||Tw Depictions of Animal Death||

Entering the village was nothing compared to what Carmilla had been accustomed to. It had been so long since she was surrounded by so many, even if it those glares and wide eyes filled with terror weren’t quite welcoming. She couldn’t blame the villagers, as she had been around long enough that they deemed her a part of those wretched Lycan.

She had hunted the village every once in a blue moon, but it was never something she liked to do. And by the way mothers would shield their children and the men brandished their tools and axes in a promised threat, they knew what she was. Luckily she hadn’t seen a pitchfork or torch directed at her yet. The reason for that only coming to her when a woman gasped at the Beneviento crest on her cloak. And it seemed everyone that caught sight of it would give Carmilla a distance that rivaled the tallest tower of the castle in the distance.

She tried her best to not give them much thought, but the longer she wandered about the town, the tighter her chest became. She had to find this merchant and scatter before the villagers decided to disregard her own nature and attack her in numbers. Such a thing had happened once, and she cringed at that thought.

Once she neared the center of the buzzing town, a large wagon stuck out like a sore thumb. Such a thing was way bigger in scale than she would deem necessary. That must be the merchant’s caravan Donna mentioned. With a new direction in mind, she stayed to the sidelines as she reached the closed doors of the coach. Her hands held tight onto Celeste, her nerves burning her throat. The soft feel of the dolls hair giving her some solace to that rising panic. She nearly jumped in her spot when the hatches opened, and a burly man quite literally spilled out, his jovial voice grunting as he righted himself.

“I have been waiting for you, Miss Stoica,” He said with a cheeky grin. Carmilla’s breath caught in her throat. She stepped forward, the reluctance to engage with this man showing in her steps.

“How do you know my name?”

“Anyone who is anyone has heard of the likes of you. A human nor Lycan they say…” He said as he clamped his beefy hands together, gold rings glimmering in the evening sunlight. She opening her mouth to protest but he carried on speaking.

“Though I must say that broach of yours arouses suspicion,” His beady eyes flicked to the clip, a knowing smirk on his plump face. Instinctively Carmilla’s hand brushed the silver, her fingernail digging into its grooves.

“And you don’t?” She countered back with a defensive bite. That must have been hilarious to him as he let out a boisterous laugh, his fleshy stomach bouncing along.

“I am but a humble merchant!’

“I was made aware of that…” She deadpanned, eyeing the many trinkets hanging about his coach.

“Forgive my manners, call me the Duke. Now to business?” He said, gesturing to his stock of supplies strewn about.

She grunted, rummaging around to pull out the now wrinkled envelope Donna instructed to give to him. She held it out, and he took it tenderly.

“Quite a mystery you are Miss Stoica,” He said as he peeled the black seal off, his eyes scanning the contents. A warm smile grew as he reached the bottom.

“Well look at that! You’ve got yourself quite a friend Miss Stoica!” He peered over the parchment, a gleam in his eyes. Carmilla lifted a brow.

“Excuse me?”

He puffed out a silent chuckle, a smirk on his plump face as he lowered the letter and handed it back to her. “Lady Beneviento is quite the meticulous woman.”

He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a hand sized pouch. It was considerably heavy in Carmilla’s grasp once he dropped it in her hands. “She’s advised that you keep yourself comfortable, she’s arranged lodgings for you and a large sum of Lei that will last you the winter.”

Carmilla stood speechless, the words blank on her tongue as she stared at him bewildered.

“What?”

“See for yourself,” He waved to the opened letter in her hand. Her head craned to the small writing, noting the curved ink. Most of it was an explanation to the Duke but at the bottom, the letter was addressed to her.

Carmilla,

You needn’t worry to repay me, I only ask that you visit Angie…

Her gut twisted, there was no doubt Angie had asked such a thing, but something in her felt as if Donna was too shy to admit that she too wished for her company. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. She smiled to herself anyway, the sentiment appreciated nonetheless.

“Your means of dwelling are with the Lupus,” Duke said, effectively breaking Carmilla from her musings.

“I’m sorry what?” Her attention shot to the corpulent man, alarm tensing her shoulders. The thought of living with complete strangers set off sirens in her head. There was no way that could end well. What if they knew what she was? What she’s done…

“Rest assured, Lady Beneviento and the Lupus are on good terms,” The Duke encouraged, “More so the daughter, Elena.”

A spike of something hot and unpleasant soured Carmilla’s whole being. “Elena? What’s her relationship with the lady?” The question seemed innocent enough, but the maliciousness must have peeked through her guise. The Duke brushed if off with a twinkle of his eye and a wink. She hated that knowing look.

“Well, she and the Lady once had quite an interesting arrangement.”

Carmilla felt that same sharpness of avidity bubble up tenfold in her limbs and chest. God she despised that feeling. There was nothing between her and Lady Beneviento that would arise such a feeling of jealousy. She stifled the scowl that jeopardized her stoicism, her hands gripping onto the strap of her satchel with a strength that should have ripped it.

“Where can I find her?” She played off her words with a rational curiosity to mask the overpowering annoyance in her jaw. She would be chastising herself later for this frivolous anger.

Her mind wasn’t at full capacity when the Duke gave her the details on where to find this Elena woman. All the intrusive thoughts scrolling through her mind like a violent and bloody film.

“Thanks, Duke,” She said through her teeth, not bothering to wave him a farewell, but he reciprocated her passive goodbye with a gentle wave and an irritating smirk on his face.

The rest of her walk was blurred out by the overcrowded thinking, and the confusion to where she was headed. The Duke was clear with his directions, but the distracted brewing in her head had thrown her off. She had taken at least two wrong turns before she began to feel seething aridity build up. She stopped in a small alley with crates and a tin trash can. Unable to reel in her animosity, the garbage can took a wicked kick to the side. Her heeled boot landing harshly, the dirt below her puffing up in a cloud.

“Fuck…” She wiped away a strand of hair from her face, her breath labored as she composed herself. But something from the corner of her eye shifted. It was subtle, but not enough for her keen senses to to pick up right away.

“Who’s there?” She called out, but no answer came from behind the crate she saw it move behind. With caution she neared the back of the alley, a bead of sweat trailing down her hairline. A shuffle of something flapping made her flinch, having her pause from her approach. A broken call of a bird echoed up the walls. At first Carmilla’s eyes only caught darkness when she peered over the crate. But the gray overcast revealed black torn wings and a chipped peak covered in red. Her breath stilled, black beady eyes staring up at her in frenzy. She leered closer, kneeling down slowly to not scare the crow, thoughtfully reaching out to it. The poor thing scattered back against the alley wall, its damaged crawl piercing her ears. Blood spoiled the place it sat, its stomach slashed open. Its eyes dimmed slightly as she tried to touch it again, its ability to dodge her hands diminishing.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” She whispered to it, but it didn’t listen as it’s head lolled to the side. A pang of remorse cut into her heart as she realized just how close to death it was. A somber smile weighed her lips as she scooped up the bird into her arms, holding it close as it slipped away. It let her hold it, its little head resting against her body in resign. She stood up from the floor, her eyes glued to its weak body.

“Let’s find you somewhere to rest okay?” She cooed softly, her eyes beginning to sting. Emerging from the alley, she took a sharp left back into the street. She kept her attention solely on the bird, scanning for every sign of death it presented; waiting for the moment of absence. But the sound of someone’s murmuring had her whip around.

It was a woman, far from Carmilla’s physical age. She stood hunched and broken, her whole weight depending on a staff with alarming trinkets of two human skulls adorned in gold and silver coin. The top of the stick were a pair of deer antlers with beads and metals hanging like clacking wind chimes.

The tip of her stave ground into the winter mud, the image it created too obscure for Carmilla to decipher. Black torn fabric wrapped around the old woman in a semblance of a robe, peeks of wiry hair sticking out of her hood. From the distance she was, Carmilla couldn’t quite catch onto the low chanting. But the sound of hollow cackling was loud enough to echo against plastered walls and shuttered windows.

The crow in her arms squirmed, its wings beating weakly as it called out in shattered notes. A chain of events happening in a matter of seconds. In the distance a strident bell sung out through the valley, the chime luring a crowd of birds to scatter from their perches. Carmilla shot her head up to scour the sky, watching a murder of crows flock around the roofs and barren clothing wires. The bird in her arms tried to do the same, but instead it fell hard to the ground. Carmilla reacted quickly to catch it, but before its broken body could be retrieved its neck snapped.