The first thing Autumn noticed as she lay panting on the soft grass, having just successfully clambered up out of the bottomless gorge beside her, was that the night sky hanging over her head was not the same as the one she’d witnessed just hours ago. For one, it boasted a beautiful cosmos of twinkling stars, bright nebulas, and a pair of moons. One large, the other small.
The larger one was a familiar white and dotted with craters, while the smaller one peeking shyly from behind its brother was blue. Both celestial bodies lacked the madness that plagued the Feywild.
Autumn didn’t recognize the constellations, but she could only conclude that she’d escaped the Plane of Faerie.
Tears poured from her eyes as she sobbed unabashedly.
There was no one around to witness her pain, save the heavens above and the midnight breeze of summer. It rolled gently over the pastures and hills, swaying the long grass like the waves of an ocean. The breeze provided comfort on the hot night to the slumbering livestock and the lone witch who gazed up at the umbral ocean through tearful eyes.
She lay on the grass, allowing time to pass her by as she heaved out her emotions until she could find no more to unburden herself of. Wits regained, Autumn staggered to her feet against the wishes of her abused body, and gazed around at the hills lit by twin moonlight.
Vast fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, broken up only by small clusters of trees dotted here and there. Thankfully, they were of natural height. Herds of hulking cattle slumbered in the fields, watched over by smoky farmhouses. Civilization! The cattle were twice as large as those of Earth, and possessed four eyes and four massive horns.
Glinting eyes watched the witch warily as she stood within their fields. A snorting bull urged Autumn to vacate the pastureland quickly.
In the far distance, the lights of a small village glimmered in the dark. Like a lantern-lure, it pulled her aching feet toward itself, promising shelter and maybe even food and drink for coin. Autumn just hoped that unlike an anglerfish’s lure, there weren't sharp teeth awaiting her at the end.
Behind her back, the forest of the fey loomed, fading back into the dark. One-by-one, hundreds of malevolent red eyes blinked open. Sharp teeth grinned.
It took Autumn hours to walk the distance to the village.
Under the pale illumination, she blundered through farmlands and fields, dodging around slumbering cattle and restless watchdogs, until she stumbled upon a dusty road leading to the village in the distance. Stumbled is the right word for it as she’d tripped over and discovered it with her face. While rubbing her throbbing nose, she was just grateful nobody was around to see that.
Likely, if anyone saw her in the state she was in, they might think her a ghast or ghoul out on a midnight stroll and lock their doors. Still, Autumn wasn’t about to be deterred by a road to the face. She picked herself up and marched on.
Over the hills, she walked, seeking asylum of humanity.
Autumn stopped before the entrance to the village, casting her gaze over the cluster of houses.
Calling it a village was generous, as it only consisted of four houses built around a crossroads, one of which looked to be an inn or local tavern. A series of small tables and benches rested in a dusty yard in front of the building. The other buildings possessed well-kept herbal gardens in front. Peeking around, Autumn spied a forge in the backyard of the home opposite the inn.
They weren’t modern houses, that she was sure of. They were made of white-washed adobe, stone slabs, and clay tiles. Likely, this was just a rest stop for farmers on their way to a local market in the city. Wherever that was.
Judging by the smoke billow up out of the chimneys, the villagers were all tucked in for the night.
Autumn swallowed her nerves and approached the inn. A sign hung from its wall, which Autumn found she could read. “Duskmoore Inn,” it read in a language Autumn now knew was Infernal.
She paused.
Infernal? That was the language of demons, right? Suddenly, Autumn didn’t feel so confident about entering the inn. Still, she couldn’t just sleep outside. She had to take a chance. Maybe demons were friendly here? A girl could dream.
The smell of cooked food and stale alcohol wafted out from inside. Autumn’s stomach growled in anticipation like a furious beast as she salivated. Listening at the door, she heard only a faint bustle of activity emerge from within. The owner preparing for tomorrow, perhaps?
Slipping her wand into her hand, hiding it within her billowing sleeve, Autumn pushed the door open and entered the inn.
Immediately, she was struck by a welcoming warmth that drove away the night chill. Pipe smoke and incense tickled her nose. Looking around as her eyes adjusted to the candle-lit interior, Autumn took in the cozy atmosphere. Thick cobblestones lay underfoot, worn smooth by time and spilled drinks.
A warm fireplace crackled merrily away along the left-hand wall, before which lay a massive fur rug of some beast she’s never seen before. An iron cauldron sat within the fireplace, empty apart from the few remains of the evening meal she’d missed. Above the mantle hung the head of a massive boar. Its savage tusks gleamed in the firelight.
There were no chairs in this establishment, only small cushions which were currently piled up by the fireplace, and a series of low tables stacked to the side. Unclean plates and tankards lined the tabletops, stacked and awaiting cleaning for tomorrow's service.
Looking to her right, she noticed a time-worn bar, bedecked with generations of ale stains. It separated the front of the inn from a storehouse behind a shut door. Behind the bar was a row of shelves upon which a series of drinks resided. Most likely, they were all alcohol of some kind.
Mounted above the bar in pride of place was a medieval weapon of war. It was a polehammer – a type of two-handed warhammer. Its hammerhead was made of iron, and its haft was a rich dark wood. While it was well-cared for, the weapon was scratched from a lifetime of combat.
Autumn timidly approached the bar and rapped on the bar thrice. She flinched as the sound echoed through the room, having knocked louder than she intended. “Hello?” she called shyly.
The sounds of work from the backroom ceased before heavy footfalls approached.
Immediately, Autumn’s nerve fled her as she remembered she was an introvert. Not only that, but she looked a mess. Stubborn twigs had strangled themselves within her tangled tresses while mud, sap, and other dust coated her body. Plus, she hadn’t showered in a while so she smelled ripe.
As the owner of the inn ducked through the storeroom door, Autumn’s jaw dropped as she took them in.
A towering demoness stood before Autumn’s eyes, complete with ruby-red skin and a set of massive horns that curved upwards toward the ceiling, making her look even taller than she already was. She had to be nearing seven-feet even without the horns. However, she wasn’t just tall, but muscular with a rippling psyche that glistened with sweat in the firelight.
Her hair was black and shaved at the sides to run between her horns in messy locks, trailing down her back in a long braid. Unlike human eyes, the demoness didn’t possess whites or even a pupil, only a solid golden orb, making it hard to tell what she was looking at. Elven ears sat on either side of her stern features.
As for her clothing, she wore a white top dusted with gray flour that looked to be struggling to contain a mighty bust, and a pair of tight pants clinging desperately to her herculean thighs.
Autumn wasn’t the only one shocked in this first meeting.
The demoness took in the witch with some hesitation, golden eyes filled with trepidation. Witches around these parts didn’t have the best of reputations, let alone one that looked to have crawled through a bramble hell. Still, guest rights were to be respected even to one as troubled as the witch before her.
Neither spoke for a long while.
Luckily for Autumn, the demoness broke the silence first.
“Welcome to the Duskmoore Inn. Meals are twenty copper. Rooms are thirty. Ale is three to five depending on your preference. Hot water comes free with the room,” she said, eyeing Autumn’s road wearied clothing. Her voice was strong, yet held a natural warmth to it.
Autumn jumped slightly at the sound. Fumbling for her money, she withdrew a handful of coins and placed them on the bartop. “Um, do you take these? I found them in an old hut, so I’m not sure if they’re any good.”
The demoness glanced at the coins, picking them up one-by-one to examine them and test their weight. “Your Infernal is pretty good. Not many humans bother to learn it.”
“Oh, um, thanks?”
“You speak like a local. It’s curious, is all,” she said. “I can accept these. Although, unfortunately, I’ve not got any meat left for today, but I still have some bread left, if you’re alright with it being a bit stale.”
“I’ll eat just about anything, honestly. Oh!” Autumn exclaimed, remembering what was in her pack. Opening it, she withdrew the snake and placed it on the counter, much to the demoness’ surprise. “Can you do anything with this?”
The demoness picked up the snake, turning it over expertly in her hands. “A Goldbrow? Nice catch, they’re hard to find. But, sure, I’ll cook it up for you. Do you want to keep the skin?”
“Uh, not really, no. I wouldn’t know where to sell it,” Autumn shrugged. “You can keep it.”
“Alright. That’ll be thirty copper for the night. Do you want any ale or beer? We have a good Duskbrew in stock. Oh, and my name is Nethlia, by the way.”
Looking through her coins, Autumn realized that she only had thirty-two copper, and she had no idea of the exchange rate. If she wanted a beer or ale, which she really did, she’d be a copper or three light. “Uh, I’ve only got thirty-two copper on me,” she said, putting the coins on the counter top. “But, uh, I have a silver if you can break that?”
“Don’t worry about it,” the demoness said, pushing back two copper coins. “I’ll cover it seeing as how you gave me the snake-skin. What would you like to drink?”
“Uh, just whatever you recommend,” Autumn said. Honestly, she had no idea. Not only was she clearly in another world, but she’d never tried alcohol before.
“Alright,” Nethlia said, swiping the coins off the counter into her pocket before picking up the snake. “Just take a seat by the fire, and I’ll bring it to you shortly. You got a name?”
Autumn hesitated. “Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but you aren’t trying to steal my name, are you?”
Nethlia blinked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Cause I’m a demonkin? Do all you humans think we steal names and souls?” she asked, offended.
“No! Nothing like that! It’s just that, I had a run in with some…creatures that could do that recently, and it’s just been on my mind,” Autumn rambled. “Sorry.”
“I get it. I’ve been through some stuff myself,” she said, gesturing to the warhammer above the counter. “I used to be an adventurer before I inherited this place. I promise I’m not trying to steal your name or anything else.”
“...I’m Autumn.”
The demoness blinked. “What, like the season? I thought you humans were superstitious about that kinda stuff.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Autumn huffed. “Sort of how I got into trouble.”
“Sounds rough,” Nethlia smiled. “Well, I’ll go cook the Goldbrow up for you and fetch you a nice Duskbrew from the back. You just settle down by the fire. Don’t be afraid to toss another log on if it gets low.” Saying that, the statuesque demoness headed back into the storeroom to prepare Autumn’s meal. A long demonic tail swished behind her as she turned.
Autumn watched her go. “I wonder if all demons are that tall…and that buff,” she muttered under her breath.
Tearing her eyes away from the demoness’ hips, she tucked her wand away, and hurried over to the fire, practically collapsing into a soft cushion she set before the blazing warmth. A soft moan escaped her as she took the pressure off her aching feet.
The heat lulled her beleaguered form into a daze. Having found sanctuary at last, her eyes grew heavy beneath the shade of her hat. Slowly, she began to drift off into a half-slumber.
Time ticked by in the form of dancing flames.
When the demoness innkeeper returned with her dinner, Autumn was nearly asleep. A bowl and mug were placed quietly down on the table beside her, but even that slight sound jolted her exhausted mind awake. Her heart raced. She halted her hands as they’d been snatching for her wand and knife.
Nethlia looked at her knowingly without judgement. When Autumn calmed, she spoke. “Sorry for the fright. I’m not sure what exactly humans can and can’t eat, so I didn’t add much. If you can’t eat the bread, just leave it.”
Looking down at her bowl, Autumn saw that Nethlia had shredded and steamed the snake meat before adding it to a hearty bone broth. Some assorted cooked vegetables lay to the side, as well as a dense piece of gray-colored bread. With how hungry she was, she would’ve eaten anything placed before her.
The mug was filled with a foamy ale. Taking a testing sip, she found that it wasn’t all that strong and possessed a pleasant taste that filled her chest with warmth.
“Take your time,” Nethlia said as Autumn dug into her meal. “I’ll just go and get your room ready. The hot water will be ready shortly.”
“Thank you,” Autumn mumbled between bites. The snake meat had a gamey flavor she wasn’t used to, but it wasn’t bad, and the bread, while tough to chew, filled her stomach. Once she’d finished off the meat and drank most of the broth, she dipped the hard bread into the dregs to soften it up. It was much easier to eat after that.
Before she knew it, she’d cleaned out her bowl. There were only a few scant crumbs remaining, which she quickly tossed in her mouth. Eating something she’d killed herself, and which had tried to kill her, made the already delicious dish even more so.
After finishing off her mug of Ale, Autumn picked up her dishes and utensils and took them over to the bar where Nethlia was cleaning. “Where do I…?” she asked, gesturing to the things in her hands.
“Just put it down on the bar,” the demoness said. “I’ll show you to your room.”
Autumn did as she was bid before following Nethlia to the far end of the building where a hallway led out of the dining hall. There were a couple of doors branching off it. “You’re here.” Nethlia gestured to one door, handing Autumn a wooden key. “I’m opposite you. If you need anything, just knock.”
“Thanks. See you in the morning?”
Nethlia nodded. “Sure. Meals are at dawn.” With that, the demoness headed back into the main room to clean and prepare for tomorrow.
After seeing her off, Autumn pushed open the door to her room and entered, locking the door behind her.
There wasn’t much to say about the room. It had a bed and a small dresser, and that was about it. A shuttered window sat opposite the door, allowing a faint stream of moonlight into the bedchamber that was only otherwise lit by a dancing candleflame. Heavy furs placed upon the bed looked wonderfully warm and inviting.
In the center of the room sat a small washbasin that was steaming with hot water.
Eager to divest herself of the blood, filth, and sweat covering her, Autumn hurriedly placed her things into a wooden footlocker at the foot of the bed and quickly stripped down.
Her mud-caked boots landed on the cold stone floor with a dull thud, while her bloody socks and bandages fell with an awful splat. She tossed her hat atop the bedpost to stand guard before dumping her clothes atop the footlocker. She stood now nude in the bedchamber.
Autumn crouched down and dunked the provided washcloth into the steaming water. Gently, she wiped down her battered body, stripping away the clinging rigors of her arduous journey. And with each soothing stroke over her bruised muscles, the water steadily turned darker and darker until she was cleansed.
Patterns of gore swirled in the bucket.
Feeling human once more, she proceeded to tend to her feet. She sat upon the soft furs of the bed and took out another pot of healing balm and some fresh bandages from her things.
While the original healing balm she’d applied to her feet had done wonders to heal her, her rough travels afterwards had almost undone all of her healing. The soles of her feet were raw and red. Autumn proceeded to coat them once more in the chilling cream before wrapping them up. She wiped the excess onto the burned stumps of her fingers.
Autumn clad herself in her spare underclothes in lieu of nightwear before scurrying under the warm furs like a joyous rat in a new home. Drowsily, she watched the candle dance till blissful sleep claimed her.
Dawn broke over the land.
A warm sun rose in the east, sending its toasty rays flowing across the rolling hills and fields to chase away the land of dreams and banish the nightmares plaguing mortal minds. Sunny fingers crept into the inn, squeezing through slats and shuttered windows to alight upon those slumbering within.
The hibernating creature of coil black hair and darkened sockets felt its grace brush against her cheek, stirring her from her rest. Groaning, Autumn blinked her eyes open in confusion. She’d forgotten what the morning sun felt like.
Like a great ornery she-bear, she let out another deep groan of tired frustration and buried herself deeper into the warm cave of furs she’d created in her sleep.
However, the morning couldn’t be denied forever. It thawed her limbs, baking her out of her hidey-hole. The scent of roasted meats and baked bread wafting in from the rest of the inn help spur her to wakefulness. It was too much. Autumn’s yearning appetite cast her from her bed.
From a cocoon of fur, she emerged.