Kindred Folk -- Into Sidhe

[FennWenn]

Just below the rise they were on was what seemed to be a city of sorts. Fenn hadn’t noticed it before, as it was almost a part of the forest itself. Houses were constructed of ice walls and animal hides, skillfully woven in with the trees. No smoke rose from the settlement. Though, there were flickers of light -- here and there grew tough vines bearing luminescent flowers and fruits.

Oision’s hunters rode into the trees with complete confidence, following trampled paths of snow that seemed to serve as streets. They trotted fast through shady marketplaces and merry throngs of jarring creatures. Past willowy folk in attire as fine as mist, past reedy insect pipers and singers, past vine-crusted creatures with teeth of rock, past sneering men of snarling predator faces, past long-fingered women with eyes like beetles, and hundreds more. A hag with bark for skin bowed to the hunters as they rode by.

Eventually, Fenn stopped trying to figure out what all these creatures were; it was useless. Few of them looked anything alike at all. Were they all fae, or were there other creatures in the mix?

Everyone wore masks. Everyone. Attire varied -- some wore silks, some wore wool, some wore nearly nothing at all -- but no-one went with a fully-exposed face. A white horse with cloven hooves and a silver mask gave him a condescending stare and tossed their gaze away. Fenn’s heart beat faster. He felt the crowd’s peering eyes crawling all over him, and their whispers running down his ears.

“Breathnaionn se eagla…”

“Phleigh Ar Seansaileiri an ceann seo.”

It was just like those trippy dreams he sometimes had, with the revels in the strange forest. The otherworldly environment and masked creatures certainly matched up. Except that, here he wasn’t being politely ignored, and there was no joyous dancing. Fuck. Fenn curled up as much as he could, casting a resentful look out into the leering crowd. He had no idea what was going on. He had no idea what they intended to do with him. Fenn squeezed his eyes shut. Was this merely another dream?

Gods, he hoped so.

Maybe he was asleep, and any minute now, he going to wake up in the snow and everything leering him would vanish back into the fog of his nightmares, where it belonged. Daugi would lick his face, nudge him awake, and be worried.

And then they would go back down the mountain and back to Corone, because this dream was giving him a weird slap of common sense…

This was not a place where he belonged. This was not a place he was supposed to be.