Darkness Calling

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. They came with the settlers. Some say the dragons were mighty warriors from a forgotten time. Some say they were attracted to the night fires, and they came from the dark forests drawn by the light like moths. They were mostly shy creatures that kept to themselves, stealing a sheep or two here or there. Most people didn’t even really believe they existed, since most people had never seen one.

I knew, however, where the dragons really came from. It was a family secret passed down generation from generation. The women would take a husband and bear children. The sweet flames would come into this world and after, the mothers would be forever changed. Kindling a fire in their hearts. The eldest daughter would slink off in the night of the new moon. Covered by darkness and slowly the change would happen. The eldest daughter of an eldest daughter of an eldest daughter; on and on it went following the bloodlines for generations. This story however isn’t about an eldest daughter. This story is about Kip-the youngest daughter.

The town was settling into the winter rain. Sheets of water poured down from the open sky to the wilted town. Kip ran through the puddles with a bundle under one arm. Her mother was waiting for her. She knew a warm lamb stew and steaming bread were at the table. She needed to see for herself though. It was nearing dark the blue hour was descending on the town in the valley. All the colors were shifting to tones of blue. Except the bright pin pricks of the fiery lights cheerfully peering from the dry windowsills splashing echoes of their joy in the puddles on the street.

Kip interrupted that joy with the chaos of her running feet. Her hair plastered to her head since her hood had fallen back. She’d been more concerned about keeping her parcel dry than her own head. In her haste the water was now dripping down her hood and into the back of her shirt. Mud splattered her shoes and stockings.

The edge of town met the forest near a little pond. The pond was swollen with the rain and was beginning to form a river that ran the length of the valley to the valley below. Little waterfalls of cold water were rushing to the lower valley. The lower valley mirrored her own, with pin pricks of light smiling up at her, the fires and streetlamps glowing in the distance

The night was approaching, and she knew she’d be met with reproach when she returned home. The wild and wet run she had with freedom and yearning singing in her ears would be met with her mother aghast at her wet dirty clothes and cold soaked pale skin. If she saw it though. If she saw it, it would be worth it. Legend had it that dragons lived in the lower valley. The dragons would come in the night to steal livestock quietly while the towns people slept.

Kip hesitated by the gate of the valley. The gates massive rocks pierced the sky above her. She was nothing more than a slip of a shadow, timid in the night. She looked down to the lower valley. The rocks gritty on her fingertips. All was quiet in the lower valley. She sighed and her breath was visible. She shuddered in her wet clothes. Refusing to get back to her warm home she watched the lower valley. Wondering if there was anyone in the valley as fascinated with their story as she was or if their folklore was mundane and ordinary to them.

The rain started slowing and in the near darkness blanketed by clouds she quietly made her way down the hillside. Her arm outstretched in front of her. Eyes wide looking to catch any movement. She was muttering under her breath about what a terrible idea this was. Her mother was likely livid at this point. Even if there weren’t dragons, who were surely deadly and dangerous, there were hungry wolves, and faeries that deceived people wandering alone in the forest.

A lone owl hooted in the watery distance. Since it was the night of a new moon and the starlit sky was covered with clouds, it was especially dark. Though, the lights from the town were warm little sparks, like eyes of the underworld watching her move closer. A branch cracked off to her right. She nearly jumped out of her skin to be reminded that most likely she wasn’t alone on this dark errand. She felt eyes on her shoulders and all the hair on her nape stood on end.

She spun around to face her intruder to find only dripping leaves and quiet shadows. She held her bundle under one arm and quietly moved her walking staff off her pack into her other hand. Some guttural noise was coming from somewhere and she was surprised it was her own voice. Quickly, silencing herself, she spun back to her errand and quietly made her way into the town of the lower valley.

Oddly, this town smelled somewhat different. The spices and herbs they used to make their dinners were different. They would throw herbs on their fires as wards to tiny creatures said to make people sick. The astringent herbs clung to the moist air. The inviting fires danced in the windows. A door slammed open, and cans rattled out of the door. The drunken slurs of a man dressed in leathers and fur followed him out of a cottage.

Kip pressed herself against a wall and shut her eyes, holding her breath. The man was singing to himself joyfully while he relieved himself. Holding himself upright against the house. Not a care in the world. Suddenly, he stopped singing. There was no noise. No light. Even the merry firelight from all the houses were gone. Kip couldn’t feel the wall but, on some level, knew it was still there.

She waited in this unearthly darkness. Her muscles grew stiff from lack of movement. She knew if she stepped away from the house she could be lost forever. The fairies would stop time to trap people. In this void, people would wander off and never be found again. No one had ever seen the fairies. She thought on it and no one she knew had ever been in the void, yet everyone knew about it. Her heart beat loudly in her chest. Surely, anyone nearby could hear her heart rambling chaotically. However, even the drunken man down the street was currently lost to her.

Something was moving near her. It dragged heavy along the street. She couldn’t make out what it was or where it was. The seconds turned into minutes. The minutes seemed to turn into hours. She didn’t know how long she was in the frozen darkness. Weary she started to slouch against the wall and settled herself on the ground holding her parcel. She tucked her wool cloak around herself, set to wait out the darkness. As she dozed off, she heard a distant but high-pitched noise like a tea kettle.