Followed

A shadow stalked the edges of the campfire. It skulked beneath the twisted low hanging boughs, sharp, narrow eyes glinting in the reflected firelight. Branches snapped like sharp intakes of breath and the leaves rustled like chattering laughter. Ralph tightened his grip on his weapon, a long rod of iron, scratched and blackened from the fire of a forge but not shaped into anything resembling a sword just yet. He scuffled, left to right and back again, his heart in his mouth as his eyes darted around his skull searching the darkness for his predator. A log collapsed in the fire and Ralph span, weapon raised and screaming but was met with only sparks and a waft of hot charcoal smelling air. He took a shuddering breath, sweat stung his eyes and he wiped his face with a shaking hand. The steps of the shadow encircled him now.

Snap.

Crunch.

Snap.

Crunch.

Ralph dropped, grabbed a lit branch from the fireside then hurled it into the darkness.

‘Get away! No more!’ He cried out. The light from the branch sent the shadows sprawling away from it as it sailed through the darkness like a winking star at night. As it travelled, he saw glimpses of the shadows form.

Raking claws, broad back and teeth like knives.

A howl rose from the darkness.

The branch went out before it hit the ground, swallowed by the ceaseless hunger of the awaiting shadows. Ralph almost laughed at that. He went to grab another branch to watch it disappear into the yawning maw of night.

It sailed into the darkness again, snuffed at the apex of its flight. Another howl pierced the night, but not from the darkness. Ralph was howling now. Hurling rocks and branches in all directions. Spitting and stamping, growling and roaring like a wounded beast.

‘Enough! Enough!’ He cried. Then he stopped. Panting, hoarse and dizzy. He slumped down by his bedroll and inched closer to the now smaller but still crackling fire. He would rest his eyes just for a minute, then take back up his watch.

Dawn broke suddenly and without warning. Shafts of light broke through the trees and the smell of dewy grass mingled with the smouldering charred stench of the deceased campfire. Ralph righted himself with some effort and wiped the soot and mud from his face. He looked around, the thicket was clear. A few birds danced between branches, twirling and catching the early morning breeze. Their voices came from all directions.

He continued on North for several hours. The ground was a little wet but not too bad, broken branches and roots marred the earth as Ralph trekked through it. As far as he could see trees were showing the early signs of summers end. A thin veil of purple, brown and yellow leaves littered the ground adding a satisfying and wet crunch to every other step. The large pack on his back clinked and clattered as he walked and the leather and cloth of his coat were beginning to smell. A brook provided a small respite from the smell and gave him a chance to refill the water carriers at his belt, further downstream a doe bent its neck toward the water then flashed it’s black eyes at the stranger upstream before darting into the distance. Ralph licked his cracked lips and ran a finger along the wooden handle of the tiny skinning knife at his belt. It had been so long since he’d had fresh meat.

A day later Ralph happened upon a hunter, a tall, lithe fellow by the name of William. He wore earthen colours and carried a shortsword and hunting bow, a smaller curved version of the longbows Ralph had seen carried by the soldiers back home. Carried by his father. William wore too broad a smile for Ralphs liking but as chance would have it they were headed in the same direction. North West, towards Rhodonite.

‘It’s a fool that travels alone around here.’ William said one night when they were setting up camp. Ralph could not doubt that he hadn’t seen anyone on the roads or through the forests for several days.

‘What does that make you?’ Ralph asked back. William laughed at that.

‘A fool, but I know I am.’ He leaned in close, the shadows on his features highlighted by the campfire. ‘We’re not so different, you and I. Hunters, trappers, skinners all. I carry a bow, but what’s your prey?’

‘Not one you can catch with an arrow. Although these days I feel more prey than anything else.’ He watched the encroaching shadows of days end nervously. William followed his gaze then gave a knowing grin.

‘I’ve seen it. Horrible bastard. Thought I had stuck it with an arrow before but I must have missed. It doesn’t hunt alone and neither should you.’ He then turned his attention to the hare roasting above the fire. Blood still stained it’s naked and slowly cooking flesh and the ragged fur was stretched over a nearby stone.

‘What do you mean it doesn’t hunt alone?’ Ralph asked, knowing the answer but not wanting it to be true. William tore off a bit of hare with his knife and chewed it loudly.

‘I mean what I say. We’ll be better off together.’

It came again that night. Perhaps, they came again last night. However many they were was subjective. A shape like a great pair of antlers broke through the ever-present gloom, thin material clung to the horns like clumped webbing. Together they bellowed and stamped the ground, the echo of their howls bouncing around the thicket making it impossible to pinpoint where it came from.

‘Stay close to the fire!’ William shouted, an arrow knocked and the bow held horizontal. Ralph clutched the iron rod and they wheeled back to back, the small campfire still sputtering between them. A resounding crack like the earth tearing in two came from deep in the woods and Ralph saw the distant silhouette of a tree collapse.

‘God above, what is it?’ He jibbered, straining his panicked mind to remember the prayers. How long had it been? He looked up at the moonlight, visible between the boughs, a full white pearlescent moon squatted directly above them. Wisps of cloud stretched across it periodically casting grey smokey shadows on the thicket below.

Snap.

Crunch.

Snap.

Crunch.

Ralph held the iron club in one hand and a burning branch in the other. The fire consuming more of the branch each second till the skin on his hands burned. His teeth were bared and gritted. William seethed and loosed an arrow blindly into the darkness. It wickered into something and shattered. He went to knock another.

‘No! Confound it, man! Don’t waste them!’ Ralph barked but William had already loosed a second.

Something squealed. And roared.

Dawn came again but it took its time. Ralph opened his eyes suddenly. William was still abed, the hunting bow and quiver left on the floor just outside of his grasp. He considered taking it. Knifing him in the ribs or the neck. Running as fast as he could with the bow and arrows. He didn’t know how to use it, it couldn’t be that hard though, he’d seen his father do it as he prepared for war. Before he left. He shook the thoughts away and packed his things for the day, giving William a swift kick in the ribs to rouse him.

‘That bastard.’ William said as they walked. Ralph had noticed he liked using that word as often as he could, his southern accent accentuated the ‘a’ and drew it out slowly like he was unsheathing a longsword. ‘So he took everything from you and your sickly mother?’ Ralph nodded, the memory still fresh in his head.

‘That’s why I need to find him, or his body at least and hopefully with his coin purse intact. He went north to war, not three days ahead of me.’ William nodded sagely.

‘What’ll you do if he still breathes when you find him?’ Ralph's eyes fell to his knife. William grunted. ‘Aye, seems fair.’ He paused and reached to the skin in his pack then handed it to Ralph. It was sweet, alcoholic and a little earthy at the back.

‘What is this?’ Ralph said and coughed involuntarily as the alcohol kicked his throat.

‘Me own. My da’ taught me to make it. I guess your bastard never did, have another swig. Give you a taste of what you never had but should have.’ Ralph hadn’t thought of it that way and took a second hearty swig of the drink. Another cough. William took the skin back and paused Ralph in his tracks.

‘Listen.’ He began, eyeing the surroundings as if making sure no one could hear him. The trees seemed to lean in to listen to what he had to say, their boughs creaking and cracking in the wind. ‘Don’t settle for one cut. Do it again and again. Just keep going till you’re absolutely sure. I’ve seen some bastards survive cuts that would kill a wild boar. You understand me?’ His face was serious, lined and his eyes deeply set in his skull. Ralph nodded and clapped a hand on Williams's shoulder.

‘I’ll keep going till my arm falls off, don’t you worry.’

That night Ralph, in the glimmers of firelight, saw his first real glimpse of what stalked him. A long black-furred snout filled with rows of glinting teeth. Great antlers sprouted from its head, caked in gore with flesh strung between the tips. Wild eyes, two pairs either side of its head, red and crusted. Two pairs of cloven-hoofed feet stamped and kicked the dirt as the creature performed its nightly ritual, braying and howling. Bat like wings stretched underneath long arms that ended in dirt-encrusted claws. It tore at the trees surrounding their fire, dragging them down with loud crashes and snaps as bark shattered beneath its weight.

‘What are you waiting for? Strike it!’ Ralph commanded. William stood trembling with a knocked arrow aimed toward the great beast. He loosed the arrow and knocked another in quick succession, loosing again into the darkness. Both arrows wickered into the trees, shafts snapping and arrowheads spiralling off into the brush. ‘Hit it!’ Ralph yelled, his voice struggling to compete with the crashing of trees and the wind that now tore through the woods. Leaves, sticks and debris came pouring through, assaulting the campfire and threatening to smother it. The beast swiped out with its claws raking the ground just before Ralph as he leapt back just in time. The fire was dimming now and the beast pressed its attack. Again it swiped out with its claws, wings folded in behind the forearm. Ralph rolled away and swung wildly with the iron rod. William cried out and loosed a third arrow at the beast this time finding its mark. A shrill cry came from it followed by a snarl that was a mixture of frenzied rage and pain.

‘The fire! The fire! Stoke it! Feed it!’ William shouted and threw his bow to the ground. They both began tearing at their clothes and grabbing sticks, anything that could burn and burn quickly. The paltry flame greedily devoured the dry sticks and scraps of cloth but it struggled to rise. The beast howled, preparing for another attack.

‘This is it, get down!’ Ralph threw himself to the ground. Pain seared through his back as claws raked through cloth and flesh with ease. He was dragged through the dirt by the force of the hit and came tumbling over further from the fire. A root caught him in the jaw and another cracked into his knee. Dazed, he tried to stand before another blow took his legs from under him.

It rained the next morning, cold light rain that coated the air. The fire was out and Ralphs clothes were soaked through to the skin. He winced as he tried to rouse himself and seethed when inquisitive fingers probed the wounds on his back.

‘William!’ Ralph cried out. There was no reply. He struggled to his feet and searched the camp. The tent was torn and scattered, deep prints had torn the ground apart and broken arrows lay scattered like twigs. ‘William!’ He tried again, the forest answered him in a voice like the sharp cracks of distant broken branches, creaking bark and a whisper of wind. He listened for a few seconds unable to understand. Blood soaked the sodden ground, disappearing into the puddles and soaking through the soil feeding the weeds and flowers. The trail carried deeper into the forest where the boughs bent to cover the path in a warning. The sun’s warning was present it’s lack of appearance as Ralph stared back and where he had come from. With nothing else to do, he packed up his things and moved on.

The edge of the forest loomed into view as the sun began to set. An imperfect crack along the horizon of orange and black silhouettes of the final trees standing like guardians welcoming Ralph home. The green country unfurled behind the trees like a new rug. Hills and valleys stretched into the next horizon that was already turning the purple and black of night. The distant cries of sea birds could be heard making their way through the valleys as echoes.

Smoke rose from several places in the next field. Bodies littered the ground in both colours of uniforms, stained red and black from blood and ash. Hundreds scattered like discarded children's toys. Ralph leant heavy on the iron rod, the pain in his back and legs bordered on unbearable. He made his way down the hill, away from the forest and into the field of the dead.