Silver Hound, Black Moon

Bad Dog

Lancard wasn't looking at Havelock, only at Sif, and with an apathetic gaze, it was clear that he expected her to answer him. Sif turned to Havelock with an apologetic look, then to Lancard and took a few steps towards what could have been her imminent doom.

"What do you wish to know?"

"You said you felt called to Lothorn by some inexplicable presence... Caroline tells me that the moon has brought you here to feast on all the beasties... that you're its champion. Are you?"

"I have no desire to do the will of the black moon, in fact, I loathe its presence,"

Lancards nostrils flared "But you do hear it? You can interpret it's will?"

She bit her lip, and her eyes unfocused as she cast her mind back into a realm that burned her skull to think about.

"Not in a way you'd understand... without words, without language. I have... understood it in the past... but that was a long time ago, and it most certainly did not order me to come here,"

"A long time ago? How long have you been killing humans?"

"I- I don't know-"

"Bullshit, count the moons, you're smart,"

Havelock wanted to look at her face, but standing in front of him, all he could see was the back of her head. What was she thinking right now?

"Almost twenty years... I... think..."

She was going to come clean to Lancard, he knew it, but did he really want to know? He only had vague ideas of Sif's past, of some horrible thing she did. Was there something he could not forgive? He struggled to think Sif capable of such a thing.

"...I was young... very young... I lived with a village of thirty, they had raised me since I was four... taught me how to speak and live... even then, I was strong and big,"

She didn't want to relive this, but Lancard didn't care about her feelings, unlike Havelock. She supposed he needed to know too, she couldn't fool him any longer.

"I found a beast at the edge of the village. It looked like me except... wispy... strange... and for a moment, I thought it was family. It stood over a body and filled my nose with..." She looked back at Havelocks forge, ripe with the essence of life, covered in filth "I had never tasted it before in such abundance... the filth in all things, to beasts, is addictive and powerful. It felt... natural to let loose, to give in... and I thought for a moment that I was doing what I was supposed to be doing,"

"That was it then? The moon speaking to you?" he said, his tone hard, unwavering

"More like a shadow of it I suppose... Without words, without speaking, without a voice, it told me to eat... and so I did... I killed the people of that village," Her voice was barely a whimper "thirty faces I will never forget, some of them as young as I was..."

"And how many since then? How many more? Dozens? Hundreds!?" He began to stomp forward, pressuring her into confessing something grave, something he could kill her over

"After the village it was three hunting parties a year, more than enough to keep me going... and when it wasn't in self defence... I was killing because I was hurt, hiding in barns and attics... many, many hunters... and a few innocents... my whole life," she looked down, at her own hands, the tools she had used to gut so many

"And now you're here! You've been drawn in, and the moon has filled my people with your ick! You want to slaughter us too!?'' Before Havelock could intervene, Lancard closed the distance, causing Sif, the great silver hound to fall down and cower from a man who couldn't even scratch her "MY HUSBAND IS SICK! He's marked for DEATH by your hands!" He grabbed her by the collar of her apron, hoisting her to his face "AND YOU! Have thrown Lothorn into CHAOS!" She whimpered like a scolded dog, her eyes wide in shock and terror "SO WHY?! Why have you done this to me? To us? Why can't you just die and let all this end!"