The world of Innistrad was not one that Megara would normally have been interested in. It was an oppressively dark and grim place, even the daytime was dimmed by a misty grey pallor that left a ghostly grip on the cold, harsh realm. Even the city of Thraben, Innistrad's most metropolitan and active city was dull.
Megara made her way to the outskirts of the city, the stares from the townsfolk nothing new to her. Innistrad did not seem to have its own naturally occurring centaurs so someone of her ancestry stood out. She was aware that not too long ago there was an attack on the plane by an eldritch abomination that had left a number of cruelly warped and manipulated amalgamations in her wake. To some, the emergence of what appeared to be the fused visages of a horse and rider had seemed a portent of Emrakul's return. Thankfully, the absence of external sinew or tentacles wrought from flesh was sufficient to assuage the fears of most, and the blessings of the angel Sigarda seemed to satisfy the rest.
Still, the fact that she kept drawing attention was an issue. She still had work to do on Innistrad, but she did not think she could stand another minute in Thraben with the gawking and muttering simpletons. She knew the risks of venturing out of the city walls, of getting caught in the wilds of Innistrad after nightfall, but she figured she would rather deal with threats she was allowed to actually fight back against. She checked her map, there was a town a short ways north that she could make her way to. She'd be able to find somewhere there to make camp for the night. She rolled up her map, tied her blonde hair back in a ponytail and set off at a gallop.
The scenery around the centaur was actually quite lovely, once the early morning gloom had passed. The fields were misty and fragrant with workers labouring earnestly. Some stopped to wave as she charged by, others simply ignored her. It reminded her of the Harvest of Karametra back home on Theros. The sight helped rid her of some of the frustration she had felt with Innistrad as a whole, reminding her that no matter where in the multiverse she was, there were always some things that were the same. Theros was warmer though, and as she pulled her cloak tighter around her bronze tanned skin and over her thin leather bodice, she was once again reminded why she disliked this plane.
She charged on through the afternoon, stopping only briefly for a small lunch to revitalise herself. She had been out for too long and aside from the small collection of farmhouses just outside the city walls had not encountered her target. She had taken a wrong turn somewhere or had overshot her goal. Either that, or the small cluster of half decrepit farm buildings less than a mile from Thraben proper was what passed on this plane for a town. She was genuinely considering turning back when she heard a heavy, dull thwack in the woodland beside her. Curious, she made her way forward through the trees towards a small clearing. The leaves overhead provided a sort of canopy as the dull crack of what she now recognised to be an axe splitting logs was echoed by the rumbling of thunder in the distance. Meg moved slowly, being as stealthy as it was possible for a centaur to be.
Standing over a tree stump was a man. His ruddy skin, the colour of redwood bark, was sweating profusely. He was topless, his shirt hanging from a small branch a few paces away from where he was working. His muscles glistened in the failing sunlight as he hoisted the heavy, black bladed axe over his head. With a grunt of exertion that let the veins in his neck pulse and flex visibly, he swung the axe down hard onto a log, rending it in two with a single blow.
The woodcutter leaned back slightly and heaved a sigh, wiping his brow with his arm. His body was covered in a mat of course black hair, from his shaggy head flecked with lightning strikes of silver to his surprisingly well kept beard, to the carpet that encased both his chest and forearms. He almost had a higher proportion of his body covered in fur than she did. He stood panting for a few seconds before reaching down to pick up another log. His fingers had just wrapped around the wood when he stopped. He stood upright, glanced around and sniffed the air before shrugging his shoulders and putting the log down.
"You know," his voice was deep but surprisingly youthful. "It's both rude and dangerous to sneak up on someone like that. Particularly this close to Ulvenwald." Meg gulped slightly and stepped into the clearing. The woodcutter gave her an appraising glare. "This ain't Thraben young miss. No stone walls or angels to guard you out here. There's wolves and worse, if you ain't careful."
Meg could only nod. Innistrad was famed not only for its potent necromantic energies giving rise to a frankly uncomfortable number of zombies, as well as the vampires who almost unilaterally rule the plane, but also for its werewolves. They were bizarre creatures, rare enough in the multiverse that transform between man and beast with the moon. Vampires, angels, demons, zombies, all were commonplace across many planes. But werewolves were almost uniquely an Innistradi species.
"Not from around here, are you?" The woodcutter queried, raising a disinterested eyebrow. He wasn't really asking, more making an observation of her situation. Meg simply nodded. "I've encountered folk of your ilk before. Not the half horse part, that's a new one on me, but Outsiders. Seems trouble follows folk like that. Whether they cause it or try to contain it, who can say. Whatever it is, can't be an easy life."
He put his axe down against the stump and made his way over to Meg, the salty sour scent of his sweat assaulting her nostrils as he did. "Name's Alaric, what's yours?"
Startled, the centaur just blurted out the word Megara. The woodcutter just nodded. "There's thunder in the air, Megara, and not far off by my reckoning. Besides, even for someone like yourself, Thraben is a bit of a ways off. You'd be hard pressed to get there before nightfall, never mind before the rain. And there's no way they're letting anyone through that gate once the sun goes down." He looked sadly into the middle distance, a dark cloud covering his eyes. "Some lessons you only get taught once here."
Alaric draped his shirt carelessly over one shoulder. "You're best off coming back with me, if you don't want to be caught out here after dark. I'm afraid my house wouldn't be overly comfortable for someone of your build, but you're more than welcome to the barn."
Meg simply snorted. "I find it awfully presumptuous of you to assume that I'd just go with you like that. Strange man in the woods, swinging an axe, veiled threats? Why should I believe you? You may very well have some sort of nefarious plan for a lone young girl. And I'll just overlook the barn comment as well."
