Anthology of the Realms, The Werewolf King

It Begins with a Secret...

The dark fairies who had gathered here quickly silenced their opinions as the cloaked torso entered their view.    Bowing their heads in respect and also fear, they swiftly moved aside and backwards against the tree-line, allowing the monarch to stand at the forefront.

Xiiltharra (Zil-tha-ra), the Enchantress was here.

Relief washed over the dark Fae for they were pleased she was here, the burden of the creature now lay at her feet and they can rest their weary minds.  The responsibility of the sobbing mortal was no longer in their hands.

The Enchantress looked down at the small creature wrapped in thin cloth...it was a newling, a Human baby...female, she sensed.

The tiny parcel ceased its incessant cry and stifled a sniff through its small nose.   The baby girl's mouth curved at its edges and gazed up at the veiled figure with curiosity by way of her bright blue eyes...or was that just the reflection of the dull crescent moon?

....and was that the beginnings of a smile?

"Interesting?"   Xiiltharra noted to herself, her head cocked aside, an eyebrow raised.

Curiosity now flooding the old Fae's educated mind.  The newling should be dead or on its why to dying, for the ground on which it lay was damp and the air temperature surrounding it, freezing.  The cloth that covers the child too thin to retain any heat and warmth is what a newborn requires to sustain life, and yet...here she lay, damp and cold and very much alive, now no longer weeping and no longer afraid but inquisitive by the Enchantresses presence.

Xiiltharra raised her head back into a neutral position, straightened her spine and removed the shroud covering her face.   She waved a nonchalant hand in the gathering Faes' direction, her focus however, never leaving the child and then spoke in a raspy, hardened voice.

"Et shakwyn....be gone. Away with you my kin, I shall take care of the situation now."

The fae, keeping their heads low and knowing better than to respond to the powerful sorceress verbally, silently moved away, backwards through the tree-line, in between the twisted trunks and fog coated undergrowth, and disappeared into the forest from which they came, like haunting apparitions of the night.

The Enchantress continued to stare down at the newling nestled securely amongst the mosses.   She lay contentedly, half buried next to stones that were covered by lace patterned lichen, edging the tranquil waters of the aqueous pool.

Worms, slugs and centipedes breached the decomposing earth, crawling over and under one another, milling around to inspect the entity who intruded on their rancid domain.

Snapping Venus fly traps basked patiently under the dim moon's glow, their mouths open wide, waiting for any unsuspecting moth or insect to wander close enough to fall victim to the sweet smelling and moist carnivorous trap.

The plants edging the pond formed a small canopy above the newborn's head.   It appeared to Xiiltharra's eyes, that it resembled the hood-like structure one might find at the end of a baby's bassinet.  

Curious that the Realms' plant life would behave in such a nurturing manner?  

Plants in the forest live under the motto, "Kill or be killed."