He ran as hard as he could. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Between trees, over ditches, through bramble and briar he didn't stop. He couldn't. Thorn and twig tore his clothes and skin. Rock and pebble scratched and poked at his feet. He could still hear it behind him.
He could feel the pounding on the earth, hear the snapping of trees, hear its breath and smell the foulness of it. If he stopped, he was dead.
So when his foot caught the root, he knew it was over. He lay in the moss and leaves, his breath panting, waiting for it to end him. But the world around him was silent. The stench remained but his own breath was the only he heard. He wondered if he had lost it, if he had gotten away. He dug his fingers into the soil and began to slowly pull himself forward. Then he heard the burbling growl from above. He slowly looked up to see its mouth hanging above him with its large teeth, the drool from which dripped down as it opened its mouth wide.
The two watched as the creature ravaged the man. Blood splattered trees and grass, wetting the leaves on the forest floor as chunks of man littered the ground of the woods.
“Who is he?” The first asked quietly.
“Just a greedy human man that came to this ruin of a kingdom in hopes of treasure.” Answered the second figure from their vantage point in the treeline high above on the rim of the ravine. “He did not expect the creature that killed everyone else here.”
“And why do we follow something that will obviously not leave meat behind?” Asked the first.
“Because if you observe, you will notice it does not eat the man.” Answered the other.
Sure enough, when the man was apparently in small enough pieces to quell its rage, it wandered away, not a morsel eaten.
“If we can guide it toward the settlements nearby, it will slaughter the humans within and leave us meat enough to feed the pack without risking our lives raiding those same humans.” continued the second.
The first began a chuckle in response that both shared until it degenerated into a cackle as they stalked away.
“Rebecca,” her father called, for what must have been the fifth time. “Rebecca, we need to leave soon.”
“Can I not just stay behind father?” She shouted down the ladder from the loft.
“Can I just stay up here and read? Is what you are asking, and the answer is no.” He called back, on the edge of his patience. “It is a town meeting, and we, including you young miss, are part of the town. You are going.”
The girl stowed away the book and stomped down the ladder from her loft. She wore her mom's boots, three sizes too big for the thirteen year old girl, which made the footfalls all the louder. But she had rescued them from the charity pile after she passed last winter, and she refused to part with them. Her father and her three brothers were confused as to why she dragged out the old boots and let mom's heirlooms pass on to others instead. A silver chain, a copper ring and two steel ear studs that sat in a box because she never wore them was somehow less memorable to Rebecca than these boots she wore everyday on the farm. These boots were a part of the mother she knew, if her mother had ever worn those trinkets then that woman was someone the girl had never known.
She still wore her clothes she did her chores in and her raven hair was in the long braid that kept it out of her way.
Her father and brothers wore their church clothes, as if a gathering of five farms and the two dozen people in the town was somehow a social event rather than a simple meeting.
“Ach,” her father exclaimed, “you aren't even dressed.”
Rebecca looked down at herself, having to grab her tin framed spectacles before they slid off her slight bump of a nose. “I am hardly naked, father.”
“Ach,” he said again, “there's no time, let's go.”
He pulled her to the wagon, already hitched with her eldest brother at the reins, scooped her up and dropped her in the back. He climbed up to the driving board as the rest of his brood clambered in. Leland cracked the leather and the horses lurched the wagon into motion. Leland looked back before whispering to his father, “she doesn't look to make a great impression.”
“There was no time. But I can still seal the deal. It's the deal that matters.” He replied with a tone of strange sadness.
The temple was full of everyone from the surrounding countryside. The temple was the largest building in town, and the only one that would hold everyone. The priest was sitting by the pulpit, but all eyes were on the alderman. He stood at the head of the pews with Mr. Morton, another farmer from the north of town. As her family got seated Rebecca's dad exchanged a nod with Mr. Wolsey, another farmer from the west end like them.
Soon everyone was accounted for and Alderman Williams, who was still in his apron as the proprietor of the general store, cleared his throat until he had everyone's attention.
“Now I am sure you have all heard the rumors of what happened on Jeb Morton's land. We are here to set the record straight.” the short and portly man began, then bowed to Mr. Morton who stepped in front of him.
“Last night something attacked my pasture. We heard the screams of the cattle just after midnight, by the time we had all been roused and dressed it was over. Every cow had been slaughtered.” His voice seemed to shake to Rebecca. He wiped his mouth with a rag and continued, “all of them, every last one, we didn't see what did it, we never saw. We… we can't imagine what could have done this, but… we can't…I mean fifteen head gone. Just pieces of them thrown everywhere. We are ruined. I can't… we have nothing to replace them…” Mr. Morton trailed off and other members of the village approached and led him off to the side.
The alderman took front stage once more and continued in his soft pitched up voice, “now we don't know what we are dealing with, but we need what able bodied people we can, those with hunting experience preferably, to join up and search the woods beyond the Morton pasture to put down whatever this is before it strikes again. And we as a community must come together, we may be separate households but in the boundaries if this town we are one family. And family helps family in times of need.”
Mr, Thorne stood up. The Thornes were among the first to settle here her father often told her, their land took up the whole east side of town, from the edge of the Morton pastures in the north to the Whistleton fields in the south. Westly Thorne had more money than anyone else, a fact he seldom let people forget. “I'm sure the good people Brighton will pull together with gifts and support for the Morton family, but with his cattle gone Jeb needs to rebuild his coffers if they are to truly recover. Which is why I am willing to buy out his land for fifty sovereigns,” this brought the crowd to nervous murmuring, which he skilfully diverted, “or… or pay each of his boys and himself three silvers a day to work my land until he has enough to buy more cattle. That is my offer, it's his choice.”
Mr. Morton's face looked like her brother Corbin's that time he fell off the roof of the barn, as murmurs spread through the hall.
“Skite,” whispered her father to Leland, “if that fool sells, Thorne will own the majority of the land in this region.”
“Do you think Thorne was behind the slaughter of the cattle?” Her brother asked.
“I would hope that Wes isn't evil enough to try something like that.” her father sighed, “besides, how would he kill fifteen cows before someone saw him or his boys?”
“We need to close the deal before it's too late.” he replied, making Rebecca more and more curious as to this deal they kept mentioning.
The entire church was on its feet now, milling about, making plans for aid, volunteering for the trip to the north wood, and consoling Mr. Morton with kind words and advice. Her father approached none of these groups, instead making his way to Mr. Wolsey whom he had nodded to earlier. The two shook hands and her father spoke, “If that fool Jeb sells we will be the next in Thorne's sights, we must consolidate now.”
Mr. Wolsey looked down at Rebecca, “this is what you offer?” He asked, in a tone as if he'd been insulted. “I mean your Anne was such a beauty.”
“What does he mean, daddy?” She asked.
But her father ignored her and continued, “I am well aware, but she has Anne's hair and she's strong like her mother and she's still young. She'll be sixteen in three years, your boy Bairnard is sixteen now. If we join our families we can stand against Thorne. I can offer ten acres of my land as dowry, that would mean Thorne would have to buy out three households to get his hands on any of our land.”
Joining the families, land dowries? As she realized what they meant, Rebecca was horrified, “daddy no, not Bairnard Wolsey. He's an imbecile, and he's disgusting!” She looked around frantically. Her father had a look of being ashamed but her brothers looked stern, like they agreed this was the best thing.
“You're no beauty yourself girl, but yes he is slow, as his father I can admit to that. If you are half as sharp as people say I figure you can keep him from making foolish decisions.”
“My Rebecca is plenty pretty. Just because there aren't curtains in the windows doesn't mean the house isn't full of love.” Her father retorted.
He looked Rebecca over again like she was a hog at market.
He finally turned to her father and took his hand, “agreed Hamish. We will unite our families against Thorne, the Billsons and the Wolseys.”
She looked around and saw no sign of help coming from her brothers and no sign of Bairnard either. She was being married off against her will and HE couldn't be bothered to be here and look her in the eye. It was more than Rebecca could take. Her scream brought the temple to silence as the girl ran out into the already setting sun.
Rebecca ran past her family's wagon and down the row of buildings toward the livery stables. It was not so much her planned destination as simply a target in her outrage as somewhere to flee. She opened the door and slipped inside, with any luck her family would not find her for a few hours while she figured out what to do about her fate. She climbed the steps to the hayloft only to find her new betrothed with his lips on the alderman's daughter.
“Did you know?” Rebecca screamed, causing Etta Mae to bite Bairnard's lip. He then screamed in pain before trying to burrow into the hay to escape whatever banshee had found them there.
“Rebecca?” He questioned when he had regained his senses.
“”Skite, Bairnard!” She cursed, “did you know?”
“Did I know what?” he countered.
“Did you know what our fathers had planned?”
“Oh,” he said, suddenly deflated. “Yes, my father informed me of the plan.”
“Wait, what plan?” Screeched Etta Mae.
“Our fathers decided to betroth Bairnard and I.” Rebecca responded with a sneer.
“What?” It was Etta Mae's turn to scream. Her blonde ringlets bounced as her head whipped around at the boy.
“So you knew already, and yet here you are snogging another girl?” Rebecca seethed.
“It's not for another three years,” he attempted to plead.
“You are still marrying someone else.” Etta Mae shouted. “And HER of all people.”
“You mean him of all people.” Rebecca grumbled.
The older girl now turned on her, “YOU don't deserve him.”
“I don't want him!” She shouted back. “YOU can have HIM!”
“You should be so lucky,” she seethed, “he is the best match in town. Just because… just because you are too much of a freak to realize it…”
“Stop,” said Bairnard finally. “It's not as if I want this either. But our fathers have decided it is the only way to stand against the Thornes. This is an arrangement Rebecca, we do not have to love each other. Besides, we will have land of our own and our families will be the stronger for it.”
“To the abyss with the Thornes!” She shouted. “Westley Thorne can have this town for all I care. I am not just going to roll over and start popping out your babies…”
“Enough!” Came the shout from below. Her father stood at the foot of the ladder, angrier than Rebecca had ever seen him. “Get down here you three, this instant. Besides, if you aim to hide it's best not to shout so loud the entire town can hear you.”
Bairnard descended first, Etta Mae right behind him. Rebecca took her time, embarrassed to be sure but still seething with anger herself. Bairnard and Etta Mae's fathers were there dragging each from the livery.
Rebecca stood before her father defiantly, “a wonderful match father. Your choice of my betrothed was in the hayloft being carnal with another woman!”
“Lower your voice girl, before I tan your hide.” He said through gritted teeth.
“You didn't even ask me.” She said, this time the tears of disappointment would not be denied.
His anger evaporated before that face that so reminded him of his departed wife at that age, “I wish…” he began. “I wish that would have made a difference. I wish that his indiscretion mattered in this situation. I really do because I would strangle the boy for disrespecting your hand he's been offered. And I truly wish I could give you whatever you would ever want. But life out here doesn't offer many choices. We have to take what it gives and make it into whatever we can. You'll learn one day that life isn't about what you get, but what you do with it.”
She looked up at her father, her own anger tempering in his words, “did you love mommy?”
He chuckled a bit as events of decades ago returned to his mind, “she didn't give me a choice. When she was your age every boy in town was already chasing her hand. I fancied her, yes. Don't get me wrong, your mother Anne was beautiful, but everyone feared that temper. She was strong, and she was smart, and knew what she wanted. And when she informed me I was going to marry her I didn't argue. And yes, it was not long afterward I knew I loved her more than anything.” Hamish picked up his daughter in his arms and hugged her tight. “Anything that is, until you came along.”
Rebecca hugged her father back as he carried her out to the wagon to head for home. “Girls your age are usually already finding their beau.” He continued as he walked, “you haven't even really made friends, much less young love. But you'll be sixteen soon and finding someone will be much harder.”
She rode up front between her father and Leland. Halfway home her brother leaned down to her ear, “I'm sorry if it feels we are selling you into bondage against your will. It's what's best, it really is. Besides,” he added with a big smile, “if that toad Bairnard steps out on you with that little blonde harlot your brothers will personally dunk him head first in the town well.” All three of her big brothers laughed.
“No need,” her youngest brother Corbin chimed in with a big grin, he was closer to Bairnard's age, “I will personally offer to keep Etta Mae's attention too busy to worry about Bairnard. With no honey sweet lips to distract him, he can keep his attention on our darling sister.”
“Right,” sneered her brother Dalton as he pulled Corbin into the back again. He rubbed his knuckle on top of his brother's head, “honey sweet lips? You're just sweet on little Etta Mae.” This even got a chuckle out of her father.
“Ow, ow, stop.” Corbin cried, struggling to fight off the middle, but largest brother.
“Settle down boys,” her father said, finally, “ I don't need you two spooking the horses.”
It was quiet for the next few minutes, as if a worry hung over the cart. Finally Leland broke the silence, “I need to gather my things and take one of the horses when we get home. So I need you and Corbin to unhitch them and saddle Pepper for me.” He said to Dalton.
“I want you to take my bow.” Said their father.
“That is yours, my hunting bow will do fine.” He replied.
“No,” Hamish put sternly, “it's a strong military longbow, from my days as a King's ranger. Whatever this is, you need to kill it as quick and clean as you can. If it wasn't for my knees I would be going, so you can at least take the best equipment.”
Leland nodded without further argument.
“What kind of animal could have done that to Mr. Morton's cows daddy?” Rebecca asked.
“I don't know, baby girl.” He sighed. “But I know it weren't no animal. Animals only attack and kill when they're hungry. But what Jeb described, well that was something only a monster would do, or a person.”
“Don't go Lee.” She pleaded, turning to her brother.
“I'll be fine Bex,” he reassured her, “I've hunted plenty of dangerous things.
What's more, people are in danger. Someone has to do something.”
It still didn't make Rebecca feel better.
Bairnard was still being yelled at by the time the Wolseys all arrived home.
“But father, I don't want to marry Rebecca Billson. She isn't pretty and she is a terror.”
“A pretty face isn't the only reason to wed.” His father replied. “It's not even the best reason.” He added as the cart stopped. The expression on his wife, Blanche's face caused him to clear his throat and quickly exit the cart. “This union will strengthen our standing in the community. The Billsons are the most respected family in town, and Hamish is the only man not afraid of standing up to Thorne. With his only daughter at your side you will eventually be the leader of this community.”
“But wouldn't the daughter of the alderman be just as smart a choice?” his son countered as he was helping his wife down off the coach.
“Yes, I know you think Etta Mae is very pretty, but the only reason we elected him was because his family was the newest in town. Everyone else was too afraid to run against Thorne and he didn't know any better.”
“We have to pay for farm hands because we were never blessed with more children,” Blanche added, as her husband rolled his eyes behind her out of her sight. “If you play your cards right, and those doltish brothers of hers never produce heirs, you can parlay any children you two receive and those ten acres into control of the whole Billson estate. How often do we have to stress this to you? Out here in the wilds, land IS power.”
“Besides, if anybody can make a silk purse of that girl for your wedding day it is your mother. Right my dear?” He gave her a peck in the cheek that brought a smug smile to her face. Blanche Wolsey may not be the belle he married anymore but she was still a handsome woman at her age. It helped that she didn't dress like a farmer’s wife but instead still dressed like the daughter of a wealthy merchant. It was the dowry from her father that financed Mortimer Wolsey's ranch. Her parents still sent her the latest fashions and things, which helped out the fact that Mortimer would never be able to afford her tastes otherwise.
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He mopped his brow with a handkerchief as she and their son started toward the house. He paid the driver and the coach pulled away, headed back to town. The man was having difficulty controlling his horses, the beasts seemed desperate to be moving. So he sent him on his way and Mr. Wolsey hurried after his family. Bairnard stopped suddenly, as if something caught his attention. Mortimer heard nothing suspicious until he realized that the fact that he heard nothing was suspicious. No animal sounds that hung about normally could be heard. And even at this hour, there were usually a few farm hands finishing up last minute work. But the farm was still and quiet. Blanche was still walking, oblivious to the change in normal state of the farm.
“Father?” Whispered Bairnard.
“Go,” he replied, remembering the harrowing tale from Jeb Morton. “Get your mother inside.”
“What? What's happening?” She protested as her son began to hurry her toward the house.
“Just go inside dear.” Pleaded Mortimer, as he began to creep to the barn as quietly as he could.
He stopped by the back porch to grab a lantern and lit it, casting a pale light about the yard. He made his way to the barn.
“Karl.” He whispered. As his land manager, Karl tended to be here later than any of the workers. But he received no reply. Puddles of mud were scattered about the bare dirt. They were an odd color and stranger still there had been no rain lately. When a pile of debris in the center of one turned out to be the innards of some animal, Mortimer realized the odd color was because the puddles were made by blood.
One of the doors to the barn was ajar and the red of the door looked to be wet as if freshly painted. Maybe that was it, one of those fool farm hands spilled the paint all over the yard, he thought hopefully. More red dripped down in front of the door, splatting on the dirt as it fell. He shined the light up to reveal a bag of some material hanging from the hayloft hook. As it swung in the light it became impossible, even missing a foot, not to see that it was the lower half of someone.
Mortimer placed the hanky against his mouth as he gagged. He carefully slid through the door, avoiding the dripping blood. As the light of the lantern filtered into the barn, more bits became apparent. Chunks of chicken, pieces of their draft horse and an arm, bearing the tattoo Karl had gotten sailing in the merchant fleet in his youth. He covered his mouth with the cloth once more, this time stifling a scream. A thick clear liquid dripped onto his shoulder. Mortimer slowly looked up to the hayloft above.
“What is happening?” Blanche asked for the twentieth time, as Bairnard looked out the window to the barn. They had lit one lamp but her son said they shouldn't light more until father returned.
“He went into the barn a few minutes ago, but still hasn't emerged.” He said, the timbre of fear in his voice obvious despite trying to sound confident for his mother's sake.
“Well what is he looking for? We have workers to take care of matters, I thought.” she replied, sitting on the sofa and pouring herself a drink.
She still hadn't caught on that they could be in danger. “He thinks whatever attacked the Mortons may be out there.”
She sputtered, almost choking in the liquid. “What!” She cried, a little louder than Bairnard was comfortable with. “Shouldn't he have taken a weapon?”
“He's just looking for the workers, to make sure they are safe.” He replied, but he couldn't deny she had a point. If it is out there he is in danger. He turned from the window to the mantle above the fireplace. There hung the longsword and shield of his father's family. He ran to the wall to pull down the sword when the light from the moon in the window darkened on the wall before him for a moment.
“Did you see that?” He asked his mother quietly.
“See what?” She replied, still too loudly.
She screamed even louder when the wall tore away from the house.
Leland was loaded up and swung himself atop Pepper with practiced skill. “Don't worry, I'll be fine.” He said to his father, though it felt to Rebecca like it was more directed at her.
“Godspeed son. Remember, look out for others, it is the best way to look out for yourself.” Her father said to his eldest. “Where are you meeting the others?”
“At the Morton's. I think the plan is to enter the wood there and try and track where it, or they came from.” he replied.
“Good.” He nodded, suddenly picking up Rebecca and plopping her behind him on the saddle.
“Hey, what?” She complained.
“You can drop your sister off at the Wolseys on the way. Blanche has things to discuss with her and plans to make.” He added, then turned to his little girl. “Be courteous, pay attention, you may speak your honest opinion but DO NOT complain. This is set in stone and can't be altered now. It isn't fair to you but that don't mean let them take advantage of you.” He gave her that wink that always said to her he was trusting her.
“Yes papa,” she replied, solemnly but serious.
“Good,” he smiled, “behave for her and I'll be by and rescue you in a few hours. Corbin, I'm sure will be happy to do your night chores, I'm sure.” And with another wink, he slapped Pepper's rump and the horse was off.
“Ugh,” she sighed as the road by the Wolseys seemed to wind on. She buried her face in Leland's back and lamented, “I don't want to be a bride.” She sat back up as she could feel his body shake from laughter. “I'm glad my misery is funny to you. Can't I go with you and hunt the monster instead?”
“What you are doing is the most worthy thing you can do, not only for our family but this community. Men like Thorne have to be kept in check or they have a tendency to pronounce themselves king and send us common folk to war for them.”
“Great so my worth is being a blushing bride and a baby maker.” She huffed.
The laughing stopped as Leland closed his eyes and shook his head. “I know you, Bex. Better'n anyone. You are going to ride roughshod over that soft little rich boy. You will not take nonsense from him. Pa is giving you ten acres. You think pa believes Bairnard knows how to work a farm. But pa knows you know how. None of us have any doubt who will be giving the orders. I believe in under two years, if anyone can make an actual farmer out of that rich kid it's you. Because we sure aren't paying for farm hands.” Soon both were laughing at the image of Bairnard Wolsey driving a plow.
After the chuckling finally died down and another realization dawned on her, Rebecca cried out once more, “aw skite, she's going to gussy me up and put me in frills, isn't she?” Now, Rebecca had dresses. It was what girls wore. But with the exception of two dresses for church, they were all heavy denim, with lots pockets and a hem that hung at her mid-shins. Heavy cotton, plain shirts and black socks in her mother's boots that reached above her knee. Practical clothes, durable clothes, what was the point of floral prints and lace anyway? How does anyone do anything in a corset and a skirt three times your diameter? And you didn't want to get her started on stockings. She felt other women should make up their minds. Such thin frail things, did they want socks on or didn't they?
“This outburst gave Lee another excuse to chuckle, “oh come on, Bex. I'm sure you will be beauti…”
They were still a couple miles from the Wolsey farm, but the glow was already visible.
Pepper covered the distance faster than Rebecca could remember her moving before. Flames were coming out of the back windows of the lower floor, and smoke was rolling out of the rest. Pepper slid to a halt by the well in the back. Rebecca and Lee dismounted from opposite sides, while her brother tried to peer through the flames for anyone trapped inside, she was facing the well ready to start filling buckets that were stacked by its side. In the light cast by the burning manor, into the nearby wood she watched a tail disappear into the trees.
“Rebecca!” Leland's voice jarred her out of her shock, “Bex! Start filling buckets!”
She filled bucket after bucket, until her arms ached, until she just wanted to collapse from aching muscles, but she kept going simply because Lee continued to fight his way deeper deeper into the house fighting back the blaze.
She heard her father's cry of, “jehoshaphat!” long before she realized their wagon had arrived. He picked up his exhausted daughter and set her aside against a stump, “you catch your breath baby girl. I'm here.”
Leland had run out for the umpteenth time.
“The Wolseys?” Hamish asked simply.
“No sign of anyone,” he replied, coughing from smoke and exertion.
“You fill the buckets and clear your lungs, I'll take the front.” His father instructed as he took the next bucket and ran for the gaping hole in the back of the house. He made note of it even as he was focused on extinguishing the flames inside. The sky was growing lighter as they finished off the last of the burning house. Rebecca had awoken and helped fill buckets until her father had told her she could stop. He and Lee scouted the house for any sign of the Wolseys. The wreckage of the back wall in the yard showed Hamish that this hole had not burned into the house, but rather been torn into it. Poking through the char eventually turned up their first sign of the family.
“I found Mrs. Wolsey. Leland said looking down at the skull that the heat of the fire had melted her gold earrings into.
“And this arm has to belong to Bairnard.” Hamish replied, placing his hat over his heart. “ but where is Mortimer? That is the question.”
“Pappa!” Called Rebecca from outside. The two men rushed out to the girl standing outside the doors of the barn, looking down at half of Mr. Wolsey's face.
The barn was a scene of utter carnage. Besides bits of animals and men lying scattered about, blood soaked everything, and several support beams had huge rents in the wood, in sets of four three inches apart and as deep as the first knuckle of Leland's first finger.
“No hunting party is going to put down whatever did this.” He whispered, but it was heard plainly in the still barn. “We'll need the king's guard.”
“Fat chance of that.” His father replied.
Rebecca looked about in shock, “it killed everything. Killed everything and everyone and didn't eat any of it. Why? What does it want?”
“I don't know, baby girl, but Mr. Williams and the rest of the town need to know.” Hamish said, as he picked her up and carried her to the wagon.
“The woman and child burned,” said the first. “That meat is a waste.”
“It is of no concern,” replied the second. “We will have the whole town's worth, just be patient.”
“We would have the two that burned had we just killed the two that arrived.” the first growled in reply.
“The beast was still close. If you wanted to risk the fight getting its attention you could have done just that.” The second countered, his accusation of cowardice receiving a shameful glance to the side from the first. “Besides, they leave. We can now harvest the meat from the barn, at least.”
“Do you call me a liar?” Jeb Morton shouted. The Billsons were just entering the temple amid the arguing. And Hamish hadn't even stopped for his other two boys before making his way to town.
“I only said we searched those woods all night and found nothing!” Westley Thorne was red in the face. A face he was poking in Jeb's face.
“That would be because it was at the Wolsey farm.” The voice of Rebecca's father overshadowed all in the temple. It wasn't the volume she decided. Mr. Thorne was by far the loudest person she had ever heard. It just seemed when people heard her father's voice they just seemed to shut their traps. “The Wolsey house burned last night.” He continued as he made his way down the three steps and strode the aisle way with his trademark limp. People sat down as he passed. “but everyone was long dead before the flames found them. Mort, Blanche, Bairnard and Karl are all dead. Torn to bits along with every piece of livestock on the farm, maybe some of his hands too. Has anyone heard from the Picktons, Clive Walker or Mable Tulelslo?”
“I'm here,” came the voice of Clive.
“As are we.” Answered Bob Pickton. “Only Mable and Karl stayed late for the birth of Mort's new lamb.”
“Then we can assume it got her too.” her father added sadly.
“It?” Scoffed Thorne, “it's a pack of wargs. I'm sure of it. Probably being guided by goblins. I'd bet the farm on it.” He finished with the confidence of someone who knew no one would ever call him on it.
Hamish stepped up to Westley looking down to stare him in the eye. “Goblins would have picked the property clean of anything useful. Besides, even a warg can't tear a cow to bits in just a few minutes.”
“And they don't leave rents in wood beams half an inch deep.” Added her brother. “Whatever it is, this thing is enormous. And it kills and just leaves the bits behind. No goblin or warg would leave free food behind.”
“It didn't, actually.” Jab Morton shouted. When all eyes turned to him he continued, “when we returned last night to the ranch, my boys and I grabbed the shovels hoping to bury the cows before scavengers took too much, but the field was empty. The cows were gone. It came back for the meat later.”
Her father looked about at the gathered townsfolk, “I doubt it. We were only here for just over an hour. Not enough time to clean up the pasture and make it to the Wolseys to kill Karl and Mable, along with all their livestock before the Wolseys arrived.”
“This is all good for guesses, but no one has seen what is responsible, so we still don't know what we're up against.” Thorne continued to argue.
“I saw it.” Said Rebecca quietly. The people continued to argue, drowning out her words.
“Shut up!” Yelled Leland. He knelt down next to his sister. “What was that Bex?”
“I saw it.” She said loud enough now to be heard. “I saw it back when we arrived at the Wolsey's. At least, I saw a piece of it. Its tail disappeared into the trees when we arrived.”
“What did it look like sweetheart?” Her father asked.
“It was like a snake, or a lizard's tail. But thick as a tree trunk. And it had two spikes on each side, eight total, as long as my arm.”
“A dragon!” Someone gasped, setting the whole room into panicked murmuring.
“That's enough,” once again the voice of her father cut through and brought the people to attention. “Spikes and scales don't make it a dragon. If it was a dragon it'd be circling over our heads right now, not skulking through the woods. We need to stay calm.”
“Just because a frightened girl said she saw something, don't make it a thing either.” Childed Thorne.
“I know what I saw.” Rebecca spat back.
“Well little girl,” replied Thorne, "I was in those woods all night. And we saw nothing.”
“If my daughter said she saw something she saw it.” Her father jumped to her defense. But Thorne's words echoed in her head. Nothing, she thought back on the previous day. What she heard, what she saw.
“Wait,” she cried, “what DID you see in the woods?”
“I told you, we didn't see your monster, no one has.” He bellowed back.
“No, what else? What DID you see?” She asked again. “Any deer? Squirrels? Birds?”
Thorne was still oblivious but his oldest son Billy was the first to catch on to what Rebecca was asking, “no. No birds, no animals. I didn't even see a single bug.”
“What?” Asked the alderman, confused, “has it killed off everything?”
“More like ran them off.” Her father caught on, “when a large predator circles prey, the other animals get the hint quick and leave the area.” The ramifications of this logic slowly dawned on him. “It's making a big circle, killing everything unable to or too stupid to escape. The Mortons, the Wolseys, that would bring it next…”
“Our home!” The three Billsons said in unison.
Their house was gone. The single room farmhouse they lived in was a pile of timber. She had seen when a twister two years ago leveled the place where the Pickets stayed. This is what her home looked like now. Blood had soaked pieces of the wood and it streaked out from the pile showing where it must have dragged her brothers from the wreckage. But although the ground was reddened, no pieces remained. None of the pieces of their animals either.
Her father fell to his bad knees before the blood soaked ground and screamed at the sky before he buried his face in Leland's stomach and wept. When Rebecca touched his shoulder he pulled her into an embrace with all three, and for a while they all shared tears. The Mortons and several others of the townsfolk had followed. They stood solemnly in solidarity as the three grieved. Thorne had hightailed it home, all his bruisers in tow to protect what was his. Any others in danger weren't even in his consideration.
“When I find what denied me my boys to even bury, I will bury it in their stead.” Hamish swore, getting back to his feet painfully.
Rebecca was staring down at one of her books from the loft, lying in the dirt nearby. A coincidental metaphor of her life right now.
“No time to waste,” he said, even as he wiped away the tears still yet to have time to dry on his cheeks, “if it was here in the night it's had time to move on to the Whistleton farm. Mount up!”
“Paulette Whistleton nearly fainted, having to be held up by her husband Roger.
“You mean we are to head off to fight it? Now?” Said Mr. Paulson, the old man who ran the smithy.
He did not answer, but the look on his face told the townies he meant business as he strode to the barn with his son and returned with armloads of tools. Axes, hoes, scythes, and other nasty tools that made good makeshift weapons. Then Hamish returned to the barn and returned with his chain and sword. He climbed into the wagon, handing Rebecca the reins and told her to drive. As the wagon began to roll he was donning the armor from the seat next to her. The townspeople followed on horseback and by cart.
The Whistleton farm still stood. The animals were frantic but the Whistleton children that stayed behind were fine. Paulette hugged her two young ones and her sister when she emerged, confused from the barn having been trying to calm the two donkeys and six chickens the family owned.
“It's not here.” Said Roger, “not to complain but why didn't it come?”
“It may only attack at night. Maybe it's not partial to the light.” Hamish said, trying to ease everyone's tension. “But that means this may be its first stop tonight.”
Then we should go into the wood and kill it while it sleeps,” yelled Bob Pinkton.
“Yes, before it comes for our children,” agreed Mr. Whistleton.
“No!” Again her father's voice brought panic to heel. “We don't know where it holes up and we could wander all day and not be ready when it comes.” He looked around the rag tag collection of their village. “Our best chance is to set an ambush. I need just a few volunteers and the rest to take everyone else back to the temple, livestock included. You can house them in the livery, if that's alright Mason?” He asked the Stable master.
“Of course, Hamish.” He replied without question.
The donkeys were hitched to the Billson wagon and the chickens loaded into the local carriage. The people leaving were loaded up in and on whatever would hold them. Rebecca's father put her up on their wagon, which Paulette's sister Lisa was agreeable to drive.
“I'll take care of her.” Lisa told Hamish.
“No, Pa,” whined Rebecca, "I wanna stay with you and Lee.”
“No baby girl.” He said sadly, “it's not safe. Besides, look about, these people need a keen mind to keep them calm.” He gave Lisa a wink at this. “Now what do I always say?”
“Look after others, it's the best way to look after yourself.” She answered, choking back her tears.
“Good, so don't worry, we will be following that advice here tonight.” He said and kissed her cheek.
The wagon pulled away as the sun hung just hours from the horizon. “You can help me in Miss Nona's kitchen at the tavern. We'll need to feed all these people in the Temple somehow.” Miss Lisa said to Rebecca. She received a sniff and a nod from the young girl.
Four had stayed with Hamish and Leland, Bob Pickton and his eldest son Saul, Roger Whistleton determined to protect what was his, and big Zeke Paulson who ran the forge for his aging father. Hamish made sure they all had weapons like pitchforks and gaff hooks, weapons with reach to keep them out of range of the beast's claws and teeth which from the past evidence they had managed to see was vicious. Pepper's bridle was staked out in the middle of the property, much to Lee's disapproval, and the others were hidden in whatever structures were nearby, ready to rush the monster when it came for the horse.
“I don't like her being bait Pa.” Said Lee. “I'd rather stand there if it is to come to it.”
“I want you on top of the barn.” His father replied. “I don't intend to sacrifice her, I want you to put an arrow in her rope first, as soon as you spot it, before you put your first shot in it.”
Lee nodded to his father, seeing his plan and made his way to the roof. From the peak by the weather vane Lee watched the last sliver of the sun disappear beyond the horizon.
The dark creeped in after that, drawing a mist with it from the wood. The beads of moisture that settled on them pulled the heat from the body. While the others had buildings to hunker against, the small steeple on the barn provided little protection against the wind up there. But Lee wasn't about to let Pepper leave his sight. He and that horse had been together for ten years, from the day Rosemary gave birth to her. More than one girl from town accused him of paying more attention to her than he did to them. So he was brutally honest when he told them Pepper got more work done than most of them did.
Lee kept his eyes mobile, watching the others in a succession of one of them, his horse, another of them, back to pepper. His father was just inside the barn door below him. Mr Whistleton was just inside his back door. Saul was behind Mr. Whistleton's smokehouse, while his father Bob was behind the chicken coop. Zeke was in the lean to of the donkey paddock, trying as best he could to stay hidden in a shelter that was more spaces than slats. The mist formed a wall around the ring of buildings, obscuring anything beyond.
Nearly an hour had passed since sunset and nobody was happy about waiting in the damp and chill of the night. On his next pass of man, horse, man, horse, he couldn't see Zeke in the shelter.
“Please tell me you went to take a piss, Zeke.” Lee muttered to himself. Pepper began to cry out and rear repeatedly. She could sense they were no longer alone.
His eyes darted much faster now, adding the treeline and the field to his watch. The scream brought his and everyone's attention to Bob as the chicken coop exploded in a shower of wood and feathers, obscuring the view.
“Pa!” Screamed Saul, as he abandoned the smokehouse to run to his father's aid.
“Skite!” Lee's father spat, “It's not dumb.” Hamish ran out from his hiding spot, “gather up! It knows it's a trap!”
Lee fired off an arrow. The head split the rope, freeing the panicked horse and allowing it to run off into the dark. He slid down the slate roof on his side, dropping the last twelve feet from the edge to the ground. With a roll the younger Billson was back to his feet running to his father's side.
“Skite boy,” he swore as the only other man began to emerge from hiding, and ran to the center of the yard where the horse was formerly tethered. “YOU should have remained on the roof to spot and snipe.”
“I'm not leaving you out here exposed while I hide on the roof.” He said, knocking the bow and spinning, looking for a target.
Roger Whistleton was halfway across the yard when something heavy hit the ground and snatched him up, only the thick reptilian spiked tail Rebecca had described was visible disappearing over the roof of the house by the time the two turned around to follow the receding scream. Then the scream abruptly stopped.
The two continued to pivot, back to back, trying to catch sight of the monster before it reached them. Lee was suddenly aware of a wall of teeth and horn inches from his father's back. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the side as one of its horns still raked across his father's thigh. Blood ran from the torn flesh and rings of chain rained down on the ground as the beast disappeared back into the mist and the dark.
“Merciful gods.” Hamish whispered, as his son attempted to hold him up. “Did you see it?”
Lee did not see it clearly, but it had to be the size of their wagon plus horses. Its feet were a blur and it was covered in spikes and horns and moved far too fast for him to get a clear view. And now the two of them were out in the open, and his father was bleeding out.
“Come on,” he urged, as he tried to drag him to one of the buildings still standing. “We gotta go.” Lee dragged him as fast as he could to the barn. It was the largest, sturdiest building, if he could just get him there.
As they closed the distance on the barn, a dark shape loomed in the mist, barreling down on them. His father drew his longsword, but Lee couldn't use his bow without dropping the man on the ground. Both men's hearts nearly stopped when Pepper emerged from the mist and reared up.
“Come on Pa,” Lee said, grabbing the reins. “We can get you out of here.”
“No.” He said plainly, “get up on that horse and ride for town. Let them all know what happened,” he said through gritted teeth as he stood with all his weight on his still good leg. “They have to know what we are up against.”
“No,” Lee cried, “you need help. I have to get you to town.”
Hamish's voice was calm and steady as he held onto his son's shoulder and looked into the eyes that reminded him of his Anne, “No, I'll be bled out long before you can get me somewhere that can help. But I can buy you some time.” He pushed the young man toward the horse, “ride. Get to town. Protect your sister!”
And with one big shove the man that had raised him, who had been there for him his whole life, hobbled at the growing dark shape in the mist with his longsword at the ready. Lee closed his eyes and spurred Pepper into a full gallop, as he heard his father cry, “Here I am! Have at you, you malodorous hellspawn!”
Leland Billson pressed his chest against the neck of his horse Pepper, feet pushing against the stirrups and tears streaming down his cheeks, trying to push as much speed out of her as she could give him. The quarrel struck his right side just below his ribs. The force of the bolt threw him off the left side of the horse. He rolled over a dozen times down the embankment and into the ditch beside the road.
He was looking up at the stars when the faces peered down at him with their dog-like faces. They spoke in a barking and whooping language to each other before erupting into cackling laughter.