Death was not unfamilar to me. I'd killed my share of things classified as monsters. I wasn't complaining really, my job kept the humans safe. I just felt guilty, I was practically a monster myself. They call us Warriors of the night, we're not Vampires, we are born with extra strenght and a long life span. I was born a long time ago, I was raised to **** monsters that terrorize the human race. Since I was six, I'd been trained to ****. I was a killing machine, best of my kind. Yet somehow, even though what I do is considered an honor, I don't feel proud. I've been doing my job much to long, and lately I'd began getting sloppy with my work. God knows Rowan would be one ****** of boss if he heard about me letting the group of baby Werewolves. I wasn't a complete heartless ******* to **** a bunch of babies.
    I might've been two years ago, before the whole incident happened. I layed my head in my hands, I couldn't go there, not now. I needed a clear head. My small apartment in Master Singu's house was getting messy. I hadn't had time to clean lately with all of the monster attacks that had been popping up lately. Ghouls, Goblins, Oni, Ogre, you name it and it's been attacking. Wasn't much we could do with the Banshee, they were more of a signifier then a monster. A signifier of death, and usually they gave me a heads up if the person who's house it's been surrounding, is gonna die. Banshee were cruel looking creatures, never gotten to close to one, they make **** sure of that. Not sure I ever want to. They were ruled by the one and only, Death. And i will gladly stay as far from death as possible. Haven't heard too many good things about him. Death is one of the Four horsemen. Scariest ******* in the underworld, and I would gladly never meet any of deaths brothers or sisters, what ever the gender their welcome to stay away. There was a soft knock on my door, io glanced at the clock on the wall, it was already three. Warriors worked night shift basically, since thats the time most monsters like to come out.
    The victorian styled door was a black cherry carved wood, with a ancient symbols carved in so no evil spirit couls cross into my apartment, so I wasnt worried any monster was at my door. But I was suprised to see Cameron when I opened the door. Cameron and I used to work the nights together until he'd gone off and gotten married to Sylvia, who was a vampire. Vampires were only considered monsters when they didnt follow the rules. No feeding off of unwilling people, only donors, and they couldnt go around killing people. Their biggest rule though was not to tell any human what they were, Warriors like me had a lot of people to execute.
   "Cameron, never thought I'd see you around here anymore," just as I was talking to him I realized, Cameron looked scared and desperate. Unlike someone who spent his life killing evil monsters that were twice the size of him. " What's wrong Cameron?" He shook his head and walked past me, through the door and into the living room. "It's Sylvia, Theon please help me," Camerons voice was going all thick and his eye's all watery. This was deffinetly something bad. " Tell me, what has happened with Sylvia?" I needed Cameron in his most focused form to help me out, but as I looked at the shaking man I knew he was beyond that. " You remember the king vampire we took down to save Sylvia?" Cameron said quitely, but I knew instantly what vampire he was talking about. That vampire had killed Abelia. I quickly swept that from my mind and focused back on Cameron. " Yes I remember, "  I had no idea where Cameron was going with this. " You remember his brother than, the one that got away, he said that we would both pay. He, ah, made you pay that day. I never thought that he would carry out with his threat. He kidnapped Sylvia, and Sylvia is pregnant, " Cameron almost lost it right there.
    I never thought that, pip squeak of a vampire had it in him, but he was smart and possesed powers we hadn't known about until we had come across them. Their king that we had slayed, had been capturing girls of all species and abusing them in such barbaric ways.
We had to put an end to his affairs, and we did but his brother wasn't too happy about it. He'd done one of his tricks and manifested behind Abelia and snapped her neck. Everything for me had stopped, all I could hear was the blood in my veins. I didn't breath, I could still remember the deafining roar I had unleashed as my monster had gripped me, took the reins and killed all of the mans servants.
Blood had bathed the walls that night, not even the crickets dared to sing. The sun rose late that morning, and I sat inside this very apartment, on that very couch, and cried. For the very first time, I had cried until my eye's swelled shut, until my throat could bare no more. Until I passed out.
    "We'll get them back Cameron, don't worry. For now get some rest, we'll start investigating later tonight, I have meeting to attend," I was going to **** that ******* when I found him. He had taken my only love from me, and he would pay this time, I would make that absoultely certain. Cameron nodded and headed for the door. It was a long way back to his house, and he crossed quite a few bridges. I didn't want him making any bad decisions, " Cameron you can crash here, I have a guest room your welcome here man," I say casually so he doesn't get all prideful. He stops and looks at me for a moment then nods " Yeah, thanks man, and also thank you for agreeing to help me on this I know it's a bit of a touchy subject for you, just know i appreciate it." He made his way down the hall, I listened for the soft click of the door shuting before i went to leave.
    I grabbed my coat, and the keys to my Ducatti and ducked out the door. The hallway was long and at the end of it was two flights of srairs, I lived on the third floor. My motorcycle was parked right were I left it, it was a beauty. Black and red sleek metal and nice leather seats. I loved the bike so much I had named her Racer. I loved to drive fast, and so did she. I tore off out of the parking lot and listened to the purr of her engine on the way to Rowan's , my boss, office. It wasnt to far, but I wasn't in a rush either so i took the long road just to stall. I knew Rowan planned on giving me a partner. Probably some ****** that didnt know his way around a swiss army blade, let alone a sword. Warriors didnt use guns unless absoultely necessary. I loved the feel of my sword slicing through the air. I didn't, however, enjoy the noisy bang of a gun. A sword was like another limb, you have to trust it to take you were you need to go.
    Rowan's office light was on, and I could make out the form of three bodies. Great, I knew it, Rowan was going to assign me a partner.
I hated partners, the only one I'd ever slightly enjoyed had been Cameron. I got off my bike, patted the seat for good luck, and made my way into Rowans office. When I pulled open the door I was ready to yell at Rowan for even thinking of giving me a partner, instead i dropped my hand off the doorknob. " *******," was all I coluld say. I was stunned to silence.

The oak has
Words of thunder
Divine connections
                      He shall be your double bass

The willow oh the the willow
Her immortality
And vitality
                      She will be your cello

The windswept Hawthorn
Sacrifice's self to
Sweeten souls
                      She will be your viola

The Rowans shall play together
Enchant with
A final spell
                      They will be your violins

And you
You shall conduct the wilderness
With such intensity
                   The world will slow to attend

Darl! Let's go to Manhattan beach,
There we can catch some fish,
Then you'll cook a nice dish,
That we'll eat under the Beech.

This time, if Jennifer goes,
She'll want to eat a lot of Mangoes,
Then we'll send some by cargoes,
Like we did when we were on hol's in Fargo.

Oh! That reminds me, dearie!
Can you help me cut down this Cherry?
I am not going nuts;
'Cos I earlier made you climb that Walnut.

Just like on Long Island, If not for Jennifer;
I would've broken my spine,
When you wanted me to cut down a Connifer,
But I still got injured by a falling Pine.

Long Islands! That's where we saw many Rowans,
In a forest originally planted by the Romans,
I thought I'd find some of their treasures,
It would've made our memories more to measure.

Those are not Rowans, they are Hawthorns!
Hawthorn? That tree I climbed was without thorns,
Anyway, there's a lot of fun playing with trees,
There's no such adventure that nature gives more free.

Whatever usually paints the sky
Had a change that day and used pastel
Swept a magnum opus of nacreous cloud above
Peonies crisping their petals down to dust
The poppy heads were green and bulbous and
Rowans drooped heavy with orange berries
Holly blue butterflies hung on the burnet
And when the night came to take you
A noctilucent tracery, ephemeral but bright
Sat low in the north, a web of veil that
Wove your shroud in the hot summer night.

If you should climb the Limestone heights that ring the Vale of Gloucester, fair;
and follow the old Roman Fosse; within the hour, you will be where
an echo of the Old ways whispers still... beware! Yet, may remain
something of the legend that besets this place... this dark domain.
For, on the Wolds there stands a hill...
and, on the hill, there stands a wood...
but in the wood, no Rowan grows; and it is said... you really should
take care, if there, you foolish venture in... 'less, you be lost, as well;
For this is Wychwood... how well named.
Its shadowy tale, I now will tell.

lt is told... a young farmhand was cutting Hazel wands one day
to make a clutch of hurdles, for to pen the sheep... oft, want to stray.
When he was by a stand of Rowans, he espied a fair, young maid
laying in a grassy bower... bodice torn, skirts disarrayed.
Thinking she was victim of some importunement... to her side
the farmhand rushed; bent to her... and froze, as her eyes flashed open wide.
And, before his eyes, she changed... no more, blonde hair and eyes of green;
now... a dark-haired, red-lipped beauty...
Arelanna... Wychwood Queen.

Who held him, as one holds a fledgling sparrow, with her depth-less eyes...
her raven hair a'tumbling round her milky shoulders, undisguised.
She studied him with coal-black eyes, her lips made free a tiny smile...
"Come", she said, "for I have need of you, for just a little while."
And led him deep into the stand of Rowans... far, far out of sight,
and slipped her gown before him, standing red of lip, with *******... so white;
and pulled him to her; saying, "Come... for now, we shall beget a child...
a boy; to be the Wychwood King... and I shall name him... Arlafylde.

And so, the Great Rite was performed... the young farmhand... 'naught, but a pawn;
no pleasure found, 'nor offered; just a cold, sick dread of what had dawned
on this spring day which started, just like any other in the year...
but now, he watched her face beset by pleasure... and knew only fear.
She said, "You will not speak of this, or I shall bind you all in spell...
your crops will fail... your beasts will sicken, if, but one soul, you would tell."
Then, the scales fell from his eyes; alone, he stood upon the hill...
and yet, the scoring of her nails upon his back... he felt them still.

He did not speak of this again for many years... his thoughts were sealed;
until upon his deathbed, then, the Wychwood secret, he revealed.
And so the village gathered, and elected they should rid the wood
of Arelanna, Wychwood Queen,  and of her ungodly brood.
They climbed the hill with flaring links, all armed with Holy Water, too...
and circling round the stand of Rowan; therein... Holy water threw.
But not the Arelanna they expected; stumbled from the stand...
no dark-eyed, red-lipped beauty... but a wizened crone with claw-like hands.

The crone was bundled down the hill, and cast upon the village green...
and there, they hanged her out of hand... no trial... no justice to be seen.
They searched again to find the boy... 'though now, in truth; should he exist,
he would be full-grown... but they found 'naught; though nothing there, was missed.
But, what they did not know was this...  Arlafylde watched his mother dance
upon the rope; a shadowy figure in the night... not worth a glance.
Had they but seen his burning eyes; or felt his thoughts that flamed, so bright...
"Now; they shall all know, indeed, why it is they fear the night."

Misfortunes then began to happen... sudden deaths, all unexplained;
cattle dying in the pastures... thatches bursting into flames.
Pestilence and ague creeping... wells befouled, and blighted corn;
injuries that would not mend... the village cursed, and all forlorn.
And, then one day, there came a stranger; darkly cloaked, who walked with grace.
Who knocked upon the Parson's door... cast off the hood, and showed her face.
A dark-haired, red-lipped beauty; eyes as black as coal, with milky skin...
She spoke...
"I am Fenella; daughter of Arelanna... let me in."

This beauty was the first-born child of Arelanna, Wychwood Queen;
conceived in the same manner as her brother,  Arlafylde had so been;
but Arelanna cast her out... a girl-child was not her desire...
and kindly souls had found her, and had shared their home... their hearth... their fire.
And so, Fenella; 'though she had the magic, chose the shining way,
and now, had come to pay the debt she said she owed; from darker days.
She said, "Fear not; my Brother uses magic blemished with his hate;
but, I still hold my mother's instinct for this Art; t'is not too late."

Early in the morning when the Sun was fresh, and all was new;
Fenella climbed the hill to Wychwood, all alone... this thing to do.
To meet her brother for the first, and last time....which one would prevail?
Then she was lost from sight; they said a darkening cloud beset the hill...
and in it, they saw bolts of bright blue lightning, but, there was no crash
of thunder; not a sound to hear... then suddenly... a blinding flash;
and then, the cloud was gone... but where? The people could not understand...
and, there! Fenella walking down... a sprig of Rowan in her hand.

"The deed is done," she softly said, " My evil brother is no more...
'nor, is there now a stand of Rowan cluttering the woodland floor;
for, though the Rowan is a beneficial, magic tree for me;
so polluted, was it, by my mother's deeds... it could not stay.
But... I have sealed the evil in this tiny sprig for just a while...
just long enough to have it blessed; just long enough to un-defile
this little plant, so it may grow again to guard your lives once more
against the darkness you have known, against all that has gone before."

Fenella stayed, and married in the village beneath Wychwood Hill.
Her grave is in the small churchyard. Fenella is remembered still.
For, every year the children come with Rowan sprigs; which then, they lay
upon her grave; in memory still, of what she did for them, that day.
And, on the Wolds there stands a hill...
and, on the hill there stands a wood...
but in the wood, no Rowan grows; and it is said... you really should
take care, if there, you foolish venture in... because a standing stone...
for all the world... shaped like a man, stands in a clearing... all alone.