The town is small, nestled in bright green fields and tall grass and lively flowers. Wooden beams and white concrete make up the houses, which sit in messy rows on either side of narrow stone paths. A dirt path extends outwards, leading to the entrance, which isn't but a few small huts and two slim guards. Both of them are sitting on old tree stumps, chatting to each other like nothing is amiss. Not many come through here, judging by their nonchalance.

Above the various buildings and the high chimneys, spruce and pine trees tower. That is the forest, farther south, far yet close to the town at the same time. Clown regards it curiously as his horse walks towards the entrance, seeming to know where they need to go without being led. The guards don't regard him until Bloodlust almost steps on them.

"Ah, Bounty Hunter! Welcome!" One of them says, the man with a dull spear and chainmail armour, as he steps out of the way of the stallion. The other guard holds a sword, though the blade looks dull and harmless in his hands.

"Hello." Clown greets them in turn with a small bow of his head.

"Are you here for the forest?"

"I am. Who do I need to talk to?"

"Our lord will be happy to hear it! He's in the town hall at this time of day- it's the tallest building at the plaza, you can't miss it."

"Is there a stable around here?"

"Just over there, turn right–"

With the general direction of the stable, Clown kicks his horse into motion. He's always been good at finding things with little knowledge of their whereabouts and this time isn't any different. The streets are narrow and grow even thinner the farther in he goes, meaning that he won't be able to wander around on his horse through the streets. The stable isn't easy to locate through the clutter of houses but after asking yet another local, he has a stall secured for his stallion. He finds it weird that the stable is within the town's walls, though with the unknown threat of the forest at its borders, perhaps there is something he's missing.

Before he leaves, he unlatches his scythe from the saddle, where it was hanging. He straps it onto his back, on a leather belt that passes over his shoulder, under the cape and over his torso and it's secured with a satisfying click. Most of the staff is hidden under his cape but the dangerous blade and the grip protrude over his head and near his right hand respectively. It is a massive weapon, fit only for his hands to wield.

The town's lord and his lady wife look at him wearily from across the table of the town hall. It was mandatory to visit him so that Clown could lay claim over the bounty's reward. The price was high, well-worth the risks that needed to be taken, though there was no more information than the rumours he'd heard. Fairly satisfied, he walked out of the town hall, ignoring the cautious glares on his back.

The townsfolk regard him with narrowed eyes full of suspicion. He does look out of place, just a bounty hunter –marked by the horned mask– in a small town with a giant horse and a huge scythe that could reach its target from two metres away. He looks dangerous; he is dangerous but not to the innocent people whose lives aren't worth any amount of coin.

The forest should be quivering instead of them. It should be bowing, the trees trembling with fear at Clown's sharp glare, shedding their leaves in surrender. Better yet, it should be whatever mystery is hiding inside its trunks and foliage and needles that should be afraid. Clown's hands itch with the urge to explore, to venture into the depths and retrieve the head of a monster.

For now, he finds an inn. It is late, the sun already riding along the horizon on an orange sky. It took him days of continuous travel to make it here and he needs rest and energy before he attempts to take on the heart of the forest.

The innkeeper doesn't look at him any less weirdly. Regardless, she takes his money all the same and gives him a key to a room above the dining area. The customers aren't any different than the guards: poor, dressed in browns and light peach, used to peace but distrusting of strangers. Sunflower yellow catches his eye, drawing his gaze to a man sitting in the back of the tavern as if he were hiding. He sticks out like a sore thumb. A bowl of steaming stew rests on the table but his eyes are on Clown instead of the warm meal in front of him. His gaze isn't narrowed like everyone else's; it's wide and awe-filled, the spoon in his hand stilled half-way to his mouth.

It is strange but not strange enough to keep his attention, so Clown proceeds to the staircase that leads to the housing of the inn. His room is at the end of the corridor and as his heavy boots thump on the floor, he hears someone climbing up the stairs in a hurried manner. The same sunflower colour enters his vision as the man hauls himself over the last step, almost tripping over his own feet. Clown doesn't regard him, focusing on the mundane task of slipping a key into a door's lock.

"Bounty hunter!" the man shouts. Over the mild levels of noise downstairs, Clown doubts any of their words are going to be overheard. Sighing but not letting go of the key in the door, he turns to face him.

The mantle that sits over his shoulders and flutters down to his waist is the yellow that caught his eye, adorned with various designs of a deeper hue that Clown has never seen before. Underneath is a deep blue tunic, reminiscent of the sea and black trousers that are baggy and encase his ankles. The dark chestnut colour of his eyes is complemented by the tan of his skin.

"Do you have a moment?"

"What is it?"

The man straightens up immediately, chestnut eyes widening at their edges.

"You're here for the forest, right?"

Hesitating for a moment, Clown nods, wondering where this conversation is going to lead. Any information about Lifesteal Forest is as good as gold now, and he'll take what he can get after the conversation with the town's lord bore no fruit.

"I want to come with you."

Tilting his head, Clown can't believe his ears. This... wasn't what he expected to hear. The people of this town are scared to mention the forest's name, afraid that uttering it will anger it but this man... This man is strange but, apparently, he is also stupidly brave. He certainly looks determined to go in there and challenge the forest's ghosts.

"No." he says with finality, "You would only hinder my hunt."

With that, he turns the key, managing to open the door just a crack before the man speaks again.

"I can help you! I've been in Lifesteal and I've walked its paths! I know the way in and out better than anyone else– well, there is no one else who has made it out alive..." he murmurs the last part but Clown's sensitive ears pick up the quiet words. "I can be your guide, free of charge."

He stands still as stone in the doorway of the room, contemplating. The likelihood that those words are lies is high but what would this man hope to gain by entering the forest lusting for life alongside him? The forest is rumoured to offer only death and misery to its victims, there is nothing to be gained until Clown puts a stop to it... Maybe he's after the reward money but even so, Clown won't share it. A guide would be helpful anyhow.

"What is your name?"

The smile that spreads across a tanned face is big and genuine, showing neat, square teeth.

"Rek."

Clown offers a hand and his name. Rek grasps his hand and shakes it in a firm grip.

"Come find me at the stable tomorrow at sunrise. I won't wait." he tells him, opening the door to his room and entering with a single step. As the door closes behind him, he barely hears Rek's reply.

Rek appears from the narrow streets, short, brown hair dishevelled from sleep, when Clown is fixing the saddle on his stallion. The horse huffs at the sight of the stranger and his owner pats his strong neck placatingly.

"Hey, I'm not late, am I?" Rek asks, bending over and sucking in a breath of air. Evidently, he hurried here.

"You aren't riding on my horse." Clown says. He doesn't like the idea of a second rider and his horse even more so. Bloodlust had only ever let one man aside from Clown on his back. Rek would be bucked off the moment his foot slipped into the stirrup.

Rek raises his head in realisation. He waves over the stablehand, asking for his horse. The worker appears with a light brown mare in tow, led by a lead. The horse's ears perk up when she notices her owner, shaking off her mane. Bloodlust turns his head to look and then promptly turns away in indifference. Clown climbs into the saddle, tugging the girth one more time to make sure it's tight whilst Rek fixes his own.

The yellow mantle flows elegantly as Rek swings on his mare with a squeak of leather. They –only Rek– bid the stable worker a rushed goodbye and the horses are set in motion.

Galloping, they round the perimeter of the small town and Clown jumps over the river. Rek has to wade and splash through it, since his horse isn't as strong as his own. The mare has a hard time catching up, Rek trying to push her to go faster. Clown's horse barely breaks a sweat at the speed they're going.

By the time they reach the treeline, halting a generous distance away, both of the horses are huffing from exercise. Clown swings off of his horse, grabbing the reins and passing them over its head to lead instead of burdening it with his weight. Rek does the same just a few paces behind him, the mare's step immediately picking up.

Looking upon the forest, the pines are tall, branches straight and bathed in deep green needles, expanding to cover the ground in grave shadows. There are no marked paths that Clown can see, although there is a track of wheels preserved in cracked mud, seemingly made by a horse-pulled cart.

"That's the route most people take to go through." Rek says from beside him, pointing at the wheel marks. "None of them return. However, there is another path through the treeline but it is too thick for the horses to–"

"Then we leave the horses here." Clown says casually, shocking Rek into stumbling over the rest of his words. They are a long ways away from the town, meaning that they'll have to leave their rides somewhere amongst the trees, where a pack of wolves could happen upon them. It's fine; his horse has taken on way bigger beasts than a handful of wolves and certainly, the town's sheep herds make for an easier target and a tastier meal.

"Are you sure? It's dangerous– we could return them to the stable."

"We're losing daylight and I'd like to be out of this forest by nightfall."

Already, the sun has peeked over the small hills, its rays shining over the outline of the town, shadowing the concrete walls and the oak frames and bathing the tile roofs in light.

"Oh– Okay, then."

The horses are tied to the underbrush within the forest's treeline, hidden from anyone who might pass by.

"Show the way... guide." the last word is uttered with more gravity. Clown hopes it carries over the threat of what is to come if Rek has lied to him about being the sole survivor of Lifesteal. Rek's expression becomes a little nervous.

"Right away!"

The path Rek shows him is only a few steps away from the horses. The trees are thin but there are so many of them crammed in a small space. It is difficult to move even on foot due to the roots that slither across the dirt and grass, which is probably why all who trekked through here used the wider opening, where those wheel marks are.

Boughs and needles cover them in shade, making the forest dark and scary. Birdsong reaches their ears as they walk, which gradually fades the farther in they go. Bushes surround the trees, vines clamber strong trunks and moss decorates boulders. Then, the only sound that can be heard is their own breathing and two pairs of footsteps.

"This is where it begins." Rek says in a whisper as he watches the trees. "The moment the forest quiets–"

"Birds stay quiet when a predator is nearby." Clown states. "The question is whether it's the predator we're after."

Rek shakes his head.

"No. No, there is no predator around. Just look around you."

So Clown does.

The forest has changed. The green leaves have turned yellow, brown and orange. The trees have grown taller, seeming to disappear completely above the canopy. The shadows warp and play in a smokey fog that slithers and splashes against their legs like a sluggish ocean. Violet tints the barks and the fruit the underbrush bear. Nightshade blooms crawl on the trees in place of the vines that were there previously.

Within moments, the forest has changed. This is where the forest begins. This is where the real Lifesteal is.

"Do you see it?"

"Yes."

The man breathes through his nose.

"This is where the real forest begins." he sounds Clown's thoughts.

The autumn leaves rustle as if to respond to Rek's words. The branches shake as if to laugh, to mock the two men who have entered it. Clown looks up and sees the canopy form continents of leaves and branches, divided by rivers of black.

"Look!"

Rek's voice brings Clown's eyes down. He sensed no danger around them, so when he sees a floating ball of violet and sky fire, he becomes curious.

"A Will-O-Wisp." he says as he reaches for his scythe. "Why is there only one?"

"I don't know, I've only come across this one and it tends to lead me deeper into the forest." Rek says. When he takes a step forth, breaching the notional line of distance between him and the floating ball of fire, the Wisp moves away.

Clown grins below the horned mask, swinging his scythe to the side, cape billowing behind him.

"It looks like this is where my hunt begins."