Out in the woods, the small caravan of goods and money made its way back toward the Baron's manor. The road was particularly narrow, and the trees were bunched tightly. It wasn't surprising though. This backwater village was on the road to nowhere, except maybe Lakyle, and the soldiers only saw fit to traverse it when so ordered.

Shivering, the sergeant over the soldiers had a chill run up his spine as he looked closely at the trees. Their leaves having mostly fallen, the limbs looked like twisted hands and fingers reaching toward him and over his head. The light here was minimal even with the absent leaves. The sergeant shook off his gloom and doom and forced his horse forward. The faster they were out of the forest and into clear, the better. There was no time to lose.

Without warning, the woods went quiet. Birds stopped singing and even the slight breeze through the trees seemed to halt its gentle whisper.

Only the beat of the captain's horse's hooves, and the rumble of the taxes-laden wagon invaded the eerie silence. Even the livestock, newly gained for the Baron, sensed a change moved on noiselessly.

The captain clicked his heels and urged the horse on. The six remaining foot soldiers drove the group to keep pace, but after a moment, they realized the way was too rough to go at such a clip. They slowed back to a plod, pushing down the fear rising in their chests.

Stopping suddenly, the sergeant turned his head in every direction. All around them the sound of bells filled their ears. It was as if the forest had come alive and was laughing at them in some ancient lilting tongue. "Do you hear that?" the sergeant asked the others.

Their faces pale, the other soldiers nodded. They indeed heard it too.

Then suddenly, nearly twenty men, if they could indeed be called that, appeared from behind the trees—no it seemed as if they came from inside the trees—and surrounded the party. Their faces were rough and made of bark. They seemed to have two slits for eyes and no mouth.

Their bodies were marked with leaves and ancient writing as were their clothes. Their skin was gray and made of dirt and earth. No hair could be seen, and the soldiers would have bet that if their hoods had been removed, only leaves and lichen would have shown on their bark heads. The largest and fattest tree-man cried out and the others joined him. It was a terrible wordless sound, and the soldiers were arrested by a primal fear. Regaining his composure, the sergeant faced the closest tree-man and called down from his horse.

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"What do you want?"

The tree-men split and a new figure appeared among them. He was clad completely in black and where his face should be below his hood was a deep and empty void. The captain stifled his own gasp and repeated his question.

"What do you want?"

The figure's voice started so low that the captain had to strain to hear. "What do we want? For years you have traipsed through our forest, trampled our young ones and taken what is precious to us." The captain, sensing the threat in the figure's words, drew his sword and pointed it. The voice grew in intensity. "Put away your sword! Have you not cut enough of us down when it benefits you?"

The tree-men grunted in assent. He looked around and noted every manner of crude weapon that the assailants held in their gray and brown hands. He was clearly outmatched. The sergeant tried to hold the gaze of the faceless figure and found it was not possible. He sheathed his sword and held up his hands.

"We mean you no harm. Let us pass and we will leave your forest as we found it." His placating gesture was met with a snort of derision.

"You may mean us no harm today, but years of abuse have taken their toll. We will be avenged." The voice was now a controlled yell.

Knots formed in the stomachs of the soldiers, and the young sergeant looked visibly shaken. If he had known that this assignment would lead to these events, he would have played sick. Alas, that opportunity was gone.

The black figure continued, "Do not worry. We have no desire for bloodshed. We merely want to take something dear to you. Give us your livestock and your wagon. You may keep the chest on your horse's back, but your horse will come with us."

"What use do you have for livestock and goods?" the sergeant asked with more conviction than he felt.

"The forest has no use for these, but they will not go to waste." The steel in the black-clad figure's voice silenced the sergeant.

Without another word, he dismounted, removed the tax-chest from the back of his steed, and handed the reins to the largest tree-man. The other soldiers quickly rallied around their captain as an exit path formed among the tree folk. Bells rang through the trees once more and the tree-men began a rhythmic chant. Without hesitation, the soldiers took the exit and nearly ran through the forest. As they made their way out of the woods and into the clear, the men stopped and caught their breath.

"What will we tell the Baron?" someone asked the sergeant.

The young man shook his head as his chest heaved. "We certainly don't tell them we were attacked by tree spirits. We would be the laughing stock of the army." He paused and formed his thoughts. "We say we were attacked by bandits led by a man in black. We were hard pressed, but still escaped with the tax money. They do not need to know the details…"

The other men nodded. There was not much else they could do.

----

Conall looked at the horse reins in his hand. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Silver laughed, "I think you just got a horse, Conall. We will have to add a horse stall to your barn!"

"But why did we take it? I do not need a horse."

"Two reasons. I did not want the Captain riding back to the Baron too fast so that they could pursue us, and we can use it to pull the cart back to town. It took three of those soldiers to keep it moving, you saw."

"Uh, you're a clever one, you are. Glad you are on our side!"

'I am glad to have a side to be on,' Silver thought to himself. Then aloud he announced, "Let's go home. The tree-folk are victorious!"

They raised their bark-covered limbs and grunted.