Warchildren Scene 3

The woods were dark and quiet. The moon shone softly through the tree tops. Mialee moved silently through the underbrush. She moved with imperceptible slowness through the forest. Her doe-skin pants and jerkin were patched with green and brown bits of cloth dangling in random patterns, breaking up her outline and hiding her easily against the undergrowth. Her staff had similar strips tied to it at various points, painted in a strange pattern of browns and greens with black stripes running through. Her cloak was covered in strips of brown green and tan cloth and a very open weave of brown cloth attached to her hood and covering her face. She did not want to disturb the animals when she was out on her treks through the local woods and greenways. When she stopped and listened to the forest around her, she looked like a strange little bush.

        There should be something moving around at this time of night, she thought to herself. The forest was usually full of life now. She heard a distant crash and a muffled scream about a mile away near the old mill. The townsfolk used the land to pasture their livestock on a rotating basis throughout the year.  Noise carried in the night when most things were still.  One could overhear a quiet conversation from fifty strides away. She crept through the forest slowly and quietly, keeping a lookout for anything unusual. Her hybrid eyes could pierce into the darkness of the forest. Even so, it took her a few hours before she found the source of the commotion.

        As she crept up to the edge of the forest, the stench of the carnage hit her nose. Blood and shit. Looking out over the old miller's pasture, the bare remains of a few cows were scattered around the field. 

        Nought left but bones and scraps. This was no simple attack by bandits or some rare forest cat looking for a meal. She pondered what manner of creature could have done this while she crept around the field. A flock of hippogriffs or the more ferocious griffon would have made more noise during the attack. She looked for tracks and sign around the edge of the field and forest but found none. She had nearly made it to the old miller's farmstead and was waiting in the shadow of a big oak tree and looking up at the night sky. The Hunter was high in the sky tonight. The other celestial pillars could be seen to the right and left of the pillar of the Hunter. They encircled the sun and held the heavens at bay. The earth enclosed the sun in her bosom. Wedges of distant sunlight could be seen moving ever so slowly across the earth before it was lost to the distance. The gods resided in the pillars as everyone knew. So the Hunter looking down on her was an auspicious omen.

        Something passed over her and swiftly crossed in front of the Hunter. She saw it just out of the corner of her eye but could not identify it before it dropped behind the tree tops to the north. Whatever it was that flew overhead had been as big as Bessie, the draft horse farmer Trivur used to win the blue ribbon at the Harvest Faire last year. That horse was a monster and so was whatever passed over head no doubt.

        The wingspan of the thing had to be about thirty strides, she pondered.

        Something padded softly behind her, giving her a fright and breaking her train of thought. It snorted gently when it saw her. She turned and a young bear sat down and looked up at her, tilting its head. “Hey there little guy, where have you been?” she whispered.

        The bear just licked its nose at her and shook his head. “Found some honey did ya?” She smiled at her furry little companion. She found him a few months ago during the summer, alone and wandering the woods. The poor little thing had been nothing but skin and bone and starving. She had felt his fear and loneliness and immediately bonded with him when she fed him some honey from a nearby beehive. He had been her constant companion since that day in the late summer. She had named him Bobo after a doll, her sole possession as a child.

        “You didn't happen to get a look at what did this did you Bobo?” she whispered gently to the bear. The bear just shook his head and scratched his cheek with his big paw. “Didn't think so. Well, let's go check out the field and see if we can find some tracks or sign of whatever did this.”

        She crept up to the simple wooden fence that delineated the miller's field from the others of the town, nimbly hopping it with one hand. Landing softly, she paused for a moment to listen. Hearing nothing but the crickets and distant toads in the mill pond, she walked out to the middle of the field scanning the ground ahead of her, avoiding large cow-pies and bits of dead cow. There it was. She stopped cold, kneeled down and inspected the great gash in the damp and spongy earth. It was four-toed, like a hawk, with deep claw marks at the end. Whatever did this was either a reptile or bird and as big as a horse. She searched around and found a cow's thigh bone with deep gouges in it. Nothing she knew of made bite marks like this. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a tarp normally used for staying dry on rainy walks. She wrapped the bone in the sheet and stuffed it back into her satchel.

        “Come on Bobo, we need to speak with Father.”