A/N: Hey, guys. So, this is a more interesting piece of mine. I got a cool prompt (the beginning two sentences had some part of the original two sentence prompt) and decided to run with it. I somewhat abandoned my own writing style to fullful this and was less fanciful than normal, I believe. Anyway, hope you enjoy and, if possible, tell me what you think about the capitalization of pronouns relating to the character Mistress? (Speaking of, if you're not aware of Celtic mythology, she's the Morrigan, basically. It's not required you know this, but it may make me seem more intelligent.)
Oh, and I apologize for the messed formatting. (Indents. I need more of them.) I can't seem to fix it. Suggestions would be much obliged.
PAGAN
Silvery flakes drifted down, glittering in the bright light of the harvest moon. Two lovers walked down Meadowbough Lane and, on an above evergreen branch, a blackbird sitting vigil tracked them with beady, liquid eyes. The girl with curly chestnut locks and red cheeks and nose laughed, spilling a bit of hot chocolate onto the frosty sidewalk, and the boy, dark of hair but pale and blue-lipped--a native, wrapped her scarf better around her neck. To anyone, it was innocent. To the blackbird, the boy looked apt to strangle her. The blackbird ignored it. He’d seen worse in his time. All carrion birds had.
He looked down. Even beneath the tree lay the bones of thieves and witches. This place was old and its history wasn’t in the dusty books in the library, it lay rotting, constantly rotting, in the ground.
The blackbird shook his head. He shifted his feet on the branch, latched on better to bear the wind and fluffed up his feathers to ward off the cold. He, still carefully watching, noticed a glint of gold around the girl’s throat. He nearly lunged forward at once, wanting it, but remembered he had a duty to fulfill. He let out a caw of regret and then leaped off his branch.
Down on the ground, the red-haired girl shivered. Her boyfriend moved closer, wrapping himself around her as he figured her cold. He offered her the opportunity to get under his coat.
“All right?” he asked.
“One crow,” the girl said. “I think that means death.”
“It means sorrow,” the boy said. He recalled his mother teaching him the rhyme by their hearth when he was younger. One crow means sorrow, two crows mean joy, three crows a wedding, four crows a boy, five crows mean silver, six crows mean gold, seven crows a secret that's never been told. He’d watched his mother’s shaky hands knit, a flask of whisky hidden in her yarn, as his father cut wood outside and yelled abuse at the neighborhood dogs when they drew near. His mother hadn’t been a drunk; she’d had anxiety. Drinking had merely been her cure. She’d never much liked the yelling.
He gave the girl a half smile, batting away the old thoughts like they were mere candyfloss cobwebs. The girl shivered and stepped closer, perfectly okay with his explanation. Though she had to think that what was a greater cause for sorrow than death?
***
By the iced-over creek and between thorns on a bramble bush’s skeletal arm of a branch, the blackbird sat. He watched the proceedings as the creatures gathered, getting ready for their winter’s wait in the clearing. There was a slender gray fox, fur glowing in the moonlight; a terrier that had carried along a dead toad, origin unknown; a Scottish Wildcat, yellow-green eyes shadowed with remembrance of hunt; a hound; a lurcher; a Barn Owl; a rough-coated collie; and a blue-gray house cat, red bell jangling around its throat.
The blackbird let out a croak of unease, being one of the two birds here. He also noted a lack of rodents or rabbits. Then again, they rarely trusted the truce to hold. Prey animals never did. The horse, piebald and wall-eyed, or the mottle-faced sheep from the farm over the hill hadn’t come either, though nothing here could hurt them.
Prey animals. The blackbird scoffed mentally.
He looked around at the other animals and bird, wondering at their names. He tried to remember from summer, but found he really couldn’t. He looked to the lean, sly-eyed fox and found nothing but remembrance of its face.
Sometimes he wished he could remember things like the humans could or, if not, write down things as they could to save the memories for later.
The dogs mingled in the center of the frost-covered hollow, even as the blackbird and Barn Owl stayed on opposite sides of the thicket that surrounded it. The lurcher bumped into the hound who stumbled and the collie ran circles around the terrier, terrier’s offering forgotten. They murmured things. Play. Friends. Nice.
Sometimes the blackbird also wished he was a dog.
The house cat watched the proceedings in annoyance but gave a side-eye to the toad, hungry for prey despite being fed by its humans at home. Its bell kept it tame, though, and it looked up towards the blackbird.
“Is that you, Archibald?” the cat asked.
“Yes,” the blackbird responded, ruffled. He didn’t expect the others to remember. But then, who better to remember than a cat? Cats didn’t forget grievances easily. Perhaps this one was the same with names.
The cat grinned at him, the cat-like half-smile that was probably half the reason the mice stayed at bay this sacred night. “I’m Beathan.”
“Oh,” Archibald said. He could almost remember that. “Odd name for a cat.”
“They call me Blue at home,” the cat admitted, half ashamed.
“How many times have you come out here?” Archibald asked.
“Sixteen times,” the cat responded. “This is my fourth time on this night.”
The blackbird bobbed his head. The ice glittered when the clouds cleared, showing the reflection of stars--something that shouldn’t truly happen, the blackbird thought. It was beautiful and he wanted it.
He couldn’t have the stars. He couldn’t have the ice. Only Mistress could have the ice.
He shivered, thinking of Mistress. His feathers did no good. Beathan watched him curiously.
“Is She coming?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t know,” Archibald admitted. In winter, it was hard to tell when She was around. In summer, She, an icicle on your mind, was rather obvious.
“Oh. Really? Isn’t She rather close to your kind?” Beathan asked.
If you could call it that. “Yes and no.”
The terrier froze in the field, paralyzed, and made a deep noise inside himself, unable to bark or yelp--muzzle stuck closed. The lurcher and collie halted their play and looked around warily. The hound looked confused. The Scottish Wildcat arched its back and hissed, long and low, before scuttling back into the thicket, watchful.
The Barn Owl asked curiously, “Who?”
“Mistress, you idiot,” the fox snarled.
And, low and behold, Mistress stepped onto the narrow path between two rime-covered bramble bushes. Her sharp chin was held high and her sharper flint eyes cased the clearing. She took careful, dancer’s steps over rocks, roots, and dead, fallen thorns. She entered the clearing then and gave one brief nod.
Archibald felt his blackbird’s heart nearly give out, unable to help himself. Cascading down Her back as always were uncountable feathers. The feathers were mostly black of some sort be it glossy, dull, or iridescent, but some were dark brown, white, or small and red. They were the feathers of many birds; blackbirds, mostly, but also rooks, crows, jackdaws, ravens, and river crows. Some were from red-winged blackbirds, grackles, and black swans.
The Barn Owl flapped its wings in alarm and almost took off.
Archibald concluded it was new. Archibald almost lost a few feathers (and wouldn’t Mistress like that), but he managed himself well enough, ignoring the fact that his brothers and sisters’ feathers, one of the cherished things that made them birds, adorned Mistress’s cloak.
The cloak wasn’t a normal cloak, made of velvet and fur like many others, but made of feathers and lined with black raw silk. Archibald knew Mistress didn’t much catch a chill though. She now stood barefoot in the snow, filthy feet hidden from view.
Archibald took the time to look Her over. Her name was one he would always remember, but did he recognize Her by sight or by feel?
He saw Her face. She had high cheekbones and dark lips, tinged with blue but looking almost like blackberries; yet, Her other features were awkward or coarse. Her eyes seemed to boil over with hate, even when She was indifferent like now as she watched them all, terrier still caught in Her grip.
Her hair was of a dark color, either brown or black, and surged down her back in curls that looked like thin, twisted, dead snakes. Her eyebrows were darker and thick.
Her dress was white but ripped and wet from the snow and stained indigo at random. Her hands, calloused and strong, held two fistfuls of it, keeping it off the snow.
Moonstones glittered around her throat and in a lacy headpiece Archibald hadn’t taken much time to notice. Now he did. He didn’t want them.Mistress crouched down, looking roguish as always, and whispered to the cat.
The cat’s eyes darkened, but she nodded.
New knowledge to deal with the coming year.
Archibald shivered, icicle firmly planted in his mind now. He always got the worst news.***
Maybe.
***
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
Hey there.
I'm here to review (FINALLY since the first time I began writing a review for this which I unfortunately only finished now because I was at the school computer lab back then and already had to go...)... *ehem*
Here, it seems like the girl's just having a dreadful case of hypothermia.
)
(Not that I love 'tense' and 'dreadful' though. lol)
It's dark and interesting like you said above the post. 
I just hope there was more backstory for the couple and the Mistress and the meeting. The Mistress is Death, is she not?
Notice how I did not have much corrections there. 
And the fourth part was a nice finish to the story.
Anyway, nitpicks:
Silvery flakes drifted down, glittering in the bright light of the harvest moon.
- Nice imagery to begin the story.
Two lovers walked down Meadowbough Lane and, on an above evergreen branch, a blackbird sitting vigil tracked them with beady, liquid eyes.
- Unlike the first sentence, this one was telly (remember show-vs-tell) and the 'beady, liquid eyes' didn't really 'make up' for the imagery of the sentence. I'm not saying that there should be imagery all the time though.
- You accidentally put two spaces after 'vigil'.
- I think you made a mistake with 'on an above evergreen branch'.
The girl with curly chestnut locks and red cheeks and nose laughed, spilling a bit of hot chocolate onto the frosty sidewalk, and the boy, dark of hair but pale and blue-lipped--a native, wrapped her scarf better around her neck.
- This sentence in general is too long. o.o I'm also confused with what they were doing.
The girl with curly chestnut locks and red cheeks and nose laughed
- In describing characters, it's kind of awkward and (again) telly to describe them like this. Show, don't tell. Imply description through actions of the characters or through something else that is happening that seems to show these descriptions like, "She laughed, the moonlight shining palely on the curls of her chestnut hair" or "She laughed, tucking her chestnut hair behind her ear" or something like that. I'm not really good with examples (xD) so you might want help from other members.
and the boy, dark of hair but pale and blue-lipped--a native, wrapped her scarf better around her neck.
- I'm confused with your use of 'her' there. You mentioned a boy, then you used the pronoun 'her'. Did you mean that the boy was the one who wrapped her scarf? Please clear this up.
- Also, the boy has blue lips? Or was that a figure of speech? Or was I simply not getting it? xD
The blackbird ignored it. He’d seen worse in his time. All carrion birds had.
- It got interesting at this part. It feels like the blackbirds/carrion birds are really characters in the story.
wasn’t in the dusty books in the library, it lay rotting, constantly rotting, in the ground.
- I think it is better to use a period after 'library' since the following clause can stand as an independent sentence.
- Anyway, I liked how you repeated 'rotting' there.
noticed a glint of gold around the girl’s throat. He nearly lunged forward at once, wanting it,
- lol Reminds me of the crow in an episode of the animated Mr. Bean. xD
wrapping himself around her as he figured her cold
- I don't suppose you need to tell us why he had to wrap himself around the shivering girl.
He offered her the opportunity to get under his coat.
- The 'He offered her the opportunity' sounds too technical (xD), especially the word 'opportunity'. And I don't know what you meany by 'under his coat'.
“One crow,” the girl said. “I think that means death.”
- I think you ought to write that the girl noticed the crow. The mentioning kind of felt from out of nowhere. Also, she got dark all of a sudden with the mention of 'death' there.
His mother hadn’t been a drunk; she’d had anxiety.
- I'm not sure this sentence was constructed well and what it meant.
She’d never much liked the yelling.
- This sentence wasn't added well. It looked like the yelling caused the mother's anxiety. Rephrase this with the few previous sentences.
Though she had to think that what was a greater cause for sorrow than death?
- I think it's wrong to begin a sentence with 'though'. Rephrase with the preceding sentence.
- Anyway, the girl's 'dark' feelings seem to be significant. I think it's better if you'd made us feel that at the beginning of the story.
By the iced-over creek and between thorns on a bramble bush’s skeletal arm of a branch, a blackbird sat.
- o.o This seemed too long and telly. Too many nouns mentioned before the simple 'a blackbird sat' Try putting 'A blackbird sat' in the beginning of the sentence. Rephrase.
There was a slender gray fox, fur glowing in the moonlight;
- I think it's better if you put 'its' before 'fur'.
a Scottish Wildcat,
- Why is the 'w' there also capitalized?
a Barn Owl;
- Why are the first letters capitalized? (Just asking.
and a blue-gray house cat, red bell jangling around its throat.
- Ooh. I'm unaware of a cat of such color. xD Or am I overthinking the 'blue' in the 'blue-gray'? Hehe.
- I think there should be an 'a' before 'red bell'.
Prey animals. The blackbird scoffed mentally.
- The period after 'animals' should be a comma.
- Maybe it's better if it was 'The blackbird scoffed in his head' or something like that.
He looked around at the other animals and bird,
- Try 'at the other bird and the other animals' or something like that. The 'and bird' at the end felt slightly awkward. This isn't a necessary correction though, I think.
wondering at their names.
- I don't think 'at' is the correct preposition there.
He looked to the lean, sly-eyed fox and found nothing but remembrance of its face.
- The 'found nothing but remembrance' confuses as to whether the crow actually remembered the fox or not.
write down things as they could to save the memories for later.
The dogs mingled in the center of the frost-covered hollow,
- I feel like there is a need for transition before 'The dogs'.
The dogs mingled in the center of the frost-covered hollow, even as the blackbird and Barn Owl stayed on opposite sides of the thicket that surrounded it.
- I don't get why there is 'even' there. I don't get why the dogs would or wouldn't mingle even if the birds were there.
ran circles around the terrier, terrier’s offering forgotten.
- I think there should be a 'the' before 'terrier's'. Also, perhaps you should replace 'terrier's' with 'latter's' to avoid repetition.
They murmured things. Play. Friends. Nice.
- I think the period after 'things' should be a colon because the sentence is referring to the words that followed.
hungry for prey despite being fed by its humans at home.
- The 'its humans' made it sound like the cat 'owned' the humans rather than vice versa.
But then, who better to remember than a cat?
- I think that should be 'who remembers better than a cat'.
The cat grinned at him, the cat-like half-smile that was probably half the reason the mice stayed at bay this sacred night.
- Perhaps this would be better like this: 'The cat grinned at him, his half-smile probably half the reason why the mice stayed at bay this sacred night.' It's too long though, so you might wanna separate 'his half-smile (...)' as another sentence.
“Sixteen times,” the cat responded. “This is my fourth time on this night.”
- I didn't get this. o.o He's come out 'sixteen times' yet it was his 'fourth' time that night?
In summer, She, an icicle on your mind, was rather obvious.
- I didn't get the 'an icicle on your mind' there.
And, low and behold,
- Wasn't that supposed to be 'lo and behold' without the 'w'?
Mistress stepped onto the narrow path
- I think it would have been a grander entrance if there was a 'the' before the 'Mistress', unless that's her name.
terrier still caught in Her grip.
- I think there ought to be a 'the' before 'terrier'.
Archibald shivered, icicle firmly planted in his mind now.
- You tend to have a lack of use of articles before nouns like before 'icicle' here.
The boy felt a liar and horrible. His emotions were muddled and hands restless as he took in the girl bawling on the couch. (...)
- I love the way you successfully made this paragraph tense and dreadful.
managed to sail through life without every having to deal with this.
- The 'every' there was supposed to be 'ever', right?
She’d just learned her brother was MIA (...) or severely injured from a IED,
- I've no idea what 'MIA' and 'IED' means. lol Footnotes, please?
Perhaps she’d figure she needed him,
- I think you should keep 'figure' in past tense.
Perhaps she’d figure that,
- Same here.
He’d last as long as he could before She wore his cherished feathers on Her back.
- Beautiful ending.
- - - - - - -
I actually liked this story.
The beginning of the story was rough. If you can notice, I think I have the most nitpicks in those parts. But everything began to pull together after the first '***', which I assume was the second part. It was almost perfect starting at the third part.
Anyway, I'm sorry I was only able to finish this review now. I've delayed and procrastinated so long. lol I seriously saved the link to this work in the draft of this review. It's sad that this never got reviewed by anyone else. >.>
Nevertheless, keep it up and never stop writing!