Em:
Welcome to BlackwaterDnD, where good friends tell better stories. This series, Wayward Autumnal, is a four part miniseries using Under the Autumn Strangely by Graham Gentz, now available at itch.io for purchase, and is produced in proud partnership with All My Friends are Stories. This series is sponsored by the Mycologist’s Primer from Double Proficiency and Hunter’s Entertainment. This tale sees us dive deep into all things agrarian as we find ourselves lost in the terrifying dreamscape of the Never Was. For this story, our traveller is played by myself, Em Carlson, our Arcadian is Anne Monteverdi, and our Terrors are played by Cameron Strittmater, Candace Marie, and Josephine King. As this game falls within a pastoral folk horror genre, it may contain themes and depictions that are triggering for some listeners. Please take care of yourself and access safe support as you see fit.

Content warnings for this episode include: The woods // getting lost // violence // misogyny // gaslighting // death of a parent // knives as weapons // substance use // taunting/teasing // blood // birth imagery // holes and pits // being watched // misophonia // religious overtones // animal death // allusions to cults

So sit back and relax, fellow travellers. And welcome to Wayward Autumnal.

Chapter 1, Part 2: Run Rabbit Run

Anne:
The voices call after you, and their dulcet tones, their gentle coaxing becomes more intense, more pointed, and then angry, and then jeering. And then it slips from the language you know into the language you've learned, that which you learned from the forest and the mushrooms that taught you, that not quite language. They call you back. They tell you you're wonderful. They tell you you're perfect, that you never have to work, that you'll never have to do anything, that you just need to lay, and rest, and be appreciated, and be worshipped. And at the same time, you hear the layer of the chipmunks over top, calling for you to fall, to trip, to descend into the pit, to catch in the soil, to return to the earth, to rot.

Cameron:
It's so much that by the time you stumble across Micah and his glowing lantern, it is a relief, as he looks up at you, brace of coneys, oozing blood into the wet soil, and the relief on his face is palpable.

Em (as Roslyn):
“Micah, did you go that... Where did you go?”

Cameron (as Micah):
“Where did you go? I've been calling for you for a, better part of an hour!”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I was calling for you, didn't you hear me?”

Cameron (as Micah):
“No, and I don't think I quite trust these woods either.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I certainly don't. Can we? I know you said you had a couple more snares to do. Would you help me? I would like to go home now, please. I can't seem to…”

Cameron (as Micah):
“Yes, let's.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Okay.” 

Em:
And I offer to like, take something of his so he can finish with the snare and we can go.

Cameron:
He finishes with the snare by reaching down to whatever is caught in it, and with a quick visceral twist, you hear the pop of bone, as something goes silent, and stops struggling. And he says, 

Cameron (as Micah):
“All finished here. Let's, let's find our way out of this disastrous place, shouldn't we?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Yes, I think my mother was right. Maybe there's a reason why we, you don't go forage alone. I should have known better.”

Cameron (as Micah):
“Mmhmm. Mothers are scarcely wrong, in my professional opinion.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Yes.” 

Em:
And I think that as easy as it would be to trust Micah, as easy as it would be to let myself relax around him. I am still wary, for many reasons now, with the strangeness that's happened in the woods, with the fact that this may have been set up by my father, to the fact that he is not quite right. He is confident, yes, and he has always been. He's the son of the pastor, of course he is. But there is something that feels sinister about it, I think. And so I keep a distance between us, maybe a foot or two. I know he could overpower me, if he tried to, so I will not let him catch me, if that is the case. And I guess I start to wait until he… apparently knows the way, or can lead.

Cameron:
He, you, both of you are wandering and, let me know if this is a contradiction, I don't want to bungle the rules of the game, but the awareness of your difference in size, of demeanour, of the natural vulnerabilities at play here, take a backseat for a moment when you just realize, both of you were kind of just lost, the, and, and he very confidently at first pressing was like, that's, right over here I'm pretty sure, and then no, and then five minutes becomes fifteen minutes, becomes twenty. And you see a sliver of concern across his impeccable face, his square jaw rumpled where the frown is appearing.

Em (as Roslyn):
“Micah, do you know where we're going?”

Cameron (as Micah):
“I... you know…”

Em (as Roslyn):
“You can be honest with me now. I won't say anything otherwise.”

Cameron:
His face flushes with colour, and he turns to you, with lopsided grin on his face and goes, 

Cameron (as Micah):
[laughing awkwardly] “Ah… No…”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Okay… Um. Well…” 

Em:
Can I look up? Do I, is there a, can I see through to the sky?

Anne:
I feel like you've come to a different part of the wood that it's more back in the tree line now, but not quite as opaque of a canopy as the previous part, where it was just bits, and rays. Now there are enough cracks for you to see up to the sky. You can see that there is light still, but it is low enough on the horizon that it barely cuts through the trees. It is rosy, and gold, the way... Yeah, like… to let you know that it is very late in the day.

Em (as Roslyn):
“Micah, we need to get out of these woods before nightfall.

Cameron (as Micah):
“Mm.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“And, we can't see the stars, obviously, yet, and I don't even think we could if it was night. So we need to pick a direction, and we need to keep walking. I don't think anyone will come for us.”

Cameron:
He obnoxiously puts a finger to your lips, stopping you mid-sentence as he goes, 

Cameron (as Micah):
“Shh! Is that…?” 

Cameron:
And he turns, and a few meters away, happens upon a babbling brook, and goes, 

Cameron (as Micah):
“Haha! I know this brook! This is, oh, worry not, young Roslyn, we are saved. If we follow this all the way to its source, I am convinced we will wind up safe back at my family home. I think that from there, we can get you back safe and sound, but I am certain this is the creek I remember. This will get us where we need to be going.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“All right. And yes, once I get to your house, perhaps we can send word or,”

Cameron (as Micah):
“Yes, and there's plenty of bedding. We can, we can have some stew. Plenty of guest rooms. Stay the night! We can talk. And in the morning, we'll make sure that you are returned safe and sound to your family. I'm sure you have many, many duties now as the head of your household, and we wouldn't want those to be overlooked…”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Micah, don't touch me again.”

Cameron (as Micah):
“My apologies.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“As you should. What would your father say?”

Cameron (as Micah):
“What would my father say indeed…” 

Cameron:
He says, his mouth curling into an indecipherable grin, as he backs away from you, one foot, then the other, and then turns, the brace of rabbits swaying meatily behind him, as he sets off along the creek.

Em:
I stay a good three to five feet behind him at all times. And in that moment, Roslyn files him away on yet another man, as just another man who can assume that he can do what he wants. And no more. But she keeps walking.

Anne:
You hear the little clatter of footsteps behind you. Small steps, with little feet.

Em:
I don't think I say anything, I just turn and look, as I keep walking.

Anne:
You have a bit of a procession following you.

Cameron:
Please be tiny pigs in rain boots.

Anne:
Is this your token, Cameron? Tiny pigs in rain boots. Let's go. 

Cameron:
Yeah, it's Pomeranians.

Anne:
It's actually Pomeranians. Listen, you know what? Okay, um, there is a frog. Yeah, there is a frog. And also, what's the forest equivalent of a Pomeranian? Oh, I saw one of these out hiking recently, a pika? You seen one of these guys?

Em:
Mmhmm.

Anne:
They're like, they look like little mountain guinea pigs. Okay. And…

Em:
I think there's probably a couple ferrets in there too. Yeah.

Anne:
Yeah, like a ferret. There are the chipmunks that have been chirping at you, but they're quiet now. And there are two ravens walking on the ground behind you, just quietly following about three feet back.

Em:
Well, at least they're quiet. Are my mushrooms still glowing?

Anne:
No. And in this procession, at first, it looks like a snake that has joined it. But... strange snake. It's a twisten, hempen kind of snake, as you see that the rope that had been fastened around that boulder seems to be following you behind.

Cameron (as Micah):
“Roslyn?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Yes?”

Cameron (as Micah):
“I've been thinking,” 

Cameron:
Says Micah as he struts ahead, oblivious the sway of his ruby red lantern, illuminating what vestiges of a path lay before the two of you. 

Cameron (as Micah):
“Do you ever, and forgive me if I'm being too forward here, do you ever wonder if it was your fault?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“What? What was my fault?”

Cameron (as Micah):
“Come on now. We're both adults here. Please, Roslyn. Must I come out and say it?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“You, you presume I know too much. What was my fault, Micah?”

Cameron (as Micah):
“Well, Roslyn, your mother, of course. And I don't mean to be indecorous, it's just, you know, one gets to thinking on such shadowy trails.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“My mother died of a fever.”

Cameron (as Micah):
“Mmmm. Worked to the bone, no?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“And how is that my fault?”

Cameron (as Micah):
“Well, just seeing that you're a ripe young woman now, the burden of responsibility, it catches up quick. If only you'd been there sooner, I wonder. They say that the burden is heavy, but the work should be light, and many hands would have lightened that load for, just a speculation.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“You will watch your tongue, or I will cut it out of you. You will never speak about my mother that way. Ever.”

Cameron:
He doesn't know what to say.

Cameron (as Micah):
“As you please.”

Anne:
In the forest floor beneath you, the rope has wound its way around your ankle, touching and tracing the laces of your shoes. It doesn't tug, or pull, or hold you back, but holds to your leg like a child might to its mother's while scared. And follows you in this strange procession.

Em:
Well, it hasn't tugged on me yet. I think there's a strange comfort that Roslyn feels in the rope. It's more predictable than these beings. Maybe, that's probably not true, but it feels that way. This person, Micah… Who may not even be Micah, who's so callous and cruel. That anger feels like a simmering pot on a wood fire stove. She's mad. And she's angry that she's angry, that she's angry that she's let this person get under her skin. And at least the rope hasn't tried to do that. I think there's a little part of her that wishes the mushrooms were glowing again. Because, something very interesting happened when the mushrooms were glowing. Maybe she could be stronger, maybe she could be faster, maybe she could… overcome him if needed. Because something is wrong. Micah is wrong. Because no son of a... No son of a pastor would ever say that. Not here.

Cameron:
You're... Sorry, go ahead. You arrive at the side of a hillock, you trailing now far behind Micah, his red glow in the moderate distance as he goes,

Cameron (as Micah):
“Oh! This is definitely the path. I recall it now. Just through here, and then straight on to the old family estate.” 

Cameron:
And he bows down without a second glance backward, and walks through a small earthy hole in the side of a hillock, the roots and other bric-a-brac dangling down around him. As you see the red light of his lantern disappear, and he has to crouch low to crawl into this hole, as he moves forward and out of sight. 

Cameron (as Micah):
“Coming, Roslyn?”

Em:
I look down at the rope. I can't see Micah at this point, so I think I lean down, and I take one of the amethyst deceivers out of my bag, and I eat it anyway. And I say to the rope,

Em (as Roslyn):
“I'll make you a deal. You obviously know these woods. Please. I can find my own way. But I want away from him. Can you help me?”

Anne:
You hold the rope, and you feel it tug, like something on the end, of the other end, is pulling.

Em:
I nod. And if it's going to pull, I'm going to let it pull me.

Cameron:
Casting a final glance back to the hole in the side of the mossy hillock, you don't see the lantern, but you do see the red glint of two small beady eyes looking out from the darkness, as you make your decision to not follow the pastor's son, or whoever this is pretending to be him, as you follow this strange companion instead.

Anne:
The tug on your ankle as the rope coils around your leg, and pulls at your stockings a little faster. And you turn and you follow, and yet it eggs you on faster, tripping you up, stumbling. And every once in a while you'll see as it impossibly, because you cannot see the end of the rope. It starts at your leg, and then just continues to infinity. But yet, sometimes you watch as it has wrapped around a root that emerges from the soil, and then descends back in. And the way it seems to disappear, and weave between trees, guiding you off path.

Cameron:
You know where the rope ends.

Em:
At the top of the pit. I know it's gonna lead me underground. I don't want to go underground, but I've made a deal with it this far. I also don't know what it wants, fully, in return for helping me. Maybe it wants me to go in the pit. I don't really have any other alternatives at this point. But I think my hand goes back to the paring knife. It's not serrated. It wouldn't be able to cut through this rope. It's a thick rope, but… but it's better than nothing.

Cameron:
No, he said, spending a token. You reach for your paring knife, and what was a small, simple, bone handled affair, is now a large, sharp kitchen knife. It has metastasized in the pouch of your apron.

Em:
And yet the bone in the handle is the same.

Cameron:
And yet the bone in the handle is the same. But this could do the trick.

Em:
I let it lead me a little bit further, and I test out the weight of the blade in my hand. It feels… comfortable. I have knives like this at home. We had them from a trade my father made. Beets for smithing work. I've seen my father use them to butcher things before. I know how to skin things. My mother taught me that. I know how to use a knife.

Anne:
You hold this knife, less of a forage, and more of a butcher's implement now, and you catch on the animals, the ones that had been behind you, and then you turned around, and yet suddenly, they're behind you again. They're crisscrossing on the path behind you rounding up to the sides, catching as you turn, working with you like the way you might rock on the waves, they guide you. Your family does not keep sheep, but you have seen a herding dog before. You're being herded by things far too small to guide an animal of your size. But they do so with a sort of jaunty, almost joy. And even the ones that seem to catch their gaze on your knife don't seem to flinch, or show concern. Some weave between your legs as you walk, but never trip you the way the rope does.

Cameron:
How bad could it be? None of these are predators. Nothing seems to be amiss.

Em:
I can only confirm the Terror. So when the Terror says nothing seems to be amiss, I'm gonna confirm that quite wholeheartedly.

Cameron:
I need to use this more, I completely forgot I had that power.

Em:
I pick up, I think I, walking along… I reach down and I… Though the rope is pulling, I gather some slack and I carry it in my hand, cradling it and being quite gentle with it. One hand holding the rope, the other, gently on the knife in ba- on my apron again. And I do that probably for a few minutes as we walk. I want the rope to feel comfortable. It knows that it's taking me somewhere. I have, to suss that out by now, and I am being herded. Fine. But… When you want something to trust you, you must be slow, and gentle, and then you must move quick. So once I feel- go ahead.

Cameron (01:34:11.794)
From the direction… From the direction, as you think you must be slow, and then quick, behind you, deep along the path, far and away, you hear Micah's voice ring out, 

Cameron (as Micah):
“Roslyn!” 

Cameron:
Through the forest.

Anne:
The rope jolts you forward, almost taking your legs out from underneath you.

Em:
And I use that momentum, and I slice it. I slice straight through the rope.

Anne:
It doesn't even fray. It cuts clean.

Em:
I think the rope bleeds.

Anne:
Yeah, it does.

Cameron:
I think that too. The rope sprays blood as the severed end whizzes off into the darkness of the underbrush. The trail in front of you, crimson, and you catch the glint of watchful eyes, the woodland creatures all around you. Not among them is the creature you see just just for a moment, just for a hair's breadth, if you will, as deep in the trees a soft white rabbit watches you, just for a moment.

Em:
I think I see the glint of the white fur as the blood spray hits my face. It's warm, and hot, and stains my dress, my skin, and my hands drenched, covered in blood. I can almost taste it again. I try not to let any of it get in my mouth, but it probably does. And I unwrap it from my ankle. I throw the rope to the ground and I run. And I take off and I fucking run.

Anne:
The blood tastes sweet.

Em:
Does it taste like…

Anne:
Like honey.

Em:
I'm gonna spend another token. And I think it tastes like beet juice.

Cameron:
And reminds you of an umbilical, as you toss it to the floor.

Em:
I toss it to the ground with even more purpose at that point. I was there when my brothers were born. I helped. I won't do that.

Anne:
You helped…

Em:
That's not a fate that awaits me in the future.

Anne:
You helped, and you handed the doctor the knife. To cut the cord. It had a bone handle.

Cameron:
Anne's out here doing my job for me. 

Anne:
Sorry!

Cameron:
Take it away!

Em:
We'll all be the Terror by the end of this, okay? I think that's the point!

Cameron:
Goosebumps. Yeah, it was fabulous.

Em:
And I think with that stark realization that this is just a reenactment over, and over, of those things that I have experienced, those sharp, poignant moments in my life where I have been confronted with who I am, and the station that I have been allotted, I shove it to the ground and I run. I run away from it all.

Anne:
The footprints you leave are crimson.

Cameron:
It is night time.

Em:
And I think that… There is a fear in Roslyn about the nighttime, but I think there is also a comfort too. The nighttime is the one time that she was ever able to find some peace and quiet. A night owl amongst a family of early risers. Forced to be up early to do chores, and prepare breakfast. Some nights where she just stayed up. The whole night. Nighttime generally doesn't scare Roslyn. But the woods now scare Roslyn. So I keep running. Feeling that icy pang of the air in my lungs that stings and cuts. Feels like a stabbing in my chest.

Cameron:
And you feel a sense that you've let your family down. You should be home, you should be cooking, they can't tend to themselves, not the way you can, and here you are, incautious and in the woods, a mess.

Em:
Every time Roslyn feels like she's let one of her family members down, it's as if a wound of grieving opens all over again. A grief that this now sits on her shoulders. Because of course they can't look after themselves. Who will make dinner? Certainly they won't.

Anne:
As you think that. You smell it. Fresh bread. Cedar burning. It smells like cooking up ahead.

Em:
Does it smell like my house?

Anne:
Almost.

Cameron:
But not quite.

Em:
The both of you playing together is absolutely terrifying. I think that spurs Roslyn on, and she runs. She follows her nose. That's always been good. Able to smell when food has gone off well before anyone else. Able to… learn the difference between the smell of berries that would hurt you, and the ones that would heal you. And she follows her nose and she keeps running.

Anne:
You see the outline of a house in the distance, backlit by some source you can't see. And yet as you approach, you know, even in this full sprint, you can hear the crackle, the sound of when you put a fresh log on top of ones that immediately give way beneath, the sound of a puff of embers, and the feeling of the heat of a spark that jumps out, and nips at you. The smell of the time that you leaned in too close, and the ends of your hair got singed, and it was a putrid smell, and your little sister made fun of you for days, calling you stinkyhead, and other such silly things. You didn't cut off the lock, and the smell lingered, and you smell it now, intermingled with that poignant cedar, the smell of stew, and meat, and onion, up with a fresh ground wheat to bread. You hear the sliding of chairs against old creaking floors, the sound of a window closing and the pane being just slightly warped. And you go run through the woods and these trees pass you by, each one the limbs leaning towards you, the procession of animals behind you, and you hear what sounds like distant dinner conversation.

Em:
What are they talking about?

Anne:
You know, you just couldn't say.

Cameron:
But you are hungry.

Em:
My stomach growls. It's been a while since I've eaten and I have only eaten two of those mushrooms. I still have my basket. Are my mushrooms glowing again?

Anne:
The mushrooms, do you open the basket? 

Em:
Yeah.

Anne:
They've gone pale. The purple has left, and they've become a sort of dusty grey cream tone. You can see that there's a white film of spores that is sort of caught on the basket that gives off a faint lilac glow. But something seems to have been lost.

Em:
Well, that just won't do. That's the one thing that's been consistent this whole time. I know these mushrooms. Against my better judgement, but knowing that these mushrooms tend to perk up in the presence of blood, I slice my hand, and I drip it inside the basket on top of them. You're welcome.

Anne:
I feel like I'm just like… Cameron? Yeah.

Cameron:
The growling in your stomach, and the clear, clean pain of the slice in your hand, accompany the familiar glow as the blood enriches the mushrooms, and just as you expected, the familiar purple hue fills your basket, the purple shifting into that healthier, strange amber that happened as whatever comes out of you fills them up. And with it comes a certainty that the things you're hearing, the things you're seeing, they can't, it can't be possible. That doesn't make sense. This can't be right. Where are you going? What are you doing? Who do you hope to find? Suddenly everything is clear for a moment as you realize you are very, very alone in the woods.

Em:
Alone I started. I'm the only one I can trust. Trust nothing else. Find your way home. Okay. I eat one of the mushrooms. For good measure.

Anne:
You hear the rustle of feathers behind you, and the raven alights on your shoulder. [croaks in nightmare raven]

Em (as Roslyn):
“What do you want?”

Anne (as Raven):
“Did you learn?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I don't know.”

Anne (as Raven):
“Mmm. Well then... ”

Em (as Roslyn):
“What am I supposed to learn?”

Anne (as Raven):
“Who to trust, who to not...”

Cameron:
As the raven says this, it explodes into a puff of feathers, as the rock whizzes past your head, and [thwack, squawk] the bird [poof] saying who to trust vanishes over your shoulder. And from somewhere in the woods, a familiar voice says, 

Cameron (as Burlap Boy):
“Piss off!”

Em:
My hand goes back to the knife again.

Cameron (as Burlap Boy):
“Get squibbed, filthy bird!”

Em:
I turn around to see the small, what I assume to be the small burlap boy.

Cameron:
You can just make him out in the undergrowth.

Em (as Roslyn):
“What do you want?”

Cameron (as Burlap Boy):
“What do I want? What are you doing in me woods?”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Trying to find my way home.”

Cameron (as Burlap Boy):
“I think you should leave too.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I would love that.”

Cameron:
Throws a rock at you.

Em:
I… dodge out of the way, faster this time.

Cameron (as Burlap Boy):
“It's not safe. Not for long.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“What's coming?

Cameron (as Burlap Boy):
“See me, I'm smallses,” 

Cameron:
He says, 

Cameron (as Burlap Boy):
“But the bigses, when it gets darker, they comes out. You'll know.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“The bigses?”

Cameron:
He giggles, and bounds off into the underbrush again, his mission seemingly complete on totally nailing that bird.

Anne:
360, no scope, [whoosh].

[all laughing]

Em:
Oh, gosh. I think there's a moment where that anger comes back again. Because every time Roslyn has been on the cusp of making a decision for herself, making a decision that someone would help her in her way, in her choosing, she was about to ask the bird a question that felt important, she was about to do something that felt for herself, and then Micah was there, this little boy… Everyone just seems to be getting in the way. Making decisions for her. Telling her how she has to be and exist. And, whatever these bigses are… Roslyn would like to tell herself that nothing could be worse than this, but that is absolutely not true.

Cameron:
Something very large moves in the forest.

Em:
And I think Roslyn stops moving. I think I try and tap into that voice, that language of the forest. 

Em (as Roslyn):
“If you want me to make choices for myself, if you're trying to show me something, let me see it. I'm ready to learn it. And then I would like to go home, please.”

Anne:
You shout this into the dark. And like stars, they appear in pairs. The glowing eyes, and the trees, and the brush, and the branch. The procession behind you, the woodland creatures looking down. They're not jeering. They're not calling. They're not even moving. They're perfectly still. And they're staring at you.

Cameron:
Among them, the white rabbit you saw seems to be a standout as a beam of moonlight casts across its fur, its beady red eyes glinting. And it does that weird thing that rabbits do where it sits on its hind haunches, and then kind of stretches to its full two foot height, but its head cocks, and lollops, and it seems to be in response to your question as the other animals strike a bizarre tableau.

Em:
My eyes hone in on the rabbit. I think there's a moment where I'm jealous of how clean it is, knowing how covered in dirt and soil, blood and muck, probably a couple tears of my own. 

Em (as Roslyn):
“If you won't show me, I will find someone who can.”

Cameron:
The rabbit’s whiskers twitch, and without a word, it turns and bounds into the brush. It is, of course, a rabbit.

Em:
Do all of the other animals look at it as it goes?

Anne:
No. They only look at you.

Em:
Are they…?

Cameron:
The rabbit seems real.

Em:
I run after the rabbit. I run. I run as fast as my legs can carry me after the only real thing. This whole afternoon, I just run.

Anne:
You crash through the brush. The thickets tear at your clothes. They pull all, there's a moment where you think of darning stockings, and repairing the garments of your family, and how painstakingly over the years you have maintained these garments, as the forest starts to pull at the threads, unravel them bit by bit. Tear into that veneer of a working, proper girl you are, and you stumble over the thickets, the roots, the moss, your foot seems to catch and sink, and somehow you keep your footing. It's almost like every time you're about to fall there's something there that catches you, that something there to stabilize you, you're about to go down, and then there's a branch exactly where you need it to be before you tumble. That the burl juts out in just a way that you're able to knock off of it, instead of succumbing to the brush, and you run. You don't run like a person, you don't run like a girl, you run like an animal.

Cameron:
And it feels right.

Em:
I think this is the first time Roslyn has felt like herself since her mother died.

Cameron:
Why?

Em:
It feels free. Her mother, my mother protected me, from all of the things in the world that would seek to change me, and press me down. Sure, I had responsibilities, but… It was not oppressive. I was free to roam, I was free to explore, I was free to learn. This is the first time that I felt unbounded.

Anne:
You run, and it smells like skinned knees, the smell of skin after you've spent the day too long in the sun, but it's set, and you've come home just after dark. It smells like dirt beneath your fingernails, that you didn't quite scrub out, hair falling out of plates, like mismatched socks. And it smells like grass stains, and not like the ammonia you use to scrub them. It smells like school rooms, and ink, and paper, and it doesn't smell at all like tilling fields.

Cameron:
It's this rush of youth, and memory, and of being, of just being Roslyn, that steals you for the sight you see as you arrive, knowing it was always going to be right here where you came back, into the clearing, the lantern at the edge, the hole in the center. And there, next to it, is Micah. But Micah has a burlap sack over his head with two floppy ears gathered to either side. It's not the boy, and you realize squinting now, it's not the pastor's son either, and it's something in between. As looking down at the hole, he looks up at you.

Em:
I pull my knife out of my apron, and I hold it strong.

Cameron:
His nose twitches, as he looks at you, and in a voice you don't recognize says, 

Cameron (as Strange Micah):
“Driven through by her own sword, Summer died last night. Even the ghosts huddle close for warmth. Autumn is coming to our hometown.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“I am going home. You will not stop me.”

Cameron (as Strange Micah):
“Stop you? Rosie, it's not safe out here. With me, you'd be safe. With me, you'd be home. Settle down. Come with us. We will keep you safe.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“You will not.”

Cameron:
He doesn't make any move to advance towards you.

Anne:
No, but. That's what I can do, right? Yeah. I'd like to use my token. He presents you a bouquet of sunflowers.

Em:
Does he move closer to me?

Anne:
Yeah, he takes a step.

Em (as Roslyn):
“No closer. No closer.”

Anne:
His features seem to blur in front of you, becoming familiar, and unfamiliar all at once, unremarkable and cutting. And the flowers turn their faces to look, to watch you.

Em (as Roslyn):
“I will not be an object for you to fawn over.”

Cameron (as Strange Micah):
“Then it's very likely you will die.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“Death would be better than being with you.”

Cameron:
His ears visibly wilt at this, and he takes another step towards you.

Em:
I put the knife out in front of me.

Anne:
The flowers start to sing. 

Anne (as Flower Person):
“You're so pretty. You're so beautiful. We'll praise you.”

Cameron (as Strange Micah):
“You would do it differently, Roslyn. You would be better than she was. You would be a good mother. You would be a good wife. You would work harder. You would be friendlier. You would be lovelier. Just learn from her mistakes.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“ENOUGH!”

Em:
She takes a step towards Micah, the knife out in front of her.

Em (as Roslyn):
“I told you. I would cut your tongue out of your mouth if you spoke about her like that again.”

Cameron:
No, but see, you do just go to cut his tongue out of his mouth.

Em:
Yeah, I do. There it is.

Cameron:
Yeah.

Em:
And I think that the second, like, halfway out as she is saying this, that… viciousness, there's a viciousness that comes out, and she is like, I think she leaps on top of him, and pushes him down.

Cameron:
He shrieks a familiar shriek, the sound of a rabbit in a trap as he hits the earth.

Em:
I put my hand inside of his mouth, and I grab his tongue, and I hold it out for him to look at, and I cut it straight through.

[Cameron makes a quiet screaming sound, as Strange Micah loses his tongue]

Anne:
It drips beet juice and moonlight, the spores illuminating everything in your vicinity. It's a Caravaggio, the way that you are suddenly in stark relief, a raking light across you both, his bleeding mouth, and instead of, in, a tongue in your hand, you hold a bit of hempen rope.

Em:
I hold the rope up in front of him. 

Em (as Roslyn):
“Next time it's your throat.”

[Cameron makes gurgling sounds]

Em:
And I put the rope in my basket.

Anne:
It glows so bright, you could light the whole night.

Cameron:
The not-quite-Micah slithers over to the opening of the hole, the great pit in the middle of this clearing, and with a final look backwards, droops, and slides over the edge. There is no sound of the impact at the bottom.

Em:
Oh, I can't contradict you.

Anne:
Oh my god.

Cameron:
But if you could, what would you have said? I'm so excited.

Em:
Yes, there is.

Anne:
You know what? Fuck it. Token. Yes, there is!

Cameron:
Yeah, tell me about that.

Em:
And, as he, as the impact sound hits the bottom, it sounds like the snap of a rabbit's snare. And I think I'm gonna count that I used my token for that, because I initiated that one. And I think… with that. I hear that voice again. The one that told me the woods weren't mine. The one that said, what good were all of the things that I cherish about myself. What does it say?

Anne (as The Voice):
“These woods are not yours, but neither was that home.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“You're right. These woods are not mine. Not yet.”

Anne (as The Voice):
“You can't do it, you know.”

Em (as Roslyn):
“You know nothing of what I can do.”

Anne (as The Voice):
“I have known you longer than you've known you. I've known you in the many forms you've taken. Of the little girls who came through the classroom. The ones who gathered flowers in the fields. The ones who played at the schoolyard. And the ones who married at the church. And the ones who rot in the graveyard. I know you. I know where you came from. I know where you'll go. You have one path ahead, and this is not it.

Cameron:
The words echo up out of the pit. You hear and feel rustling in the clearing's edges, and you are left with the pronounced feeling that even with this dialogue happening, you are not alone.

Em:
The question we asked was who was speaking. And at this point, Roslyn is convinced. That the person who is speaking… is herself. And with the question answered, all my tokens spent, I'm going to call for a fade there.

[Wayward Autumnal Theme by Si Rutherford]
Em:
Wayward Autumnal is performed by Em Carlson as Roslyn, the Traveller, Anne Monteverdi as the Arcadian, and Cameron Strittmater, Candace Marie, and Josephine King as our Terrors. Our main theme for this episode, as well as character leitmotifs and folk horror ambiance by Si Rutherford. Additional music and effects by Epidemic Sound and Monument Studios. This series is in proud partnership with All My Friends are Stories. For more from us, come follow us everywhere at @blackwaterdnd, and make sure to check out our Main Campaign on Monday nights at 8pm PST at twitch.tv/blackwaterdnd. To get yourself lost in the Never Was, go support this game and it’s creator, Graham Gentz, by purchasing the ashcan over on itch.io. This show is made possible by our sponsors who graciously support us playing pretend and having feelings about it. We are grateful to be sponsored by The Mycologist’s Primer from Double Proficiency and Hunter’s Entertainment. Want to forage for mystical and magical mushrooms within your ttrpgs? The Mycologist’s Primer features over 100 fungi, lichens, and slime molds, complete with magical properties, based on real-world folklore and ready to be transplanted into your games, novels, and imagination! Check them out at their kickstarter page or on Drive Thru RPG. Finally, we’re thankful for our Patrons for joining us on our journey through the Never Was. You too can come join us on Patreon, where you can check out behind the scenes info, our talkback show Chatwater, as well as exclusive Wayward Autumnal bonus content, like our Session 0 and 0.5, and so much more. Head on over to patreon.com/blackwaterdnd for all the info. See you next time, and to all the travellers out there, don’t get lost!