Distorted Fates

by R. L. Weeks

  The Feral Ones

  By Krystle Able

  People in the village tried to warn me about the feral ones. The men hiked out to my cottage and trade whatever I needed that week--fabric, seeds, tools, building materials for my little house, for tinctures I made that would cure their infant's fever or help their soil become more fertile. While they waited for me to mix whatever they needed they told me tales of the children abandoned in the woods who had become feral, wild, violent little creatures. I didn't believe them. I had lived alone in the forest for decades and hadn't heard, smelled, or sensed anything unusual.

  The men laughed at me when I told them I wasn't scared, that I could protect myself. I didn't consider my blindness to be a disadvantage. My other senses were impeccable and more advanced than any man's, but the men insisted the feral ones could best me. They warned me to stay inside at night and to ward my cottage with runes and charms of protection. I sent them on their way, letting them think I was overconfident, even arrogant perhaps, but as soon as they left, I would add sigils above my doors and windows, and speak spells of protection over my land. I was no naïve witch.

  The first time I began to believe the men from the village the night was much quieter than usual the way everything stands still just before a summer storm. My nose told me there was no storm approaching however and my senses were on high alert. No birds took flight, no squirrels chased each other up and down the trees, no owls called out into the night, and wolves bayed at the nearly full moon.

  The summer heat was unbearable, and the wool blankets the villagers had brought to replace the ones the mice ate holes through were itchy and made me sweat. There were no tinctures to stop perspiration when the heat got this bad, and I couldn't sleep without blankets, so the dream world had been elusive to me for several weeks. I let the blanket fall to the dirt floor as I sat up and swung my feet over the side of the wooden platform that kept me off the wooden bed a huntsman had carved for me as payment for poison a Queen two kingdoms away had ordered.

  The poison had to be spelled on a full moon which gave the huntsman seven days to carve my bed and for us to get to know each other. During his time here he told me about the kingdom he was from where no one was starving, and the people were living in relative peace except the queen who was hell-bent on seeking revenge on her stepdaughter. The queen was also a patron of the magic arts, and the Huntsman thought I could get along well in his kingdom. I should've gone with him. Saying no may have been my first mistake.

  I reached out and grabbed the corner of the chest of drawers that sat next to the bed and steadied myself as I stood from the bed. My intuition sense, the most important of the six senses, was alerting me in waves of nausea that racked my body. Something was very wrong. Warning alarms sounded in my mind, and I questioned whether or not I had placed the plank over the door that barred it from being opened before I laid down. I remembered double checking it, but now I second guessed myself.

  I felt the hairs rise all over my body and a chill that would have been welcome in different circumstances crept down my spine over and over again. I willed myself to the front door to check whether I had made a mistake or not. My ears strained past the cottage and out into the night trying to pick up the faintest sounds of movement, but I heard only silence which was even worse. The forest had never gone silent, but at that moment, not even a cricket chirped outside.

  I walked to the door and reached my hands out. I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I felt the rough wood plank under my fingers. I put my ear to the door and held my breath. I could feel the blazing heat coming through the cracks in the wood even in the middle of the night.

  Something whizzed past the cottage on the outside of the fence like an arrow whirring through the air. I tracked the sound around the corner of the cottage where my apple trees grew. I scurried across the room and put my back flush against the wall next to the window that faced where I judged the sound to be coming from.

  Whoosh! Like the strong fall breeze, the entity stalking my cottage took off again, back where I had come from, to my front door.

  Te-he-he-he

  A child's muffled laughter? Children couldn't survive this far out into the woods by themselves. The stories I had been told of the feral ones flooded back to me, but I shook my head. There had to be a rational explanation for the sound, perhaps children were playing down by the stream on the other side of the hill, and their voices echoed on the breeze. Except, there was no breeze and the children of the superstitious villagers who resided two miles away were fast asleep in their beds during the witching hour.

  Bam! Bam!

  Two hard knocks on my door startled me. The sigils should have stopped any supernatural creature from getting too close. They had to be just innocent children lost in the woods. But then how could they move so quickly and nearly silent?

  Bam! Bam! The pounding on the door was much too loud to be the knocking of a child. I ran my hand along the wall and grabbed my crystal protection pouch from the wooden shelf and muttered a quick protection spell.

  The giggling erupted again from outside my cottage. Bam! Bam! The creatures pounded again.

  The spell should have repelled the beings outside. I panicked and grabbed the salt next. I cast a circle and sat in the center with my athame. I spoke more invocations into the ever-present darkness, no longer whispering or trying to remain quiet. I heard the wood splintering seconds before the door slammed open and the wind rushed in.

  I sat silent, breathing heavy, and strained my senses. If my protection circle failed, I would surely be dead within seconds. I heard no breath, no pulse; yet I could feel mischievous energy vibrating the air around me that caused the hair on my arms to rise.

  "Hello? Who's there?" I called out towards the front door.

  Two giggles came as response from the doorway. My sigils were keeping the creatures out of the cottage but hadn't stopped them from coming through my fence.

  "What do you want?" I called out again.

  The giggling turned into growls of frustration, and I felt the magic walls surrounding me tremble. The creatures were trying to break through the spell. I knew my magic was strong and there was no way they would succeed I readied my athame just in case the beings--the feral ones I presumed, could somehow overcome my protection magic.

  "Get out of my house!" I shouted.

  I readied myself for the fight I felt coming. I heard their growls as they raced around my cottage, banging on the windows and doors. I whirled around in my protection circle each time the orientation of the sound changed until, suddenly, the growls disappeared, and a calm enveloped my tiny home.

  I stood my ground and remained still as I reached out with my senses, trying to make sense of what had happened. I felt the morning light on my arm as the sun began to rise over the horizon and little birds hopped out of their nests one by one, tweeting blessings into the new day. The creatures, whatever they were, had gone far away. I couldn’t sense them anymore.

  No longer feeling danger, I stepped out of my circle and made my way around the walls of my home casting new protection spells and strengthening the ones already in place. When I came to my pantry, I let my nose guide me to the herbs I needed to a mix-up in the leather satchel I kept in my pocket for protection and guidance. I was satisfied I had done enough to protect myself when the sun warmed the top of my head in the garden signally midday.

  I sat in the garden and cast out my senses. I was expecting a visitor and was unnerved that she hadn’t arrived yet. My nerves subsided when I felt her carefully navigating the difficult trails through the woods, overgrown by roots, and littered with forest debris. Crimson was the only woman from the village that would dare to venture this far into the forest, and the teen was barely a woman, “Little Red” the men liked to tease her.

  My cottage was halfway through the forest that separated Crimson’s village from her grandmother’s house on the very edge of the forest, and the girl often stopped by with freshly baked blueb
erry muffins, carrot cakes, and zucchini loaves of bread. I gave her topical analgesics and anti-inflammatory teas for her grandmother’s arthritis in exchange. The leather pouch of protection herbs and stones I always dropped in her basket was free.

  When I knew she was still safe and just minutes away I turned my attention to my sage and lavender plants. I was picking buds of lavender to dry later that evening when Crimsons boots could be heard a few yards away padding down the stone walk one of the villagers had installed for me ages ago.

  “Morning Gretchen,” Crimson called to me.

  I stood and waved towards the sound of her voice then wiped my dirty hands on my apron. Crimson’s arms were around me second later. She smelled like forest moss and fresh air, but the muffins that nearly toppled from her basket as I took it from her were what had my mouth salivating.

  “Good morning indeed, Crimson. Your basket is so heavy today. What have you brought me?” I asked as I brought the basket to my nose and smelled the usual muffins and bread, but also a cherry pie, blueberry cobbler, and an array of scones.

  “Let’s go inside,” Crimson took my elbow and walked with me back up the path from my garden into my tiny cottage.

  “What’s troubling you today?” I asked her.

  “It’s more of what’s troubling all of us,” Crimson murmured as we walked inside.

  She sat down at the table, and I went to get the tea kettle and teacups.

  “Have you heard about the children from the village on the other side of the river?”

  Crimson tried to keep her voice steady, but I could tell she was nervous.

  “I’ve heard stories of the feral ones if that’s what you are referring to,” I answered her and poured hot water over the tea leaves I put in the cups.

  “Yes, the feral ones,” she cleared her throat, and I sat down across from her, ready to listen.

  “Across the river, the village is facing severe famine. A curse has been put on their land making their soil poisonous. Nothing they grow is good to eat for their livestock or the people. They are starving to death, but no one in nearby villages or kingdoms can spare help. Anyways, rumor has it that the demon who cursed their land began accepting sacrifices of children and the parents would lead their children into the forest and leave them there. This demon isn’t killing the children though Gretchen; it’s changing them.”

  Crimson’s voice was grave and worried. The young teen was brave, and an exceptional huntress but I knew by the way she talked the situation was dangerous.

  “So, this will be the last time I can come out to your cottage until the situation is under control,” Crimson added.

  I smiled and nodded. “Well, I do appreciate the extra goods you’ve brought me. I didn’t prepare anything extra for you though my dear. If you want to sit a spell, I can put together some potions for you and gather a few soaps and perfumes?” I offered.

  “That’s Okay,” Crimson responded and took my hands in hers. “These creatures come out at night Gretchen. Have you sensed anything strange at night around here? The huntsman killed two of them, not five miles from here, and he had to decapitate them to do so.”

  “Matter of fact, two of them were here just this morning, before dawn. They disappeared so quickly, I couldn’t discern which direction they went, but they seemed like nasty things—growling and laughing.”

  “They are exceptionally dangerous,” Crimson warned. “They have long teeth, and they’re fast, not like humans, and strong. The two the huntsman found were drinking the blood of a deer when he saw them by the river. We’ve never seen anything like them before. Do you know what kind of demon could do this?”

  I sighed and took my hands back from her. I had been separated from my coven for years and didn’t know most witches possessed of the creatures many of us had to face. My quiet little life in the middle of the forest, away from most humans had afforded me a peaceful existence away from those types of problems. Otherworldly creatures loved to mix with the humans for some reason, but this type of creature I had never heard of before and I knew I couldn’t help Crimson or the others in the village.

  “I’m sorry. The creatures that were here this morning, I had never sensed anything like them before. I don’t know what they are,” I told her.

  I was worried about this development. Children being made into these vile creatures—the feral ones, was an act of pure evil. There were plenty of spirits, witches, and demons that had enough magic to do such a thing, but I didn’t know any of them, and I was scared the basic potions and spells I did know would not be enough to ward off these monsters.

  Crimson’s chair ground against the wood floor and I felt her stand. I did the same and walked to the shelf above my hearth. A long box rest on the mantle and inside was an enchanted arrow given to me by a fiery little girl hunting a giant bear in exchange for a little divination.

  “Keep this arrow in your bow while you’re in the forest. Its aim is sure, all you must do is think about where you want it to go and let it fly,” I told Crimson.

  “Thank you,” she responded, taking the arrow from me and sliding it into the quiver on her back. “The children sometimes wander the forest for days before the demon changes them. Your cottage here isn’t too far for them to reach in a few days’ times, especially if they’re good swimmers who can get across the river. If the feral ones were here this morning, the demon is close by as well. I’m sure of it; you may sense the children before the demon gets to them. Save them if you can,” Crimson begged.

  I shuddered at her plea. I felt the power the creatures had once they turned, I could only imagine how powerful the being that created them was, and I didn’t want to go up against that. Making potions and reading the tea leaves for villagers willing to travel out this far with something good to trade was one level of magic but fighting against the evil that I sensed coming was not something my bones could handle. I was getting old, and my magic wasn’t strong enough.

  I nodded to Crimson anyways and assured her that I would do everything I can to protect the children in the forest, should they get this far. She kissed both my cheeks and headed out the door, on the way to her grandmother’s house. I murmured words of protection after her and prayed my spells would be enough to protect both her and me.

  A few hours later as the wind began to cool and the sun’s rays disappeared behind the trees, I felt the shift in the air. The sun was not yet down, but the birds had begun to quiet and the family of deer that loved to graze in the golden hour did not come out of their hiding places in the brush. My senses alerted, and I walked the perimeter of the cottage to make sure my windows were secured. As I passed each one, I left a sigil etched in charcoal on the window for protection. When I was sure the windows were as secure as they could get, I took my satchel of stones outside and began placing a stone on each fence post surrounding my bit of property. I knew the route well and had only one more stone left to place when I heard the crying.

  I stopped abruptly and leaned in towards the sound straining my ears to hear. I heard the sniffling again and then a small voice whisper, “She saw us!”

  “Hello?” I called out to the voices. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

  They were human. I could sense their heartbeat even from yards away and knew they were scared and hungry.

  “I have food,” I teased them. “cakes, muffins, and pies even. You can have some if you’d like.”

  I thought about Crimson and her plea for me to save the children should I come across any of them. That they got this far was remarkable in itself, and I didn’t sense anything other than their humanity about them. These were not the same beings from not more than fourteen hours ago, but it meant that Crimson was probably correct about the demon. He was close, and he may get to them.

  “Come over my fence,” I instructed them. “You can come inside.”

  I didn’t hear anything for a few seconds, but then the little girl’s squeaked out a question, and I could tell they were hidden in t
he bushes on the other side of the fence, close to the well.

  “You may draw the bucket up from the well and drink from it. The water is clean, if you’re thirsty,” I encouraged the children who must have been out in the forest for several days to have gotten to my cottage.

  I heard the strain of the rope and the children’s heavy breathing as they pulled the bucket up and greedily drank from it.

  “It’s my turn, Hansel,” the little girl whined.

  “You already had a long drink, Gretel. Why are you so mean?” the little boy whined back.

  A sister and brother no doubt.

  “Children, come inside, come on and get something to eat,” I gestured towards my cottage and turned to start walking back inside.

  They followed as I hoped and soon, they sat at my table, munching on the carrot muffins that Crimson had left. I took the pie from the bottom of the basket and sat it on the table in front of them.

  “Now, tell me why you’re out here in the forest. Where are your parents?” I questioned them.

  “We were walking with our dad, and it got dark. He told us to wait while he got firewood and never came back. We had heard the stories of the children who hadn’t come back home from the woods. There weren’t even enough of us to keep the school open,” Gretel explained as she shoved spoonful after spoonful of blueberry pie into her mouth with noisy lip smacking.

  Hansel’s manners were no better, and he interrupted his sister, “That’s why I left a trail!”