An Aura of green

An Aura of Green

“Look down there, past the brook. Do you see that strange aura of green?” His low whisper pairing with a slow, steady tug at Joseph's sleeve.

“Do you think it could be..?” His friends voice broke, not with excitement but, with fear.” Maybe we should hide a little better.” The two young men began slinking with care as to not crunch a single leaf. They crawled down from their hilltop vantage point into the valley.

With footsteps now in the river, the two can be sure they are not being tracked. “Hey, this water isn’t going the correct way.” Lathe draws even more caution as his confusion grows.

Joseph turns around while looking down. “What do you mean. It’s running down the hill towards that green glow.”

Cautious confusion now blossoming into frantic stammering, he replies. “You’re telling me that you see water flowing toward you?”

“Of course, don’t let your fear get to you Lathe.” His false reassurance could almost convince himself that the water was in fact flowing correctly. Yet, he could not deceive his own eyes.

The two hunters kept creeping ever closer. “The light seems to be sourced from around the foot of that hill. We need to get closer.” Joseph’s curiosity comes from a vein place.

“Are you sure we should even be this close? We can turn back and forget we saw anything.” Lathe's survival instincts start kicking in as wafts of singed flesh scrape the inside of his nose.

Joseph’s intentions did not align. “You don't have to come with me, I will have this witch's head if it’s the last thing I do. You know what they did to my wife and baby boy.”

“No. I’m with you my friend. I will always have your back to the end. Let's go kill it.” New and bold vigor rush through the two as all signs for fleeing have been trampled.

“So, we need to form a plan.” Lathe's eyes took their own direction finding multiple locations in which he could set up with his bow. “I know you want to go in head strong; let’s use that. If you sneak around to the opposite side, you can use the element of surprise to push it into my ambush.”

Joseph beamed with a grin. “You know me so well my friend. Let’s use that. But, wait for it to pass by you so you can peg an arrow into one of its foot prints. That way, it will be pinned where it stands. That’s when I will go in for the kill.”

“Sounds like a surefire way to get the upper hand. Go ahead and move out. I will surely hear your yells and screams, that’s when I’ll draw my arrow.”

Joseph sets off wasting no time while Lathe sits in his tree waiting. As the minutes lengthen, fear starts creeping back in. Lathe has heard too many times of how a witch can abduct anyone from innocent children to the bravest of knights. No one has ever come back after an entanglement to tell the tale. Thus, no one truly knows what horrors lie behind capture.

More than twenty minutes of silence slug on until it's cut with yelling. His already pounding heart kicks deep into overdrive as he readies an arrow. Another yell sounds but now in the opposite direction and equal distance. How could that be? Without moving, Lathe's eyes flick over to get the best peripheral he can. Nothing, not a sound.

At once, he could hear a single person trudge at incredible speed directly beneath him. Yet, there was no person. Before the first steps cleared earshot, a second took up a speedy trot from an entirely different direction. One by one, a handful more stomp through while Lathe refuses to flinch. It's close. These must be decoys to clear its path of ambushes, like mine.

Sure enough, the phantoms fade and he can see that eerie glow strengthen through the leaves. Where empty thuds once flowed, a pair of slower people replace. His fear burns away into focus with an already drawn bow. Ever so slight movements follow its pace until he can see its face.

Wrinkles carve deep into its shape as an old oak withered by time. Gnarled and matted elder moss float off its head in weightlessness. Protruding brow bones umbrella over deeply sunken in eyes. Eyes that did not meet his own proving his ambush would work. Eyes that did not meet his yet so green, still pierced into him sharper than an arrow. Large bags flowed underneath as two toadstools would. These masses could barely be held up by its bulbous cheek structure. Cheeks so old, they have worn down to the bone upon each apex. Unlike its mouth that has no teeth left to wear.

With this slight distraction, Lathe lost track of its tracks. He looked behind it but many prints had been freshly pressed into the soil. Frantic, he shot a set of foot prints. Not knowing if this accomplished anything, he pulled another from his brown leather quiver. He looked around and thought of hitting one print from each set. Then, he is sure to have it trapped. Upon his third attempt, a shrill shriek sounds as if alongside him.

“Yes, I got it.” Exclaiming whisper is the only thing that boils over from within his immense excitement. Lathe took pause as he can no longer hear the second set of steps either. Where is Joseph? It sounded like he was right ahead. Is this more magic trickery? He began down the tree knowing it compromises his position. Although he does not know where it is, he knows he can not make any ground up there.

He snakes through trees in the opposite direction of the witch. More silence drags a heavy feeling within. His hopes lie in that Joseph has taken refuge until he knows they’re clear of danger. Lathe issues an owls call which is signal to one another if they ever split up. After a moment, he hears a return in the distance.

Wasting no time, he redirects heavily to the left. Few strides pass before halting alongside one gaping crevasse. What the hell? Where did the ground go? I know this land and I could stand atop this empty hole a week ago. I must remind myself: I can not trust my eyes nor any surprise alike. If I follow its delusion, I’ll be left with no solution.

Crouching over closer to the rim, a foot extends over before dropping straight in. No ground to walk on? How the hell did it take the ground? He produced another owl call. Upon recall, his enthrall took him left.

Every passing step quiets until Lathe went fully deaf. This acute query forces him to feel quite weary. Now, he didn’t know how to get around. No ground to the right, and nothing but sight. Nothing left to drive him besides fear of death and hope for life.

Through every movement, his body quakes of anxiety. Thoughts run wild with strategy to prevent his own tragedy. Tiring quickly, his pace brakes even if his shakes and sweats won’t.

At once, a great snake weaves itself from beneath ferns forcing Lathe to confront four upfront options. He could face this basilisk yet might meet his fate. More dangerous yet, he could pick to go left or turn back. With this, he might run into the witch's attack. Or, he could pick the easy way out and jump right. Lathe decided it wouldn’t be right to go out without a fight but stupid to pick one with the snake.

His choice to head left was not made light and with that, he prepared for his fight. Adrenaline fueled might courses beneath his sight which might make him lose sight of the right decision. Lathe then caught a glimpse of something move in the distance. Could that be my friend? “Joseph!” Quiet exclaimer was met with limps in his direction.

Joseph’s lips loosen yet, Lathe can’t hear. Lathe’s return rant explains, in shame, the blame of this witch’s will. Lathe stables Joseph's hobble by tossing an arm around his shoulder. With audience at full cognizance, Lathe heard his friend boast “I know.” Yet, his voice has distortion as if overlapping another’s retort.

Joseph’s skin began looking thin. Beneath his grin, something seeps out from within. Pale white went stale like the sight of a ghost. His opaque coating eroding to reveal a fake hosting as him with iridescent green now emitting from the scene. Quickly enough, this gruff man morphs into something wickedly rough. Lathe threw the fake's arm away as it spoke. “My games and jokes aim to yoke elation from your shame and pain. Your friend near slain, his end, the same vein path of shame you fear. This talk, a result of my stalk while you both stalked.” It smiles while gripping and slipping back into Joseph’s vacant skin. “Your trial was short; thus I reveal your crime is of this sort. To heal, you must not seal back self trust to shield me from personal attack or you will end up inadvertently stabbing my back. Contract exact decisions or you will not have a chance for revisions.”

Lathe retracts his bow once more. “Or, contact with one of these will make you bow to me. Do not move or I will prove that I am superior to you.”

In fury, Joseph drew his sword shouting “I will make you rue your leery delirium if you fill no bout of recounting. Take your yelps, for help must send trust or descend into its spells my friend.”

Lathe paused for a moment, he recognized his friend’s greeting in what seemed like a cry for help. Without words, he looked around for footprints. He could only see what belongs to the two of them. Upon further inspection, Lathe makes out a smaller footprint within Joseph’s. Swiftly and silently, he darts his arrow straight through the middle of the center of a set. Joseph breaks free with the witch waiting staked in place.

Finally free from its nausea inducing curse, these two friends could vent for a second before putting this to an end for good. Together, they turn toward it. Josephs sword follows Lathes arrow rendering peace in the forest.