It was just another room of dirt with a marble white table placed in the center. The same eternal blue flames danced on torches to give the witches of Wildwood light. There was nothing special about this room. It was same as all the others in the labyrinth that made up their home. But Edgar Crooster took in the details all the same. Studied the faces of those that still stood around him. Because he knew that this room would be the last that Wildwood would gather in before the end.

    "It has become clear to me that Mr. Hiddleson and Mr. Cast have left us," Edgar announced to the group, watching the mixture of horrified and confused faces. "Fawn discovered one of Henry's tunnels which led to the surface. This discovery, coupled with the missing components in Taylor's lab all but confirm their betrayal."

    "Betrayal?" Ms. Abigail echoed, her face the only one that Edgar could not read. "Does this not mean that Whispermist has forsaken us?"

    "This was not under any order," Mr. York clarified, leveling Rhenoa with a steely glare before looking to the Overseer. "At least none that I have given. These men let fear get the better of them and once the matter with the familiar's have been seen to they will face judgment as well."

    "They would leave us at a time like this," Ms. Garcia said with a low growl tingeing her words. "Fools. If we fall, they will not get far."

    "Their Knowledge is not suited for battle," Edgar said with a simple shrug, "and, unfortunately, that is what this has come to. Ninovan and our familiars are coming for us and there is not much left standing in their way. We have their masters, we have some of the children. There is leverage there, but not if our dear beast master has completely wiped their minds. Our one bargaining chip with her is gone, so she remains the top concern. Violence will almost certainly be needed to put her down."

    "Jin is dead and Giles hasn't shown his face in days," Abigail pointed out. "There is no one in this room who could stand toe to toe with Ninovan and her familiars. Maybe Henry and Taylor had the right idea."

    "Is that treason I hear in your words, Rhenoa?" Mr. York demanded.

    "No, it's practicality." Ms. Abigail kept her focus on the Overseer. "Maybe running is the best move here. We can try and contact Whispermist. They must have Knowers who can deal with this—"

    "This is our mess to clean up, Ms. Abigail," Edgar corrected in a gentle tone. "At least, that is how Whispermist sees it. By their own words they claim to have given more than they had already deemed necessary with Mr. York, the Copper brothers, Mr. Hiddleson, and Mr. Cast. The fact that Mr. York is still here with us shows they still believe in our victory and support us, but only to an extent. If we abandon our post now they will send Knowers who can take care of the problem, but that problem will also include us. Now, I do not know about the rest of you, but I have worked far too hard and sacrificed far too much to turn into just another 'free witch' that has to look over their shoulder the rest of their lives. We of Wildwood created the familiars, and it is our responsibility to dismantle them. In regards to that, Ms. Abigail, we must make ready for our guests."

    Rhenoa Abigail stiffened. "Are we really going to go through with it, then? Maple is with us now, she has calmed, but if we push her too much we might lose her again."

    "Just remind her why she fights for us if you really need to and keep that gun handy. Though I am sure she will keep in mind why it is beneficial for her to remain on our side." Edgar smiled softly before turning to the only person sitting at the table. "Connor? You have been awfully quiet over there. You do remember that you will be a part of this to, don't you?"

    Connor looked up at the Overseer and brushed long strands of reddish-gray hair out of his eyes. His smile was shaky. "I'm not much of a fighter, you know."

    "If all goes to plan, you won't have to lift a finger," the young boy assured him before turning to look at all the witches that gathered around him. "But if things don't go to plan, if the situation becomes dire, run. Hide. Do not feel the need to sacrifice yourselves over this; we have lost too many good Knowers for any of you to play the hero. Do your job and then get out of there. If it comes down to it, I will take care of the rest down here."

    He could already see the confusion and protests waiting to burst out of his comrades, so he held out a hand to put them at bay. "I've been Overseer throughout all of this. Even if it ultimately wasn't through my own power or decision to create the familiars, I am ultimately responsible for them. So do not risk your lives for Wildwood or for me. That is my burden and my burden alone. Does everyone understand?"

    Connor, Maria, and York paused for only a moment before nodding. Of course, Ms. Abigail hesitated and Edgar's easy smile returned when their eyes met.

    "You took me in when no one else would." Her cold eyes looked to Connor and Maria. "You took all of us in, despite our crimes and short comings. You gave us new purpose. I'm not—"

    "Ms. Abigail— Rhenoa— look at me."

    When she did, Edgar almost laughed to see tears threatening to spill down her hardened face. What an odd woman, he thought. He wondered if even her magic could keep her face looking so stoic if he told her the truth.

    "You have done more than enough for me," he lied instead. "You all have. I may have given you sanctuary here, but you all have turned it into what it is today. Home. For now, let us all stick to the plan. Fight your very hardest. But leave any unnecessary sacrificing to me, alright? Please. If any of you still feel that you must repay me in some way for my past kindness, give me this."

    Finally, in unison, Edgar's witches nodded. Soon thereafter, one by one, they all left to make their separate preparations. Rhenoa Abigail was the last one to leave, and she paused at the door nestled in dirt to look back at the young Overseer.

    "If I do run away, it will be to return and fight at your side. Until my last breath, I will not leave you."

    Edgar Crooster chuckled. "That is uncharacteristically dramatic of you, Ms. Abigail."

    "You and Wildwood are my world now. There is nothing for me if I run, and I think many of the others feel the same as I do. I hope you remember that if things truly become dire."

    And with those parting words, Edgar was left alone in the dull, dirt room. Alone with the lazy, blue fire and his thoughts.

    I truly do hope you die out there, full of regrets, instead of returning here and seeing the truth with your own eyes. After everything you have done for me, Ms. Abigail, maybe I am afraid of what sort of look you would give me.

    Edgar Crooster looked down at his dark clothes and suit. Just walking these halls and standing in these rooms coated him in dirt. He had long gotten used to it, and long ago stopped trying to constantly brush it away. The witches in Whispermist probably still laughed at their idea to shove him and the other witches down here in the dark. 'For their protection' Henry Hiddleson had told them.

    What do they know about 'protecting' anything? Edgar asked himself then, as he had done many times. They were the danger the people needed protecting from. They and their 'knowledge'. Their magic. Their deadly connection to powers beyond their comprehension.

    The young boy tightened his gloved hands. His breathing came out quicker, shallower. It was building again. Like a burning bile rising up from his stomach.

    'Fools' Ms. Garcia had called them. Dangerous, deadly, idiotic, fools. A little taste of power and suddenly they think they can rule countries? Control innocent lives? Threaten to tear apart the very fabric of reality?

    Edgar stared down at his fists as they began to tremble and forced himself to calm down. Taking even, deep breaths.

    "It's almost over," he thought to himself. Words he had thought over and over for years until they had practically become a mantra.

    "It's almost over. It's almost over. It's almost over."

    When his body was sufficiently still and his breathing relaxed, Edgar Crooster followed after the witches. The pieces were all in place. He was almost certain he could predict exactly what would come next. There were only a few loose ends to tie up before the end.

    Mr. Copper and his familiar, Lady Louise, Ashling, and Alex Foxy.

...

    Lilly trembled from head to toe. Her dark eyes glared viciously into the wildlife that blocked their way forward. In return, the trees groaned and creaked in their efforts to snatch her away. The grass and shrubs and leaves rustled endlessly as if pushed by a phantom wind. Kat, Stallion, Gust, and Gus all stood around her, all of them just a few feet away, but none of them had the faintest idea what they could do to try and help her.

    Kat glanced in Gus' direction every few moments, waiting for him to cry out that there was danger while he focused entirely on Lilly's small back. Just one word and she would pull Lilly away. Just one word and they would try something else.

    "I can do this," the Quincy girl had said. Her voice rang with a confidence Kat hadn't heard since they were all living in the cabin.

    And Kat wanted to think it was trust that allowed her to go along with this plan, but she could not ignore the quiet desperation that was building in her chest. The growing realization that every second, minute, and hour that passed could be one in which they lose the children, Mary, and Foxy.

    So, when Lilly lowered her arms, Kat had to bite the inside of her cheek to hold off a groan of irritation. She had to remember this wasn't Lilly's fault. This was her Knowledge. It was magic that was driving her to weakness and insanity.

     There was just so little time.

    "Are you alright?" Kat asked as she knelt beside Lilly. "Do you need a break?"

    "My arms just got tired," Lilly said back without looking at the familiar. Though her voice was weak with hunger, her eyes still burned with anger all the same. "I can keep going."

    "Mother!" she shouted into the woods, her voice cracking against the sudden effort. "Let us through!"

    In response, the plant life appeared to thrash even more violently. Violently enough to make everyone take an unconscious step back as the creaking of wood and shaking of greenery started to fill the air around them.

    "Just let me smash through it!" Gust shouted at Kat over the noise.

    "You need to conserve your energy," Kat said back, "and we need Lilly to get control of her power or it's just going to be another obstacle."

    "She's been struggling with this shit since she got it! What makes you think today is going to be any—?!"

    "Shut-up!" Lilly snapped back at them, her eyes never leaving the woods. "I said I can do this, didn't I? So stop talking and let me handle it!"

    The little girl then began walking in the direction of the woods. Gust was already shouting for Kat while the familiar made to scoop Lilly up as mighty tree branches suddenly jutted forward as if to stab into their supposed Master.

    With a great cry of rage and effort, Lilly thrusted her hands upwards, silencing Gust and stopping Kat in her tracks as two of the closest trees, a massive pair of oaks at least ten times taller than Stallion, were uprooted in an instant. Their roots violently pulled out from the dirt as the trees toppled over, crashing backwards into the still rustling plant life behind them, ending their dance forever.

    And Lilly stood there, not but a few feet away from the destruction, desperately trying to control her breathing as her still trembling arms hung in the air. There were still grass and trees and other forms of green life that could reach her, but all was still now.

    "You don't control me anymore, Mother," Lilly hissed through gasps of breath. "You're dead and I'm not. You're powerless and I'm not." The young girl sucked in a deep breath before shouting for all she was worth into the motionless wilderness. "SO STOP ACTING LIKE YOU'RE STILL HERE!"

    No response from the woods. Not a single tremble from a single leaf. Kat watched it all carefully as she stepped up to stand beside Lilly. She only looked down once at the child before focusing her eyes back on the way forward.

    "Are you okay to keep going? Or do you need some time to rest?"

    "I'm fine," Lilly said as she wiped at her eyes. "We still need to eat. I'm going to find food."

    "Stallion?" Kat asked as she turned to face the others.

    "I'm ready," Stallion said to her as he stepped forward. His black eyes looked down to the girl before locking gazes with Kat. "I won't let anything happen to her."

    "I know," Kat thought back to him before turning to Gust and Gus. "We're going to start moving while they are searching for food. We move slowly and with as little sound as possible. As soon as we eat, we move forward with the plan."

    The boys nodded wordlessly. Gus nervously glanced into the quiet woods, his pale face already awash with sweat. Gust appeared calmer, almost like he was forcing his expression to remain stoic, but Kat didn't miss the fact that he kept his tree arm firmly at his side while he used the other to help raise his sister on to Stallion's back.

    The two Quincy's didn't speak to one another, but shared a look that Kat could not place. An understanding deeper than she could ever reach. Lilly only turned away from her as Stallion charged into the woods. Kat and the boys watched them leave until the horse and girl vanished into the darkness of the trees and the sounds of Stallion's heavy footfalls left their ears entirely.

    "From here on out we don't stop," Kat said without looking back at either Gus or Gust. "We move slowly for now, but there won't be any resting. Not until this is done."

    "Or until we're dead," Gust muttered. Gus said nothing.

    Kat thought about answering that. She considered swearing to protect him until her last breath, but maybe he didn't want to hear that. Maybe he didn't care. Trying to understand her charges—the Quincy children—had always been a struggle she was willing to undergo, but now it seemed to her like an impossibility she could not even begin to comprehend. What would they do if everything worked out? What would they do if things went wrong? Did they even care about her or Foxy anymore?

    Impossible. Impossible.

    So Kat took her first steps towards the end without saying a word to Gust. She only knew the boys followed her by the shifting of stones and the crunching of leaves behind her.

    ...

     Kat, Gus, and Gust soon left the salty air and the hot sand far behind them. The sparse trees and wildlife grew more numerous and packed together. The further they went, the stronger a dark, foreboding smell began to encircle Kat's senses. Smells were never her strong suit, but since being partially blinded by her Master, Kat found herself relying on them more and more. She knew very well the bitter smell of blood, the sharp, painful whiff of smoke and flame. But this slow, creeping stench was something far worse. A rot that made the hairs at the nape of her neck stand up.

    It took another hour or so for the boys to notice the smell, and by then it was nearly overpowering. Flies swarmed the air around them while the grass at their feet was sporadically stained a dark brown. Occasionally, they would spot dark, splotchy streaks of what could only be dried blood splattered against trees.

    "Bad, this is really bad," Gus mumbled, his voice partially muffled by his shirt as he used it in a futile attempt to block his nose and mouth from the fetid air that hung around them.

    "Are you seeing anything?" Kat asked him, keeping her own voice low as she scanned the trees and foliage around them. It was getting dark. They had been walking nearly all day, and yet there were no signs of Stallion or Lilly, or the source of all the blood and carnage.

    "Nuh-No, not yet. I need something clearer to, you know, connect the dots. Right now my premonition is just this bad, twisting feeling in my stomach and flashes in my brain."

    "That's called having a panic attack," Gust commented dryly. The Quincy boy was trying to look everywhere at once, his hand absentmindedly massaging the shoulder connected to his tree-arm.

    "What are you seeing in these flashes? Anything?" Kat pressed.

    Gus shook his head and swallowed. "Nothing really useful or that makes sense to me. Sharp, white spikes coated in buh-blood. Maybe teeth. Maybe something bigger. I don't really get a good perspective on it. Things that look like shooting stars. A full moon that spins around and around."

    "Lilly hasn't come back," Gust pointed out, a fraction of a strain building in his voice. "We need to look for them."

    Kat looked from the sinking orange sun to the blood-stained grass. There were streaks and splatters, drips and puddles, but there was also a trail. As if something had dragged itself across the ground. Almost unconsciously, the familiar followed the trail as it led into a deeper copse of trees.

    "Kat!" Gust shouted, making the other boy stiffen. The younger witch's face twisted in anger as he gripped his shoulder tighter and silently stalked after the familiar.

    "Bad. This is bad," Gus continued to mumble to himself, his eyes darting every which way in the dying light. While his brain continued to bombard him with flashes of violence that he could barely understand, he made sure he was not far behind.

    The trail ended not much further into the shaded area. Here, the flies were bloated and much more ramped as they swarmed around the body of a dog. It lay almost in a fetal position, dried blood caked to its fur and head ripped cleanly off its shoulders. The head lay just a few feet away, a mass of flies encircling its eyes and mouth.

    Gus made a sickened, gurgling sound deep in his throat as they all put a hand over their mouth and nose. The stench of death and rot was near overwhelming, but Kat could tell right away how fresh the corpse was. It had been killed less than a day ago.

    "It's one of Madame Terrebonne's," she said from behind her hand.

    Gust stared down at the bloating head of the dog for only a moment more before spinning around and heading back the way they had come. "Screw this. I'm going to find Lilly!"

    "Gust, wait!" Kat shouted after him, she and Gus following closely behind the boy. She thought to reach out for him, but saw how his tree arm shuddered and thought better of it. "I know how bad this looks, but we will only make it worse if we go running off aimlessly in the woods. They know where to find us if they run into trouble. I promise you Stallion is faster than anything Wildwood can throw at us."

    "This was a mistake," Gust said back. He stopped walking, but did not turn around to face Kat and Gus. "Sending Lilly out there by herself was a mistake. You weren't there Kat, you never saw how bad it got for her. You say a few words of encouragement and think she's going to be alright now?"

    "You're scared, Gust, I get that. Everyone is scared. This isn't the ideal situation but your brothers are still out there. Lilly is doing everything she can to get them back and so should—"

    "Don't talk like you understand."

    Kat and Gus both jumped when Gust's tree arm suddenly slammed into the ground with a sound like the cracking of a whip. When the boy turned around, his eyes almost trembled against the severity of the glare he was giving the familiar.

    "You and Foxy both promised to take care of us but instead you abandoned us. You left us alone, for months, to be tortured and abused by those monsters. You can pretend to care now but I know why you are really doing this—"

    A lone, piercing howl cut off Gust's rant. The young witch turned to look back at where the sound had come from, as did Kat and Gus, but it was the only the familiar's keen ears that caught what came next.

    Dogs. Barking, snarling and growling. The cries of a young girl and the rustling and creaking of grass and trees as they reached out to defend her. She was running even before Stallion's voice entered her mind, a last resort they swore not to turn to unless the situation had become dire.

    "It's Terrebonne's dogs. They found us."

...

    Em watched the ground as they walked, the order to not look upon Ninovan still burned into her mind. But she had not been ordered to ignore the way her mother stumbled, nor the occasional hacking of blood or grunt of effort and pain. She did not know where her mother was going, but she knew it wasn't away from the smell of blood and death. It practically darkened the air around them the deeper they ventured into the woods.

    Fear moved like dark tendrils throughout her mind and body. It stiffened her movements, quickened her breath. The cuts and bruises from the past few days of continuous travel refused to heal or, rather, they would heal and be replaced with new ones so rapidly it was like nothing was being healed. The muscles in her legs begged her for rest. The pangs in her stomach begged her for food. But Em was slowly pushing the pain and weakness aside as she focused more and more on the suffering creature that walked ahead of her.

    Ninovan was half the size she used to be. Her body still pulsed with muscle, but no longer was it covered with the dense coat of white fur. The legs were still bent to resemble those of a wolf, but they shook and strained with each step. Scars, sweat, and blood dotted the pale, wrinkled skin of an old woman who was on her last legs. Though Ninovan had ordered Em to not look upon her hours ago, those details never left her mind's eye.

    "Mother should rest," Em muttered.

    Even speaking was becoming a chore. Words were always hard for her to come by, but the pain and hunger made it almost aggravating to try and form speech. She wanted to scream.

    "My children are going straight into the mouth of the beast, and so will I."

    No stopping. No eating. No rest. The promise of death hung all around them, but she would not stop. She would kill them both.

    Em looked down at her hands. The nails were broken and cracked, a few were even missing entirely, but the ones that remained were still sharp. The hill they were ascending was taking its toll on Ninovan. She was panting and stumbling. She was distracted.

    Em's muscles tensed all at once when the bestial woman's foot caught on an exposed root, sending her face first into the rocks and dirt. Before she could move any further, however, a voice caught somewhere between the deep throated growls of a wolf and the soft, broken words of an old woman arose from the form that clung to strength and to life.

    "I understand why you want to do it, Crane," Ninovan looked over her shoulder at Em, locking eyes with the young girl. "But, please, just give me a little more time. I can help you. I can give you back your old life, if that is what you desire. I just need a little more time."

    "Am tired," Em said and, without realizing it right away, tears began to spill down her dirty, bruised face. "Am hurting."

    Ninovan stood back up with some effort. She moved cautiously down the hill towards Em, but the younger familiar tensed and jumped backwards with ease, keeping the same distance between them that had existed since their numbers had been whittled down to just the two of them.

    "Please, Crane—"

    "No!" Em shouted, throwing her hands over her ears. "No more orders!"

    Ninovan watched the familiar throw her head side to side for a moment more before continuing.  "I won't order you, but I do not think I can do this alone. If my other children have abandoned me, you are all that I have left, Crane."

    Em kept her hands pressed tightly over her ears and her head bowed low enough to almost touch her knees. Now that the tears had come, she could not get them to stop. Her entire, aching body trembled against the sobs that wracked it. Without thinking, she had dropped her hands as she fell to her knees, the days of tireless marching finally catching up to her. Dirty clumps of hair hung over her face as she kept her head bowed, seeing them only made the tears come stronger. Made it harder to breath. Impossible, even. Her lungs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves and refusing to open no matter how quickly she tried to suck in air. In another second, she was on her side, slowly rolling down the hill as she grasped at her ever tightening throat.

    And instant later someone was behind her, stopping her from sliding any further with a large hand pressed firmly to her back.

    "You need to control your breathing," a voice said to her. "Big and slow. In and out. I'm right here, so just focus on your breathing."

    The voice was different, but the some of the words were familiar to Em. Like she had heard different variations of them time and time again over the span of years. The deep, even breaths that were asked of her came almost naturally. In through the nose and out through the mouth. The tension leaving her head and the pressure alleviating from her lungs came coupled with a bitter taste of nostalgia. Bitter because she could not recall ever being in this position before. She could remember the term 'panic attack'—remember the physical sensation of their control over her in the past, but places and people and circumstances were nothing but blurs in her broken mind.

    But her breathing did come back. Control returned to her limbs. The tears stopped. When Em opened her eyes she found herself staring into the blackened pits that belonged to her new 'mother'.

    "Crane helps Ninovan," she said, her voice barely able to form a whisper. "Ninovan takes Em home."

    A gentle smile spread across the old woman's face as she slowly lifted the girl up into her arms. "That sounds like a fair trade to me. Thank you, Crane."

    Em nodded, already feeling her eyes begin to close. Maybe her mother had grown back some of her fur when she wasn't looking. It was the only explanation she could think of why it felt so warm being cradled in her arms.

    "Rest now, my child," Ninovan said softly as she felt the girl slacken. The old woman stood still on the side of the hill, cradling the last of her children and allowed herself to enjoy the sensation for as long as she could.

    It was only a familiar voice cutting unintentionally into her thoughts that caused her head to snap up. Though it lay somewhere beyond the hill and still miles more into the surrounding forest, she now knew exactly where to go next.

    With renewed strength, Ninovan pushed her broken body back up the hill, being careful not to let her Crane slip out of her grip.

    "I'll wake you when we get there."

...

*Author's Note*

Mother's really do come in all shapes and sizes, don't they? Sometimes, multiple shapes and sizes in the same day!