13.02.1704 - It's been a warm day, surprisingly. But we dealt with it and went for the forest. Felt good to leave the village behind for a day. The stores are nigh empty and most people go out gathering, most predators are forbidden to hunt so the wildlife can recover.
Anyway, when we cups went for the forest - and old Martin insisted on tagging along - we played around mostly and didn't pay much attention for food or fuel. We just went on, and made fun of Martin. He tried to keep up with us, but we went too quickly, and soon only his shouts followed us. The boys and I were only encouraged by them, went faster and deeper into the woods. Sure our mothers had always warned us to never go too far, but honestly, we didn't even notice. We just went on and laughed and yelled back for Martin to make haste to catch up.
We were so very much lost in our enthusiasm, we hardly noticed the change in the air, the fading light. I was one of the first to notice, I guess. I still remember it clearly, there I was, standing on a web of hard roots, gnarled branches and trees framing my view, a few spurts of grass from what little earth they hadn't covered, and in the far away distance, where Martins shouts echoed from, the brightness of day. It was cold suddenly. And when I meant to turn to April at my side, I saw her face for but the blink of an eye. She paled. And suddenly the shadows had claimed us.
I was too shocked to be scared, if that makes sense at all. The echoes had faded, the forests sounds had faded. The smell had... changed. As good as my sense of smell is, I can't figure out what it was about. I think I smelled the shadows, their emptiness. Yet, while I stood there, blinded, I reached out by instinct, shaking like mad I imagine. My fingertips touched something and I yelped softly, for it was the cool touch of bare stone. Right in front of me, where I had just seen the daylight coming from, I felt stone now, and dirt, and wet roots. My head ached as it tried to make sense of these changes.
Whatever enabled me to move I'll ever be grateful to, for had I not, with all the fright creeping into my body, I might still be standing there, my fingers at the cold stones touch, and shadowy fingers stroking my neck. It took all my willpower to move my leg, then the other, and slowly getting a stance. I lifted the other paw and by the Names was I shaking! I meant to remain quiet, for fear of the shadows and whatever horrors they harboured, but I shook so hard and rattled my teeth I feared they'd shatter. They still hurt, and I think I bit my tongue and cheeks then.
My mind remembered the forest as I had last seen it and attempted to picture it into the darkness. The wall didn't make any sense, but it still tried to adjust. To orientate myself I leaned my back against the wall I had touched, meant to cross whatever room I was in, and walk as straight a line as possible away from it. Deeper into the shadows of course, where else could I go? So I started off, slowly, quiet as possible, and took a careful step, a second, a third. I did move, with all the focus I had to put in it I knew I did, but didn't seem to reach anywhere. The floor felt the same, the air smelled the same, and not the slightest sound I heard nor felt the faintest move in the air.
Feeling at a loss I stood and meant to turn around, where upon I bumped into the wall I thought far behind me and the scare of it threw me off my feet. I fell on my behind and hit the back of my head, where another wall had now been, and I found myself within a rather tight corridor. I'm not that tall yet, but where I sat my hips touched the wall and my toes the other.
It was then that I remembered the stories. Mother Patty, that darn old rabbit, during feasts when we cups were left in her care, had sometimes told us these nightmares, and usually some of the mothers (mine included) would get angry with her for frightening us. But back then it was pure excitment, not even April nor July got really scared by her. However now I recalled it, one time she told us of the shadows and their den.

"Once long ago, when I was still young and pretty, my good friend Pete and I ventured into the forest. Yes, this one at the borders of our village, where you little ones tease good Martin near every day. Pete and I went deeper than you lil' ones are allowed, and even when you're grown up, you should not go there. For Pete and I had, and we had reached the deep forest, were the shadows live. Oh, don't you snicker back there, they do indeed live there. See, they breath and sleep, just like you lil' lumplings, and eatin' they do. It was in the noon when Pete and I had started, giggling to ourselves, for we too had been told this story but didn't heed its warning. We ran into their lair and before we knew it, they had us. Like night itself the shadows fell upon us and we were swallowed whole. All senses were blinded, but our fine smell, and the air had changed, for we were no longer on the surface. They shadows had taken us into their dungeon and kept us for breakfast, for the shadows rise at nightfall. Oh, what horrors we had to endure I dare not share with you, my little innocent lumplings. When all the shadows had woken, they came for us in their store to serve us to their children. You see, shadows ain't eatin' with fangs and maws as us. They just keep you in their midst and suck you dry. The fear which weighs you down is the bite of their fangs, the coldness in your limps is their paws holding you. And the noise in your ears is their growling of their hungry stomachs. Oh, my tender lumplings, if you ever hear it, do not give in to their power. Get up and move, shake off their paws, resist their bite. It's what saved your Mother Pattys life that day."

She had been silent for a while then, and her eyes glistered with tears. We thought she meant to fool us, but now I'm not that sure anymore. Of this Pete we had first ever heard then, and she mourned his loss in that moment. She said he hadn't made it like she had. I guess it was Jeff who asked how exactly she had escaped. She smiled.

"Why would you want to know that, Jeff? You're not supposed to be even near that area of the forest, you know that. But I admit, what's a story without an ending? While I was lost in the dungeon of the shadows and fell for many of their tricks, by chance I came across a section that felt different. The floor, you see, had been like that of the forest, earthy and covered with roots. But there is a patch that is covered with tiles instead, which I noticed, and with great care I followed its lead. It felt like an eternity, but eventually I reached a staircase, which took me to a level where there was a heavy wooden door. Imagine how hard it is to find your way only by touch and smell in a dank place such as that, for still there was no light whatsoever. The stairs led further upward, but I decided to open that door and went through. I smelled wood and paper, and even a faint trace of ink. And the darkness was different, it didn't breathe anymore. My seeking fingers touched shelves and a chair and a table even, and found some drawers, and in one there I touched wax. Imagine my excitement when I realized I had found a candle, and matches even! I struck one, lit the candle, and then I saw."

Only what we never learned, for Barneys mother had heard her and told her to stop. Mother Patty promised to continue her tale someday. But she hadn't and died last winter. When I had remembered her story I inhaled, for actually it didn't help me get up. I was terrified. I knew Pete had died here and suddenly I saw his withered corps everywhere I looked, hidden in the darkness. I didn't want to end like that, and again I found that strength Names know where from and got up. I felt shadows teeth sink into me, and their claws holding my legs, but I moved on. I told myself it's OK if I move slowly as long as I move at all, and somehow worked myself into a pace.
Indeed the floor was mostly made of dirt and wooden roots, but how little help that was at the time. Every now and then I bumped into another wall, into turns, and they changed all the time. Soon it wasn't but walls, but other things, soft piles, square things with terrible edges where I bruised myself, and sticky filth that gave me the creeps. It is weird how you adept to the fear and the darkness if only you keep moving. Your fur remains on end, your muscles feel tight and cold, your joints are stiff, and the shock turns into your status quo. You're not just scared, you're terrified and it becomes a part of you, like if you've been all your life. You're not anymore just expecting to be seized and devoured every moment, you suddenly are. From the darkness their spawn terrible faces with twisted eyes and razor teeth, suddenly bony claws seize your ankle and you fall on the floor, suddenly something warm tingles down your skin and you can't tell if its spittle or blood. The nothingness whispers into your ear and the void exhales into your face. I understand full well why Mother Patty didn't wish to go into detail about this.
I think it wasn't just my imagination that made it feel like an eternity, but rather that indeed it took my hours before I actually found that patch of tiles. It lay there in the middle of the maze like a tongue on a plate. With careful paws I palpated the line between tiles and roots onward into that new maw. The air got a moist tang, which told me I had left the shadows den, or at least ventured into a new space within their realm. There were walls now, more solid then those of dirt, made of brick stone. Sooner than expected I had reached the staircase and climbed up, moving faster than before for I had hope now. Indeed their was a door, but I found it open, the chair lay on the floor and the drawers of the desk were open. I too found a candle and matches and finally, at last, there was light.
What I saw was a cramped room for rotten shelves with ancient tombs in them. Something about them was even worse than the shadows from below, but too much I savoured the light in my paw. Which felt as if it had woken them, and they glared down at me from their place of final rest. There are books on the floor too and the wooden planks are scored and dented in many places. I glimpsed into the staircase and saw it spin further upward, while there is nothing but brick stone. I miss the spider-webs I'd expect in a creepy place like this.
However, now I had closed the door and sat here by the candle for another hour or two. It makes me feel a little save. There are two more candles, and I can't help but feel they seem out of place, newer, as if put in here on purpose. And this place in general, I think some necromancer or whatnot has build his tower in the middle of the shadows realm for fancy or whatever reasons. Build into it it is, that's plain as daylight. I'm relieved to have had my booklet on me, writing down all this helped me clear my mind and calm down some bit. The terror has left me mostly, but I'm still stuck in who knows what kind of Names forsaken place. The first candle has almost burned down, but I've found a handle to help me carry it. There is no help but to climb that stair. Whoever build this place and placed those candles, I deeply wish not to meet him.