Apparently I’ve never posted art of Kalina on her own? Anyways here she is @wardzold!

Aleks leaned back in their chair, smiling at the two dark haired children running through the tall grass and wildflowers. They had their mother’s eyes, dark and curious and full of life. Occasionally a dog’s dark head would poke between the blades of green, nose twitching and soft, playful barks chasing the giggling children.

“They’ll tire each other out,” Kalina said, voice was as she set down a platter of ice water. “It will be quiet tonight,” Aleks smiled at their wife, the glint of her silver wedding band shining in the summer sun as she drank from a glass. They took a sip from their own, the water sweet and clean.

“I was thinking we could head to the village. I heard one of the young couples over there is getting engaged. Oh, who was it?”

“That hunter from the outskirts, and that quiet girl from the chicken house…Jadwiga, I think. We went to school with her.”

“Ah, I remember her. Always had someone trying to court her. Why did her mother have to give into that hunter?”

“I have no idea.” Kalina sighed, eyes closed against the warm sun. “At least poor Jadwiga can get out of the house.”

“Goodness knows how much better it will be in his camp for her.” Aleks shifted in their wooden chair. The grass had fallen silent, the laughter of their children absent as they scanned for movement. “He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he’ll prove it sooner or later.”

“I’ll have some of the villagers keep an eye on those two, make sure he’s a good man well before the marriage.” The couple jumped at a child’s cry, one of the boys breaking through the grass with tearful eyes and a flush face.

“I didn’t mean it!” One called, still hidden by the wildflowers.

“Mama, mama Kazik pushed me into Leon!”

“No, I didn’t! Arek’s lying!”

“Inside you two, we’ll get you washed up and have a look.” Kalina said, voice firm but gentle as she knelt to Arek’s level to look at his bleeding hand. “Oh, it doesn’t look too bad sweetheart,” The small boy whimpered, eyes looking to Aleks for their input.

“You mother’s right. It will be better before you get married.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Aleks said, planting a kiss on their son’s dark curls. “Now, go with your mother.” The two boys clambered into the house, Kalina’s laughter and smile following them. Aleks waded out into the tall grass, whistling for the dog, and soon the beast bounded to their side, panting under the bright sun and covered in burs.

They knew it was a dream. It always was. But it was a dream that came to them more frequently as days in this dark forest passed, with no sun or warmth or Kalina to remind them of what was real. Would it be so bad? To dream, just for a moment. Just for a taste of what could never be.

The botanist jumped, the warmth of the light gone and the sky bleeding orange by the evening sun. But the sky’s change hadn’t woken them – something within their greenhouse rattled, a broken pot.

Against their better judgement, Aleks bolted upright, adrenaline flooding their veins. They had no weapons and no armor; they felt naked as they watched a shadow cross over the fogged windows. It was humanoid.

The fresh bruises on their side ached as they shifted to their feet, keeping low and moving slowly towards the now ajar greenhouse door. The traps were gone – not set off, not disabled, just gone. If it was a savage, it was frighteningly intelligent. If it wasn’t...they didn’t want to entertain what other creatures lay beyond their clearing.

Still, they stalked closer, peering through the door. Their axe still sat on the shelf atop their neatly folded jacket. They stepped into the greenhouse; the damp air heavy with tension as their eyes found the source of the disturbance.

The broken pot on the floor only held an experimental sterilized seedling, stunted and sickly. The same one the Wolfman had knocked over, once again broken. Perhaps it was their fault for balancing it so precariously...The dirt tracks led deeper into the greenhouse.

The figure was standing between the bean poles, the vining leaves obscuring Aleks from view – but the botanist knew every leaf and shadow in this building, and easily picked out the broad-shouldered silhouette. Shaking fingers wrapped around the handle of their axe, the blood dried on its blade now blackened by age.

It would draw too much attention and take too much time to put on their jacket – besides, this was their home. They knew every path and loop. This savage or whatever it was wouldn’t know what hit ‘em.

Aleks quickly and quietly made their way toward the figure, who seemed entirely entranced by their food storage bins, up to its elbows in the potato basket. The botanist was well hidden behind the row of tomatoes but felt the tension that coiled in their stomach relax as the figure continued to rummage between storage bins. This person was a human. Probably.

“Do you normally walk into someone’s home and take their things?” The barrier of the tomatoes made the botanist feel bold enough to address the figure with a whisper of annoyance in their voice.

The stranger jumped, hitting their head on the wooden shelf above the storage bins and letting out a strangled and muted hiss of pain. Though the person pointed a shovel at the botanist as a clear threat, Aleks felt little fear of the interloper.

“I’m judging by the lack of howling and blunt weapons you’re not one of those savages, right?” Aleks swatted away the shovel head with their axe, the clang of metal on metal a subtle message to the stranger that invaded their home. “I’m willing to share if you’re hungry,” They said, beginning the walk around to the other side of the tomato row.

The stranger have moved away from the food storage bins, now rummaging between the seed bags the botanist had hung from the selves.

“Hey, hey!” Aleks waved their hands to get his attention. They paused only a moment to process the grey and scarred skin that peeked between bandages and the stranger’s hat, his eyes shining with clear distrust. “What are you looking for? I doubt it’s pomegranate seeds.”

They swatted his hand away from a bag, eyes drawn to the blood stains on his jacket arm. They probably didn’t look in much better shape then him, their undershirt still bloodstained, and their scarred face screwed up in thought.

“You need bandages, right?”

A stiff nod, hands still tightly gripping the handle of the shovel.

“They’re over here,” The botanist beckoned, keeping an eye on the stranger to make sure he followed. He did, slowly and reluctantly, always a shovel’s distance behind. “You got a name?”

The stranger was silent, save for even breathing and a half sigh.

“Fair enough.” They crouched at the supplies shelf, hiding a hiss of pain as their stitches tugged on bruised flesh. “Sorry, was in a bit of a rush last I used these – do not touch that,” The botanist chided, already exasperated with this stranger touching their stuff.

The stranger reluctantly moved his hand away from the Amanita mushrooms that grew in a cluster from their pot. He crouched next to the botanist as they flipped open the medical kit’s cover, the bandages mussed and slightly tinged red by blood and water damage.

Some darkwood sketches to reward myself for finishing a report today.

The Welder - @jacketandrichard, The Courier - @sketchygabz, Kaen - @nessietessimal

Spoilers for Kalina under the cut that you might be able to guess from the sketch of her and The Courier ;)

ft. Kalina bc I have no patience and haven’t gotten around to writing her post-woods transformation. Flat colors rn bc I don’t want to draw honeycomb.

Aleks had finished most of their chores for the day, the rainwater bins emptied to glass jars and the traps prepared for another night. They had checked their plants, taken measurements, and recorded their data.

What little sanity they had left counted on those simple, repetitive, and menial tasks. Wake up. Water. Traps. Food plants. Research plants. Data recording. Rest. Repeat. Bad things always happened when they broke routine, when they left the familiar safety of their clearing – like the other day. The blood on their jacket didn’t wash out in the rainwater.

The botanist was content with their small circle of safety, their horizon that ended where the trees began. Even if their thoughts and fears traversed the dark forest beyond their cursed patch of land.

Today they convinced themselves it was sunny, though rarely was a spot of blue sky spotted these days. Even without the comforting expanse of sky, the warmth of the sun permeated the cloud cover. And the botanist decided it was a day of rest, although they had run out of calendars and lost track of individual days months ago.

They laid on the sandy soil – no helmet or face shield or earmuffs, no jacket, no chainsaw chaps. Just their bloodstained undershirt and trousers against the sun warmed soil. Aleks peered at the sky, squinting past the few dull flowerheads of the dying weeds that tried to survive the poisoned land. Maybe, if they looked hard enough and long enough, they could see blue.

“That one looks like a chicken,” Kalina said, not bothering to point as the two lay head to head in the field. She knew Aleks knew which cloud she was talking about. “And that one, it looks like a…a pram? Or maybe a bassinette…”

“I think it looks a bit like a broken umbrella,” They replied, although their eyes wandered to the bobbing heads of corn poppies around their head, eventually peering through the stalks to see if Kalina was watching them. She wasn’t; her dark eyes were trained on the brilliant and cloud scattered sky.

“Can I ask – ”

“I need to –”

“You go first,” Kalina conceded, a smile in her voice. Aleks swallowed back their inhibitions.

“I need to tell you that I’m leaving, come autumn.” Their own voice felt far away, the rehearsed lines not their own words after saying them so many times. “I got a scholarship – I, I won’t be back for a while…just, just until I finish my degree. Then I can get work out here, with the forest, and – and I’ll come back.”

“Oh,” Kalina’s voice was so small after the silence that preceded it, the rustle of the poppies almost drowning out her quiet sigh.

“Oh?” Aleks echoed, concern invading their every fiber. They couldn’t be sure, but it almost sounded like sorrow. Kalina rolled to her stomach, dark curls tickling the soon-to-be botanist’s nose as she smiled down at them.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you! You’ve always wanted to go to university – to the city. I’m sure you’ll be happy there,”

“Will you be? Happy – that is – while I’m gone?” Aleks too sat up, their hair tossed by the wind that swept over the field.

“Me?” Kalina laughed, shaking her head. “You are my dearest friend, but there is more to my happiness than one person. To live that way would be terrifying, I imagine.” Her smile faltered, grin bordering on grim. “Sorry, that’s not very romantic, is it?”

“No, I understand,” Aleks said, keeping their own false smile plastered. “Not putting your eggs in one basket,”

“More like having eggs, and sheep, and cattle, and the stray apple tree.” Kalina said with a chuckle. “You know what I mean – how you have your love of the trees, and love of rainy days, and love…for me. All love, just different kinds.”

Somewhere down in the village, a dinner bell rang. Kalina stood, dusting off her skirt and pulling Aleks to their feet.

“I’ll miss you,” She whispered, pulled them into a hug that lasted just a moment too long. With a sad smile, the girl began to trek through the poppies toward home.

“I’ll miss you, Kali,” Aleks called, finally finding their voice and forcing back the tears from their eyes. “I’ll bring you back something amazing – something beautiful!”

“Just come back Leksi,” Kalina called, her laughter damp with tears. “And come back soon!”

The botanist gasped awake, a swift kick to their bruised and battered torso jolting them from sleep. They groaned and rolled to their side, away from the unfortunately familiar figure that stood over them.

“You aren’t dead. Good.” The Wolfman growled, though his voice held a shine of cruel humor as the botanist crawled to their feet, still clutching their side.

“I’ve – I’ve got what you asked for,” They gasped between pained breaths, ribs aching as they stumbled towards their greenhouse, acutely aware of the Wolfman watching them with hungry eyes.

“Taking a midday nap? Keep that up and you’ll be a snack for the savages before I get a taste of you, Meat.” He snarled with a chuckle, the undercurrent of bloodlust in his joking tone made the botanist’s skin crawl. They ducked into their greenhouse, the shattered pane of glass still littering the dead ground around the entrance.

“I have it, here,” Aleks said, producing a sealed ceramic jar from their shelves and holding it out to the Wolfman. His nose twitched, lips curling at the bitter scent that wafted from the jar when he uncapped it. For a moment the botanist’s heart skipped a beat – was it not purified enough? Concentrated enough? Had they forgotten a step that he could smell better then they could see?

“Your services are always a delight, Meat. You might just live another night.” He finally said, capping the jar and producing a few tanks of gasoline. The botanist refrained from sighing in relief – the Wolfman didn’t take any sign of weakness lightly.

“Same to you, sir.” They said plainly, picking up two of the tanks to take to their generator. A pot clattered to the ground, shattering as the Wolfman shoulder through the doorway. An accident, probably.

“You might want to clean that up,” He grumbled without bothering to stop, walking away and eventually disappearing into the tree line.

The botanist sighed, setting down the gasoline and kneeling beside the shattered pot, carefully setting aside the sickly seedling it had housed. As they cleaned up the mess and set to filling their generator for the coming night, they let their mind wander.

Whatever did the Wolfman want with concentrated tannins?

Kalina’s hands were warm and steady, gently gripping Aleks’ face so they wouldn’t jerk away. The wine only did so much for the pain.

“When you came back from the university and said you wanted to catch up some time, I didn’t imagine this,” She said, the needle slowly stitching up the broken flesh.

“I’m not gonna lose my eye, am I?” They slurred, wincing as the needle once again dove into tender flesh.

“The Mother says you probably won’t – she is going to send for the Doctor to make sure. He’ll probably visit you at home.”

“Oh, that uptight bastard’s a –”

“Language,” Kalina chided, tugging the thread. “You are in a house of God,”

“Obviously, since an angel like you is here,”

“Aleks.” Kalina’s tone hardened, but her eyes remained soft. Always soft and gentle and as dark and as warm as cherry heartwood. “You are drunk,”

“Yes,” They hiccupped, only to whimper as the movement pulled on their stiches.

Kalina smiled, tying off the thread and setting the supplies aside. She tucked her dark curls beneath her habit, the black and white garb rustling softly as she stepped away. Aleks twitched on the pew where they lay, not wanting her to leave but knowing she would return. She always did.

“Here,” Time had passed, they didn’t know how much, but Kalina’s soft hand was pressing something salty to their lips. Aleks took it in their hands, sitting up slowly. Kalina now sat next to them, cross legged on the pew and smiling.

“It’s a salt tablet,” Aleks said, trying not to look or think too hard about the object in their palm. Their stitches ached, the bruising around the wound now noticeable.

“It will help with the hangover, according to Sister Ada. You have a long walk back home.” She chuckled, shaking her head before she leaned forward to plant a kiss on their cheek. “Try to be careful.”

Aleks hadn’t run so far in so long, bobbing in between the trees and skidding around mushrooms. The blood trailing down their side was unfelt, too blended with rain, sweat, and adrenaline to be more than an annoyance. The panic drumming in their veins was beginning to subside, but the blood on their axe was not their own.

They stumbled into someone, crying out in pain. Another savage, body and mind twisted beyond recognition. Not human. Not entirely. A wide swipe with their axe kept the snarling man at bay as the botanist retreated, still running, panting and bloody.

Aleks stumbled into the clearing that surrounded their home, mud splashing between their hands as they scrambled back to their feet and bolted for the door. No time to turn on the generator – the fear was fading, and pain was creeping in to take its place. They didn’t know how much longer they could stay on their feet.

Home was quiet and still. Same as they always left it. Not that they left often, not anymore.

Medical supplies. Bandages. They needed bandages. The medkit was on the highest shelf. A poor choice, given that reaching for it made every breath agony. With a shudder they dropped to the ground, numb fingers tearing off the kit’s cover and scrounging around its contents for the antiseptic. Bandages. Thread. Needle. Antiseptic. They had everything they needed.

Aleks whimpered, slowly prying off their jacket and undershirt, the clothes sticky with sweat and mud and blood. How long had it been since they last saw their own skin? Were they always this pale and thin? Had their blood always run so red?

Tentative fingers probed the wound; ribs were broken, and the gash ran deep enough to see bone. At least, they were pretty sure it was bone.

The antiseptic burned, their world flashing white behind half lidded eyes as they focused on the weight of the bottle in their hand. They just needed a few stitches. They had taken more. They had endured worse.

Shaking fingers threaded a needle, the shining metal sharp and clean. Aleks swallowed hard and counted the stitches they would need. Just 26. They could handle 26.

Perhaps rushing the first humanoid they saw with an axe wasn’t the best course of action, but at the very least the botanist had survived. Probably. Blood had seeped through their bandages from the night before, and now peeked through the thick fabric of their jacket.

“We didn’t mean to startle you,” The Courier said, her voice soft as she looked down on them. “I was worried, I hadn’t heard from you recently and the woods around you have gotten worse.”

“Sorry about…” The botanist gestured between the axe on the ground and the man who was cautiously regaining his footing. “That. It’s – it’s been rough lately.” They pressed their hand to their side, the blood pooling faster and cascading over their shaking fingers. The big one looked frantic – his heavy hands quickly pulled out his own medical kit and unravelling bandages as he knelt to their level.

“Cholera…” He cursed, voice gravely with age.

“S’alright,” They mumbled, carefully unzipping their jacket and pulling away their undershirt that was now sticky with blood. “Wasn’t you – a mean one got me good last night out in the north wood…” The stitches were sloppy, but they had held. Barely. The new bruise on their abdomen would last a long time – already a hue of purple had begun to seep into their pale flesh.

They tentatively took the bandages from the man, his gun glinting in the green sheen with which the glass stained everything below it.

“You went out?” The Courier sounded surprised. They were too when they first stepped foot outside of their clearing of safety. They offered her a half shrug as they ignored the sting of antiseptic bandages pressed to their wound. “For the north wood…” There was a whisper of understanding in her voice, and a deep settled sorrow.

“Yeah. Didn’t get far.” The botanist shifted uneasily, keeping their head down as they slowly finished dressing their wound. “Been actually waiting to see if you had been up there lately, but…I guess not.” They rocked back on their heels, handing the unused bandages back to the large man, who easily dwarfed them as the two stood up.

Aleks blinked through pain and exhaustion to get a clear look at the two newcomers. The big one was hard to make out, his mask obscuring most of his face save for sharp eyes that seemed to look through them rather than at them. The other one seemed younger – maybe, based on the half of his face that wasn’t sprouting mushrooms.

Now that was interesting.

“…if you lived in the village or nearby it would be easier to reach you, you know. This place isn’t the most habitable home I’ve –” How long had the Courier been talking? It didn’t matter, the mechanisms of the botanist’s brain were already set in motion as they pulled a glass bottle and a knife from the nearby shelves.

“Can I have a mushroom?” They interrupted, trying to meet the taller man’s blue eyed gaze.

“What?” The Courier asked, a half chuckle in her voice at the question. The botanist gestured to the mushrooms in question; they had clearly addressed the quiet man with the rifle. He seemed to be some sort of sharpshooter, or marksman.

“Mushrooms. For science.” They said curtly, pointing to the pots of mushrooms that lined the shelves above the men’s heads. Armillaria, Amanita, Ganoderma, and many, many, many more. But none like the ones that sprouted from the man’s face and shoulder.

The Marksman’s one good eye slowly looked between his companions and the botanist, amused and bewildered trepidation clear as he shook his head.

“I’m not gonna cut it out of you, I just need a spore cap, like that one, there.” They pointed to the fruiting body that was perched on his left shoulder, a unique maroon against the drab grey of his clothes. “I’ve seen some cordyceps-like species in animals and savages, but you haven’t climbed a tree and died there to better release the spores despite it fruiting. It’s something different.”

“Is this what you’ve been doing all this time? Research?” There was a breath of concern in the Courier’s voice.