Chapter Text
Enid Sinclair is equal parts terrified and enchanted with the National Park she works at.
It holds all the wonders of unfettered nature, which is another way of saying that it’s extremely dangerous. There are no paved roads, no emergency poles every quarter mile, and no permanent buildings other than the firewatch towers and ranger cabins. Humans are nowhere near the top of the food chain. The weather itself can (and often does) kill.
Additionally, the land is ancient. It remains a portal between realms through which unimaginable horrors sneak by undetected. Interacting with creatures born of humanity’s collective subconscious tends to render things like wildfires and flash floods almost mundane.
Missing people calls are the worst.
Of course, she did sign up for this. Sort of. It used to be a tradition, but no one in her immediate bloodline chose such a career for decades. Once her own powers began to manifest, she called up that distant third-Uncle and offered to work in the family business. She was often alone, but cell reception in the watchtower was decent. Also, the park ensured that any casualties from her “episodes” would be woodland critters.
On the other side of that coin, however, is the fact that she daily walks the line between human and not.
All creatures of the forest can sense something monstrous within her. Most of them aren’t actually that mean. In addition to befriending several wolf packs and bears, she managed to endear herself to the Dancers, a few mermaids and tree nymphs, and the meat-eating skeleton Clydesdale she named Charlie. But those that aren’t indifferent to her are rather hostile.
After eight summers, this is her first full-year contract, and her first missing persons case in autumn. It’s highly concerning for a number of reasons. The possibility of hypothermia increases, animals hunt more aggressively before hibernation, and seasonal cold-weather entities emerge.
“Keep an eye out for Frost,” her Uncle says over the radio. “Take an extra can of butane, just in case.”
It’s late afternoon, meaning nightfall is sooner rather than later. Enid checks her bag; flashlight, extra batteries, emergency blanket, lighter, change of clothes, protein bars, canteen of water, bug and bear spray. A handaxe is clipped to her belt, while the walkie talkie and satellite phone are attached to her shoulder straps.
Then she’s trekking into the relatively uncharted wilderness. She’s lucky enough to have an ATV, but a running motor can drown out the sounds of someone crying for help. So old fashioned hiking will have to work.
Squirrels scurry as she picks up a scent, and carefully walks off the trail. Normally, deviating from one of the few marked paths is a terrible idea, but Enid has a better sense of direction than most people. Mild familiarity does little to assuage her nerves though.
Something in the woods is always watching her.
A gentle breeze carries a hint of distinct perfume. She forces herself not to run, and follows her instincts further. Hours pass by the time she loses the lead beside a creek. She huffs, then speaks to the grove as if the trees are listening.
“Hello? I’ve come to take a missing kid home!”
She doesn’t expect a response, so is rattled when a single raven caws above. Shadows creep forth, as if called to life by the setting sun. An unnatural darkness engulfs the space between trunks and slithers through the tall grass. Ghostly tendrils crawl up calves.
She shivers and tries not to panic.
A female voice murmurs, “Are you not afraid ?”
“Oh! Like, almost always!” she squeaks.
The tentacles stop at her neck. “Why do you persevere so recklessly?”
“Well,” she chokes, short of breath. “The paycheck is nice.” A grip tightens. “I’m looking for a lost girl!”
Thankfully, the grip loosens.
“You can terrorize me all you want after I find her.”
“... What convinces you that this child wants to be found?”
Huh. Solid question.
She wasn’t prepared for an intelligent entity. That’s a whole other level of horrifying.
“Maybe she doesn’t,” Enid answers truthfully. “Maybe she thinks she isn’t wanted. Or she’s so scared of disappointing her parents that she thinks disappearing is a better alternative. I mean, I know what that’s like. Hell, I kinda ran away from my problems too.”
The darkness waits.
“I know I can’t promise her much, but I can promise her change. Not everywhere for everyone, and not all at once. But life at thirteen is nothing like life at sixteen, or twenty, or even thirty-five. She deserves a chance to find happiness, which seems pretty impossible to her right now , but that’ll change too! I promise it will.”
Silence stretches for an agonizing minute. She squirms.
Then, a small, different voice asks,
“Even if she’s not daddy’s little girl anymore?”
Enid sighs, nearly relieved. “I’m sure he’d prefer an alive male child rather than a dead one. Or the leftover pieces of it.”
A decision is made.
Tentacles retreat quickly, convening to a central silhouette out of which a young teen steps. Shadows shift into the shape of an intensely pale woman. Hair like the void of space is tied into a single intricate braid. Chiseled cheekbones, glowering eyes, black lips. An allure from another world. The raven from earlier bursts through branches and lands on her shoulder.
Oh no, she’s hot .
The youth turns to the elder, fidgeting. “How can I repay you?”
The spirit takes their head in her hands, and somehow cuts off an entire ponytail to the scalp. Enid’s stomach drops for a split second before she realizes that no harm has been done. There’s no blood, no screams of pain. The teenager actually looks happy.
Fascinating .
The woman turns serious. “Do not attempt this again. It will not end well.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
He stumbles awkwardly over to Enid, who is addressed next.
“I will hold you to your words, park ranger.”
“U-uhm. Which ones?”
It’s even more terrifying when a supernatural entity smirks . “You can leave now.”
“Yep! Thanks for the hospitality!”
She grabs the boys hand and doesn’t look back.
The heartfelt reunion is partially satisfying, in a way that she can cross one of a few possibilities off her list.
Damnit, why did she talk so much?
“You ok?” Uncle Victor asks. “Run into a predator?”
“I’m not sure,” Enid says, voice low. “I think she’s fae.”
“Yoo, who was it? Spider lady?” One of her eavesdropping cousins asks.
Another cousin jumps in. “Nah, brah. I’m telling you, those weren’t spider legs. They were chains.”
“You’re both wrong,” the veteran mumbles. “She hides blades beneath her skin.”
“So she’s psychic,” Enid states. This earns her a round of dumbstruck looks. “... Y’all didn’t notice that she targeted your fears?”
One cousin laughs at the other. “Ha! You’re afraid of chains , bro?”
“Don’t make me hide a tarantula under your pillow, you bitch-ass–”
Uncle Victor interrupts, “Did she threaten you, Enid?”
“Oh… no, I guess she didn’t. Like. It was spooky shadows, and then just her.”
“She looks like a corpse right?” A cousin quips, gesturing to his face. “All gaunt and shit?”
Enid frowns, heated. “She doesn’t look that bad!”
Again, her companions seem bewildered.
“She turned into a beautiful woman for you? Wow, cuz, you are hella gay.”
Uncle Victor offers a ride in his jeep to her cabin. She gratefully accepts, because she’s about to rip out vocal chords. He explains that the others might be jealous because they barely survived their encounter with the mysterious woman.
“Funny thing is; she was a little girl when I first saw her.”
“Do you think she’s a changeling?”
“No. I think she’s grown up, just like you.”
Enid doesn’t know how to feel about being compared to such a creature. “What did she threaten you with?”
“She didn’t.” Victor smiles sadly. “I wasn’t always a good husband to your Auntie Belle. She packed up and stayed with her mother one weekend. Promised she wouldn’t come home until I dropped the bottle. So, obviously, I got ungodly wasted and wandered into the woods. I remember sitting against a sycamore, and something wrapped around my throat. This little girl asked if I was scared. I said I was always scared, that’s why I drank.
“She asked what I thought she should do. So I said she should kill me. I deserved whatever pain came my way. But, I said, if she could dispose of my remains somewhere Belle could find them, so that my wife wouldn’t endanger herself on my behalf… I’d gladly suffer all of eternity for such a favor to be granted.”
He falls quiet for a moment as he parks in the driveway. Then he points his chin to the sky and pulls at his beard. Even in the dim, fluorescent light, Enid sees it. Tiny divots that run along a thin scarline, hidden under shaggy graying hair.
“Oh my god !”
He chuckles. “Dragged me back to my front porch using a briar vine. Literally scared the shit outta me.”
“She almost killed you too!”
But Victor shakes his head, and pats her shoulder with his huge hand. “At least it wasn’t silver.”
Enid feels sick. “So… she takes pity on the self-deprecating?”
“More like she spares those she deems worthy. Maybe she sees something in us that we don’t.”
“What, like a meal?”
Victor laughs so hard that his belly bounces.
Enid can’t bring herself to be as casual as her Uncle. Mortality doesn’t scare her; everything has to die. There are, unfortunately, many things worse than death. Dismemberment, or flaying, or other medieval-like torture routines that are the bread and butter of monsters.
Basically, whatever terrors anyone imagines, can be done.
Times ten.
“Bearhug to Painbow. Bearhug to Painbow. Over.”
Enid hits the walkie. “Go for Painbow.”
“Hey Pain, what are your coordinates?”
She checks GPS on the satellite phone and reports back. “All good?”
“Uhhh.” A pause. “So you’re not at your tower yet?”
“I’m almost there, Pat. Chill.”
“Bearhug. Please. And you may wanna get your claws out, because I’m seeing smoke from your chimney.”
She grumbles, “If you and Jason are playing pranks, knock it off .”
“Falcon Punch reported in half an hour ago. And stop using names on the radio!”
“I’m sure whatever government agency can hear us right now isn’t concerned about your porn stash.”
“ Wow . Uncalled for. Let me know if this thing kills you.”
“I appreciate the warning, Bearhug. Over and out.”
She hesitates at the clearing, looking up. There is indeed smoke coming from the chimney, despite an unperturbed pile of firewood. After hours of hiking to her new home for the next month, she’s in no mood for her cousins and their shenanigans, and isn’t entirely convinced of their innocence. She summons the last of her strength at the top of the stairs.
“Jason, if you farted in here as a joke, I’m going to kill YOU–!”
Jason is not waiting for her on the other side of the locked door.
The mysterious woman is.
Enid’s backpack is flying before the recognition registers. The heavy bag thuds against walls, rattling windows, yet passing through a noncorporeal abdomen unhindered. A cloud of black reforms into a slim-fitting dress.
Fur sprouts on the back of her neck and arms. “... You’re not who I was expecting.”
Ebony irises glint with intrigue as they take in her shifting form. “... Neither are you .”
Enid gulps, willing herself to relax. Part of her outfit is already torn, but she manages to stave off a full transformation. Which is good because she can't afford new hiking boots. Her sigh is a low growl that sounds more menacing than it is.
“Why are you here?”
Her own voice echoes back, “ You can terrorize me all you want after I find her. ”
She clenches sharp teeth. “Oh. That .”
“You seem surprised,” the woman’s voice returned. “Have you nothing else to offer?”
“You’ve been haunting, or hunting, my family for generations ,” she snaps, exhausted. “What do fae even want from something like me? I don’t have riches, or first born children.”
Eyebrows twitch. “What makes you think I’m fae?”
“Oh, please !” Enid makes a broad sweep with her claw. “You look like a goddess, you’re powerful as fuck, you eat fear for fun. What else could you be?”
The glare softens into a mildly shocked stare. “Flattery will not save you.”
“Not flattery, just bias.”
She resigns herself to an ugly fate, and retrieves her bag without making eye contact. Water is poured into an electric kettle, which is plugged into one of two outlets. She pierces leaves with nails when she pinches them into small thermos cups. The entity watches her struggle.
“Why are you making tea?”
“Because it goes well with Fireball. And this is kinda the most valuable thing I own.”
“Your prized possession is a tin filled with alcohol?”
“First of all, these belonged to my Aunt Belle. Second, it’s the only gift a family member has given me, aside from my great-grandparents' wedding rings. But you’ll have to either marry or kill me for those.”
Woof, what a dumb thing to say.
“... You are as reckless with your words as you are with action.”
She scoffs. “You think I got my scars from playing nice all the time?”
The woman regards the dented metal mug differently. Needle-like fingers grasp the tiny handle. There’s a brief pause at physical contact, as if both are surprised at the fact that they can touch.
Then, they’re just staring at each other.
Enid shuffles her feet. “So… Um... Are you gonna maim me now?”
The spirit finally moves, sipping the steaming liquid. “This is… an adequate sacrifice.”
Not an official no, but not an official yes.
“I’m Enid.”
A nod. “Your family calls me many things.”
“Well, we all get icky nicknames from boys. I was called Stubby until I moved here. Is there one you hate the least?”
Another glimmer of emotion. “... I'm Wednesday.”
“Ok, Wednesday. Heh, ah... When can I expect my defenestration?”
A very, very small smile appears. “Not until I am fully disappointed, Ranger Enid.”
As the lights suddenly flicker, Wednesday is gone in the blink of an eye.
Enid's legs give out and she slumps to the floor.
You’d think she was a werecat with how many lives she just lost.