u/JustAnotherMark2

“I made other mistakes too, luckily, it’s hard to burn down a cave, but I survived.”

“I developed a new habit while checking traps and foraging for nuts, berries and edible roots.  I noticed some plants that smelled good and others with pretty colors so I’d collect a few of them too.”

“They didn’t taste good or, sometimes, made me feel sickly when I tasted them but I liked them anyway so I’d leave them around the cave because I liked having them near.”

“True to his word, he came back.”

“I returned to the cave from checking traps, carrying a rabbit and a few roots and plants I’d collected and he was there, stoking the fire.”

“It had only been a few weeks since I’d seen him but it felt like a lifetime.”

“I was so surprised.  I dropped everything at the cave mouth and rushed to hug him.”

“He dodged my hug, good thing too, I would have probably crushed him in my happiness, then he embraced me and smiled.”

“He touched his amulet and said ‘you’ve been busy’ pointing at the pile of various furs and piles of roots and nuts I’d collected.  ‘How are you doing?’”

“He sat and listened while I told him about my mistakes and what I’d learned, day-to-day problems and small discoveries.”

“I hadn’t spoken since he left and everything just gushed out while he nodded or frowned or chuckled.  No interruptions, he just listened until my jaw was tired.”

Alyssa looked a little sheepish and rustled in her seat a bit.

“‘You’re doing better than I’d hoped,’ he said, smiling.  ‘Good food supply and I barely saw a trace of trails back to the cave.  You’re staying safe.’”

“I felt a warmth spread in my chest.  It was only later I came to know that feeling as pride.”

“He said he’d brought back some tools to make things easier and presented me with a large rolled cloth.  Inside were two knives for skinning and chopping, a scraper for cleaning skins and a long metal spike he called an awl.”

“The tools were almost comically big in his hands.  I found out later that he had them specially made so I could hold and use them.”

“‘We’ll test them tomorrow,’ he said.  ‘Tonight let’s clean and eat that rabbit you dumped outside and I’ll show you how to make baskets so all your food doesn’t end up in a pile on the floor.’”

“With bark stripped from a freshly fallen tree, we made baskets.  Mine were a mess and, truth be told, his didn’t look much better.  Looking back, I think he’d only just learned that skill too.  But they worked and, soon, my piles were neat and organized.”

“While we were organizing, he asked me about the wilted and brown plants he’d seen in various places.   With a shrug, I explained they used to be pretty and I liked them.  ‘Uh huh,’ he mumbled and nodded.”

“The next morning he handed me a small basket he’d made from our previous scraps and said ‘New lesson.  You already know how to dress an animal and preserve the hide.  The new tools will just make that easier.  I think you’ll like this more.’  

“He led me into the forest and asked where the pretty plants were.”

“I took him to a place near an old stump where the pretty blue plants were.  He took the basket, scooped some of the black forest dirt into it then dug around the base of one of the blue plants.  He lifted one plant, dirt and all, and placed it in the basket.”

“‘This is a flower.  They don’t have to die when you move them like this,’ he explained.  ‘Take this back to the cave, give it sunshine and a little water and it can stay pretty.’”

“He taught me other things this time, but this was a revelation!”

“It took me a lot of trials and failures but, by his next visit, I had flowers in baskets all over the cave. I had flowers planted in the old, hollow stump outside.  

I even had a flower planted in an old boot I’d found in the woods.  It sat in a prime location near the cooking fire.”

“When he told me food plants could be done the same way, that I wouldn’t have to search for berries and roots, I had a new passion.”

“Every visit, he would tour my gardens and food stores in the deep, cold caves.  Sometimes he had suggestions but he always seemed genuinely happy for my successes.”

“He brought seeds, bulbs or tubers collected during his travels.  He brought new techniques he’d learned about.  He brought recipes!”

“Recipes.  Can you imagine?  I went from ‘eat meat’ to ‘roast meat then eat’ to ‘boil meat and vegetables then eat’ to recipes that made the food better than all the parts combined.”

“This cycle went on for months…years, before the bad winter.”

“The snow was so deep, I had trouble walking through it.  Game was scarce and my gardens were buried.  I had my deep stores so I dismantled my traps.  Let the animals move where they could so they could survive.”

“One day I was collecting firewood when I heard wolves howling like they had scented blood.  I also heard a man screaming.  Man screams usually meant ‘go and hide’ but this with the wolf sounds felt different.”

“I followed the sounds until I found a clearing.  A deer, killed with an arrow, was surrounded by wolves.  A lone hunter was flanked by two larger wolves.  He was backed up to a cliff wall and couldn’t run even if he tried.”

“I made my way through the forest until I was as close to the hunter as I could be but still out of sight.  Everyone in the clearing was so distracted they didn’t notice me moving.”

“I burst from the trees and ran toward the hunter.  The wolves surrounding the deer saw me, whimpered and ran.  The wolves at the hunter were so intent on him they didn’t notice but the hunter did.”

“He froze in fear and the largest wolf lunged toward him.  I just barely got between them as pain shot through my arm.  The wolf latched onto my arm and was shaking its whole body trying to tear my arm off.”

“I roared and slammed the wolf into the cliff face.  Again and again until the wolf stopped moving then again until it let go.”

“Turning back, I saw the other wolf had fled…and the hunter.  Two tracks in the snow, different directions.  I hoped that was good.”

“I carried the felled deer and the dead wolf back to my cave.  I thought, why did the hunter put himself in so much danger?  Surely it was better to let the wolves have the deer and be safe.  Struggling through sometimes chest-high snow drifts reminded me.”

“The bad winter wasn’t just bad for me or the animals. The humans probably needed food too.  The hunter risked his life for a deer to feed him and probably others.”

“I dressed the deer like my friend taught me.  I packed the belly full of clean snow to keep it from rotting.  Then I did what he told me not to do.  In the darkest part of the night, I took the deer and placed it outside the wall of the village.”

“Poor Tom told me later that he was sure the hells had come for him that day,” she closed her eyes and laughed.

“I didn’t know it then but the hunter was Tom’s great-grandfather, Tanya’s brother.”

“How did the village react?”  It was my turn to interrupt.  “You said it had been years since your friend…uh…Tanya’s killers were dealt with, but that isn’t something easily forgotten.”

Margret nodded.  “The village built pyres outside the wall and kept them burning for a few nights.  Hunters made trips into the forest outside the village too.  Two or three together looking for me, I’m sure.”

“I knew they were scared.  I was scared too.”

“After the pyres went untended for a few days, I took a basket of vegetables from my deep stores and wrapped it in the wolf’s skin I’d preserved.  I left that outside the wall.”

“The next night they left a small sack with some sweet roots I’d not seen before.”

“Every few days, this trade would happen.  I’d leave fresh small game or preserved skins, they would leave fruit preserves or cheese or bread.  We used a big old stump for a trade stand.  Far enough from the wall that they felt comfortable and close enough to the forest that I felt safe.”

“One night, while trying to think of something new to trade, I saw the old boot by the fire.  

I’d kept it warm and protected all winter and the flowers now living there had clung to life. Beautiful blue and green in a dull, gray cave.  

I lined a basket with fresh pine needles and carefully put the boot inside and wrapped it in a deer hide.  I left that outside the wall and hoped it would survive the night.”

“The next night, there was no package waiting for me.  A single man sat near the stump tending a small fire, my flower, set beside the fire, fully in view.”

“When he saw me, he stood slowly and made a show of showing me his empty hands and I held my hands out as well.  He picked up the flower and a steaming bowl from beside the fire and placed them on the stump.  Then he pointed to a deer skin and a wolf skin laid out nearby.”

“He picked up the deer skin and put his finger through a hole then pointed to his chest.  He pointed to the wolf skin then to me.  He put the deer skin down, placed one hand on each skin then pointed to me and bowed his head.”

“He had been talking constantly but I couldn’t understand his words.  I understood this though and bowed my head in return.”

“When he stood again, he placed a hand on his chest and said ‘Tom’.  He repeated the gesture and word three times then pointed to me.”

“I pointed to him and growled my best impression of ‘Tom’ then pointed to myself and said ‘Mat’ael gree ahtz’.  Like Tom, I repeated 3 times.”

“He tried to repeat my name but the best he could manage was ‘Mat-gratz’.  It was close enough, so I nodded and he moved back to the stump.”

“He used a small wooden tool to dip into the bowl, put the tool in his mouth then rubbed his belly.  He then pointed to me, then the bowl and backed away.”

“I took a step forward and gently picked up the bowl.  It smelled familiar but different.  I took a sip and recognized it as a rabbit stew.  Different vegetables?  Different leaves or roots?  I didn’t know but it was good.  I downed the bowl in two gulps then rubbed my belly as Tom had done.  Just mocking him a bit.”

“He laughed at that.  A genuine deep belly laugh.  I smiled and nodded too.  With that, some of the tension between us was gone.”

“We were both more relaxed.  We still kept a careful distance but new words were easier to learn now that we were not so nervous.  I learned ‘fire’, ‘deer’, ‘wolf’ and ‘flower’ that night.”

“I left before dawn, feeling very happy.  I know the whole village was watching me and Tom, I could feel their eyes on me all night, but I didn’t care.  We had talked, not good but good enough.  He understood me and I understood him.”

“This became the new kind of trade.  Tom was there by a fire.  I would learn the names of vegetables, animals or tools like ‘spoon’ or ‘bowl’.”

“One night was different,” Margret said.

“Tom was by his fire, but he looked different somehow.  Slumped, sad?  I didn’t know human expressions yet.”

“I said ‘hu-low’ and placed my basket of vegetables and berries on the stump.”

“He got up slowly and carefully put a small, cloth-wrapped bundle on the stump.”

“As soon as he unwrapped the bundle I knew what it was.  The pendant.  The pendant I had retrieved from my sister’s trophies.  Tanya’s pendant.”

“My friend had returned it to the village with the few other bits I’d found.”

“Tom pointed to the pendant and said ‘Tanya’ and clutched his chest.”

“He pointed to the pendant, said her name, then pointed to the village.”

“When he said ‘Tanya’ again and pointed to me, I knew what he was asking.”

“All I could do was bow my head and say ‘Tanya.’  Her name hurt when I said it.  Not just because I was unfamiliar with the sounds.  It hurt deeper than that.”

“‘Tanya,’ I repeated and nodded.  He looked surprised and maybe scared.”

“I pointed up the mountain and said ‘bad hurt Tanya.’  I pointed to myself and said ‘no hurt Tanya.’”

“I pointed back to the pendant.  I said ‘find, give’ and opened my hand toward the village.”

“Tom nodded, then wrapped the pendant and put it in his pocket.  He turned and walked back to the village without another word.”

“I waited to see if he would come back.  After some time, I left my basket, turned and walked back to my cave.”

“The basket was gone the next day, but Tom was not there for over a week.” 

“He came back but things were not the same after that.”

“I became determined to cook for Tom.  I wanted to repay him for the rabbit stew from our first meeting.  Maybe I wanted to lift some of the heavy feeling between us after he showed me the pendant.”

“It was a mess.  I brought all the tools and supplies I needed.  I wanted Tom to see everything that went in so he would know I wasn’t trying to hurt him.  Unfortunately, my knife was dull from use and age so cutting vegetables was hard.  The ground around the fire was uneven so the hide frame I’d used to boil my stew was hard to set up.”

“Tom watched uneasily nearby while I struggled.  When one leg of the hide frame fell, pouring all the contents onto the fire, I just sat down, defeated.  That’s when Tom touched me.”

“He put his hand on my slumped shoulder like my friend had done so many times before.  Then he held up one finger and walked back to the village.  He came back with an iron pot and a sharp knife, started another fire on level ground, hung the pot and motioned for me to go again.”

She motioned to the pot over the dying embers in the alcove.  “It wasn’t the best soup I ever cooked in that pot but it was the one I remember most.”

“Where was your friend while all this was happening?” Theo asked.  “You were taking some big steps on your own.”

“I hadn’t seen him in a year, maybe more.”  Margret answered.  “His visits were never regular but he was away for a long time then.  Maybe I was getting lonely, so I took a risk.  I haven’t really thought about that before.”

“Being alone is different for everybody.”  Theo said.  “Some people crave it until they have it.  Some people can’t shake it even in the middle of a crowd of people.”

“And either way can make you act out of sorts,” I piped in.  “I’ve seen it too many times.”

“It was a risk I’m happy I took though.”  Margret resumed her story.  

“I was learning and, through Tom, the village was learning about me.  Over time, Tom would bring a person with him for our meetings then two or three.  Always other hunters or elders.”

“Tom never allowed them to threaten me or even allowed them to stand where I had no escape path.  He’d seen cornered animals lash out.  He knew I was more than an animal but he also knew fear could make claws move faster than sense.”

“Even after I learned to speak well enough to be understood, they all spoke to me slowly and with even tones, like you would speak to a small child.  It was slow progress before we could all sit and speak as…not enemies, I guess?”

“When one of the elders asked where I get all the vegetables I trade, they all seemed surprised when I said I grow them.  They had all seen the flower in the boot but that is a long way from growing a garden.”

“Tom eventually convinced me to show them where I grew my vegetables.”

“My friend and I had worked so hard to keep my cave hidden, I was scared to lead them there, to my home.  But I did lead Tom and two elders back to my gardens.  They asked about my gardens, so I showed them.  My cave was still my cave.”

“They were not ready to believe what they saw.  When I first started, I had a few flowers and plants in baskets or wherever I could put them.”  

“My claws were made for tearing flesh but did a good job of clearing stone so my plants could have level growing areas.  Over the years, I carved growing beds into the side of the hill beside my cave.  I still had baskets of flowers in the cave but I had full gardens outside.”

“My friend had told me about farmers in the flatlands never growing the same plants in the same field for too many seasons or the soil gets tired, so I changed crops every season.”

“Tom and the elders spent hours asking questions about different plants and different gardens and how I stored my crops.  I think they left with more questions than they started with.” She smiled.

“Over the next few meetings, Tom introduced me to Beth.  ‘Beth knows more about squash and beans than any three scholars.’  She asked for some samples of what I was growing and a couple handfuls of dirt.”

“I did her one better.  I brought some seeds I was growing but I took one troublesome plant transplanted in a small basket.  She took one look at the pathetic little vine hanging over the edge of the basket and said ‘That’s a climber.  It needs something to latch onto to grow.’  Then she took a pinch of the dirt and tasted it.  ‘Good dirt though,’ she said after spitting.  ‘Get them set up on a trellis and you’ll have more beans than you can handle in no time.’”

“I had no idea what a ‘trellis’ was so she offered to help.  As soon as she saw my gardens she just whistled and sent Tom out to cut some poles.  She had me set the poles along where I had the beans planted then started tying string between them.  She explained to me how the plants would grow up and follow the string and how I’d get more beans that way.”

“She knelt in the dirt then and gently hung some of the longer vines over the string and talked to them like she was talking to a person.  ‘There ya go, little one.  I think you’ll like this better,’ and ‘Ooh, you’re a curly one.’  I loved my plants but I had never thought to talk to them.”

“Beth knew more than beans and squash.  With her help, my little gardens turned into farms.”

“With her help and several strong backs from the village, we built the first field in the hollar behind the village.  It was out of sight, behind the wall but easily accessible.  I carved the first footholds into bald, bare stone and began getting the rock level and flat. They joined in with picks and shovels digging beds and paths for water.”

Margret straightened and found a new comfortable position then continued,

“I woke one morning and saw my friend stirring the coals in my little fire pit.”

“He said, ‘You just can’t help it, can you?’”

“I blinked and sat up.  He continued, ‘I taught you to survive and hide, to stay safe.’”

“‘I told you not to go near the village and what do you do?’”

“I was getting scared.  He had never talked to me like this before.”

“‘First you save a hunter, then you start giving them your food and now - now you’ve dug them their own gardens into a rock face?’”

“‘I’ve been to the village.  I visited several times to make sure there were no mysterious rumors or monster sightings or hunting parties.  

Over a few years, they went from lighting watch fires to secret meetings at the stump, to little children whispering about Auntie Margret when they thought no one was listening.’”

“‘Do you know they chain that wall shut and tell stories about anything from wolf packs to spooks to dragons to keep folks on their side of the wall?’ He asked.”

“‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said gruffly.”

“Then he put his arms around me and said ‘I couldn’t be more proud.’”

“He laughed then like I’d never heard him laugh.”

“I almost fainted.  He had me fooled right to the very end.”

“So your friend, you didn’t know he’d seen all these changes?” I asked.

“Oh, no.  I had no idea.  Turns out he came and went in fits and spurts just like his visits to me.”

“His hair or his beard or his clothes changed so they never thought about him.”

“He was probably a little sly and told them different names but that’s just a guess.”

“He did the same on my visits, but I could always tell from his smell it was him and he never tried to convince me otherwise,” she said.

“What was your friend’s name?” Theo asked.

“Now this is silly,” Margret snorted.  “For years, he was the only human I knew.  It didn’t even occur to me to ask.”

“I only thought about it after I got good enough at talking to Tom and the others.  They’d ask where I learned this or that and I’d tell them ‘my friend taught me.’”

“I told Tom I would ask next time I see him.”

“He told me ‘Dunne’ when I asked. ‘Most call me Dunne, ’he said.”

“Tom, you asked about a man named Dunne at lunch, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Yep, we try to ask all our visitors, what few we get.” Tom answered.

Margret continued, “it’s been a long time since his last visit and I’m anxious for news.”

“How long has it been since his last visit?” Theo asked.

Margret put her hand to her chin, “oh, I think Tom was just a very young man the last time I saw my friend.”

I glanced quickly at Tom and he was far from a ‘young man’ now.

“Tom, do you remember him?” I asked.

“Oh sure, I remember a couple times.”

“What did he look like?”

“Well, I remember him as tall but not overly so, not fat either.  Dark hair with some gray.  He looked tired and old, but most people over 40 or so look old when you’re a young’un.”

“Hell, I’d probably look old too if I saw myself back then.”

I could see Alyssa’s and Theo’s questions forming in their eyes. So I tried to press on.  I could only handle one big mystery at a time and Margret was right there.

“Margret, how many fields did you help build?  We saw them at the overlook and it was amazing.” I asked, trying to steer back to her story.

“About twelve or fourteen, best I remember.” She said after a short pause.  “It’s tough work.  Of course I could heal up scratches and bruises easy enough but digging rock takes a toll on a body.  And that was just me.  Everybody else needed time too.”

“Some didn’t make it either.” Margret closed her eyes..  “We lost poor Beth to a fall on the fourth field.”

She took a moment and opened her eyes. “Her son took up where she left off though.”

“It was always like that,” she continued.  “Some would pass or retire and others would keep going.”

“These friends, my friends, never gave up.” 

“It’s hard losing friends like that,” Theo said quietly.

“It is,” she agreed.  “But then the little ones come up.”

“It is my biggest joy that I’ve seen every one of these folks grow from babies to fine people.” 

She smiled the biggest smile of the night.

“New folks come in too,” Tom added.

“Oh yes.” Margret said, happily.  “You’ve met Evelyn, I’m sure.  She’s Owen’s ‘war bride’ from when he got a wild hair and joined the army.”  She said, laughing.

“Owen came back after his service with a new wife and the cutest little baby boy, Josiah.”

“We’re like any community, really,” Owen said.  “We just have a Margret.”

“I made other mistakes too, luckily, it’s hard to burn down a cave, but I survived.”

“I developed a new habit while checking traps and foraging for nuts, berries and edible roots. I noticed some plants that smelled good and others with pretty colors so I’d collect a few of them too.”

“They didn’t taste good or, sometimes, made me feel sickly when I tasted them but I liked them anyway so I’d leave them around the cave because I liked having them near.”

“True to his word, he came back.”

“I returned to the cave from checking traps, carrying a rabbit and a few roots and plants I’d collected and he was there, stoking the fire.”

“It had only been a few weeks since I’d seen him but it felt like a lifetime.”

“I was so surprised. I dropped everything at the cave mouth and rushed to hug him.”

“He dodged my hug, good thing too, I would have probably crushed him in my happiness, then he embraced me and smiled.”

“He touched his amulet and said ‘you’ve been busy’ pointing at the pile of various furs and piles of roots and nuts I’d collected. ‘How are you doing?’”

“He sat and listened while I told him about my mistakes and what I’d learned, day-to-day problems and small discoveries.”

“I hadn’t spoken since he left and everything just gushed out while he nodded or frowned or chuckled. No interruptions, he just listened until my jaw was tired.”

Alyssa looked a little sheepish and rustled in her seat a bit.

“‘You’re doing better than I’d hoped,’ he said, smiling. ‘Good food supply and I barely saw a trace of trails back to the cave. You’re staying safe.’”

“I felt a warmth spread in my chest. It was only later I came to know that feeling as pride.”

“He said he’d brought back some tools to make things easier and presented me with a large rolled cloth. Inside were two knives for skinning and chopping, a scraper for cleaning skins and a long metal spike he called an awl.”

“The tools were almost comically big in his hands. I found out later that he had them specially made so I could hold and use them.”

“‘We’ll test them tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Tonight let’s clean and eat that rabbit you dumped outside and I’ll show you how to make baskets so all your food doesn’t end up in a pile on the floor.’”

“With bark stripped from a freshly fallen tree, we made baskets. Mine were a mess and, truth be told, his didn’t look much better. Looking back, I think he’d only just learned that skill too. But they worked and, soon, my piles were neat and organized.”

“While we were organizing, he asked me about the wilted and brown plants he’d seen in various places. With a shrug, I explained they used to be pretty and I liked them. ‘Uh huh,’ he mumbled and nodded.”

“The next morning he handed me a small basket he’d made from our previous scraps and said ‘New lesson. You already know how to dress an animal and preserve the hide. The new tools will just make that easier. I think you’ll like this more.’

“He led me into the forest and asked where the pretty plants were.”

“I took him to a place near an old stump where the pretty blue plants were. He took the basket, scooped some of the black forest dirt into it then dug around the base of one of the blue plants. He lifted one plant, dirt and all, and placed it in the basket.”

“‘This is a flower. They don’t have to die when you move them like this,’ he explained. ‘Take this back to the cave, give it sunshine and a little water and it can stay pretty.’”

“He taught me other things this time, but this was a revelation!”

“It took me a lot of trials and failures but, by his next visit, I had flowers in baskets all over the cave. I had flowers planted in the old, hollow stump outside.

I even had a flower planted in an old boot I’d found in the woods. It sat in a prime location near the cooking fire.”

“When he told me food plants could be done the same way, that I wouldn’t have to search for berries and roots, I had a new passion.”

“Every visit, he would tour my gardens and food stores in the deep, cold caves. Sometimes he had suggestions but he always seemed genuinely happy for my successes.”

“He brought seeds, bulbs or tubers collected during his travels. He brought new techniques he’d learned about. He brought recipes!”

“Recipes. Can you imagine? I went from ‘eat meat’ to ‘roast meat then eat’ to ‘boil meat and vegetables then eat’ to recipes that made the food better than all the parts combined.”

“This cycle went on for months…years, before the bad winter.”

“The snow was so deep, I had trouble walking through it. Game was scarce and my gardens were buried. I had my deep stores so I dismantled my traps. Let the animals move where they could so they could survive.”

“One day I was collecting firewood when I heard wolves howling like they had scented blood. I also heard a man screaming. Man screams usually meant ‘go and hide’ but this with the wolf sounds felt different.”

“I followed the sounds until I found a clearing. A deer, killed with an arrow, was surrounded by wolves. A lone hunter was flanked by two larger wolves. He was backed up to a cliff wall and couldn’t run even if he tried.”

“I made my way through the forest until I was as close to the hunter as I could be but still out of sight. Everyone in the clearing was so distracted they didn’t notice me moving.”

“I burst from the trees and ran toward the hunter. The wolves surrounding the deer saw me, whimpered and ran. The wolves at the hunter were so intent on him they didn’t notice but the hunter did.”

“He froze in fear and the largest wolf lunged toward him. I just barely got between them as pain shot through my arm. The wolf latched onto my arm and was shaking its whole body trying to tear my arm off.”

“I roared and slammed the wolf into the cliff face. Again and again until the wolf stopped moving then again until it let go.”

“Turning back, I saw the other wolf had fled…and the hunter. Two tracks in the snow, different directions. I hoped that was good.”

“I carried the felled deer and the dead wolf back to my cave. I thought, why did the hunter put himself in so much danger? Surely it was better to let the wolves have the deer and be safe. Struggling through sometimes chest-high snow drifts reminded me.”

“The bad winter wasn’t just bad for me or the animals. The humans probably needed food too. The hunter risked his life for a deer to feed him and probably others.”

“I dressed the deer like my friend taught me. I packed the belly full of clean snow to keep it from rotting. Then I did what he told me not to do. In the darkest part of the night, I took the deer and placed it outside the wall of the village.”

“Poor Tom told me later that he was sure the hells had come for him that day,” she closed her eyes and laughed.

“I didn’t know it then but the hunter was Tom’s great-grandfather, Tanya’s brother.”

“How did the village react?” It was my turn to interrupt. “You said it had been years since your friend…uh…Tanya’s killers were dealt with, but that isn’t something easily forgotten.”

Margret nodded. “The village built pyres outside the wall and kept them burning for a few nights. Hunters made trips into the forest outside the village too. Two or three together looking for me, I’m sure.”

“I knew they were scared. I was scared too.”

“After the pyres went untended for a few days, I took a basket of vegetables from my deep stores and wrapped it in the wolf’s skin I’d preserved. I left that outside the wall.”

“The next night they left a small sack with some sweet roots I’d not seen before.”

“Every few days, this trade would happen. I’d leave fresh small game or preserved skins, they would leave fruit preserves or cheese or bread. We used a big old stump for a trade stand. Far enough from the wall that they felt comfortable and close enough to the forest that I felt safe.”

“One night, while trying to think of something new to trade, I saw the old boot by the fire.

I’d kept it warm and protected all winter and the flowers now living there had clung to life. Beautiful blue and green in a dull, gray cave.

I lined a basket with fresh pine needles and carefully put the boot inside and wrapped it in a deer hide. I left that outside the wall and hoped it would survive the night.”

“The next night, there was no package waiting for me. A single man sat near the stump tending a small fire, my flower, set beside the fire, fully in view.”

“When he saw me, he stood slowly and made a show of showing me his empty hands and I held my hands out as well. He picked up the flower and a steaming bowl from beside the fire and placed them on the stump. Then he pointed to a deer skin and a wolf skin laid out nearby.”

“He picked up the deer skin and put his finger through a hole then pointed to his chest. He pointed to the wolf skin then to me. He put the deer skin down, placed one hand on each skin then pointed to me and bowed his head.”

“He had been talking constantly but I couldn’t understand his words. I understood this though and bowed my head in return.”

“When he stood again, he placed a hand on his chest and said ‘Tom’. He repeated the gesture and word three times then pointed to me.”

“I pointed to him and growled my best impression of ‘Tom’ then pointed to myself and said ‘Mat’ael gree ahtz’. Like Tom, I repeated 3 times.”

“He tried to repeat my name but the best he could manage was ‘Mat-gratz’. It was close enough, so I nodded and he moved back to the stump.”

“He used a small wooden tool to dip into the bowl, put the tool in his mouth then rubbed his belly. He then pointed to me, then the bowl and backed away.”

“I took a step forward and gently picked up the bowl. It smelled familiar but different. I took a sip and recognized it as a rabbit stew. Different vegetables? Different leaves or roots? I didn’t know but it was good. I downed the bowl in two gulps then rubbed my belly as Tom had done. Just mocking him a bit.”

“He laughed at that. A genuine deep belly laugh. I smiled and nodded too. With that, some of the tension between us was gone.”

“We were both more relaxed. We still kept a careful distance but new words were easier to learn now that we were not so nervous. I learned ‘fire’, ‘deer’, ‘wolf’ and ‘flower’ that night.”

“I left before dawn, feeling very happy. I know the whole village was watching me and Tom, I could feel their eyes on me all night, but I didn’t care. We had talked, not good but good enough. He understood me and I understood him.”

“This became the new kind of trade. Tom was there by a fire. I would learn the names of vegetables, animals or tools like ‘spoon’ or ‘bowl’.”

“One night was different,” Margret said.

“Tom was by his fire, but he looked different somehow. Slumped, sad? I didn’t know human expressions yet.”

“I said ‘hu-low’ and placed my basket of vegetables and berries on the stump.”

“He got up slowly and carefully put a small, cloth-wrapped bundle on the stump.”

“As soon as he unwrapped the bundle I knew what it was. The pendant. The pendant I had retrieved from my sister’s trophies. Tanya’s pendant.”

“My friend had returned it to the village with the few other bits I’d found.”

“Tom pointed to the pendant and said ‘Tanya’ and clutched his chest.”

“He pointed to the pendant, said her name, then pointed to the village.”

“When he said ‘Tanya’ again and pointed to me, I knew what he was asking.”

“All I could do was bow my head and say ‘Tanya.’ Her name hurt when I said it. Not just because I was unfamiliar with the sounds. It hurt deeper than that.”

“‘Tanya,’ I repeated and nodded. He looked surprised and maybe scared.”

“I pointed up the mountain and said ‘bad hurt Tanya.’ I pointed to myself and said ‘no hurt Tanya.’”

“I pointed back to the pendant. I said ‘find, give’ and opened my hand toward the village.”

“Tom nodded, then wrapped the pendant and put it in his pocket. He turned and walked back to the village without another word.”

“I waited to see if he would come back. After some time, I left my basket, turned and walked back to my cave.”

“The basket was gone the next day, but Tom was not there for over a week.”

“He came back but things were not the same after that.”

“I became determined to cook for Tom. I wanted to repay him for the rabbit stew from our first meeting. Maybe I wanted to lift some of the heavy feeling between us after he showed me the pendant.”

“It was a mess. I brought all the tools and supplies I needed. I wanted Tom to see everything that went in so he would know I wasn’t trying to hurt him. Unfortunately, my knife was dull from use and age so cutting vegetables was hard. The ground around the fire was uneven so the hide frame I’d used to boil my stew was hard to set up.”

“Tom watched uneasily nearby while I struggled. When one leg of the hide frame fell, pouring all the contents onto the fire, I just sat down, defeated. That’s when Tom touched me.”

“He put his hand on my slumped shoulder like my friend had done so many times before. Then he held up one finger and walked back to the village. He came back with an iron pot and a sharp knife, started another fire on level ground, hung the pot and motioned for me to go again.”

She motioned to the pot over the dying embers in the alcove. “It wasn’t the best soup I ever cooked in that pot but it was the one I remember most.”

“Where was your friend while all this was happening?” Theo asked. “You were taking some big steps on your own.”

“I hadn’t seen him in a year, maybe more.” Margret answered. “His visits were never regular but he was away for a long time then. Maybe I was getting lonely, so I took a risk. I haven’t really thought about that before.”

“Being alone is different for everybody.” Theo said. “Some people crave it until they have it. Some people can’t shake it even in the middle of a crowd of people.”

“And either way can make you act out of sorts,” I piped in. “I’ve seen it too many times.”

“It was a risk I’m happy I took though.” Margret resumed her story.

“I was learning and, through Tom, the village was learning about me. Over time, Tom would bring a person with him for our meetings then two or three. Always other hunters or elders.”

“Tom never allowed them to threaten me or even allowed them to stand where I had no escape path. He’d seen cornered animals lash out. He knew I was more than an animal but he also knew fear could make claws move faster than sense.”

“Even after I learned to speak well enough to be understood, they all spoke to me slowly and with even tones, like you would speak to a small child. It was slow progress before we could all sit and speak as…not enemies, I guess?”

“When one of the elders asked where I get all the vegetables I trade, they all seemed surprised when I said I grow them. They had all seen the flower in the boot but that is a long way from growing a garden.”

“Tom eventually convinced me to show them where I grew my vegetables.”

“My friend and I had worked so hard to keep my cave hidden, I was scared to lead them there, to my home. But I did lead Tom and two elders back to my gardens. They asked about my gardens, so I showed them. My cave was still my cave.”

“They were not ready to believe what they saw. When I first started, I had a few flowers and plants in baskets or wherever I could put them.”

“My claws were made for tearing flesh but did a good job of clearing stone so my plants could have level growing areas. Over the years, I carved growing beds into the side of the hill beside my cave. I still had baskets of flowers in the cave but I had full gardens outside.”

“My friend had told me about farmers in the flatlands never growing the same plants in the same field for too many seasons or the soil gets tired, so I changed crops every season.”

“Tom and the elders spent hours asking questions about different plants and different gardens and how I stored my crops. I think they left with more questions than they started with.” She smiled.

“Over the next few meetings, Tom introduced me to Beth. ‘Beth knows more about squash and beans than any three scholars.’ She asked for some samples of what I was growing and a couple handfuls of dirt.”

“I did her one better. I brought some seeds I was growing but I took one troublesome plant transplanted in a small basket. She took one look at the pathetic little vine hanging over the edge of the basket and said ‘That’s a climber. It needs something to latch onto to grow.’ Then she took a pinch of the dirt and tasted it.

‘Good dirt though,’ she said after spitting. ‘Get them set up on a trellis and you’ll have more beans than you can handle in no time.’”

“I had no idea what a ‘trellis’ was so she offered to help. As soon as she saw my gardens she just whistled and sent Tom out to cut some poles. She had me set the poles along where I had the beans planted then started tying string between them. She explained to me how the plants would grow up and follow the string and how I’d get more beans that way.”

“She knelt in the dirt then and gently hung some of the longer vines over the string and talked to them like she was talking to a person. ‘There ya go, little one. I think you’ll like this better,’ and ‘Ooh, you’re a curly one.’ I loved my plants but I had never thought to talk to them.”

“Beth knew more than beans and squash. With her help, my little gardens turned into farms.”

“With her help and several strong backs from the village, we built the first field in the hollar behind the village. It was out of sight, behind the wall but easily accessible. I carved the first footholds into bald, bare stone and began getting the rock level and flat. They joined in with picks and shovels digging beds and paths for water.”

Margret straightened and found a new comfortable position then continued,

“I woke one morning and saw my friend stirring the coals in my little fire pit.”

“He said, ‘You just can’t help it, can you?’”

“I blinked and sat up. He continued, ‘I taught you to survive and hide, to stay safe.’”

“‘I told you not to go near the village and what do you do?’”

“I was getting scared. He had never talked to me like this before.”

“‘First you save a hunter, then you start giving them your food and now - now you’ve dug them their own gardens into a rock face?’”

“‘I’ve been to the village. I visited several times to make sure there were no mysterious rumors or monster sightings or hunting parties.

Over a few years, they went from lighting watch fires to secret meetings at the stump, to little children whispering about Auntie Margret when they thought no one was listening.’”

“‘Do you know they chain that wall shut and tell stories about anything from wolf packs to spooks to dragons to keep folks on their side of the wall?’ He asked.”

“‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said gruffly.”

“Then he put his arms around me and said ‘I couldn’t be more proud.’”

“He laughed then like I’d never heard him laugh.”

“I almost fainted. He had me fooled right to the very end.”

“So your friend, you didn’t know he’d seen all these changes?” I asked.

“Oh, no. I had no idea. Turns out he came and went in fits and spurts just like his visits to me.”

“His hair or his beard or his clothes changed so they never thought about him.”

“He was probably a little sly and told them different names but that’s just a guess.”

“He did the same on my visits, but I could always tell from his smell it was him and he never tried to convince me otherwise,” she said.

“What was your friend’s name?” Theo asked.

“Now this is silly,” Margret snorted. “For years, he was the only human I knew. It didn’t even occur to me to ask.”

“I only thought about it after I got good enough at talking to Tom and the others. They’d ask where I learned this or that and I’d tell them ‘my friend taught me.’”

“I told Tom I would ask next time I see him.”

“He told me ‘Dunne’ when I asked. ‘Most call me Dunne, ’he said.”

“Tom, you asked about a man named Dunne at lunch, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Yep, we try to ask all our visitors, what few we get.” Tom answered.

Margret continued, “it’s been a long time since his last visit and I’m anxious for news.”

“How long has it been since his last visit?” Theo asked.

Margret put her hand to her chin, “oh, I think Tom was just a very young man the last time I saw my friend.”

I glanced quickly at Tom and he was far from a ‘young man’ now.

“Tom, do you remember him?” I asked.

“Oh sure, I remember a couple times.”

“What did he look like?”

“Well, I remember him as tall but not overly so, not fat either. Dark hair with some gray. He looked tired and old, but most people over 40 or so look old when you’re a young’un.”

“Hell, I’d probably look old too if I saw myself back then.”

I could see Alyssa’s and Theo’s questions forming in their eyes. So I tried to press on. I could only handle one big mystery at a time and Margret was right there.

“Margret, how many fields did you help build? We saw them at the overlook and it was amazing.” I asked, trying to steer back to her story.

“About twelve or fourteen, best I remember.” She said after a short pause. “It’s tough work. Of course I could heal up scratches and bruises easy enough but digging rock takes a toll on a body. And that was just me. Everybody else needed time too.”

“Some didn’t make it either.” Margret closed her eyes.. “We lost poor Beth to a fall on the fourth field.”

She took a moment and opened her eyes. “Her son took up where she left off though.”

“It was always like that,” she continued. “Some would pass or retire and others would keep going.”

“These friends, my friends, never gave up.”

“It’s hard losing friends like that,” Theo said quietly.

“It is,” she agreed. “But then the little ones come up.”

“It is my biggest joy that I’ve seen every one of these folks grow from babies to fine people.”

She smiled the biggest smile of the night.

“New folks come in too,” Tom added.

“Oh yes.” Margret said, happily. “You’ve met Evelyn, I’m sure. She’s Owen’s ‘war bride’ from when he got a wild hair and joined the army.” She said, laughing.

“Owen came back after his service with a new wife and the cutest little baby boy, Josiah.”

“We’re like any community, really,” Owen said. “We just have a Margret.”

It…she spoke…and she spoke in Common.

To their credit, Theo and Alyssa stood their ground and no one started screaming…yet. I’m sure my face wore the same look of horror and confusion as theirs.

She continued, “I know that look, I have seen it many times before but not for many years.

I can assure you…” her low growl taking on a grandmotherly tone, “oh, thank you dear” she said to a young man bringing over a tall stool.

“I can assure you I mean you no harm. No one here means you any harm.” she continued, while taking a seat on the stool.

“B..but, you’re a troll” Alyssa squeaked out then continued in a stronger voice, “you’re voracious monsters. You eat people and livestock. You destroy places like this. Yo-you don’t speak. I’ve read all about your kind.”

“Easy girl, “ Theo said in a warning tone, "remember, knowledge and truth...”

Margret nodded. “That is mostly true. My family was all you described but we can speak. Trolls have a language of our own. My real name is Mat’ael gree ahtz.”

The utterance of her name in her own tongue set my hair on end.

“In Common, it means ‘bad leg’.” she continued, “you can add to your notes that trolls don’t have much of a sense of humor.” and chuckled to herself.

Theo held his right hand up, palm toward Margret. “If I may, no harm will be caused,” he said.

Margret nodded, “as you wish.”

Theo nodded in return. He murmured softly and his eyes turned a ghostly white.

“I detect no malicious intentions” he said a few moments later as his eyes returned to normal.

Tom stepped in. “We do have to confess that we’ve been watching you since you left Greenhill.

Since the tax man ran away, we had to be cautious, and, no offense, but three people in a rickety cart is a lot easier to talk with than a detachment of the king’s guard.”

“We keep the palisade locked tight when there are new folks in the village,”

Tom began to explain.

“The wall and warnings about wolves are usually enough to keep folk from prying but that man was determined to find a hidden stash of gold and take the king’s cut.

Best we can figure, he climbed out a window from my spare room in the dead of night, squeezed through a crack in the wall and found his way up here to Margret’s home.

When he spotted her, he took off like a scared squirrel. He didn’t even bother saddling his horse, just took off down the mountain bareback in the dark.

We sent a group after him to make sure he didn’t come to harm after we found his shirt and coat snagged in the trees halfway down the mountain.

They got as far as Greenhill marsh where old Sam told them he saw a half-naked rider goin’ hell or highwater past the inn about sun up.

Lily patched up his shirt and coat and we collected everything he left behind, if you’d be so kind as to return them to him when you get back.”

“Get back? So we’re not destined for the compost heap now that we know your secret?” I asked with some relief.

“No, child, no!” Margret cackled and all the elders laughed along.

Chuckling, Tom continued, “We do hope you’ve seen we’re not in danger of an attack from a ‘vicious monster’ and that you’ll report back that much…but only that much?”

“A secret shared amongst friends is still a secret” another elder, Gail added and the others nodded.

“But we’ve been here less than a day. How do you know we’re friends?” I asked, simply.

“You were sent here by the king, correct?” Margret asked.

I answered “yes” as Theo nodded. “Technically, a secretary of an advisor to the king, “ Alyssa chirped.

“But you didn’t demand, you asked. You didn’t try to intrude but belong.

When you talked about your mission, it was about the safety of the village, not gathering glory.” Tom answered.

“And, finally,” Margret added, “when confronted with this,” her hand gesturing from head to toe, “you responded with questions and caution but not arms and spells. You value knowledge and understanding over bloodshed.”

The various elders nodded or murmured agreement.

“Sure sounds like folks I could be friends with.” Theo stated and I had to agree.

“How do we know you haven’t bewitched these people and are trying to bewitch us?” Alyssa asked.

“What if there was something in the food and this is just a delusion while we’re really caged and defenseless?"

“Alyssa, I examined the food” Theo began.

“Yeah, two plates, I saw.” she quickly replied.

“No, no, I scanned it before we ate. Nothing magical or harmful.”

“Alyssa, if I may, if I could bewitch all these people, couldn’t I also appear in a more appealing form? Is this a face you’d choose to tempt and corrupt the desires of others?” Margret added softly.

“I guess not but I’ve read stories and you can never be too careful.” Alyssa said.

“I understand, child. You’ve been thrust into a strange situation. A cautious attitude is very appropriate.” Margret replied.

“Would it help if I told you how I came to be here and a part of this village?” Margret asked.

“I have fire, furs and food inside if you would give me the honor of your company.” she said, gesturing to the cave.

She spoke to the young helpers, “Tia, Jon, Ash…everyone. Thank you so much for your help. Everything looks so nice. Please get back to the village before it gets too dark and get something to eat and a good night’s rest. There’s always more to do tomorrow.”

The young people gathered their tools, said their goodbyes and started making their ways down the stairs.

Addressing us and the elders, she said, “they are so lovely. I don’t know how I’d get by without their help these days. Now please, come in.” And we were led into her cave.

Just inside the cave was a workshop. There were tables containing empty pots, racks of tools and piles of loose dirt on the floor. Watering cans and larger pots took up space along another wall.

An elder, Owen, I think, moved forward and parted a beaded curtain leading to another chamber. Warmth and light invited us in.

“Yes, yes, make yourselves at home.” Margret said, excitedly.

There were mounds of fresh pine boughs covered with furs for seating. Over a small cooking fire hung a simmering pot, the fire’s smoke rose slowly out through a small fissure in the chamber’s ceiling.

After vegetable soup, fresh fruit, cheese, bread and various preserves were made available to everyone, Margret began her story.

Alyssa’s hands moved toward her book and quill and I noticed Tom begin to tense.

I mouthed a silent “no”. She caught the hint and laid her hands back in her lap and Tom relaxed.

I still caught her hands moving reflexively, as if writing, while Margret spoke.

“Many, many years ago my family crossed the snow covered peaks to the north and found this cave.

The climb was hard on everyone and there was enough game here to fatten up and be ready to move on if my parents decided to.

My parents were everything you’ve heard about trolls. They were large, vicious monsters that seemed to get as much nourishment from the pain of the animals they killed as they did from the meat. My older sister was built of the same stuff.

I was always sickly and weak compared to her, a fact she never let me forget. I was also her favorite target when no prey was around.

More than once she called me her ‘walking lunch’ on our journey when prey was in short supply. My parents just laughed and agreed.

My leg was her masterpiece. I don’t remember how many times she held me down, broke it then held it at odd angles while I healed.

Food was a problem too. I couldn’t eat until mother, father and sister finished.

Trolls can eat just about anything but a diet of only fur and sinew is not enough.

Luckily I was no bigger than Tom here when we found this cave. I was able to explore more easily than the others.

I found pools with small, white, eyeless fish and foraged for mushrooms in several bat-infested chasms.

Mother and father were content to let sister do the hunting because she loved it and she always brought prey back to them to share. Misery and blood were appetizers for them.

The trouble started when my sister came back from a hunt with two large sheep. She had explored the other side of the ridge and found a human settlement with livestock.

Almost every hunt, she would come back with one or two animals. She reasoned that they didn’t fight back like a bear and were not as fast and agile as deer, why not take them?

One night she came back with a small living human and a dead dog.

They finished the dog quickly then began to amuse themselves with the screams and cries of the little girl.

I retreated to my safe caverns but I could still hear her screams for what seemed like hours.

They all gushed about how the ‘walking pig’, as they referred to the little girl, cried and squealed, how sweet the flesh was and how chewy the bones were.

Fortunately, no more humans found their way onto the menu until one just walked up a few days later and said something I don’t understand.

‘Oh lookee here, a tasty treat, ripe and ready’ my sister said. ‘He doesn’t look as tender as the little one.’ my mother replied.

As they talked, the man touched an amulet around his neck and spoke again.

‘I mean you no harm. I’m searching for a girl gone missing.’ he said and I could understand him now.

‘A little girl about this tall’ my sister said in a mocking tone and holding her hand a few feet off the ground. ‘She was delicious!’ she screamed and lunged for the man.

He rolled inside the wild swing and came up sword drawn, slashing down across my sister’s forearm.

Her hand and part of her arm dropped, twitching, to the ground and he spun away.

Mother and father didn’t even stand up.

I moved as quick as I could back behind a wide stone and my sister just laughed.

She picked up her severed hand and held it to her stump and gloated.

‘We plucked her limbs off and nibbled her bones. Oh, her squeals were delightful and her flesh so tender.’

She began to circle him.

‘When I finish with you, we will take a trip to that little village and gorge on man-flesh. We will start with the little ones and the cries of their parents will be our music.’

His expression never changed. He circled, never breaking eye contact with my sister.

He reached into a pouch on his belt then ran his palm down the flat of his sword and the blade took on a dark orange color, like the sky just after sunset.

She released her hand then flexed and exercised the reattached appendage.

Mother and father lounged, obviously enjoying the spectacle.

‘But first I will break you and suck the marrow from your bones!’ she screamed again and struck out.

The man didn’t duck under the blow this time.

He stepped to the side and swung his blade upward in an arc severing the arm above the elbow.

My sister screamed in pain and clutched at the cut.

The fallen limb did not twitch this time and the acrid smell of burned flesh filled the air.

As mother and father rose to join the fight, the man reached into another pouch and threw two pieces of bark at their feet.

At a word, the bark grew thick, woody tendrils tangling arms and legs, rooting them in place.

My sister tried to take advantage of the man’s distraction and attacked again.

I don’t know why but I yelled a warning and he ducked, catching a glancing blow across the back.

My sister’s nails pulled off his cloak and left gouges in his armor.

He regained his footing and they squared off again.

She aimed a kick at the man, hoping to knock him off his feet.

He stepped back and drove his sword through her foot.

She grabbed at him again with her remaining arm and he twirled around it, landing a deep slash behind her knee.

She fell to that knee and balanced unsteadily on one hand and her injured foot.

She gathered her injured knee under her and knelt.

He moved to stand in front of my sister, so close his hair flowed in the rapidly moving air of my sister’s panting.

His voice was cold, colder than the wind in a high mountain pass, when he said ‘You pulled off her limbs and laughed at her screams. Know her pain and feel her fear.’

She roared and grabbed at him but, before her fingers could close, he thrust the sword into her neck. The roar ended with a gurgle, her hand dropped dead around his feet.

Mother and father screamed in anguish and hatred.

‘You worm! When we get free you are dead. We will hunt you down and kill you and anyone near you. We will smash that pathetic village and feast on the corpses!’

The man slowly stepped out of my sister’s flaccid grip and turned to face them.

With a swish, he flicked steaming gore from his sword to the ground, mumbled some unintelligible words and snapped his fingers. The vines holding my parents withered and crumbled.

They roared and charged the man, their claws swiping wildly. He danced between them and struck twice. My father was left clinging feebly to a mass of steaming entrails escaping a gaping slit in his stomach. My mother was missing a leg below the knee, still standing, barely, on one leg.

The battle after that, if it could even be called a battle, was short. The man dodged or countered the remaining weak attacks my parents mustered. Each attack received a grievous wound in response and mother and father eventually lay dead in pools of dark blood.

The man took a cloth from his waistband and wiped blood from his face.

He then turned in my direction and commanded ‘You! Come here…now.’

I didn’t know what to do. I had no chance against him in a fight and I couldn’t outrun him with my leg. I was so scared I could hardly move but I came out from my hiding spot and approached.

I felt his eyes appraising me. They lingered on my leg a touch longer than anywhere else.

‘Did you taste the little girl’s flesh?’ he questioned. I shook my head.

‘Have you ever tasted the flesh of man?’ I managed a weak ‘n-no.’

‘Go and gather anything you can find of the little girl’s belongings while I deal with this filth.’ he said and turned away.

While I began searching rubbish piles, he built a pyre on the ledge outside the cave.

He removed the heads of my mother, father and sister and sat them aside. Then he dismembered their bodies and piled them on top of a load of brush and fallen limbs.

I brought him what I could find; torn, blood-stained fabric from her dress, one tiny shoe and a small pendant my sister had displayed amongst her trophies.

He knelt, cleaned his hands as best he could then delicately flattened and folded the fabric. He wiped down the shoe and pendant then placed all three in an empty belt pouch.

He then collected his torn cloak and fashioned it into a makeshift bag for the heads of my family.

The pyre was set alight with a flint and steel and he spoke to me again.

‘Stay here, in this cave, until I return in a few days. We will have words.’

By then the pyre was fully ablaze and an oily, sticky black smoke rose into the air.

He lit a torch from the pyre, hefted the bag over one shoulder and disappeared into the forest.

I had barely moved from this spot for three days. I sat and watched the fire burn. Was I scared or relieved? Should I run? I wouldn’t survive the mountain passes alone. The fire burned for two days and smoldered for hours more. My mind churned until hunger, depression and exhaustion forced me to sleep.

‘Tanya Goodwin!’

I jerked awake at his voice.

‘Tanya Goodwin was her name. Her mother, Edwina, father, Charles and older brother, Tom buried her belongings in a small coffin.’ he said when he saw my eyes open.

The fire had burnt down to a pile of bones and ash.

‘A whole village is mourning the loss of that little girl. Who do you mourn? Does vengeance burn in your heart?’ he said and laid down the carcass of a small deer.

‘I-I don’t know.’ I said. ‘If I was bigger…stronger…I could have helped that girl but, if I was bigger, would I be as cruel as my sister?’

‘Would I be a part of that pile of bones now?’ I asked, still half-asleep, pointing to the remains of the fire.

‘Possibly…’ he said as he knelt and began skinning the deer ‘or you and your family could be using my cracked bones to pick your teeth and laughing about the manling who came to find a lost little girl…but none of that happened.’

I sat in silence while he finished skinning the deer. He took ashes from the fire and coated the wet side of the skin then draped it over some nearby stones.

Then he rinsed the blood and ash from his hands with water from a skin and began building a smaller fire further inside the cave mouth, carved a large hunk of flesh from the deer carcass and started roasting it. My gut began to rumble.

‘Why didn’t you kill me too?’ I asked, quietly.

He turned from the fire, locked eyes with me and asked ‘Why did you warn me? Without your shout, that creature’s blow could have broken my back.’

‘That creature was my sister! That was my family!’ I shouted back pointing, again, to the pile of bones and ash, my whole body trembling.

‘But you warned me…Why?’ he calmly asked again.

He turned back to the fire, unrolled a woven mat from his pack, and cut a few pieces of mostly cooked meat that he laid on the mat along with a piece of bread.

‘You haven’t eaten in days, have you?’ he asked, turning back to me. He placed the mat in front of me along with the water skin he’d used before to rinse his hands.

‘Here, it’s hard to listen to your heart when your belly is yelling.’

I slouched back, still trembling, and looked at the food while he squatted and tended the fire. We stayed this way long into the night and I slowly ate. It had been so long since I had more than scraps, it should be a feast but the food tasted as gray as the ashes in front of me. When I was finally done, I curled up and went back to sleep.

I dreamed about my parents. Every lesson was taught with pain. Strength and cruelty were the only things that mattered and there was plenty of cruelty to go around. When there was no prey to torture, pain rolled down from oldest to youngest like a rockslide down a hill.

I dreamed about my sister. I had only known hate from her. Every attempt I’d made to resist or placate her resulted in mockery and beatings.

I dreamed of the prey. Poor creatures driven mad as they were dismembered alive.

Then I saw the little girl and heard her screams. I ran as far and as fast as I could but I could not escape her screams!

I woke up gasping for breath. I hadn’t moved from last night but I was covered with a blanket. The man was sitting nearby wrapped in a cloak. His eyes were still closed.

I sat up and tossed the blanket aside, still panicked from my dream.

‘Did your family ever have nightmares?’ he asked sleepily, eyes still closed.

‘I-I don’t know. I don’t think so.’ I said, still trying to calm down.

‘Doubt, fear, regret, loss can all give you nightmares.’ He said with a yawn. ‘It’s a sign of an active mind and a sense of right and wrong. All the meanest sons of bitches I’ve ever met slept like babies. No regrets, no empathy…no nightmares.’

He stood and stretched in the budding sunlight then took a swig from a waterskin, swished and spit it over the edge.

‘I could tell you were different when you came out of hiding. You’d known pain in your life and saw what I did to the others but you faced me.’

‘When I told you to get Tanya’s belongings, you gently searched and handed them over with care.’

‘A coward would not face me like you did. A schemer might just give me some random trinkets and beg for freedom.’

‘You’re different, that’s why I didn’t kill you but, what I still don’t know is…Why…did…you…warn…me?’

‘I don’t know’ I started babbling. ‘What they did to that little girl –Tanya– was wrong…not just wrong, it was evil. If my sister won, they would do it to you too.’

‘She didn’t deserve to be treated that way, nobody deserved to be.’

‘If they did that to you too, I knew I couldn’t fight them and, if I tried, they would do it to me too...’”

“Goodwin?!” Alyssa said and broke Margret’s story. “Your ancestors?” she asked Tom.

Tom’s face tensed a bit as he replied “Yep, Tanya was my great-great aunt, I reckon. Her brother Tom was my great grandfather.” Margret nodded solemnly.

“So you have been living here for three generations?” Alyssa directed to Margret. “Nothing in my reading indicates trolls live that long.”

“That’s probably true for most.” Margret agreed. “My kind live violent lives and violent lives come to violent ends. I’ve been fortunate that most of my time here has been peaceful and I found friends.”

“Alyssa” I interrupted softly, “Margret was in the middle of a story.”

“It’s alright dear. Curiosity is fertilizer for great ideas, and she’s a thinker, that one.” Margret chuckled.

“As I was saying,” Margret continued, after Alyssa seemed satisfied. “I couldn’t find an answer for him. I just did what seemed right at the moment and I think he understood that.”

“He handed me another piece of the now-cold roast meat and said ‘If you’re gonna live here, you need to learn some new tricks.’

‘Those little white fish in the cave won’t keep you fed. You need to learn to hunt.’

‘The smell of rot and offal might lure other predators. You need to learn to clean.’

‘Cooked food can last longer than raw but fire and smoke might cause unwanted attention too. You need to learn to use fire carefully.’

You’ve never used fire before. You need to learn fire. Safe first, then careful.’

‘And I need to be clear…I told the village I killed the trolls that killed Tanya. I did not tell the village there was still a troll up here. You need to stay away from the village for your safety and theirs. Do you understand?

’

“I understood fear. It took me a long time to understand the kindness in that warning.”

“Hunting lessons were hard.” Margret said. “Because of my leg, I couldn’t chase prey. He taught me trapping, ambushes and how to use a spear instead.”

‘You are not your sister,’ he told me. ‘You are hunting for food. A kill should be quick and as painless as possible. Show some respect for the gifts the animal is giving you.’

“He taught me how to clean a kill and use almost everything. I could use more parts for food than he found tasteful, but that just meant less waste. He did not always agree.” she said.

“Learning to clean was a surprise. Unused offal and my own waste was buried in the forest, not just tossed in a corner and forgotten. Most surprising though was when he told me I stink.”

“‘No offense but you smell like the insides of a rotten boar’ he told me.”

She laughed heartily there.

“The closest I’d ever come to bathing was falling over during a river crossing so I know now but I couldn’t help feeling a little hurt back then” she chuckled.

“Fire, now that was a thing! I deeply feared it and he explained it was one of the ways he was able to best my family.”

She looked down at her hands.

“I know what he meant. I remembered the pyre he lit that night.”

Margret shuddered just a little but continued.

“Understandably, I was scared of fire. I burnt myself so many times. I dropped meat in the coals because my hands shook so much. He never yelled.”

“‘Fire is a tool. Come winter, you’ll be happy you know how to use it.’ he’d say.”

“He was right because mountain winters are crueler than my sister ever was.”

“So he changed your whole way of life?” It was Theo interrupting now.

“Everything you learned from your family? Did you ever object? Did you resent him for that?”

“I did object at first.” Margret answered.

“There were so many changes, so many new rules that I was nervous all the time and lashed out a bit.”

She shook her head.

“I was still scared of him too. I knew what he could do if he decided I wasn’t worth the effort. But he was patient.”

“If I broke a rule or skipped an instruction, he would point it out and give me reasons for them.”

“A skipped instruction might mean stored food went bad. A broken rule could lead hunters right to my door.”

“He gave me room to learn though and only corrected me when he needed to. I didn’t know it then but he was preparing me for when he left.”

“One day he explained that he had other obligations, promises to keep, and he needed to go away.”

“He said ‘I can’t be with you all the time. Other jobs need doing, maybe other people need helping. Stay safe and I promise, I will come back.’”

“With that, he picked up his pack and walked out into the forest. He turned, waved once, then disappeared into the brush.”

“Like that? He just left?” Alyssa asked, astonished.

“I was so scared after he left. I didn’t leave the cave for a few days.” Margret nodded and continued.

“I survived on dried meat and water from the spring deep in the cave.”

“I noticed the silence too. Where he would occasionally hum, there was nothing. The curses he muttered while repairing equipment were gone.”

“Eventually, the food and the quiet forced me out where I learned another lesson.”

“The various snares and traps we’d set did their job but I neglected them and several small, trapped animals met terrible ends.”

“I didn’t care about the lost food. I felt ashamed that my traps and my fear caused this suffering.”

“After that, I never missed a day checking traps, and, more often than not, I’d free animals that weren’t injured.”

Years of patrolling in a small and peaceful kingdom leads to complacency.

Keeping watch over vendors’ stalls during festivals, breaking up the occasional fight between drunken patrons at the local pub, leading old Clive’s lost dog home…again, all parts of the job for the city watch.

It wasn’t a glamorous life but Narnhall, the kingdom and the city, wasn’t a glamorous place. I’ve spent over half my life with the watch, a full twenty years. I figured the message from the king’s herald was for some ceremony to acknowledge my years of service. I mean, just give me a raise and a certificate but, no, there has to be a ceremony because that’s what royalty does.

So, there I sat in a palace waiting vestibule alongside a young girl in the robes of the local college and the guy who passes the tithe basket at the temple, Ted?...something like that. I only saw him maybe twice a year for big services. I returned his nod and greeting while the young girl had her head so buried in a book, I’ve barely seen her face.

I would’ve thought the watch captain would be here for my ceremony. He’s big on that stuff but not much on the day to day activities of the watch. Wealth has privileges, I guess.

Odd that there are no other watch present either. I thought twenty years of service was supposed to be a big deal. Karl and Dillon are probably already at the pub two cups deep preparing for the after party.

“This way, please” a voice shook me out of my distracted thoughts. An older man dressed in the finery of a palace servant gestured us, us?, through a door. We’re led to a large room and directed to have a seat around the large round table.

“You have all been gathered at the behest of the king” the servant began. “I am secretary Barath in service of the king’s advisors. A troubling rumor has reached the palace and we have need of investigators. A traveling tax collector has reported sighting a troll near the remote village of Charn in the northwestern mountains.”

“A troll!” gasped the young girl. The first sound I’d heard her make. “What kind of troll? Research says there are many kinds but in a mountainous region it would probably be just a common troll…not that trolls are common. Nasty things. Carnivorous to the point of cannibalism, healing instantly, voracious and extremely aggressive.”

She just described an almost un-killable eating machine with all the enthusiasm of a teenager describing the merits of her first love.

“The only description we have is ‘troll’” replied secretary Barath in a flat tone, then continued.

“The king wants you to investigate this rumor and report your findings. Should the rumor be true, you are not authorized to take any action. An appropriate response will be assembled on the basis of your report.”

Barath continued,

“Watchman Oster, you have been selected to lead this mission. We expect a thorough and detailed investigation in this matter. You were recommended by four watch commanders and the captain of the palace guard based on your record.”

“Brother Theodious, you are to provide care and comfort for any citizen that has fallen victim to the monster’s appetites.” “If there is actually a monster and not a figment of an over-active imagination.” he added with a sigh.

“Scribe Hahn, please take detailed records of any eye-witnesses or personal encounters. Include casualties and property damage assessments. Please keep personal theories to a minimum as these accounts and details are for the archives.”

“Transportation and provisions are waiting at the stables.” He said, handing me a scroll. “Here is a map to the village. It doesn’t appear on any official maps."

"While the king cares for all his subjects, some communities are still very isolated. Work like this is essential to show his love and protection.”

“And to ensure the flow of taxes from every pocket” I thought to myself. “Do you want an eyes-on verification in addition to reports from villagers?” I asked as I thought “I’ve never seen a troll and don’t know I want to after the description I just heard.”

“While certain verification is best, eyewitness accounts from citizens will do.” Barath answered. “If there are no further questions, please make your way to the stables and proceed.”

Before we could say anything, the secretary rang a bell, a palace guard opened the door and we were shown to the stables.

Twenty years as a member of the watch, with, apparently, glowing recommendations from commanders and the palace guard and, in recognition, I got a dangerous mission, my backup was a twitchy scribe and a tithe counter to provide ‘care and comfort’ and…

My transportation was an old mare hooked to a two-wheeled cart.

I took a minute to scan the map. Thankfully, it was quite detailed and had notes on lodging along the route. Four days each way estimated. I saw the map was written by the tax collection agent so I was sure there’s nothing dangerous along the way, notorious cowards that they are.

I looked up to see the scribe and Brother Theodious scanning the supplies. “How do we look?” I ask. “We’ve got about four days travel each way and there are a couple of inns we can stop along the way.” Theodious said “Food, wine, water, medical supplies, some coin and enough paper and ink to write two tomes, I think we’re good” as Scribe Hahn nodded enthusiastically.

“Well, let’s mount up…” before I finished the sentence, a stablehand stabbed a standard bearer into a holder on the cart and unfurled a banner big enough to be a sail proudly displaying the Narnhall insignia with a hastily added patch below reading ‘King’s Relief Forces’.

“Gods give me strength” I muttered as Theodious chuckled and the scribe hurriedly huddled into the back of the cart.

“City watch” I mumbled to myself while I absent-mindedly scanned the passing farmlands and occasional farm worker’s shack. “What part of the city is this? I signed on to patrol the streets and keep the peace.”

“Wide open spaces a little too wide and open for you?” Theodious said beside me.

“I…uh…no” I sputtered. “It’s not unusual for watchmen to carry messages to nearby cities. I’ve been on several rides. Point A to point B, drop a letter, back to point A with maybe a short stay at the inn. This is different. We’ve been sent to hunt a monster. All I have is a truncheon and a knife for the gods sake.”

“We’ve been sent to investigate a rumor.” Theodious countered. “It seems to me that a truncheon and knife are more than enough.”

“I think it's exciting!” the scribe interjected. “Out in the wilderness, traveling to save a village and solve a mystery.”

“Wilderness?!” both my and Theodious’s heads spun to look at the young girl.

“We’re just a few miles out of town. That’s Jed’s farm. He sells beets and onions at the city market.” I said, indicating a small house in the distance.

“Young miss, have you ever been outside the city gates?” Theodious asked.

“I visited the traveling carnival at the parade grounds once.” was her meek reply. “Their collection of ‘rare and exotic’ animals was underwhelming.”

A few bumpy, dusty hours later we reached our first stop of the trip.

Tannin’s Inn was an old horse barn converted to inexpensive lodging for traveling farmers.

There was a large clearing outside holding a couple wagons. Pack animals resting under a thatched roof held up by four stout poles. The blacksmith’s shack was reworked into a kitchen.

The inside of the old barn held a few tables with chairs and the horse stalls were converted to individual rooms.

Tannin and his daughter Charlotte ran a tight operation though. The food was hot, the beer was good, there was fresh hay in the mattress and the mood was light.

Charlotte was a passable lute player, providing a soothing soundtrack after supper was done. She even kept up with Brother Theodious when he tried to teach everyone a couple of sea shanties.

As the evening went on and other guests started bedding down we sat around a table chatting.

“Twenty years is a long time. Why the city watch?” Theodious asked. “Why not the army?”

“Short answer: I wanted to help people. Armies kill but the watch helps.” I replied.

“But armies protect the kingdom, that helps everyone, right?” Alyssa asked.

“My father was in the army. He died when I was nine fighting some nomadic tribes in the east. The tribes were fighting for access to a forest they claimed was sacred. To be clear, access, not ownership. How is that helping?” I snapped back.

“I’m sorry…” Alyssa offered, gently patting my hand.

“It’s alright” I offered.

“After he died, we had to move from army housing to the crescent and my mother took up work as a seamstress.” I continued.

“The crescent wasn’t the best neighborhood. The houses were old and worn but rent was cheap and nobody asked a lot of questions.

I was twelve years old when the next door neighbor came home drunk and decided to haul his wife outside and beat her because his lunch wasn’t ready.

I jumped him and got his attention on me. He sliced me up a little before a watchman showed up, flattened him and took him to jail.

Did you know that, under the old king, beating your wife wasn’t against the law? Cutting up a kid in the middle of the street sure was though, not that I knew that at the time.

He got ten years in prison.

She wasn’t even really his wife. She was a farm girl he’d sweet-talked into warming his bed and running away to the big city with him.

My mother and some neighbors looked after her then took up a collection to get her back home with her family.

Mom was furious with me and beaming proud all at once and I felt good. It was the first time I felt useful. I had helped someone out of a bad place.

Palmer, the watchman that hauled him off, came back later. He called me a dumb shit then said to look him up in a few years because the watch could use people like me.

He trained me and I served with him seven years before he retired.” I finished.

“You saved that woman’s life” Alyssa whispered.

“I don’t know about that. I just did what I knew was right in my gut.” I said. “The problem is, my gut can’t read law books. That’s probably why I’m off on this troll-hunt instead of feet up in a cushy office hollering orders and signing citations.”

When Charlotte started blowing out candles, we got the hint and headed for our stalls.

The next day saw us back on the road. Vast grasslands spread before us and mist-shrouded mountains loomed in the distance.

“Brother Theodious, where did you learn those songs?” Alyssa asked.

“Please, just call me Theo.” he began. “I come from Port Ester in the Daggerlands. As a young man, I signed on as a seaman and crewed cargo ships. Songs help pass the time and distract the mind when most days consist of pulling ropes and swabbing decks.”

“A life at sea sounds romantic, I’ve read lots of stories about it.” Alyssa mused. “White-capped waves, sea spray, rousing songs…”

Theo continued for her, “...the stench of sweaty, unwashed men drinking naught but beer and shift-sharing bunks for days or weeks at a time, eating the cheapest food the quartermaster could find, surrounded by the constant bleat, snort, whinny or moo of whatever farm animals you’re hauling and hearing every creak, pop and hissing leak on the boat that last saw dry dock under the captain’s grand-daddy.”

As her nose scrunched at his description, Theo’s tone softened, “Miss Alyssa, books hold knowledge but the truth is often so much more complicated.”

“You must have seen a lot of the world then, Theo.” I chimed in. “I’ve never been outside the lands of Narnhall.”

“I went places, sure, but crew rarely go further inland than the closest pub or brothel. I’ve probably docked in twenty different ports but I couldn’t tell the difference if you parked me in one now. I didn’t start seeing the world until I quit the crew.”

“Why did you quit?” I asked.

“It was time for a change.” was all he offered in return.

“Traveler’s Rest.”

“Compliments of the Kingdom of Narnhall” read the signs.

Off the road was a hard-packed patch of dirt, with a water pump and trough, a fire pit and a small crib with animal fodder. It even had an enclosed latrine.

“Enchanting” Alyssa said, dryly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep a watch to scare off any rampaging gophers that might invade in the night” I joked.

As I unhitched the horse and Theo began unpacking our gear, we heard Alyssa say “we need a fire.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll…” I began before there was a flash and rush of heat.

Theo and I both reflexively ducked and turned to see Alyssa spewing fire from her outstretched hand into the firepit.

“Who’s scaring the gophers now?” Theo laughed.

“She’s scaring a lot more than gophers.” I shot back.

With the firepit fully ablaze, Alyssa brushed her hands on her robes, looked up and smiled, oblivious to our surprise, “I got it.” She said innocently.

Theo proved an adept camp cook and we enjoyed a supper of eggs, bacon and mulled wine but he was oddly quiet during the meal.

After we bedded down, Theo laid on his back, looked at the night sky and spoke to no one in particular:

“Under a new moon, on the sea, you see all the stars. From horizon to horizon, nothing but stars…

One day, more than a week out of Carson Bay, hauling a load of pigs, we were caught in a squall out of nowhere. Rain pouring down, wind whipping when an outhaul comes loose. The line catches Harris by the arm and nearly tosses him overboard.

Two hands are able to secure the flailing line and I get to Harris. He’s knocked out and his arm is nearly torn off at the elbow. More blood than I’ve ever seen is gushing from the wound.

I take off my shirt and belt and bandage him as best I could but it only slows the flow. The shirt is soaked before I finish tying it off.

I barely knew Harris but I’d seen the sea take too many in accidents like this.

‘Please! Help him! Please! PLEASE!’ I don’t know if I was screaming or wishing or both as I felt the man’s life draining through my fingers.

Then I felt a tingle in my hands, the hair on my arms stood and, I swear, I felt something pass from my hands into Harris’ arm.

Best I can say is I felt a pop then light flowed from my fingers into Harris and the blood stopped flowing. I thought he was done but he was still breathing.

The ship’s surgeon had to take his arm that night but Harris was alive. The surgeon can’t explain it because he lost so much blood and I can’t tell them what happened.

They’d think I was crazy.

Two days later and it's the new moon. I’m on night watch and looking at the sky, staring the infinite in the face and I decide I need to know more.

More than I can learn hauling freight.

I quit the crew in Carson Bay and started looking for answers.

All the holy men and scholars I’ve talked to say I’ve been given a gift, that I have the favor of some god, that good works flow from them through me but they don’t know who. I don’t know either.

Two kingdoms, eight cities, temples, libraries, even roadside altars and I’ve learned a few bits but I’m still looking.”

Then he turned over and simply went to sleep.

Alyssa and I just laid there surrounded by the night sounds until sleep took us too.

“About that fire thing last night, is that normal?” I ask while we pack up camp the next morning.

Alyssa beamed, “I just learned that at college. The four primal elements: fire, water, earth and air are the building blocks of the world. We’re expected to learn bits of them all.”

“I already know three or four ways to start fires using magic, fire is very popular, but I’m still practicing that one. Can’t really practice it in school because…you know…’woosh!’” she said, complete with hand gestures.

“That’s very interesting but would you mind warning us before you ‘woosh’ next time” Theo said, mimicking the hand gestures.

“Oh, yeah, sorry” she replied, her smile fading a bit.

“No need to be sorry. I just thought you were here to take notes. I didn’t know you had other talents.” I said and the smile was back.

“I know a few spells. I’ve been learning magic since I was little but you only get history and theory for years before they let you learn practical applications...” she started while we got back on the road.

Grass…grass…cows…more grass…

“...It’s really frustrating, you know, my father owns a bookstore so I’ve been reading and studying magic forever but I have to take all the same courses and pass the same tests...”

Grass…fence…grass…a tree, don’t see those very often….

“...I found a pamphlet in my father’s storage room once when I was ten. It showed me how to make a cold flame, I mean I know it’s just to impress the normals but I’ve been doing that since I was ten…”

Grass…dodge that big rock…grass…is it getting wet?

“...I know why they have to do the tests, you don’t want some maniac learning how to shoot lightning bolts at people but, really, do I look like a maniac?”

It is wet…glad the road is mostly rock…are those cattails?

“...so the professor tells me not to mix the sulfur in yet, like, I know. He should be telling Tessa, she’s the one missing an eyebrow…”

Grass…mosquitoes…is Theo asleep or meditating?

“...and that’s when I had to take over Kevin’s part of the project. His diagrams weren’t symmetrical at all. I doodled a better Tasselionic decagon when I was 14.”

Mosquitoes…mosquitoes…that’s not me, it has to be swamp gas…he is definitely asleep.

“...and then Craghorne makes a joke about petrified wood. How immature…”

“We’re here!” I announced.

Here was the Greenhill Inn.

A collection of shacks built on slightly raised platforms and connected by wooden walkways over mud and murky puddles.

The rooms were damp. The common area was damp. The mosquitoes were thick. The food, best left undescribed. Unsurprisingly, we were the only guests.

Our fourth day and we were trying to navigate a goat trail up the side of a mountain. We’d almost missed the faded signpost that pointed us off the main road and up a path through a thicket. The cart I thought was a curse turned out to be a blessing. No way a fancy carriage or standard wagon could make it up these switchbacks or between these trees.

About mid-day and the path leveled out, the trees began to thin and we started seeing real signs of ‘civilization’. Cart tracks, hoof prints, tree stumps and the smells of wood smoke and cooking.

We rounded a bend and there were buildings. The path widened further and there were log cabins with stone chimneys and even a market area. We saw the village continue further but the market seemed the best place to start.

The locals didn’t gawk at the newcomers rolling in with a flapping and now quite torn banner promising the King’s Relief but there was a definite pause in activities.

I tied the horse to a convenient post and helped Alyssa down from the cart.

Theo dismounted and asked “think they’ll come to us or should we mingle?”

“Let’s give them some space while we stow that damned banner before it whips the cart off the mountain” I replied.

“Where do they get the produce and all the flowers?” Alyssa asked no one. “This topology isn’t known for long growing seasons and the tree cover is too dense for open gardens.”

Theo and I took a second look and what I thought were buntings ringing the vendor stalls were garlands of flowers in multiple colors and every house we saw had multiple planters with arrays of plants almost like a gardener’s dream.

Then the scents hit me. From hyacinth to honeysuckle, lavender to lilac, each breath was new and fresh.

“ACHOO!”

“Sorry” Alyssa squeaked, “pollen.”

“Gods bless you” from a man approaching from one of the stalls, wiping his hands on a rag tied to his apron.. Round-faced, slightly shorter than me, robust, tanned and calloused like a man who works in the sun all day every day, but with an easy smile and the wrinkles that show the smile wasn’t just for show.

“Good day friends. Please forgive us but we don’t see new faces every day. Tom Goodwin, pleased to meet you.” he said and offered his hand.

“Will Oster” I said, and took the offered hand.

“Oscinder Theodious, please call me Theo” as Theo took Tom’s hand in turn.

“Alyssa Hahn, lovely village you have here” said Alyssa as she wiped her hand before taking her turn.

“Well, Will, Theo and Alyssa,” Tom said, glancing to the sky. “Have you had your mid-day meal yet?” “No” I replied, slightly taken off guard.

“Best news I’ve heard all day.” Tom said, then turned and yelled “Lily, we’ve got guests for lunch!”

“You can’t say no now, she’s already putting out plates.” said Tom with just a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Jeff, would you see to these folks’ horse? Thanks” he directed to another man walking up.

“Will do!” was the cheerful reply.

With a shrug to Alyssa and Theo, I followed Tom.

“We don’t want to impose” I say as we make our way through the stalls as Tom waved and herded everyone toward the center of the market.

“You’re not!” he replied and was joined with smiles and laughs from the other villagers.

Lunch was a communal affair. Long tables with benches set in a central area under a gnarled old tree.

The tables all held beautiful bouquets of flowers. The sideboards loaded down with platters of food, most I did not recognize but the smells were amazing.

I hear Theo mumbling beside me. I glance over and notice a glint in his eyes.

“It’s good,” he whispered to me as we’re led to a table by Tom.

As soon as we were seated, heaped plates of food were placed in front of us. A moment later I heard “scooch down a bit honey” and a lady sat down beside Tom, a smile on her face and plate in her hand.

Lunch was amazing. No bread and light on the meat compared to my standard pub fare but delicious. I recognized most of the ingredients but none of the recipes.

Theo finished a little too quickly and was ‘punished’ with seconds by an older lady, enforced with a pat on the shoulder and an extra portion of a sticky, sweet potato dish.

Alyssa, ever the scholar, seemed to dissect her meal. Smiling as she tried to discern every ingredient, first by look and then by taste.

The area buzzed with conversations. Whispers about secret family recipes and compliments on presentation. Talk of crop yield and fertilizers mixed with observations of the weather and unfortunate ailments.

We were in the middle of an extended family meal…a happy family.

What we weren’t surrounded by was a village at the mercy of a dangerous predator. No mention of missing livestock or warnings about traveling alone or after dark.

At one point, Tom asked “You traveled here from Narnhall, right? Ever hear of a man named Dunne?” “Sorry, no.” He looked a little disappointed then the small talk continued.

As the meal was winding down I asked Tom “Is there an elder or mayor here I can speak with?”

“Not really. We’re a small community. Everybody pretty much knows everybody’s business, good and bad.”

“Well, we were sent here from the city to check on your village.” I said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

“Oh yes, the tax man, I reckon.” said Tom.

“We tried to explain that we mostly work on barter around here. We either trade for or make what we need. Not a lot of coin passed around.”

“The tax man, yes and no. We’re not here about taxes though. Seems he came back spooked.

Says he saw a dangerous monster near the village so he high-tailed it back and reported it to the king’s advisors. We came to see if there was any danger.” I whispered slightly.

“But all I see are happy faces. Not what I’d expect from a village terrorized by a vicious monster.”

“I’m happy to hear he made it home safe. Let’s take a walk.” Tom rose and nodded further into the village.

”I’d like to show you our fields.”

People continued cleanup and straightening after the meal while a few older villagers gathered with Tom for our tour.

We stood, Theo slowly and with a small burp, and followed the group.

“Charn is quite an old village. It started as a logging camp.” Tom began.

“Farmers and settlers in the grasslands needed wood and we had an abundance. Lumber for houses and barns, charcoal for fires, it seemed the mountain had an endless supply.”

“It was plentiful but not endless.” he continued as we walked down a well-used path.

“Once the old growth started clearing out, the trade slowed down. Most folks moved on to the next opportunity. No where else to go or just tired of traveling, a few stayed. The cleared land was put to use for livestock and gardens.”

The trees started thinning as we approached what looked like a clearing. We passed through an open gate in a tall, wooden palisade. Tom continued,

“It was a hard life. Yields from the rocky soil were not good. Livestock near starved from lack of forage. And, yes, there were monsters.”

“But things got better.” he says as we reach a break in the canopy and look out on stepped fields.

Terraces carved from the living rock of the mountain. Abundant fields to match some of the best the grasslands could produce. Much smaller, of course, but no less impressive.

A bell tolled softly from higher up the mountain.

“Back when my great grandfather was a boy,” Tom said, “there was a troll attack. But that is not my story to tell.”

“Margret, our oldest neighbor, has asked to see you.” Tom explained as we’re led toward another path away from the fields. “She has trouble getting around these days but still sharp as a tack.”

“She doesn’t live in the village proper so it’s a bit of a hike but, make no mistake, she’s as much of a member of this village as anyone...more even. The fields you’ve just seen would not have been possible without her help and guidance” he added.

We followed a well-worn path until it met up with another and we took the leg leading away from the village.

A few minutes' walk led us to a stairway, again, carved from the rock of the mountain. The stairs were worn from long use and followed a rock face up, around the mountain and disappeared around a prominence.

At one point, the stair widened into a landing.

The rock face was carved into a large alcove with a tall ledge about chest high ringing the inside.

From here there was a breathtaking view of the terraced fields below.

Sunlight over the neighboring peak glimmered off what must be irrigation canals. Each field surrounded by golden threads while petals, fronds, stalks and leaves swayed in a gentle breeze.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tom said, noting my stunned look.

“This is Margret’s favorite spot. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, day and night, all different and all beautiful.

My favorite is when the sun just begins peaking over the trees and beams of light through the limbs hit the morning mist rising from the ground.

I’d swear there are fairies dancing in those sun beams.”

“The god’s wonders are many and many have I seen.” Theo mumbled, his eyes wide.

Alyssa’s ever-present notebook and quill just hung at her sides, her eyes taking in the scene.

“Let’s move on, it’s not far now” said Tom, breaking us from our reverie.

“All mountains should have stairs,” I remarked. “I might go climbing more often.”

“Speak for yourself” a winded Alyssa responded. “The college clock tower doesn’t have this many steps.”

“What were you doing in a clock tower?” Theo asked.

“Bats and clockworks are both fascinating subjects, two birds, one stone, so to speak.” was her reply.

The chatter stopped when we reached the top of the stairs.

We were greeted by an oasis of flowers.

Planters, pots and trellises covered with a rainbow of colors framed the mouth of a large cave.

Even in the now low sunlight, it was an impressive sight. The Narnhall spring festival had nothing like this.

Several young people from the village moved about watering, trimming, pruning and planting. A couple of children emerged from the cave carrying baskets of mushrooms.

Tom called over one of the children carrying mushrooms.

A little blonde haired girl, maybe six years old dropped her basket, spilling a few mushrooms, and came over.

“Hi uncle!”

“Dara, would you let Margret know our visitors are here?” he asked.

She shot off, yelling “Auntie Mawgwet, visitows awe hea!”, before she even got to the mouth of the cave.

A few moments passed before Dara emerged panting and said “she’s coming.” She then picked up her basket and took to the stairs headed back to the village.

“Thanks Dara” Tom said, tussling her hair as she passed.

The gardeners continued their work, unbothered.

We formed a loose line in front of the cave mouth. Our tour companions, chatty and easygoing until now, stood behind us.

I felt their eyes on me and my companions. I could tell Theo felt it too as he began to tense. I caught his eye and mouthed a slight “no” and shook my head.

Alyssa was still too caught up in listing flowers by name and color to feel the tension. “I didn’t know they grew on this continent” she said while indicating an intricate yellow blossom.

Shuffle, tap…shuffle, tap…shuffle, tap, the noise pulled my attention back to the cave.

A gnarled, green hand gripping a staff the size of a small tree emerged from the shadows.

A face made of nightmares followed.

The nose, long and distorted with too many curves, like a bare-knuckles brawler’s nose.

A thin-lipped mouth filled with black and cracked teeth.

Red eyes deeply sunken beneath a heavy brow…and a straw hat…with a bow?

The rest of the creature heaved into view.

The legs were bowed, spindly-looking on its frame but easily almost as thick as a man.

The left leg was obviously deformed, unnatural angles even on this unnatural creature.

The feet were wide and flat. The toes were too long and capped with thick, black nails.

Each hand could easily engulf a man’s head. The fingers were also too long, to my mind, with black nails and bulbous joints.

The skin, what I could see, was a mottled gray/green, pocked and crossed with old scars and hung from its bones like wet cloth on a drying rack.

The body of the creature was, thankfully, covered in a simple beige-colored tunic but, from the hunch of the back and the length of the stride, if the creature stood straight, it would be half again taller than me.

The creature stopped and, in a gravelly whisper, said “Hello, I am Margret.”