Before she could reply, Teresa and the big man were surrounded on all sides by five forest wraiths. Their dark, torn eyeholes burned pitifully as they reached their bony fingers toward the two human creatures. There was no time to spare.
“Fight if you can!” the man shouted, and rushed at the nearest wraith with his axe. The axe whipped through the wraith, seeming to do no harm, but somehow causing the wraith to scream with agony nonetheless. She saw in a flash that the strong man was getting weaker by the second by being in close proximity of these wretched and horrifying creatures. She reached into her satchel and pulled out her golden ball, throwing it directly at the wraith who menaced the man. The wraith screamed again, and disappeared, and the ball whipped back into her hand. Just as quickly, she threw it at the next wraith, while they all circled nearer and nearer her. As they drew close, Teresa could feel her life force draining from her. They seemed to be eating away at her soul. Undeterred, she threw and caught the golden ball three more times, killing the wraiths that threatened them. Severely weakened, she collapsed onto her knees. The large man came to her side and lifted her up.
“The kiss of the wraith, it drains the life force,” the man explained. “Come. We’ll go to my cabin. I have something there that can help you.”
He half carried, half dragged Teresa through the meadow, across the creek, and to a tiny one-room wooden structure in a very small forest clearing. Inside, there was just enough room for a wooden table, a single bed, and a cast- iron stove, with a pipe chimney. Next to the stove, some shelves held his provisions, along with his cups and plates. The man dropped Teresa down into a chair at his table and busied himself with some items on the stove. Soon, a kettle was boiling. He went to the shelves, and brought down a jar filled with white powder and a tin cup. Placing the cup on the table opposite Teresa, he shook a generous amount of powder into it, then filled it to the brim with hot water from the kettle.
“Drink this,” he said, handing the cup to Teresa. “It will strengthen you.”
Teresa drank. It tasted pretty terrible, but she was too weak to care, and its healing properties were strong enough so that after one hesitant sip, she gulped it down.
“Careful!” the man said, as he prepared the same mixture for himself. “You’ll get a cramp. This powder should bring us back to your full health. The wraiths are a damned nuisance in this area of the forest. They usually don’t travel in packs, though, unless something has really riled them up.”
“Maybe it was the spell Old Tom put on the forest last night,” Teresa said.
“Old Tom?” the big man asked. “Why, he hasn’t visited this forest since my grandfather’s time!”
“Well, he was here last night,” Teresa said. “I sat with him. He told me—” and she broke off. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to talk too much about Old Tom, and what he said about her becoming a warrior. At least until she knew the intentions of the people she met.
“Never mind,” said the large man, smiling slightly. “You can keep your words with Old Tom to yourself. In fact, I prefer it,” he added, eyeing her. Teresa realized, suddenly, that in addition to her developing fight skills, her interactions with Old Tom had increased her status in the big man’s perspective. She was no longer just a girl who got lost in the woods.
“That’s, uh, quite a weapon you’ve got there,” he added, curiously.
“My ball? It’s not—well, I guess it is a weapon. Against wraiths, especially.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Blessed by Old Tom, I imagine,” the man said cautiously.
He had such a funny, reverent way of talking about him!
“Sure, yes,” Teresa said. “I guess he did. It didn’t used to return to me until he touched it.” She looked around, curiously. It was a homey kind of place, even as small as it was. The stove warmed the small room, and the single bed had a plush down pillow and comforter. The plates were clean and the dirt floor was swept.
“You have a lovely home,” Teresa said, and the giant woodsman nearly blushed.
“Ah, I have a happy enough life,” he said. “The forest suits me.”
“But how do you handle living with the wraiths?”
“I had my axe blessed by a cleric,” he said, “so that it can damage the wraiths. I can take one. They don’t usually travel in packs, as I said. You saved my life,” he added, casually.
“But Old Tom must have known that putting a spell on the forest would enrage the wraiths,” Teresa burst out. “How could he do that to you?”
The woodsman shrugged. “It’s not to be considered. Or even talked about. Now, will you rest?”
“No,” Teresa said, slowly. “I must fight wraiths. It makes me stronger.” She stood, feeling the effects not just of the healing properties, but of the effect of killing five more of the horrid creatures.
She could feel her muscles flex under the leather jacket, which strained just a bit more against her shoulders and back. The feeling of muscular development was so pleasurable. It’s what she had always dreamed of as a little princess, required to keep her body soft and non-muscular so as not to scare the suitors away.
“It makes us richer, too,” the woodsman added, and winked, tossing a small bag on the table. It jingled. “I managed to scoop up these coins as we left the fight.”
“Oh, yeah!” Teresa said. “Well, you keep them,” she said, in a sudden impulsive gesture.
“We’ll keep them,” he said. “They’re ours. And if you insist on going back into the forest, then you must accept this from me.”
He handed her a small knife. The hilt was made of leather-wrapped steel, and the blade was double-edged, about five or six inches long.
“There’s more than just wraiths in the forest,” he added warningly. “And a magic golden ball won’t do much against a boar.”
“Thank you,” Teresa said, accepting the knife. She tucked it into her belt.
The woodsman put down his cup with a crash that shook the small cabin. “Well, let’s be off,” he said.
“What do you mean, let’s be off?" she asked. "You don’t have to go with me.”
“As I said, girlie, you saved my life. I’m your companion until I can repay you. Now, what is your name?”
“Prin—uh, Teresa,” she said.
“Terry! Terry the Terror—to the forest wraiths, at least. I am Gregor the Woodsman. At your service.”
He bowed over the table. Terry nearly curtseyed, but caught herself, and stuck out her hand instead. The woodsman shook it vigorously.
“Now let’s kill some forest wraiths!”
When they left the cabin, the clearing was bathed in mild yellow sunshine that was far different from the pale, chilly dawn. It warmed them, for a moment, but soon they were traveling through the dim paths of the forest again, listening closely for the sound of howling. None could be heard. They hunted for a couple of hours, then sat down at the base of two great oaks, to quickly sup on some bread and cheese.
“The fight this morning must have shook them into hiding,” Gregor said. “Ah, well, we will come upon one sooner rather than later, I’m sure.” He jammed a huge chunk of bread into his wide mouth. Some crumbs caught in his moustache.
Terry nodded in response. He was such an eater. She kept her eyes on her own meal for a moment. When she heard grunting, she thought it was coming from him! But she realized her mistake when Gregor sprang to his feet, shaking the crumbs from his moustache and reaching for his axe.
“There’s a boar coming,” he whispered, gripping his axe with both hands. “You can fight with me, or climb the tree. Your choice.”
Teresa didn’t think twice. She slipped Gregor’s present out of her belt and wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the long blade, holding it in front of her.
“I’ll fight,” she said.
Gregor didn’t respond, but she could tell he liked her answer.
Standing a little behind Gregor, she held her blade tightly and prepared herself for the emergence of the boar. The grunting grew louder, now accompanied by the rustling of nearby undergrowth. Every muscle in her body was tense, and she could tell that Gregor was coiled like a spring.
“Here he comes,” whispered Gregor. “Now!”