Rowan cautiously opened the door of the dilapidated market that he had discovered the night before. He had been wandering aimlessly through the verdant countryside along what he assumed was once a highway. For weeks he had been wandering and avoiding any settlement that he came across out of an irrational sense of caution. This small market that had offered him solace at the end of yet another long day of travel, it had been an unexpected blessing. For weeks he had been sleeping in abandoned hollows and dens and masking his presence as to avoid drawing any attention to his passing, only ever venturing out when the sun had burned off the early morning fog.
There were many things in this world to be wary of in the depths of the night, and even in the brightness of the bearing sun there were dangers. Rowan had slowly made his way into the great valley that had lain beyond the great mountains, where he awoken alone several months ago. Rowan paused as the door creaked on rusted hinges. The sound piercing the relative silence of the barren stone yard beyond. He peered through the gap for long moments as his breath caught in his chest, he could feel his pulse quicken as he gingerly pulled the door closed.
“The fog is heavier than usual this morning.” Rowan puzzled aloud as he pushed the bolt through the eye of the door. “Though, it was a warm night, so it stands to reason that in the cooling air of the early morning the fog would sock in…” He began to pace in frustration, rubbing his face with his hands and wiping the sleep from his eyes. He paced along the long narrow counter that had dominated the store front in years past, before the roof had caved in. There was still enough room to move about comfortably in the small market room, but it was still, musty and cramped, he longed to feel the sun on his face and had no desire to stay overlong least he be discovered.
When he had discovered the hovel, it had been unoccupied though there was evidence that in the recent weeks it had seen traffic. He had approached the shelter with great care and taken great care to search though its reaches. Only after exhausting himself did he proclaim in his own mind that it was fit for a night and settled down. His efforts had been rewarded though, in his exploration of the rubble and counters he had discovered a shall cache of good beneath some fallen timbers. Two small jars of preserved peaches that had escaped destruction and in another small hole he had discovered some bandages, several needles and some cutsthread. When he had finally awoken, he had enjoyed the rare delicacy of peaches with his smoked meat rations.
Rowan continued in his pacing as he tried to occupy his mind. He had never considered himself a brooding individual, but in this strange world he found himself in, it had saved him from many blunders. He occupied his time with rolling his bed and repacking his stores. Rowan found a simple pleasure in the menial tasks and set to them with great focus. Once he was done, he pressed his back against the wall and slowly slid down to rest next to his pack crossing his legs and ran his hands though his hair scratching the back of his head as he let out a deep breath.
“You found me!” a small voice suddenly sounded.
Rowan rushed to his feet as he pulled the pitted iron knife from his belt and held it in front of him, his eyes darting around the dimly lit space. He could hear his heart in his ears and feel his breath in his chest as he searched. “Wh…who is there!” he stammered as he swept the room from the corner.
There was no reply to Rowans words.
Rowan licked his lips in anticipation as he slowly reached down and gripped the strap to the traveling pack, he carried, gently lifting it over his head and pushing it to his back, “I’m, I’m leaving now.” He said aloud as he began to slowly make his way towards the door at the far end of the counter, keeping his back to the shelves as he sidestepped. His head swinging wildly on his shoulders as he tried to find the source of the faint voice.
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“Don’t leave.” The faint voice replied softly.
Rowan paused again as he again tried to identify the source of the voice, it had seemed so close to him when he was sitting against the wall, though now when it spoke, it didn’t sound like he had gained any distance from the voice. “What game is this…” he thought as he took another step.
“Please don’t leave me, it is no game.” The faint voice pleaded sorrowfully. “Don’t open the door.”
“I’m sorry strange voice.” Rowan said firmly as he made it to the door and gripped the bolt that was held fast in the eye, he pulled it free and let it drop to the earthen floor, “I really must be going now.” He threw the door open and made to run into the yard but frozen in his steps as he turned. There just beyond the pickets now lay a great grey and white warg.
The great beasts’ ears had heard the door as it cried on its hinges, though it had yet to rise to its feet. Rowan saw that the sun had burned off the fog though now he was trapped in the doorway. The overlarge dog like creature began to stir, its ears flicking atop its massive head as it gained its feet and sniffed the air. Slowly Rowan backed into the market and took a deep breath, his heart threatening to burst free of his chest.
“Close the door!” the small voice said shrilly in panic as Rowan stood with his back pressed against the wall.
Rowan took a series of deep breaths as he tried to convince himself into motion. He wanted desperately to move, though fear gripped his entire body. “STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!” he though repeatedly. He didn’t dare to reply to the voice, as if his first thought hadn’t been to close the door. But what would he be shutting himself into the room with? He though as he surveyed the room.
“I won’t hurt you, just please, please close the door!” HURRY!”
That was all Rowan needed to move, he quickly turned and reached for the door, risking a glance out the door before he swung it closed. In that moment he and the great warg had locked eyes across the modest yard. The door slammed shut as the beast lunged, its body impacting against the sturdy wooden frame. Rowan began to panic as he held the doors rough iron handle in his left hand and reached to the floor where he had dropped the bolt. The warg continued to scratch at the door, growling as its thick sharp claws dug into the wooden planks. Rowan could smell the great beast, as the door shuttered from another heavy impact. He felt a surge of victory as he deftly slammed the bolt back through the heavy iron rings that served as the lock on the door. He fell back against some rubble, atop his pack and heard the breaking of glass as he landed.
“NOOOO!” He moaned as he rushed to remove his pack, pulling the rough leather flap back as he pulled from the pack several shards of glass, “Damnit!” he though in pain as he pulled the broken jar of peaches from his bag in a bloodied hand, the contents of the jar making a mess as he tried to salvage the sweet fruit from among the glass. Luckily most of the jar had remained intact when he fell, only breaking the uppermost portion of the jar. He quickly wrapped the cut on his finger and retrieved the jar from the night before and transferred the remnants of the second jar into it. “That would have been a shame...” he said aloud as he knelt next to his pack.
“Are you hurt?” the faint voice asked.
“I’m fine.” Rowan said sharply as he stood up, looking around the desolate space again, “Where are you?”
“I’m so happy you can hear me Rowan.”
Rowan knew that he had never said his own name as he continued to seek the source of the soft voice. And he felt a chill something of a chill work its way up his spine, “What do you mean by that? Of course, I can hear you.” His voice was more speculative as he began to review his own thoughts. “Won’t you come out?”
“You, you put here a long time ago” the small voice replied softly, a hint of longing tinging the statement. “I have waited for you, I waited for so long! Please could you free me Rowan?”
Rowans throughs screamed in his mind. “What is this? There is no way in hell that I am going to free this thing, it could be dangerous or hungry...it’s …” Rowan shivered as he looked back at the door, but something more drove him to action. It was like an invisible hand was pulling on his mind, gently tugging him towards a distant corner. He knew deep inside that he needed to find the voice, he needed to know what this was and why it was calling to him. There was no doubt after that, with sure steps he walked to the rubble and began to pull at the rubble, bits of brick and mortar, tar and thatch flew across the room. It became an all-consuming task as his hand tore away at the refuse, Rowan felt a bestial part of his mind take over as he savaged his fingers and palms, soon the rubble that he threw was covered in small smears of blood. His breathing became labored as he drove himself to the task, “I must find the voice.” He said over and over, his eyes widening and his brow becoming slick with sweat. For an hour he labored without fail, thoughts of everything else faded into the background. The beast at the door, the hanging mist that held him captive, none of that mattered and paled in comparison to what he pulled from the rubble pile.