Never growing closer, just keeping pace and running alongside you, glowing eyes following you in the dark.

Em:
I would have made sure as I picked up and ran, to have my basket. I have the rabbit, cooked, enough, on the spit. I have my knife. and I do a quick assessment. The fire is out on me, and I turn and face this figure.

Em (as Roslyn):
“Mama?”

Candace (as The Voice):
“Baby.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Please tell me it's really you. I... I don't trust it, but please.”

Candace (as The Voice):
“We have to run.”

Candace:
She tugs at you, pulling you further down the path into the tall grass.

Em (as Roslyn):
“I need to trust you first.”

Anne:
The fire has jumped ahead. It's spreading too fast. You see her in rim lighting in relief, just the brush of red against a familiar silhouette. Her features are clouded by the smoke that is beginning to claw at you, that grabs at your skin and tangles in your robes. And this grass, it cuts, the blades suddenly sharp. You are covered in these tiny marks as you move through, and everything seems to be a little hazy.

Em:
I know what mama used to use these mushrooms for. There were days when she felt like her judgment was clouded, like she couldn't… make sense of things. And she used them when she needed to see. I take out a piece of the false morel, I break it in half, and I stick my hand out into the fire to cook it. Just enough, just like she taught me. And when I feel the fire start to singe my hand, I bring it back, I stamp it out, and I crush it, and I eat it. knowing that it'll help me see. Because I want to see her. And if this is not her, then I will know.

Candace:
You don't know. Your hand is a mess. Smoke curling at your fingernails, that are gently lifted away from the flesh. Little bits of black around your fingertips. All that work, that fine work the fox has done, undone, as you see viscous fluids running down your body, trying desperately to flood you with healing powers, and not making it quick enough, for as dark and as ripped up as your hand is. As you begin to eat the mushroom, you do start to see the light start to see… the light, start to dance in your vision. You can see them like fairy lights all around you. It's beautiful. You feel comforted. The hand that's holding your other hand grips you tightly. And you see these beautiful green eyes peering back at you through the smoke.

Candace (as The Voice):
“My darling girl, we don't have time. Run. Run!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Yes, mama.”

Anne:
No, but… You look at her green eyes, and she opens her mouth, but it's not your mother's voice. It's the one you've heard in the woods, several times now. The voice is out of sync with her lips. You can see her. You could almost lip read if you weren't distracted, but you hear that other voice instead. And it says,

Anne (as The Voice):
“Look behind you. What have you done?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I did what I needed to do. You want me to survive? This is me surviving. My family has lived off the land for years. You don't get to tell me how to survive here.”

Anne (as The Voice):
“Who said I wanted you to survive?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Who says I care what you want?”

Anne:
And I think there we see, behind Roslyn now, that the field has burned down to ash, and the soil is strange and disturbed, with almost like tree roots protruding from it, but they're pale and white, shapes of ribs and femurs, of all the things that have been disturbed. All the things that have been burned down with the trail you left.

Em:
This place will try and hollow me out if I let it. It'll try and break me, break my back, break my spirit, carve me away. It will not. Because I'll do it first.

Candace:
You hear a crack next to you.

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh! There you are! You can't break what's already broken, silly. If you weren't broken, I doubt you'd be here right now with me!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“If I am broken, so be it. Fine. But I still have my wits about me.”

Em:
And I’ll run.

Candace:
You do have your wits about you. But not the wits you're used to. Your vision is psychedelic. The colours appearing in swirls, fractals, all kinds of patterns you don't have the words for. It's alien and unfamiliar. You can see these glowing eyes of various shapes and sizes all around you. And as you take in hundreds and hundreds of creatures staring at you from around the destruction that you've caused, you realize that there is no sound in this clearing. The roar from the fire is gone. There's no crickets, no birds chirping. The smoke hangs thick around you. You tentatively take a lungful. It burns on the way down, stinging your eyes, streaming tears down your face.

Candace (as The Fox):
“I don't know. This seems like a lot for you. Maybe you should go with her."

Candace:
And the fox points you, again, toward the shape of your mother. Her face now, not obscured, but the features not quite right. It's your mom. Those eyes are there. Her hair flows out, a curl of it falling in her face, strawberry blonde, just like yours. Your face begins to kind of contort and as you have this look of confusion, her features become your features. Same face, almost just you, but older, beautiful, regal even. A wolfish grin breaks out across her face.

Candace (as The Voice):
“You should come with me, my darling. I didn't finish teaching you about this world. I see you've already learned a bit more than anticipated.”

Candace:
She gestures to your bloody basket.

Em (as Roslyn):
“You might not have, but one of the jobs of a parent is to also know when your child is ready to start learning on their own. I will not go with you. Because you're dead. And I'm alive. I will go on my own.

Candace:
Your words are almost like a wind, that coasts across the clearing in between the two of you. The robe flings away. And you see a bunch of animals, an owl, a couple of rats, a raccoon, piled up high inside of this cloak, standing on each other's shoulders. A mimic, an approximation. And the fox looks at you.

Candace (as The Fox):
“Remember when I said you, um, you kind of gotta be a little, broken to be here? That's kind of what I meant. Um, you need to trust yourself, because she, um, well, she's really good at making you forget, you know, who you are, where you're from, what you are doing here.”

Em:
There's a moment... I think. A held moment, as the fox would see Roslyn prepare to move, before the figure, this pile, this tower of creatures on each other's shoulders has started to move. Even still, this place is trying to tell Roslyn who she is. This place is trying so hard to push her into the box that she's supposed to be in, the role that she's supposed to stay in. Do your chores. Tend to your father. Marry. Be a good wife. Be dutiful. They know nothing of who she is. Nobody’s ever asked. Nobody other than her mother. And for this forest to think they could come even close, to approximate her, is one of the biggest insults that Roslyn has ever taken. And so with her knife brandished in hand, not caring about the pain, she reaches out and she grabs maybe the largest rat out of this pile. A knife goes straight through it, and she flicks it off the end of the knife, and she drops it at the fox's feet.

Em (as Roslyn):
“You said you like mice. There's a bigger one for you. Now I'm going. Are you coming?”

Anne:
The blood pools beneath the rat and immediately it forms a beautiful red stone.

Em:
I understand. I'm sure- have the other creatures scampered off at this?

Candace:
I think it's pandemonium.

Anne:
Yeah, I was gonna say, I think it's the opposite. I think that you spilled that blood and the silence broke like a symphony. I think… The silence breaks like a bone breaks. It is all at once and everywhere. The howling of coyotes, the hooting of owls, and you realize that you are surrounded by predators and scavengers, and you have a hand that smells like meat, and you carry a basket with a ripe meal, and you have spilled fresh blood at your feet, and you are the center of attention, and something prickles on the back of your neck, it is that primordial knowledge to know what it is to stand between a predator and its prey, and what it means to be the one who could be prey.

Em:
But I won’t be.

Anne:
But you might be.

Em:
Not yet. Has the fox moved?

Candace:
The fox's ears are pricked, whiskers back, eyes darting around. It makes a circle around you, looking at the creatures, the predators out there, growling in the distance. You can hear hungry bellies, and then realize the loudest one is your own.

Em:
I pull the rabbit off the stake, and I bite into it.

Anne:
You hear a croaking sound above you, and then a raven flies in, and grabs the rabbit in its talons, and tugs and pulls, and it holds it, piercing it, blood pooling, dripping down as it fights with your teeth.

Em:
No, but… I'm gonna spend a token there. It fights, but I am stronger. I don't move. I will let this raven fight as much as it wants. But it is outmatched.

Candace:
No, but… You lose your patience. This raven is trying to take food right out of your mouth. Just like those crows, those scavengers, looking for your father, and everything he has to offer, now that his beautiful wife is gone. You can hear this raven laughing at you. It sounds like the voices of many, many people who not only doubted your mother, but doubted you by proximity. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You can hear it echoing throughout your head as you bring the knife down, sticking it deep between the ribs of the raven. It smells so good.

Em:
I don't even let go of the rabbit with my teeth. I think the raven locks eyes with me, and it's clinging to life with this knife stuck in its belly. And I bring my hand, practiced, up to its throat, and I crush it.

Anne:
It’s neck snaps, and from it’s contorted position, all askew, it goes,

Anne (as Raven):
[croaks] “Don’t trust them.”

Anne:
And its eyes burn with fire.

Em:
I chew the bite of the rabbit that I have, enough to sate my appetite for now. I'll eat the rest of this shortly. This'll keep. I've never eaten raven before, but there's a first time for everything. I shove the rabbit and the raven in my basket. And I point my knife at the fox.

Em (as Roslyn):
“Are you gonna try anything with me?”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Try anything? Like what?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I won’t be made a fool of.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“Oh, that's not for me to do.”

Candace:
The fox looks at you, blood matting the fur around its lips, its ears, its eyes, its paws. It's really gone in. And as you chew the rest of this rabbit, tasting areas that are undercooked, not quite raw, but way too close for your comfort, you recognize that you can feel the viscous fatty juices running down your chin. All over your face, on your fingertips, melding with the blood that's there from your fresh kill. It's not revolting. The iron courses through your body, making you feel stronger, like you've taken power from something, now into yourself. And when you look back down at the fox, and it looks up at you, once again, there's a familiarity there. It's like looking into a mirror, almost. It blinks at you, eyes glowing, burning embers in its skull. White teeth bared, somehow even more than the last time it looked at you. Growing slightly larger, and leaning in.

Candace (as The Fox):
“Hmm, see, there it is. That's what I'm here to find. this version of you.”

Em:
I bare my teeth back at the fox.

Candace (as The Fox):
“Hmm!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I'm not afraid. I was, and I'm not anymore.”

Candace (as The Fox):
“You keep that fire, kitten. You keep that fire lit inside you. You'll need all the help you can get when you meet her. She's formidable, to say the least. And make sure that you remember, when you've been bested. It's better to admit defeat than to, I don't know, go down in pieces.”

Em:
Oh, man… The anger is gone. And I think that it travels through rage towards cold calculation. And Roslyn looks down at the fox, looks up at the fox, blood dripping down her face, on her knife, on her hands. And she looks the fox square in the eye, and she says,

Em (as Roslyn):
“You tell her to bring her worst, because I won't stop.”

Candace:
The fox blinks, bird-bright eyes. The moment you look away and look back, small, again, cute. Face licked clean of the blood. It grins at you from a couple yards away.

Candace (as The Fox):
“I will. Be safe out there. You might be my favorite. So far.”

Candace:
It shakes its tail in your direction. A tease, flagrant, flippant, and dives into the bush. And as you look up, you see the path again. More red stones, trees rising on either side of you.

Anne:
The path leads up a small hill, so, a few steps, but enough that we see now Roslyn haloed in the glow of embers, emerging from a field of bones that she's razed to the ground. And we know how far Roslyn is willing to go.

[Wayward Autumnal Theme by Si Rutherford]
Em:
Wayward Autumnal is performed by Em Carlson as Roslyn, the Traveller, Anne Monteverdi as the Arcadian, and Cameron Strittmater, Candace Marie, and Josephine King as our Terrors. Our main theme for this episode, as well as character leitmotifs and folk horror ambiance by Si Rutherford. Additional music and effects by Epidemic Sound and Monument Studios. This series is in proud partnership with All My Friends are Stories. For more from us, come follow us everywhere at @blackwaterdnd, and make sure to check out our Main Campaign on Monday nights at 8pm PST at twitch.tv/blackwaterdnd. To get yourself lost in the Never Was, go support this game and it’s creator, Graham Gentz, by purchasing the ashcan over on itch.io. This show is made possible by our sponsors who graciously support us playing pretend and having feelings about it. We are grateful to be sponsored by The Mycologist’s Primer from Double Proficiency and Hunter’s Entertainment. Want to forage for mystical and magical mushrooms within your ttrpgs? The Mycologist’s Primer features over 100 fungi, lichens, and slime molds, complete with magical properties, based on real-world folklore and ready to be transplanted into your games, novels, and imagination! Check them out at their kickstarter page or on Drive Thru RPG. Finally, we’re thankful for our Patrons for joining us on our journey through the Never Was. You too can come join us on Patreon, where you can check out behind the scenes info, our talkback show Chatwater, as well as exclusive Wayward Autumnal bonus content, like our Session 0 and 0.5, and so much more. Head on over to patreon.com/blackwaterdnd for all the info. See you next time, and to all the travellers out there, don’t get lost!