Winston’s worked the playdoh in his hands creating a facsimile of the creature hunting for him below. Hiding up in the barn loft between he could hear the creature dashing from shadow to shadow in the barn as it tried to sniff him out. He could feel the sweat beads form on his forehead, releasing pheromones. Grabbing his ensorcelled deodorant from his pocket, he swiped it across his forehead, hiding his scent.
Holding the playdoh monster in his hand he crept out from between the haystacks looking for the beast hunting him. Watching as it paced around the barn floor catching glimpses of it as it passed through the moonlight.
The only fur it had running down its spine dirtied and ratted. Every other inch of it covered in the black mottled flesh you would find on rooster’s feet. Oversized canine teeth poked out of its snout, dripping in saliva. The only part of its body not dark was its eyes. Glowing golden orange with black pupils each moving independently of the other as it searched for him.
Winston carved the pictograph for a spell of holding into the playdoh monster, making a mental link between the two. Holding a double a battery in his hand he started to transfer the energy from it into the pictograph on his facsimile. He could feel the thrum of magical energy pulse through his foci.
Jumping down from the hayloft he smashed the copy of the beast in his hand releasing the spell. Glowing blue hands of magic erupted from the ground latching onto the beast’s limbs. They held it in place for a split second before flickering out of existence.
-Two days earlier-
He had been driving for weeks, looking for a new home. But heading nowhere specifically. His savings dwindled to his last dollars forcing him to stop in a small city in eastern Washington.
Everything he owned, packed in the bed of his truck. Winston knew he would need to find a job somewhere in town if he wanted to eat. With no life skills and having zero work experience, he opened the local paper circling any jobs that sounded doable.
An ad for a farmhand jumped out at him. No experience needed with compensation in room and board with no experience needed seemed like a godsend. Having not slept in a real bed for weeks or eat a hot meal, not from a gas station microwave in who knew how long, he desperately wanted this job. With no way of calling the number the ad gave and with just enough gas to get there, he decided to take a chance and apply in person.
Driving out to the boonies, his gas gauge creeping closer and closer to empty, Winston, tapped his hands nervously against the steering wheel. Unsure if this was the right choice, his truck finally ran out of fuel. Sputtering and shuddering his truck died a half-mile away from his destination.
Walking gave Winston plenty of time to think about what brought him to this point. It surprised him that this was the most introspective he had been in weeks even with the long stretches of empty roads and fields. Each step he took, he couldn’t help but think of the home he grew up in burned down, the horrors his family performed hidden in the ashes. He couldn’t believe everything he had growing up was built upon that.
Dismissing those thoughts with a force of will, he only had the future look forward to. Ruminating on his past couldn’t bring any closure or happiness to him. His eyes were open to what was going on in the world and he just wanted to forget. He could just avoid it, pretending that everything was normal and he was a happy person just trying to get by. Not a power-hungry denizen of the Grimmlands.
Turning down the type of driveway you only found on large estates or way out in the country he walked up rusted old gate painted green. Pushing the gate open, he noticed a small pentagram carved through the chipped green paint and gouged into the metal. Tracing it with his fingers, he reached out with his will to test its power. He could feel nothing but the natural haptic buzz of the natural world. Happy that he wasn’t walking into a trap Winston shut the gate behind him continuing up the driveway.
A large dog came sprinting down the driveway at him, its bark a booming sound, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth. Winston grabbed the ring of charms he kept at his side, his fingers picking through them stopping on a small pepper shaker. Winston reached with his will to the sigil tattooed on his back, his family crest and source of his power and felt nothing.
Years of training on the use of his power through the family sigil had created a habit that wouldn’t be broken any time soon. The dog came barreling into him as he raised his hands up screaming. Knocking him over with its weight, he expected to be mauled but was met with hot slobbery dog kisses.
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Guarding his face against the mutt, Winston didn’t hear the soft crunch of gravel.
“Get off him, you big dumb oaf,” he heard someone say.
He felt as someone pulled the dog off him, he lowered his arms. An old gnarled hand reached down to help him up as the sun blinded him. Grasping the hand, he felt the strength in the calloused palm as it helped him up.
“Sorry about Olaf, he still hasn’t realized he’s the size of a horse,” the owner of the hand said. “You here about the job or you a solicitor?” the man asked not mincing words.
“No, just here for the job, Sir. My name is Winston,” Winston said putting his hand out for an official handshake.
“No need to call me sir, Duncan is fine,” Duncan said. “You old enough to work on a farm?”
“I turned 18 a month ago, sir, I mean Duncan. Sir,” Winston said stumbling over every word.
“Well if you can knock it off with that sir and you can work you're hired. Now hop to it and come with me while I will show you around.”
Winston had to jog, to keep up the pace Duncan set, Olaf, running off ahead of them. Put off balance by how easily Duncan hired him he wanted to put a good foot forward.
“You’re not going to ask me anything about myself?” Winston asked.
“Nope, you’re young and if you walked here you probably need the job,” he said. “Besides me and Sammie used to host wwoofer from all over the world.”
“Oh whose Sammie?”
“My husband, he passed away last year,” Duncan said. “I don’t want to run this place without him so I’m selling after this season.”
“Sorry for your loss?” Winston replied not knowing how to answer. Changing the subject quickly “So what’s a wwoofer?”
“Willing worker on organic farms, basically kids from all over the world would come here to farm for room and board. Kind of like you will be doing,” Duncan said halting in front of a bunkhouse. “This is where you will be staying. That funny smell is burnt sage, Sammie always did that to keep away any negativity. I had to do it because it wouldn’t feel right without it,” he said.
The way his voice wavered Winston knew that the man was barely holding it together.
“Bunch of hokey it all is, but strange things been happening around here,” Duncan said turning to Winston. His eyes tinged red with sadness “You can drop your stuff off here and I will show you around more.”
“Everything I own is in my truck about a half-mile away,” Winston said hooking his thumb over his shoulder.
“We will take some gas to your truck after I show you around some more,” Duncan said before walking away briskly. “Come on gotta show you the barn.”
Duncan showed Winston around the rest of the farm, telling him about what they grow and why. even pointed out Sammie’s private garden he grew all of his special herbs. Winston could see that Duncan lovingly took care of it even when he grumbled about all the hokum in it.
Eventually, they ended up at the animal pins where Duncan immediately grabbed a feed bag motioning for Winston to do the same. Olaf whimpered as Duncan walked through the gate, but didn’t dare follow. Winston unused to carrying this much weight wobbled behind as they headed to the troughs.
He noticed some of the animals had bandages as if something had been attacking them. Every one of them skittish around him flocked to Duncan as he petted and pushed them away to get to the troughs. One of the goats even began to nibble at the bag as Duncan grumbled and cursed under his breath as he tried to cut it open.
Finally giving up, he simply tore the bag open spilling the feed into the troughs and on the floor.
“Have at it you ungrateful sons of a gun,” he said smiling as some of the animals stopped eating as he walked by and petted them.
“Quickly now dump the rest of the feed and we will go get your stuff,” Duncan said.
He laughed as he watched Winston try to get through the horde of animals eating. Not one of them moving even as Winston shoved them away trying to dump their feed into the bins.
Walking back to the barn Winston couldn’t help but ask, “Why were there bandages on the animals?”
“Some coyote or something has been getting brave but nothing you need to worry about. I got a 12-gauge loaded and ready for it tonight,” he said. “Hope you like coyote steaks cuz that’s dinner tomorrow,” Duncan couldn’t help but laugh at his joke.
As they walked back to the barn Duncan continued to talk about farming. Followed by a vitriol statement of all the pests he deals with. And how he wished he could poison them but that would run counter to organic farming. After his diatribe views on rodents, they made it to the garage part of the barn, getting into his little beater truck. A couple empty gas cans sitting in the back needing to be filled.
“Really sorry about that,” Duncan said. “I always keep a few gas tanks full I thought.”
“Its no problem at all really,” Winston repeated himself.
“Since we’re going into town do you care if we grab something to eat? My treat,” Duncan said a little guilt tinging his words.
“Sir, I’m just trying to figure out why you’re being so nice to me,” Winston replied looking down at his feet. He felt like he didn’t deserve any of this, his guilt showing on his face.
“Well, it's lonely working the farm by myself and I know that look Winnie,” Duncan said smirking a little.
“What look?” Winston asked ignoring the nickname everyone always gave him.
“That look that says you're carrying something heavy. The same look I had until I met Sammie and he helped me,” Duncan said. “Maybe its Sammie sending you to help me.”