Chapter 8

The Watcher

A thousand eyes followed Gregory everywhere he went as he paced about the campsite on the lookout. They watched his every move and questioned his every thought. At least that is how it felt to him. The others all turned in for the night leaving him completely alone. He didn’t much like that. Sure, he had kept watch alone in Dunabar outside the city gates, but that was different. There was an entire town at his back, plenty of lights and other watchmen pacing about if he called for them. The wall wasn’t much more than a wooden fence he could climb over if need be. It didn’t even have a gate. This felt more dangerous, less secure. A few covered wagons with a handful of sleeping bodies did not reassure him in the least. Half of those people were old. What help could they be? His skin sported gooseflesh. He constantly scratched at random spots on his body for no reason. His mind was playing tricks on him. From the sounds in the night, he imagined bugs crawling all over him.

The torchlight of the camp created a hard line, a wall of light versus shadow. The darkness past that line seemed deeper than he could ever remember seeing before in his life. How could the night be so very dark out here? This was The Forest of Shade. This was the place he heard warnings about since he was a boy. Don’t wander too near the edge. Never venture there after dark. The blackness was so complete as to play tricks on his eyes as he gazed into its depths. The sounds of the crickets only added to his trepidation. Not even the flickering of glow bugs or the patches of glowing mushrooms helped. He had always pictured those bugs as tiny sparks of magic in the night but now he imagined them more as beady little eyes winking at him and promising doom. Funny how your perspective could shift so drastically under different circumstances.

Bronwick warned him of a dangerous beast in the forest before the big man promptly retired for the night. Why would he say that? The big barbarian didn’t even seem bothered by the thought. Gregory assumed dangerous beasts in The Forest of Shade were implied, expected. He grew to adulthood in Dunabar. There were plenty of stories about this forest and just as many tales brought to the tavern by travelers having passed through here. Most of his childhood was spent avoiding the dark wood. He came to rationalize those tales away as people seeking to tell a good story. But now the idea of those monsters consumed his thoughts. He paced the campsite nervously fidgeting with his spear. His suit of studded leather armor and his helmet felt heavy, constricting. He began rethinking his life choices. Maybe he should retire from the caravan guard path once he reached Sabline. There were sure to be city watch positions or other more stationary, safe soldier work available. Sabline was a city. It was much bigger than Dunabar. He thought his position tiresome and boring as a watchman in Dunabar. Right now, he would gladly welcome boring. In the small town, he surveyed one direction, maybe patrolled the streets or a single wall. It was a controlled environment. Out here, danger could arrive from any direction. He would never see it coming. Plus, he was alone here, completely and utterly alone. That made everything seem worse. He had rationalized away the idea that being a mercenary meant he may die in a fight on the end of another man’s weapon, but this monster business changed everything. He did not want something eating him to death. All he could picture out here in the darkness of the forest were hideous spider monsters leaping out to devour him and this was his first night on the job. He detested spiders and snakes. The thought of either had his skin crawling. Gregory came to a realization this night. Spiders and snakes were commonplace in the wilds and especially the woods. The inner turmoil was difficult to suppress. It made him fidgety and apparently caused his bladder to shrink. He had to pee every few minutes.

“This is your very first night as a caravan guard,” he reasoned aloud.

Hearing a voice, any voice, even if it was his own, gave him a small degree of comfort. He wished it weren’t quite so shaky, but it was still better than nothing. The forest was a new element. Despite the pitch blackness it sounded so alive. The chirping of crickets and night birds had begun to eat at his nerves.

“Give it time. Let yourself adjust. These might be first night jitters.” He chuckled anxiously. A crack of a twig made him jump. He spun to face the noise with his spear raised. His hands trembled so badly that the tip of the spear spun in tight circles. “Who goes there?” He raised his voice with a crack. It sounded strained, weak. No answer came and he was glad about it. If someone would have responded he would likely have shat his trousers on the spot. He laughed at himself and realized he was dancing in place. “Don’t be a baby,” he hissed. Gregory needed to relieve himself badly, again.

Daffonil whispered a curse under her breath. That was careless. Plus, she could see that she nearly scared the poor boy half to death. Her place was not to frighten the humans. She was here to protect them from the threat of the beast she feared lurked nearby. She knew many among her order may not agree, but she saw the duty of the guardians as protecting all who walked through the forest and beneath its canopy. Be they beast, elf or human, they all deserved her protection. All natural creatures were part of the circle of life and the balance of nature. On that note, she followed its trail as best she could. This unnatural beast was sly and stealthy. Its tracks vanished somewhere near this place. It had to be skulking out here. There was no way it could have slipped past her. Being a wood elf, she grew to adulthood in the forest. Her senses were finely honed to this environment. Her people were practically a part of nature. Her druidic training only personified those skills. If she did not see it, she would surely hear it. Between its size and the tight foliage, she would have heard it for certain. The elven druid began to wonder if she hadn’t slipped up somewhere. She did have a tendency to be reckless, unobservant. The elders often scolded her for her rash behavior. Did she lose the trail? Was she losing her touch? Daffonil considered conversing with the plants, but that took time and energy. She drained the majority of her magical reserves earlier trying to save Starmane. That memory remained painful. Daffonil thought it best to keep some magic in storage just in case. She would rejuvenate her magical strength at dawn through her morning prayers and the sunshine, if The Green was willing. Patience was a virtue. She needed to remind herself of that.

Another factor nagged at her. This monster could be out murdering more inhabitants of the forest while she wasted time watching over this band of gypsy humans. Perhaps that was what delayed the other druids and guardians. Maybe they were handling the true threat while she wasted her precious time here eavesdropping on these people. To add insult to injury the nervous little boy they left on guard duty wandered her way because she stepped on a branch and alerted him. That was far too clumsy for a guardian of the heart stone. Daffonil reminded herself that she was selected for a very important position. She could not be so flippant. The position of guardian was a great honor bestowed upon her by the heart stone itself. It selected her. She needed to live up to that title. The others still viewed her as an ignorant child. And truth be told, she had no clue why the stone chose her.

Gregory crept towards her doing his best to peer into the darkness. His mind began to wander, forming faces and shapes out of nothing. He chuckled and shook away his fears. He couldn’t see a damn thing. He waved his spear in her direction as an idle threat then sighed. Realizing he could not jump at every sound or shadow all night long; the youth took a moment to calm and relieve himself. Daffonil covered her eyes as the young man whipped out his manhood and began to water the bushes below her perch in the tree. This was just lovely. The sound of his stream bouncing among the leaves dominated the night. When he stopped to put it away, he was much calmer, but Daffonil was not. The sound of the stream ended, and everything was silent – dead silent. The druid tilted her head to hear better. Her pointed ear twitched. No crickets, no birds, there were no sounds at all. The glow bugs even dissipated as if fleeing the scene. As a guardian of nature, Daffonil knew what this meant. It was as good as a warning horn blasting forth. This was the silence of danger. Nature was hiding, but from what?

Her elven eyes were more adjusted to the faint light. She could make out shapes and movement much better than the human could. True, she did not have the benefit of the full night vision the bigger mercenary’s orc blood afforded him, but she was not helpless. Something shifted nearby. The faintest of twigs snapping caught her attention. She spotted a shadow shift next. Something moved in her direction from deep within the forest. It was impossible to make out a discernable shape. She froze, clutching Starmane’s horn in her clammy palm. Could it be that mercenary that lurked out here somewhere. Zane was the name the handsome bearded man spoke. The horses tethered in a group at the other edge of the camp began to whinny and stomp. They grew restless. The animals could smell something. This did not bode well.

The watchman finished his business and returned to his nervous pacing. Gregory seemed a tad more at ease now that his bladder was empty. He moved to calm the horses before they woke anyone. It was late and the drivers needed sleep. Another shadow shifted. It was big, much bigger than expected. She heard the slight crunch of grass under a heavy foot. The elf went cold. Daffonil felt her heart pounding in her chest. That was no man. She knew something huge headed her way. When the shadow shifted beneath her tree, she all but screamed. She clamped her free hand over her mouth and attempted to breathe as silently as possible through her nose. It was a vague outline, but that outline was disturbing. It looked like a very large bear, only it had patches of fur and patches of leathery skin. Its head was tapered more like an armadillo with a very long neck and its ears were tall and sharp. A thick bushy tail trailed it for several feet. The appendage was raised high and stiff like a wolf’s tail when it attacked. The legs seemed longer, more slender than a bear. What was this thing? The druid had never seen anything remotely like it. Whatever it was it could not be natural. She was not completely sure, but it seemed to lift up on two legs as if surveying the campsite. She heard large nostrils flare and sniff the air. Realizing that was not good for her, the elf woman panicked. Daffonil used a simple poultice of herbs and mud to cover her scent and hoped that would be enough. She tried to inch her way higher into the tree. She did not want to provoke this beast if she did not have to. The humans were sleeping. Hopefully it would leave the camp in peace and wander off where she could ambush it without as much collateral damage. She already knew it could be devastating if it attacked. The trail of tortured bodies leading her here was proof.

A pair of large eyes opened directly before her. They glowed yellow, reflecting the light of the camp torch, and held the pupils of a snake. A blast of fetid breath hit her in the face. The beast was much taller than she expected it to be. Its face sat even with hers. She was some fifteen paces up from the ground in her perch. Its sense of smell was much better than expected, like that of a bear or a hound. It located her despite her precautions. Huge jaws opened wide as it snapped a mouth full of jagged teeth at her. Daffonil screamed and instinctively let herself fall from the tree to the ground. The woman slid down the trunk with the tree at her back. She did a tuck and roll away from it. The beast, missing her by mere inches, tore away a mouth full of branches, ripping them from the tree as it shook its large, tapered face from side to side on the end of a long, powerful neck.

Using the tongue common to most men in the area, she cried out an alarm. “Wake! Wake and defend yourselves! You are under attack!” Daffonil screamed as she hit the ground in a roll to carry herself behind another tree trunk and out of the path of the beast’s deadly claws. She prayed she used the words correctly. She had little reason to speak the tongue of humans in her everyday life.

In a burst of speed and strength that belied its size, the beast roared a guttural sound and all but shredded the tree between them. Branches crashed haphazardly as its six plus inch claws tore through them with ease like a fan of razor-sharp blades. One of the larger branches landed atop the elf, pinning her to the ground. She struggled to wiggle free. Gregory screamed, too. He would have wet himself had he not just taken care of that. The horses stirred into a frenzy, trying to break their tethers. One of them, the largest horse that Bronwick rode, did break free and raced off into the night with a loud whinny. The youth gripped his spear and pointed in the direction of the sounds until he witnessed the beast standing on its hind legs, those yellow inhuman eyes glaring death at him atop a long, thick neck. It was at least fifteen feet tall and unlike anything he had ever heard of judging by the glimpses he was catching in the faint light. A paw swiped through the air. He saw those massive claws flexing. This was the stuff of nightmares.

The caravan sprang to life at the warning. Shouts and cries sounded as a lantern lit and more torches flared into being. People jumped from every wagon scrambling to find the source of the commotion. Bronwick and Farrah hopped to the ground side by side from the back of the first wagon. The barbarian held his great sword, Maggie. She held her lantern. Both gazed in the direction of the beast standing not thirty paces away with surprised shock. Bronwick could see the beast in all its glory. His dark vision pierced the night. He grunted in disgust and awe. This was a new creature. Farrah screamed. Though her lantern’s light only cast it in more shadows, the girl seemed to see the beast for what it was, too. She dove back into the wagon to claim her staff. The beast gazed down on the pair with those glowing yellow eyes and split its jaw wide to release another guttural roar. Those eyes held a glint of intelligence and promised death. It took two steps in their direction, walking on its hind legs like a bear might. Lucky for them, another higher-pitched and louder scream drew its attention away from them. Derris stood with his hands on his cheeks and his blue eyes as wide as saucers. He was screaming at such a high pitch he could have summoned dogs to them or shattered glass. That irritating noise drew the focus of the beast. It shook its head from side to side. The piercing cry offended its acute senses. Its long neck swiveled towards the minstrel. It dropped back to four legs and bounded at the man. It entered the light revealing its true nature. The creature was huge. Its long, bushy tail swung from side to side behind it as if wagging excitedly.

Tamaran maneuvered away from the wagon, slipping around behind it and out of sight as the beast raced towards them. He wanted a barrier between him and that unknown thing. Those were the eyes from his vision, large yellow and reptilian. It moved like a charging bear with the gait of a camel. He clutched his scimitar but feared it might not have much effect on that thing. It was huge! He realized too late that Derris was once again frozen with fear and screaming while taking absolutely no defensive action. It was the same reaction he had to the sun cat attack.

A strong set of hands gripped the slender bard by his shoulders and shoved him hard to the ground where he rolled beneath the wagon still screaming. Vallen then dove aside, tumbling into the bushes for cover as he drew forth his sword. The magic of his cloak immediately began blurring him in the background. The beast charged with its guttural roar. It reached the third wagon where the men were standing and was furious as all its victims vanished from sight. The last thing it saw was Derris rolling underneath the wagon and it could still hear the man screaming so it gripped the edge of the undercarriage with both front claws and rolled the wagon over with ease. The beast was incredibly strong. The wagon tumbled away, end over end and Tamaran barely managed to throw himself clear before he was crushed beneath it. When the wagon rolled away, there lay Derris and Reena both screaming. The lid to her pack was open and a tiny blue face peeked out. Stench saw the horror that was the beast towering over them on two legs. The gremlin shrieked and closed the lid. The girl clutched her backpack tightly and managed to kick the bard once for destroying her hiding place before she scrambled away to hide beneath the second wagon. Derris only laid there staring up at the creature, screaming in frozen terror.

“Get up and run!” Tamaran shouted, knowing from experience his call would likely do little.

He could not move to defend the man this time. That would be suicide. The beast towered over him. The minstrel was as good as dead.

“Derris, come to me. Take shelter!” Vallen shouted as he stood at the edge of the bushes, waving the man towards him. He realized the man would not be able to see him. The magic of his cloak was already blending him with the foliage. The ranger was busy trading sword for bow. After getting a better look, he did not want to be anywhere near that monstrosity.

Derris could look at nothing besides that set of powerful jaws and massive claws headed straight for him. The beast’s long face opened wide, impossibly wide, displaying rows of teeth and a forked tongue like a snake. A few fleeting thoughts crossed his mind. First, he could write something spectacular about this moment! Second, he did not think he would ever get to perform his ‘epic one-man show’. Third, his crotch felt warm, and his pants wet. Somewhere in the background there were others calling to him, calling his name. Urging him to move. The beast dove to strike. In its enthusiasm, it swiped the bard once, sending him rolling away with a nasty gash but it also missed with the other claw and bite because of that enthusiasm. Derris tumbled away violently. He stopped rolling and blood began to pour from his side and upper leg where it slashed him. The pain broke his fear-induced panic. The man tried to crawl to his feet but faltered under the strain and only rolled over groaning. The effort caused more blood to gush from his terrible wounds. The torchlight let him see his wounds clearly. There was so much blood. He fainted.

Gregory was engulfed by panic. His imagination pulled a nightmare from the darkness. He was so scared he reacted on instinct alone. Rational thought was lost to the youth. Gregory charged from behind and drove his spear into the beast’s bushy tail. It felt like the tip did not even pierce its thick skin. The beast swung the tail and bowled the youth over, sending him sprawling to the ground with open wounds. Evidently there were spikes buried inside the wiry fur. It spotted Stan, Hans and Karl backing away and its yellow eyes locked on the men. Why didn’t it finish off Derris or even Gregory. The men could not possibly escape. They were both prone, injured, easy targets. Why didn’t it just grab one and drag them away for a quick meal. It seemed as if the creature was determined to cause the most damage it could. Was it letting them suffer? These were not the actions of a normal animal.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Martin called out to the others. “Run for your lives!” He shouted as he grabbed his wife and threw her atop one of the horses. He considered challenging the threat until he saw the creature in all its terrible glory.

The rest of the animals threatened to break their tethers and flee. As soon as she had a grip, he released the animal and the horse raced away down the trail at a breakneck pace with Luna screaming and struggling to stay astride. He crawled atop another horse and was racing away after her in seconds. Martin kept shouting for everyone to flee as he vanished into the night.

Stan ran to follow suit. He dashed towards the horses tossing his pipe to the ground in his haste. “Everyone grab a horse! Two to an animal if you can! Martin is right, we must flee!” The old teamster waved to the others to join him. The remaining horses broke free of their tethers and fled for their lives down the trail after the couple. The terrified animals trampled Stan in the process. The man never stood a chance.

Everyone stared in horror as the teamster was trampled to death. They watched the horses, and the Looms disappear into the night and felt their hearts sink. Both Hans and Karl jogged after the horses, calling desperately for the animals to stop. Yulan waddled slowly behind them. The elderly man was not as fast and panted from the exertion. Their flailing and shouting drew the attention of the beast. It bounded after them on all fours with a roar. The men saw it coming and began to beg for their lives, waving their torches at it in hopes that the flames might keep it at bay. The creature did not hesitate as it charged them plowing over Yulan. The elderly man fell into a broken heap on the trail. It continued on to smash Karl and Hans into the ground with a stomp of its clawed paws, one for each of them. If the sheer strength and weight behind the stomps didn’t kill them, the sharp claws piercing their bodies did. The beast reared up on its hind legs and turned to face the others. Both the merchant and the leatherworker were skewered on its claws like sick shish kabobs. It shook one man free of each forepaw, slinging their limp and bloody bodies to the side to crash in a sickening thud. Its long neck stretched high into the air and its jaws spread wide as it roared again. That roar sounded like nothing they had ever heard before. It appeared to be in some sort of blood frenzy, taking pleasure in the fear of its victims as it injured and killed them one after the other. The camp quickly became a bloody slaughter site.

Out of nowhere came Bronwick in a frenzy of his own. The half-orc barbarian grunted and charged the beast. He planted his massive sword in its flank. The blade hit hard enough and bit deep enough to cut a line across its skin and draw forth thick, sludge-like blood. The beast howled with surprise. Bronwick did not pause. He continued to wail away, hacking into its haunch slash after slash. His massive muscles flexed with every blow.

“Die! Die!” He shouted between deep grunts. His eyes were wild, and his impressive muscles rippled in the light.

It looked as if his mighty blows should have done more. They could have chopped down a tree. But the monster’s skin was incredibly tough. A series of arrows flew at the creature, striking it about the neck and face. They did not penetrate its thick skin, but they did succeed at partially blinding it. Vallen stood at the edge of the clearing firing in rapid succession. As the man attacked, he seemed to suddenly appear from the brush then fade again.

“What do we do? My arrows have little effect.”

“Get to the others, get them on their feet if they live. Maybe we can escape into the forest.” Tamaran seemed doubtful but he did not know what else to do. Fleeing into the pitch-black forest did not sound entirely safe but staying here was akin to suicide. How could they fight something they could not hurt? Farrah met his gaze from across the clearing and nodded. She looked towards Yulan but knew even from this distance the old man was gone. His frail body bent in unnatural directions. She could see that Stan, Karl and Hans were likewise lost. None of their bodies moved.

Tamaran went to check on Gregory and Farrah arrived at Derris’ side. The girl dropped and began pulling herbs and bandages from her satchel to staunch the heavy flow of blood. The bard was injured badly. Gregory was alive and groggy. He bled, too, but was in better shape than the bard. Tamaran patted his cheeks and hauled him to his feet. The youth came around and collected his spear, leaning on the weapon like a crutch. One of his legs was likely broken, at the minimum sprained. They stood watching the muscular half-orc slash away, wondering how they could help. Bronwick managed somehow to dodge the creature’s claws with little more than a couple of nicks, but how long could he last alone? His luck would soon run out. For such a big man he looked very small next to that monster.

“My spear had no effect on it,” Gregory whispered in a daze of shock. “There isn’t even blood on the tip?”

“My weapon will have an effect!” a childlike feminine voice rang out through the night.

A small figure darted past them. She charged at the beast from the opposite direction from Bronwick. The elf woman leapt as she reached its side and drove her weapon into its other leg with a double-handed, overhead thrust. The unicorn horn shimmered as it cut into the beast. The horn sank through that thick hide as if it were made of butter. The beast howled again. Daffonil had been waiting for a good time to strike. The half-orc created the opening, and she took it. Seeing it was not doing so well. The beast adjusted its tactics. It bled from both haunches and did not like where this was heading. It recognized and knew the pain of that spiraled horn. First it spun in a circle, using its powerful spiked tail to bat Bronwick away like an annoying insect. The barbarian hit the ground in a tumble that ended with him sprawled on his back. It then turned to flee. It dug one clawed hind paw into the ground and used the other to kick backwards. The foot struck Daffonil and shot the girl at least ten feet through the air. She landed hard with her breath knocked from her lungs. More arrows bounced off its thick hide. One hit its mark and sank into the hole created by the unicorn horn. The beast howled in pain. It kicked off with the foot it dug into the earth and launched itself into a run that carried it into the forest away from them. It moved much faster than they expected, tearing through the brush with ease. Saplings and underbrush piled in its wake, torn free at the root.

Everyone paused in a moment of relief. The campsite looked like a war zone. Thankfully, the creature was gone. Farrah decided to check on the small woman next when she spotted Bronwick picking himself up from the ground and limping towards them. The man was tough and impressive in battle. He was no novice to injury. The big man sported the scars to prove it.

Waving for Tamaran’s attention Farrah pointed to Derris. “He isn’t good. Look after him. I’ll help her.” Farrah headed towards Daffonil while Tamaran moved to look after the minstrel.

She did the best she could with Derris, but his chances of survival were debatable. When she reached the small woman, she was surprised to see an elf. Daffonil was likewise surprised when she saw a human woman with glowing golden eyes. Farrah had left her lantern with the bard in her haste. The torches lay at a distance. The pair of them sat in shadow. She saw the elf staring at her and quickly tried to avert her gaze. She pulled forth some bandages and sprinkled some powder over the wounds to slow the bleeding.

“That was incredibly heroic. You are lucky to be alive,” Farrah whispered. She then raced back to grab her lantern, making sure to keep it close. She could hear Ghren’s voice in her head scolding her for not keeping the light at hand. She was careful not to make eye contact with anyone else until the lantern sat at her side.

“Thank you,” Daffonil called after her. The elf sat upright and began a prayer to the Gods of nature. “Please hear my prayer and help to mend that which has been broken in anger.” Her fingers took on a green glow and she brushed them across her wounds. The bleeding lessened. The smaller scratches even sealed up completely. She knew her stores of divine magic were nearly faded. She would not be able to pray again and replenish them until dawn. That was her sacred prayer time as the sun’s rays first touched the land and The Green listened. She was immediately glad she kept a small reserve in store.

Witnessing this miracle in action, Tamaran called for her help. “I do not know who you are or what brought you here, good lady, but thank you. If you can spare any more of that healing magic, our companion sits on death’s door.” The young man gestured towards the unconscious bard.

Daffonil picked herself from the ground and limped to them. She began a prayer. “Let the life force of the world join with the life force of this man. Please, see fit to mend these wounds.” Her fingers took on that glow of green light again. As she brushed her hand across his side, Derris began to breathe more steadily and the blood that seeped past the bandages ended. Daffonil slumped to the ground in need of rest. Her prayers were completely drained, and her body battered. The elf was very tired. She whispered a prayer of thanks to the forces of The Green for their aid on this day. She had never prayed for their assistance so much.

Bronwick and Gregory hobbled to the group. Farrah was busy checking everyone’s wounds to see if there was anything she could do to help. Her quick attention did manage to stop the bleeding on both men. The woman’s skills as a healer proved exceptional. Vallen moved to investigate the path of the beast. He wanted to be sure it wasn’t returning to finish the task. The man snatched up a torch and waded into the toppled saplings. He spotted Zane scoping out the trail, too. The man was cautiously examining the beast’s tracks at the edge of his light.

“What in the nine hells was that thing? I’ll follow this, but it seems like the fucker fled. We should all be safe now, or as safe as you can be in this piss pot forest. My damn arrows bounced away harmlessly! I told you not to come here!” The scruffy man seemed relieved it was gone. Vallen could not help but scoff. He used the word we again even though he neglected to help in the fight. “I warned you that was the bigger threat, prince. I can’t believe you didn’t just flee when it reared its ugly head. You’re destined for doom, you know that, right? What do you owe these losers anyway? You barely know them.” He grumbled as he headed off to follow the beast’s trail. Vallen called him to join them, but his friend offered up a crude gesture and departed with a scowl and a grumble. Zane had no interest in mingling with his new friends.

After he watched Zane vanish into the darkness, Vallen rejoined the others. He wished his best friend wasn’t so obstinate. He did not like the idea of the man trekking off alone, but he could not leave these people like this. They needed him, Zane didn’t. Seeing that the immediate danger was clear, Reena crawled from beneath the second wagon and crept back to the gathering. She popped open the lid of her pack to take a quick peek inside and make sure Stench was unharmed.

“You good in there, you little turd?”

The gremlin waved and grinned back up at her. “Yep, yep!” She thanked the Gods then lowered the lid into place before anyone spotted him.

“What in the nine hells was that thing?” the young girl gasped as she arrived at Tamaran’s side.

“These are definitely the tracks we spotted earlier,” Vallen confirmed. He studied one of its footprints in the clearing. “I just spoke with my friend, Zane. He is going to trace its trail to make certain it’s gone, but we agreed that it looks like it fled.”

Daffonil studied the nobleman quizzically. She wondered what skills his friend possessed to avoid her detection all night. “I am Daffonil Leaftell, a wood elf and a member of the druidic Order of the Vine. I am also a guardian of The Grape Grove and protector of The Forest of Shade.” The girl dipped into a proper bow. “I tracked the beast here after following its path of destruction through the forest. I have known many beasts and many creatures in my lifetime, but I have never heard of or seen anything the likes of that.” The elf woman seemed at a loss.

“It’s damn tough is what it is!” Bronwick groaned. “I hit it with everything I had and barely scratched it.” The half-orc looked at the elf with a hint of a smile. “You hurt it badly, little woman. How? That was impressive! What is that weapon you wield? I’ve never seen a dagger like that. It looks more like a horn from an animal. What is it carved from?”

“That is a unicorn horn is it not?” Tamaran answered the question and drew a shocked look from the elf. “Is that Starmane’s horn?” The desert land youth blurted out the name that came to him in his vision. This all seemed connected.

Daffonil stared at him in disbelief. “How do you know that? How do you even know that name, human?” She stood gaping in shock at the desert lander.

Tamaran became uncomfortable with so many sets of eyes on him. He needed to remember to be more careful with his gifts. This was not his school. This was not even his homeland. That was twice in one day he had jeopardized his identity. “It is a long story, but suffice it to say, I saw the name in a vision. I am something of a mage, a diviner of sorts, though barely a dabbler.”

Daffonil nodded and smiled sadly. “Starmane was a protector of this forest for a century. He battled the beast and lost. His horn was a dying gift left to stop its rampage.” The small woman’s head dipped low as she whispered a prayer for her departed friend then kissed the horn.

“We owe you our lives, Daffonil Leaftell,” Farrah stated bluntly. Without you and the injuries you delivered, it would have slain us all for certain. There would be no survivors.” The healer gave the elf woman a hug of appreciation. Daffonil smiled. She returned the hug sheepishly. She had never embraced a human before. They felt warmer than she expected, and stronger. Her parents always described them as cold, unfeeling, weak creatures. “I suggest you, Bronwick and Gregory rest and keep an eye on Derris. That is if you wouldn’t mind staying with us for a time? The rest of us can deal with burial rites.” The golden woman gazed out at the bodies strewn across the clearing. The scene looked awful. Tears streaked down her tan cheeks. Stan, Yulan, Karl and Hans all lay dead. She barely knew them, but they had been so kind to her. “I pray to Aethine that Martin and Luna escaped.”

Bronwick nodded solemnly as did Reena. The girl truly hoped her imaginary parents reached safety. The big man tilted his head back and grunted loudly at the sky in frustration. The barbarian caravan guard was obviously angry. The big man felt the pain of failure again.

“I will stay and watch over you,” Daffonil agreed. “I am a guardian of this forest, after all. It is my duty.” Her voice sounded happy about it.

“What do we do next? After the bodies are handled, I mean. We can’t just sit out here waiting for that big bastard to return and eat us all, can we?” Reena scanned the dark trees fearfully. She spat at the path it took to flee in an effort to ward away the curse of the beast. The others had no good answer for the girl but were a little shocked that the sweet, innocent child seemed different now, more worldly and much cruder.

Gregory gasped. The others spun to see what caused his reaction. A group of seven small wood elves stood in the clearing alongside an assortment of animals. Everything from a lynx, to deer, a hawk, to a rabbit and even a skunk. They were all dressed similarly to Daffonil in fitted skirts and clothes designed of plants.

“Your friends, I am assuming?” Tamaran asked. Daffonil nodded then hobbled to join them. Though the small elf grinned cheerfully she still winced with each step.

They began a very involved conversation in a language no one else understood. Strangely enough, the animals seemed part of that discussion. The small woman did turn and gesture towards them repeatedly. It appeared to grow heated between them several times. No one here was especially familiar with elven customs, so they tried not to take it personally. During the discussion one of the druid elves paused to heal Daffonil’s wounds with a prayer. After the conversation ended, Daffonil turned to the group and smiled. She cradled the skunk in her arms. That was strange, but at least she was smiling, and her limp was gone. The girl once again moved with a happy bounce to her step.

“We welcome you to spend the night in the shelter of the forest, under the protection of the guardians and the Order of the Vine.” The girl waved them forward with a happy giggle. “We will deal with the burial of the dead. I have good news as well. Your friends, the older couple that rode off, are being guided to shelter as we speak. They and the horses will be escorted to a small human village nearby. My people found them on the trails. They are safe.” Daffonil glanced back at her fellow elves. Some of them did not look so happy. The primary elf, an older more stern-looking man with long hair, kept his gaze trained on them. Faerin was the elder guardian, and he was the one who allowed the young druid to care for these wanderers. It was unclear if he was happy about that decision though. “Please, accept our hospitality for the night. Come. Rest.” She gestured towards the tree line.

“Is everything alright? We could hear your heated debate,” Farrah asked carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was cause trouble for the woman that saved them.

“Lady Daffonil, we don’t wish to cause any strife among you or your people,” Vallen assured her.

He knew of elves in the forest and had long wanted to meet the reclusive lot. Ever since he received his cloak and learned his father received it from an elven wizard he had been enamored with the idea of elves. Ideas of visiting the elven kingdom in the Wisp Forest often played through his mind. This was not quite the way he pictured that meeting. He hoped to form a lasting relationship with them.

Daffonil frowned and then quickly shifted back to her usual smile. “Some elves are purists. They don’t believe that humans… or orcs… belong in the forest. But I’ve convinced them that you are all to be honored for your efforts against the unnatural beast. Now, please, come and rest. Think no more of it.”

She waved them towards the trees. Once everyone reached the designated spot. The elves all joined hands in a prayer circle. They began chanting in that strange language and beseeching the forest itself. Faerin led the prayers. The trees, bushes and other plants began to sway and twist, weaving themselves together. The group of humans plus half human watched in amazement as the plants twisted and bound together to form a large domed structure with a cavern-like entrance. A curtain of vines fell across the opening decorated in tiny white blossoms and small crystals.

“Please, step inside and rest. The dome will prevent any harm from seeking you. It is a haven for the night, protected by The Green.” Daffonil dipped at the waist and gestured towards the entrance. “Also, if anyone needs further healing, my friends will tend to you.” The small woman’s smile seemed genuine and her large expressive eyes hopeful.

After the structure formed, Faerin departed with several of the elves. They had a hunt to pursue. That beast was still out there wreaking havoc in the forest.

* * * * * * * * * *

True to her word, the remaining elves worked their nature magic and mended the wounds of the injured. Even Derris was awake and well by the time the rest of the elves departed. Though they did their due diligence and helped everyone to recover fully, they did not bother to engage the travelers. The elves spoke few words to them and mostly conversed in their language as if the humans were not present. The party tried not to take offense. The elves were helping them and Daffonil remained the ambassador of good tidings between the groups. The young druid was especially bubbly and pleasant as if overcompensating for the others. The bard immediately set pen to paper creating new lyrics describing the beast’s attack and the elven rescue. They had been awakened from their sleep when this whole incident started. Everyone was beyond exhausted. The interior of the plant dome proved incredibly comfortable. The temperature seemed perfect inside and the plants had formed to create soft, leafy beds for each of them. Insects did not enter. Even the air inside the dome smelled sweet and fresh. The entire site was like something out of a child’s bedtime tale. Sleep claimed them all with varying degrees of rest.