England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
Forest of Dartmoor
5 November 1898, 02:56 hrs.

Kyle blinked. Wide eyes closed and opened again and the wind caressed his feathers. Below him, the tops of the countless fir trees looked like spearheads of obsidian stretching towards the sky. As if they wanted to fight a battle against the night sky, they stood close together like loyal soldiers of Queen Victoria and, to his annoyance, hid the view of the forest floor. The sky was relatively clear, the air current only moderate but cuttingly cold at higher altitudes. He resisted the urge to shake himself, instead stretching the long wing feathers a little more and feeling for the wind flow to loop a little lower. A few seconds earlier he had detected movement in the undergrowth.

He had been disappointed to find that it was villagers making their way through the forest with lanterns. He could not make out the doctor, the men disappeared too quickly into the darkness of the forest, but that was not important for the time being. So he took up altitude again with powerful wing beats and peered intently with his sharp eyes at the treetops.

Whoever looked up into the sky that evening, however, would see nothing more than the inconspicuous shape of a barn owl. Kyle had many talents, his repertoire of spells was considerable for a Seeker recruit and he was proud of it. But few he mastered as well as shape-shifting. As laborious as this magic art was, it always provided him with advantages and unusual perspectives. That night was no exception.

The world shone in his eyes, it almost glowed. The colours of blue and green stood out far brighter and made otherwise inconspicuous contrasts stand out for him. He could not see as much at once, but he could see it far more clearly. His keen hearing picked up the numerous trudges through undergrowth that rose above more subtle sounds, much to his annoyance. But then... something stood out. A sound that seemed brighter, more insistent among the others. Could it have been another scream or shout? He turned away, passing over the flickering little dots beneath the outstretched fingers of needle-like branches. Away from the lonely paths and roads that stood out like earthy rivers between trees, a little to the west where the forest deepened. Then it struck him again... Silence. Was he near the spot where they had found the animals?

The thought had barely entered his head when all at once something gripped tightly around his chest. Kyle felt his heart falter for a moment and, seized by the unexpected sensation, he swayed sharply to one side in mid-air. He lost a good bit of height, then regained his composure and his wings gripped the wind again. Excitement throbbed in his chest, at the same time it felt like a fist wrapped itself unyieldingly around his comparatively small body. Kyle swayed as the vision blurred before his eyes. The flapping of wings suddenly became more difficult and, confused, he tried to pinpoint the source. Stumbling, his heart drummed faster. The beat picked up, then he found it harder to breathe.

At that moment Kyle remembered the bones and the bird. Of all the ravens and the other animals. Of the ruptured heart. Panicking, he flapped more frantically and trundled towards the tree tops far too quickly. He had to land somehow, it didn't matter where. If he lost his form from this height and fell, his fate would most certainly be sealed.

His thoughts blurred. The pressure in his chest hurt. It was a horrible feeling and panic gripped the mage. The pointed crowns came within reach as a rattle occupied his breaths. A metallic taste pressed into his mouth, thick and warm. The world began to spin, white dots flickering before his eyes. Then, all at once, the pitiful remnant of concentration slipped from him and the delicate fabric of the spell burst like a soap bubble. Kyle felt his bones shift. Cracking and crunching filled his ears. The unpleasant sensation of a shape returning to its origin, like dislocating all the limbs at once. Instantly he plummeted like a stone.

With the last vestige of instinct and clarity, he tried to protect his body from the inevitable impact. He pulled his arms in front of his head, his knees to his body, and felt branches hitting him and tearing at him. Needles from the first pricked his skin, leaves struck his face like slaps. Suddenly his fall broke, and gasping, he hit his upper body on a larger branch. Kyle felt a rib crack noisily. He tried to hold onto the branches, but instead, momentum and gravity pulled him further towards the ground and his grip slipped. His world rolled over and spun. He tried to gasp for air but could not. Crackling, popping, breaking branches and then - impact.

Leaves burst open as the seeker hit the hard ground belly-first. Stones and branches dug into his body and every scrap of air was forced from his lungs. With a clang, his walking stick fell just a little beside him, but he had no sight of it. For a few seconds, agonisingly long, he could not move. Not breathe. Panic flooded his mind, then finally - a gasping breath. But the pleasure was short-lived. Kyle pushed himself up and rolled to the side. Panting, he choked, gagging on his blood and coughing out more of it. His chest was as tight as if he were in a vice.

All too slowly, the feeling loosened. The mage tried to pull himself up further, but immediately a black tunnel closed around his field of vision. Every muscle ached. Panting, he struggled for any thought and turned to the side with a heavy gasp. Blood spilling from his mouth, he spat it out and stared at the red streaks. With trembling fingers, he wiped his lips and chin, but he only smeared it more. His chest burned and ached horribly. As if he could change anything with it, he reached for the fabric of his lapels and folds crumpled under his fingers. Everything blurred before his gaze as he tried to bring himself to a stand.

RUN!

The rumbling voice penetrated his mind like a knife through butter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement, but even with the warning, he reacted a second too late. The blow struck him uncovered in the shoulder and chest. Fabric tore audibly as sharp claws pierced him. The force of the attack hurled him to the side. The mage crashed into a fallen tree and sank against it, gasping. Kyle blinked hard, trying to stay conscious, to gather his senses. Scorching pain tore at his chest and he felt hot blood seeping through the tatters of his clothes. Get up! He had to get up! His mind commanded it, with all the strength he had left, but his body did not obey. He felt only leaden heaviness and pain. Something big was moving in front of him. It stank disgustingly and oppressively of damp fur. Clammy, hot air hit his face and Kyle smelled rancid breath.

"Hello!"

A voice drifted to him from a distance. Whatever the beast was with him, it moved away all at once, while rustling footsteps approached somewhere else. Groaning, he struggled to lift his head. There was someone else. Not so far away, only a few steps from him, like a dog handler contemplating the hunting success of his faithful animal and only approaching when the prey was already down. A blurred, dark silhouette. As if a shadow had come to life. Kyle recognised the flicker, the dance of a red flame. From the graveyard. From the forest.

"Who or what the hell are you?!" his mind asked, its solidity melting more with each passing moment. Kyle wanted to squint his eyes. He wanted to ask what or who the thing was. What it wanted. But the Seeker could not bring his lips apart. Iron was on his tongue and the black veil around his senses continued to pull relentlessly shut. Colours disappeared into the darkness. Suddenly someone shook him. He heard his name, somewhere in the distance. Kyle struggled. Tried to dislodge his consciousness from the sticky swamp. Soft words reached his ears. A foreign language he didn't understand. A voice that flowed, and didn't bump syllables. Kyle knew the sound, the tone colour...

"Kyle!" it repeated insistently.

Warm fingers reached for his face and groped for his neck and the wound. Kyle felt pain through the fog of his mind, then a strange, warm sensation seeped into his chest. Like honey poured into too-bitter tea or light milk into black coffee. It felt like summer sun and warm blankets at the same time, coating wounds with cooling ice and soothing ointment. The swamp around his mind diluted all at once. Where before he had tried to get air through the eye of a needle, cool evening air flowed into his lungs without hindrance and he greedily inhaled deeply. Then the curtain that enveloped him was jerked aside. Like a bucket of cold water, perception pelted him. Sounds, feelings, sensations. Kyle widened his blue eyes and stared into the doctor's face.

It was shaped into a worried expression, the eyebrows drew together. His forehead was in deep creases, his gaze almost probing Kyle and his large hand flat on his chest. The last syllables of those foreign-sounding words seeped between them as Kyle's thoughts cleared. What had just happened? He had been wounded and was dying. The memory alone made him shudder, for never before had he teetered so close to the precipice. Balancing on a high wire, yawning emptiness on both sides and nothing more than a thin thread that still held him. But suddenly he was back again as if nothing had happened!

The doctor registered that Kyle had regained consciousness as he felt his way across his chest with the flat of his hand and spread fingers. His fingers slid over the torn clothing, the tattered threads of thick wool of his beautiful coat. They were caked with his blood, but at his shoulder, he felt no open flesh, no torn muscles. There was simply nothing there!

"Come on, get up." Dr Archer grabbed his arm and pulled him determinedly to an upright standing position. Kyle was still a little woozy. Mostly because his mind was spinning like a merry-go-round.

"How did you...?" he began, but the doctor's gaze slid alertly around and then settled back on the Seeker. Firmly he grasped his shoulders.

"What happened?" the doctor probed directly, and Kyle tried to sort out the memories that tumbled over each other and fell flat on their faces. What had happened? What had HE just done!!! Kyle looked down at himself. He could still taste his own blood and the dull throbbing of places that had been broken or at least bruised by branches when he fell. Damn... he hadn't thought of the strange effect this place had on fauna and it had caught him unprepared! He might have survived the fall but what came next...

Kyle's fingers jerked forward and hastily grabbed Archer's arm. At that moment he remembered what had almost snatched him from life. "Benjamin!" he groaned, "There was-". That was as far as he got. A loud growl simply wiped away any further words.