As her hands slide over the smooth scales, she feels the muscles rippling, and sliding her backwards as she tries harder to clamber over it. Sensing the futile nature of her efforts, she turns, staring up wide eyed at the snake, who was now big enough to swallow her whole. And apparently, that was the plan. She screams as its jaw gapes open and it strikes. There is no pain, the fangs passing harmless around her as she falls forward down its throat. And falls. And falls. Scenes begin to flash by her, of her past, of things she had never experienced before. A strange blue glow starts, and as she hurtles towards it, all she can feel is doom. She flails her arms wildly as she tries to stop her momentum and....

She finds herself being crushed against a warm, solid wall. She wiggles slightly against the iron bands holding her in place for a moment, before awareness starts to fall over her once more. “Relax.” the voice breaks through to her completely. She looks upwards, where a pair of lapis-colored eyes stare back at her from Marf’s concerned face. She subsides into stillness, letting the heat radiating from his body envelop her as she gets her ragged breathing under control. He starts stroking her hair calmingly as the minutes march on, nothing needing to be said between them. This was becoming a ritual with them, except tonight the tables had turned.

The sun is beginning to slowly creep over the horizon, when she opens her mouth and begins to tell him about the nightmare, that was somehow mixed in with actual memories of her past. Some of it had actually happened, but somewhere along the line, it had changed... before the addition of the snake. “Much was true, but when she turned into the snake... I can't shake the feeling that it means something, but I don’t know what. Snakes symbolize the coming of something toxic. Sometimes the coming of change. Something cunning. A fall.” she begins to sound frustrated. “I don’t understand why it was so mixed up. Who could possibly betray me, could it be Cate herself?”

“No, that couldn’t be.” she pushes onwards without even drawing a breath. “Although... with everything going on, is that really so far outside the realm of possibilities? Maybe I’m just overthinking everything. Do you think so?” she frets. “Yes.” his response was simple, and she swings her head toward him in return. “You are overthinking it. It was a nightmare Lycana.” Marf begins. “They usually don’t make any sense. Mine don’t anyway.” He pauses, his face troubled as if he were thinking of some of what he had seen in his mind. She hadn't pushed him about his, and he had given her little bits and pieces here or there, but ultimately, she let him be.

“You said there was a blue glow?” he asks her. She nods. “Yes, that’s what I was falling towards, and there was something, bad, about it.” Lycana says, sounding troubled. He doesn’t answer her this time, seeming to get lost within his own thoughts once more. Maybe he was right, maybe she was trying to read too far into the dream. For whatever, what had started as... not a pleasant memory to be sure, but one that didn’t have any undercurrents of threat to it, and had turned into what it was simply because it was a nightmare. Her intuition screamed that she was wrong, but what basis did she have? None. Her circle was loyal, there was none who would betray her, especially not the man she was with right now.

“You're right.” she pushes off of him and glides across the sheets to the edge of the bed. “I am overthinking all of this. It would be crazy to think otherwise.” He shoves backwards a little so that he is sitting up, cushioning his hands behind his head as he watches her. She jerkily yanks a hoodie on as his brow raises. She hauls a suitcase from the closet and starts throwing items into it, setting up a steady stream of chatter as she trots around the room. She flips the lid of the suitcase closed, struggling to zip it. She pushes on it, getting more frustrated by the second. She senses him behind her before his hands go on her shoulders.

He turns her around and pulls her in, wrapping his strong arms around her once more. “You know I can tell this is bothering you.” he tips her face up to look into her eyes. “You’re safe, as long as we are with each other. We face your weird, supernatural things together. ” He brings a reluctant smile to her face, her nerves calming down yet again. She didn’t know how he did it, but time after time he proved to be a soothing balm to her soul. “I know. I let things get to me. As usual.” she sighs. “You've been doing better.” he offers, bringing a small snort from Lycana. “You are a terrible liar Marf.” she pats his chest gently. “We should finish packing so we can get to the airport later.” A subject change... but Lycana cannot shake the feeling of impending doom.

“This past Wednesday saw Ash Quinn’s first thrashing at my hands. Yes, merely the first piece of retribution she can expect to face as time goes on. I already quiver with eager anticipation in getting ahold of her once more. The time we had in the ring did nothing to curb the desire to demolish her, it didn’t even take the edge off. This simply whetted my appetite for further destruction of the blasphemer. Watching Betsy smash her face into the chain-link cage, dragging it along until Ash bled... sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. Listening to her cries of pain echoing into the air, the greatest symphony to my ears. My only regret, not being the one to put that particular dog down.

Alas, to have done so would have meant a certain celestial shaped strap would have been thrust in my direction, one that I have no desire to lay fingers on... so, I had to take my pleasure where it came, and bow out to let The Impossible Traveler finish the job. Of course, I was able to have a bit of a fun time with her as well! I’m sure my words are playing themselves in her head, over and over again... eating her from the inside out. Things are not over between her and I... but for now, she gets to meet my beloved partner Marf in the ring during March Madness. She would do well to consider herself lucky to leave the ring in one piece this coming Warfare.

And I... well I seem to have another belt being dangled in front of my face. This time, it's the Hart title. This seems like déjà vu... Hmm, now why is this so familiar? OH, that’s right! Because it was literally being held before my very eyes on Wednesday! By my very own friend, dear R.L. Edgar! Sweet Reggie, it seems that you tempted fate when you waved your sparkly gold under my nose while making all those accusations! You acted all big and bad until Ned Kaye stepped in between us... Well, there will be no Ned come Warfare to get in the middle. There will be no other members of the Left Hand standing behind me. It will be just you and me, face to face once more with nothing holding us back.

Wont that be fun? But we have danced once before you and I... I remember it well. Don’t think that you have flown under my radar since then. We both have shed our partners this time around. This little meeting, will be personalized just for you. My attention will not be diverted by Corey, it is all on you Reggie my love. You won't have any backup to come to your aid once I lay my hands on you. Perhaps this time you will bring me more than you had to offer in our first go round. After all, you do sport that fancy title now, don’t you? Straps never meant much to me. But the trouble Reggie, is that with alllll these pieces of metal teasing me lately, I think I might just have suddenly developed gold fever.

For your particular belt, I might add. I think it would look awfully fetching around my waist, don’t you agree? No, I suppose you want to hang on to it, you seem to be rather fond of the thing already. It would be an absolute delight to take it from you for that reason alone! Of all people’s dreams I could be breaking, by winning the belt from them though, I’m glad it's you! Why? Oh, my dearest Reggie, because the fact of the matter is I owe you so much more than I was able to give during our tag match! What I delivered to you there, was tainted by our dance partners, especially yours... I didn’t give you near the amount of special treatment I should have!

We will be rectifying that. Is it too much to hope that your dick now gets hard from being punched in the mouth? That pain has started titillating you? I tease of course! I am quite curious to hear what you will have to say about me this time around though. Will you be brushing me off as easy as you once did? Possibly. Will you gloat about the win? Probably. Will the words Hot Topic, Satanists, and/or goth be heard? More than likely. At this point I’m not sure if I’d be more shocked or disappointed if you did not. There is comfort in the standard, run-of-the-mill sort of routine is there not? And that’s certainly what you are... Unremarkable. Par for the course. Just plain old and ordinary. How can I put this in a simpler way for you?

I’m sorry to say it Reg, but the shit you like to throw at me is bland as fuck.

Dare I hope you have you unlatched your lips from Corey’s ass enough to come up with your own goodies? Or will you still bring me what you’ve sucked out of there, like jabs at my predilection for pain? Or maybe the win/loss record? Perhaps, by gawd... you'll actually surprise me with something new and original! Nah... harking on back there to the whole... unremarkable and uninspired thing, you'll likely just beat on a dead horse like the rest of them. I’ve learned not to expect the unexpected from the majority around here, just leads to disappointments. I'm sure most around you are familiar with the feeling. You yourself are going to get a nice healthy dose of it when I hold that Hart title close to your face, then walk away with it.

Sometimes Reggie, winning is about who is hungrier for it. And right about now, I am ravenous for what you possess. A starving wolf is much more dangerous than a satisfied dog... you have gotten your meal, and now you face one who has not. One who has not sipped the sweet nectar of victory yet... It is likely you will bring that up despite my views on the matter, and in this case... you might be correct. With you, I verily lust for the kill, to take you down and keep you there. To have the absolute satisfaction of being the one who rips that title from your hands just because I can. And now... I want to. Look into my eyes Reggie, and you will see how badly I want this.

How badly I want to topple you from your newly won perch. How badly I want to taste your bitter tears of defeat. How badly I want to be the one to end your reign before it has even begun.

I sure hope you are ready for that fight you came hunting for. Because you are very much in for one. Will you be spreading your arms wide and welcoming for me just like you did that night? You have come quite a way from when we first met in the ring my darling, and I am expecting quite a bit from you. You see, getting laid out, that wasn’t the Left Hand. You pissed someone else off... but in coming for me, you can add another name to that list you have going. Mine. Only this won't be some sneak attack in the dark. This will culminate in the middle of the ring, with you laying on your back, regretting the choices you made that put you in the position to be destroyed by me. Do you remember what I said the other night dear Reggie?

Here I am, letting you know that this time... it is me.

I’m coming for you.”

She couldn’t sleep if her life depended on it tonight. After the nightmare had torn through her the other night, she was loathe to even try again. She rolls onto her back, the bed springs complaining about her every move. She tucks her arms under her head, staring at the ceiling, her blue hair spread all over the pillow like a halo. She watched fragments of light dance across the ceiling from both the moonlight and the headlights of cars passing through. The even breathing of the man next to her, failing to lull her like it usually did. She was restless, her mind racing a million miles an hour, jumping from one item to the next randomly... until a little tugging in her brain gets her attention.

It is merely the faintest whisper, and she struggles to focus in on it, wondering who and what it could be. Lycana. Her name, barely audible, caresses her senses. She feels drawn to it, like the proverbial moth to the flame... it pulls her, making her sit up in the bed. As she does so, the hushed voice comes again, this time a request. Lycana, come to me. She shakes her head slightly. Who would have the power to reach out to her? Who would know her name and where she was? The fact of the matter was that it could only be one of her own, from her own coven or the inner circle. It didn’t make sense though, why would they need her from overseas? Who would be here?

All too many questions and not enough answers. She slips her legs out from under the covers and exits the creaky bed, trying to make as little noise as possible as to not disturb Marf. He had already awoken from one of his dreams, and had finally passed out into blissful peace once more. He needed all the sleep he could get lately. She lets her gaze linger on him for a few seconds before she moves away from the bed. She roams the room on silent feet, like an agitated panther, all quiet in her head once more. The pull to leave the room, to find the owner of the disembodied voice lures her, beckons her very being. But that was crazy, wasn’t it? She had no idea what she would be walking into.

The soft voice pipes up again, desperate tones infused into it. Lycana, help me! That clinched it for her. She moves as swiftly as she can, without waking Marf, throwing warmer clothing on before coming around to stand at the side of the bed looking down at his face. He wouldn’t wake up again tonight, she didn’t think, and she would be back before the morning. She hoped anyway. The pair was together frequently, and seemed to feed off one another's support. She hated to leave without telling him. They had plans for the following day. She hesitates. She feels the tug on her mind yet again, as she slowly backed away seemingly torn. Please! Lycana turns and slides out of the motel room door, into the unknown.

The little motel, or hostel... or whatever place they were staying at, was out in the Spanish countryside and Lycana slunk into the woods and away from any semblance of civilization. She followed the tugging in her mind on instinct, as if an invisible string was tied between her and the one who had cast out the cry, and they were drawing her in as effectively as a fisherman reeled in their catch of the day. This might just be utter insanity, but she felt helpless to resist the pleas for help. With everything going on, and that she had left behind, the chance to save someone no matter how slight, drew her steps onward. One small good in a sea of chaotic doom.

Of course, that was a big if... a big question mark on if she could save whoever this was from... well, whatever it was they needed her for. In truth, she could very well not be able to do a damned thing and that would just add another black mark against her. She feels the yoke she wears growing just a little heavier at the thought. In time, she comes to a narrow dirt path, it is deeply rutted by wheels, twin tracks prominent as sparse grass struggles to gain a foothold between them. She looks both ways, seeing it stretch on to nowhere. This was ridiculous... maybe she should go back to the room with Marf. Unease creeps over her.

Lycana, please save me! She turns and walks the way her gut tells her to go, her resolve firmed once more as she shoves the feelings of unrest down, drawing on her determination to see this adventure, folly or not, through. She picks her way carefully over the hard packed earth, the shadowy moonlight enough to prevent her from making a misstep and breaking an ankle in a furrow as long as she was paying attention to where she placed her feet. As she rounds a bend, she sees a form huddled in the middle of the road. She picks up speed, calling out to it, her caution temporarily replaced by elation at finally finding someone.

As she draws closer, she can make out that the frame is petite, kneeling in a heavy dark colored cloak, not responding to her, admittedly, stupid greeting. She didn’t know who else was around. What if this was not the one calling her? Her steps falter a little bit as her eyes narrow. She looks around suspiciously, but all is still. She cautiously continues to approach, much slower now. The figure moves her head lifting to reveal a feminine face, amber colored eyes clashing with Lycana’s own blue-gray ones. Her steps come to a complete stop then, the world falling away to nothing but the one in front of her as she gapes, recognition coming slow, her brain not wanting to believe what it was seeing.

“ARCANA?!” disbelief fills the word drawn harshly from her throat. The other woman smiles, rising to stand now, throwing the hood of the cloak off to allow her bright crimson hair to cascade down from its hiding place. She clasps her hands in front of her and merely regards Lycana wordlessly. Lycana is rendered speechless for long moments, not quite understanding everything. “How... Why... What are you doing in Spain?” she stammers, remembering the pleas for help, looking around once more, not seeing anything at all that would indicate her nemesis was in trouble. So why would she call her out all this way in another country?

“I have my reasons Lycana. Perhaps I wanted to see what you were doing about the coming war from all the way over here. Perhaps I wanted to see if you even cared about the coven anymore since all you do is run off to wrestle. It is gratifying, I suppose, that you would come so swiftly if one of us needed help.” Arcana jeers. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in Lycana, she stiffens, her perplexed facial expression transforming into one of hatred as she glares right back at Arcana. All thoughts of why the redhead would be out her fleeing, leaving only the taunts behind. “I didn’t know it was you, or I wouldn't have. There is quite a bit in place that you don’t even know about.” Lycana growls.

“Oh, I highly doubt that! Come on now! You know just how much more power than you I hold Lycana. What do you have again? Some mind sharing with your big boy toy?” Arcana scoffs. With a low noise Lycana starts forward, intending to show her just what the power of violence could do when Arcana holds her hands out, twin flames bursting from her palms to dance in the chill night air. Lycana pulls up short as Arcana smirks at her. “As I was saying Lycana... I can do more than you. It would not be a fair fight. Perhaps if you ever were turned lycan...” she lets her voice trail off as Lycana seethes before her. With a quick shake of her hands, the fires are extinguished.

To think, she had come out here to try and rescue this insufferable bitch. Taking a few cautious steps closer to her, Lycana clenches her fists. Arcana moves forward as well, closing the distance enough to make Lycana stop, warily. She would rather see her rot in hell than save her life. If they weren't from the same coven, and the repercussions not quite so severe she would have ended that vermillion haired piece of... wait. “Why did you call me out here?” Lycana inquires, uncertainly. In answer, Arcana pulls her hands from her cloak, bringing them to her face to blow a mist of glittering powder into Lycana’s face as she falls back, too slow.

She had sucked in a startled breath, an automatic reflex, before jumping back as the dust wafted about her face. The smell was pleasant, like warm vanilla and the effects were immediate. Her vision begins to haze as a heavy fog creeps over her mind. She feels her awareness dulling as she tries to fight through. She feels the sour taste of betrayal on her tongue as she wavers, dropping to her knees, unable to move. “I’m sorry Lycana, I wish it didn’t come to this. You went too far in the name of the Left Hand.” Arcana says softly, as Lycana glares up at her, not comprehending. The sound of a twig snapping turns her head, too slowly, merely capturing a glance of a figure moving fast.

A thud and sharp pain on the back of her head drops Lycana into the black void.