Betony Rue felt it as she always did. The chill wind that felt of dying leaves. The seasons always changed but she knew the arrival of Autumn. Felt the encroaching darkness.
It called to her. Whispered secrets to search out. To find fey remedies she might need, or knowledge the Hag had yet to teach her. Knowledge she had forgotten. It wasn't to ask questions. She wanted to go out and rip it from the minds of others. To terrorize them to reveal what she wanted.
It sounded the horn to hunt. More than ever it was during the Fall that Betony Rue felt the need to find her brother. And more than ever she was glad she had not, perhaps could not, for it wasn't a hunt to find and protect. To search out and kill. To see fear in his eyes as barbed claws pierced the skin of his throat. Blood falling on the ground in orchards of ripening apples.
She could always picture such things so clearly.
Betony Rue hated Autumn but it was only with fear that she could keep others away. Frighten them from her. Keep them safe. Care for them without love. For it was the ones she loved she knew she would kill. In the end.
Autumn, the time of feasts, and of harvest; of coming darkness and of fear, the time of the hunt.
And of dying.