The river appeared harmless enough. Its banks were less than a dozen feet apart, its current walked instead of ran, and its bed rested three feet below the water’s surface at its deepest point. Tommy certainly hadn’t fallen in and drowned. It had occurred to Hadraniel more than a few times that Tommy could have died and then been reanimated. He had seen more impressive feats of living death in his mother’s court. If Tommy’s condition had something to do with the hijacking of the cerebellum, then he would have had to be subjected to a nerve agent before his body could be puppeteered. If the source of the nerve agent were still somewhere upstream, the water could still be dangerous….
“What’re ya lookin’ for little man?” Elliot trundled carelessly into the river. He extracted a freshwater mollusk from the creekbed. Examined it. Splashed about some more. No immediate signs of nerve damage.
“Pieces of clothing, blood, tracks, Tommy’s personal belongings….”
Mr. Cross and his associates inspected Hadraniel’s inspection of the supposed crime scene. Hadraniel seemed to have some know-how, but Mr. Cross doubted his forensic ability. Hadraniel was too well born to understand crime. His skills of deduction were sound, but he lacked a fundamental understanding of the mayhem inherent in violent crime. Mr. Cross had investigated many crime scenes in his days. Nearly as many as he had caused. While Hadraniel led Elliot aimlessly up the river, Mr. Cross directed his people in a more practiced search.
After a meticulous combing of the river path, the excavation of a fallen tree branch, and the discovery of a snarl of natural debris some fifty feet down the river, Mr. Cross had a decent idea of what Tommy had done last night. After stumbling to the river’s edge, he had lost something in the current. This thing was most likely the water pail in which he intended to carry Trevor’s bath. Mr. Cross didn’t think it mattered much. Whatever it was, it was long gone now. Tommy had waded into the water to retrieve the thing. There, waist deep in the weak current, Tommy had experienced a change of heart. He had then forgotten entirely about his lost property and taken the most direct route back into town. This more direct route led him through numerous briar patches, where his clothes and skin were torn.
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The evidence was clear enough, but it was an incomplete story. It’s missing piece was as clear to Mr. Cross as a grifter’s scam - black magic. Farther up the river and no thanks to logic or skill of any kind, Hadraniel discovered something even more interesting.
There was a monster bathing by the river. It ladled water over its mud streaked legs and torso with symmetrical seven fingered hands. Its knees and elbows hinged both forward and backward, and the deep striations of its compound muscles undulated under its matte gray skin. Beside it lay an arrangement of modest clothes of its general shape and size. It rose to its full height of nearly seven feet, and donned the clothing. Hadraniel should have run or hid. He should have at least warned the friends he had made last night. Instead he chose to trust his intuition.
“Hello!” he called to the monster. It rounded calmly, and acknowledged him with a bow. Hadraniel donned his characteristic smile, and approached it with a brave jaunt.
“I’m Hadraniel.”
The thing kneeled so that its eyes would be level with Hadraniel’s. It moved in as non-threatening a way as it could. It was trying very hard not to scare the little man away. It brought a palm to its rippling hairless chest.
“Foal,” it named itself.
Foal did not have time for conversation. It had completed its task, and it was needed elsewhere. It bowed its respect to the friendly earth creature, and ascended the riverbank at a speed champion sprinters only dream of.