by David Greer
Chapter 8
When Grimey traveled with Smythe to investigate rumors of a new monster in Woodlawn he expected to do some camping, eavesdropping, and a little hunting. The last thing he expected to do was dig a hole in the woods. But Grimey's curiosity and intuition wouldn't let his mind stray from the man he saw the night before. The two hunters made their way back to the clearing and spent the late morning hours shoveling dirt.
“I don't mind the labor Grimey, but shouldn't we be looking into what this new monster might be before doing this?” Smythe asked.
Grimey answered with a grunt and a glare. Smythe got the message and got back to work. The bearded hunter had a feeling their current task was important and would somehow lead them to the new monster. He didn't know how, he just knew.
They didn't have to dig too deep. The hole only went about two feet into the ground and since the dirt had been previously dug up it was loose and easy to move. What the two hunters found buried in the ground shocked them speechless. The two exchanged a look and the meaning in both their eyes was clear. It was time to make their presence known to Woodlawn Village.
Midday had come and the sun's rays danced on those who labored through the day. Farmers tended to their crops and guided horses with plows harnessed to their bodies to turn up the soil. Trappers readied their snares and lures in preparation to hike into the woods to set their traps. The local tanner cured a batch of skins in preparation for liming and throughout Woodlawn Village the blacksmith's hammer rang out.
A silver-haired man with sun-darkened skin stood at the center of the village taking in the day. He stood in front of a wall carved from a large boulder. The stone stood prodigiously at the center of the village. It was easily the largest thing in the village, higher and wider than everything else built around it. Half of the rock was round and smoothly rose into the air in an arc. At its peak the rock went vertically down as though it was one half of a larger round stone. The rock face was rough at the top but Woodlawn carvers long ago had smoothed out the rest of it to form a smooth wall.
Chiseled into the wall were profiles of men and women, the founders and subsequent elders of Woodlawn Village. Their polished images glistened in the sunlight. There were many faces drawn into the monument but the stone was so wide there was still plenty of space left for future generations. Eli felt honored to know his profile would one day be carved on the village monument. It was rare that an outsider like him inherited the role of village elder.
The silver-haired elder of Woodlawn stood at the monument admiring the village's ancestors. Those who rejected the outside way of life to create Woodlawn, a village that survived on what the woods provided. In fact, that was how the village got its name. Everything needed to farm, build tools, houses, and plows was found in the surrounding Woodlawn woods. It was only right that the village be named after it. The village had no need of outside materials, trade, or wealth. These were the principles the founders had set forth long ago and when Eli reflected upon their images he was reminded of his path in life and role as elder.
The harvest season had gone well. Plenty of food had been stored up for the upcoming cold season and most of the trappers had provided plenty of skins to the tanner, which meant new leathers for clothes, shoes, and equipment. But most importantly, their traditional way of life had gone another year undisturbed by outsiders and there were very few incidents with monsters. Eli attributed the village's peace to their traditional way of life. He believed if a people could live in harmony with nature then nature wouldn't send harm their way. This was the belief of those portrayed on the village monument and it was the same belief Eli was charged to uphold as elder.
He let out a satisfied sigh, which was stopped short when he turned to see two outsiders approaching. One of them was large, strong, with a full beard and a large axe strapped to his back. The other was smaller, blonde hair tied back in a tail, a set of knives hung at his waist belt and a broadsword strapped to his back. Eli recognized them immediately.
“Grimey, Smythe, what are you doing here?” Eli said. He kept his voice stern. The two hunters were not welcome.
“Sorry to intrude Eli but we have news.” Grimey went on to explain how rumors of a new monster in the Woodlawn had been spreading and they came to investigate. Eli's face was unmoved. Then Grimey explained what he and Smythe saw in the woods the previous night along with what they had dug up that morning. Eli's eyes widened marginally and his head tilted ever so slightly. The news grabbed the elder's attention. Although the two Quarry hunters were not welcome, Eli knew they were skilled, respectable, and honest.
“Who did you see in the woods last night?” Eli asked. Eli spoke in a slow yet clear, smooth voice. The elder always took the time to say what was on his mind exactly the way he wanted to say it.
“Not sure.” Grimey said. “It was dark.”
“He wore an animal hat.” Smythe said. “I think it was brown. And his shovel was short, half the length of a regular one.”
“What kind of animal made up the hat?” Eli asked.
“Not sure.” Smythe said. “There was a tail in the back, kind of bushy. And it was striped.”
“Morgan.” Eli said silently to himself.
“Who?” both hunters said together but Eli had already started walking away. They followed. Eli said nothing further as he gingerly strolled through the small village until stopping at a small wooden A-frame hut. The elder knocked on the door and it opened to reveal a man with a pale complexion. The bags under his eyes were as black as his hair and unkempt mustache.
“Hello Morgan. Will you walk with me a moment?” Eli asked kindly. The man's eyes shifted amongst the three visitors at his door. He knew Eli, of course, but the other two men were not familiar. After a moments hesitation he nodded and stepped outside. The four men strolled through the village, Morgan and Eli in front, Grimey and Smythe followed behind still clueless as to what was going on. “So how are things Morgan?”
Eli led the three of them past the center of the village and toward a smaller hut Grimey recognized as the blacksmith, whose hammer continued to ring out in a steady rhythm. Eli talked to Morgan in a soft voice. The two discussed trapping, the landscape of the surrounding hills, various game trails, and so on. Morgan admitted that he had been having poor luck trapping lately. Grimey and Smythe gave each other an amused glance. Eli advised the trapper to explore the eastern trails. The elder explained that many trappers had been successful in the north-eastern region and the animals typically move south when they realize an area has become a danger. Due east is where the animals would likely move to next. Morgan nodded quickly casting narrow glances at the two hunters behind him.
“I was wondering if you might help me with something.” Eli said to Morgan with a smile. The pale man shrugged then nodded. Eli smiled. “These two men came across a some game and snared them all. Now you well know we frown upon excessive trapping and I have persuaded them to leave us their extra and we need a hand to bring the carcasses back here. Otherwise their excess will go to waste.” Eli paused and noticed Morgan nod in understanding. “Will you help us?”
“Perhaps. Serena is ill. You know. I shouldn't leave her long.” Morgan stuttered as he spoke. His voice was flat and he spoke in spurts.
“We'll just be a moment and some quiet rest will do well for her.” The elder said. “Besides, it'll be good for you to bring some game back given your recent slump.”
“Sure. Of course. Yes. I'll come along.”
“Good. It's just a little way into the woods. Grimey will you lead the way?”
The bearded hunter nodded and stepped into the woods. He caught Eli's eye and understood the elder's intentions.
Grimey, the name was familiar to Morgan but he couldn't place it. He also couldn't help but stare at the large axe strapped to man's back. He had noticed the sword the other man carried but the axe carried a more menacing weight to it. Morgan felt as though the blade had eyes and was watching him.
Grime
y took them into the woods and through the trees. Eli walked along side Morgan and continued to speak kindly to him, thanking the man for his help and commenting on the nice weather. The skies were clear and the sun continued to shine sending rays of light through the trees. Smythe, who brought up the rear, watched Morgan grow increasingly fidgety as they made their way through the woods. The pale man's hand twitched uncontrollably.
It wasn't long until they reached the clearing where the two hunters watched the digger the previous night. Grimey stopped a moment and looked around as if determining where to go next and shot a meaningful glance at Eli.
“One thing Morgan.” Eli said. “The carcasses still need to be gutted before we carry them back. Do you have your knife?”
Morgan's eyes widened at the mention of the knife, a fresh layer of sweat glistened on his pale skin and soaked through his shirt. The man's anxiety was palpable. Morgan's eyes darted around the clearing and he noticed it was not as he left it the night before. There was a mound of dirt next to where he was digging but he was sure the hole was completely covered before he left. Eli causally stepped toward the dirt mound and cleared his throat awaiting an answer.
“Um, no. No I don't. I don't have my knife. With me.” Morgan said.
“Of course not. How could you?” Eli said. “We didn't ask you to bring it before we left. I just assumed a trapper would not be without his blade.”
Morgan stood unmoving with eyes wide locked on Eli. Both men knew that trappers were never found without a knife. It was a tool of the trade always kept handy much like how a hunter always carries a weapon. Eli took a step past the dirt mound, his eyes scanning the ground. He stopped and turned.
“It is odd though isn't it? A trapper without a knife. But I suppose your mind has been busy with Serena being ill and all.” The silver-haired elder said keeping an understanding tone. “And I also think it would be difficult for you to have it when it is here buried in the earth on top of Serena's body.”
Morgan turned to ice. Just act surprised, he told himself, blame it all on the new monster. He shifted and looked at the man with the beard. He was tall, large, and wore a terrifying scowl on his face. The scar over his right eye and the large axe across his back made him look all the more menacing.
“Do you know who these two men are, Morgan?” Eli asked.
“Umm, hunters?” Morgan said.
“Yes. They're from Quarry.” Eli explained. “Come here to investigate the rumors about the new monster on their own will. They have been camping in our woods for a few days now very careful not to disturb our small village as they searched for this new monster.” Eli paused a moment. “What they found instead was you.”
Morgan realized why the name was familiar. Grimey, the bearded Quarry hunter who was very skilled with an axe and killed monsters by great numbers. Morgan gave nervous glances at the man and his companion. The rage behind the bearded man's eyes was clear. The hunter with the blonde hair had his both hands on the hilt of his knives. It was a simple message and Morgan understood. Trying to run would be pointless.
“They saw you last night digging in this very spot. You dropped your knife in the hole. Please do not make me look again Morgan.” Eli said. “Tell us what happened.”
“She was ill.” Morgan said, his voice almost a whisper. “Fell ill. I put her here. A few days ago.” Morgan shifted on his feet awkwardly. “I found her on my way back. From setting some traps. Must have wandered into the woods. Delirious. From the illness. Must have been attacked. By the new monster. I couldn't help her. She was already gone. I found her. Buried her. Here. Where I found her.”
Morgan dropped his head into his hands. Grimey and Smythe were unmoved by his words. Eli slowly nodded his head as if grasping some hidden meaning. The silver-haired elder put a comforting hand on Morgan's shoulder.
“Oh give me a break!” Grimey said. “You don't expect us to believe...”
“Enough Grimey.” Eli cut in. The power behind the elder's voice shocked the hunter silent. He raised a palm and gestured to the two hunters to keep calm. The elder looked around the clearing as though pondering something. His wandering gaze fixed on something, a thought perhaps, and the elder gave a subtle nod and turned his attention back to the distraught man. “Come Morgan. Let's head back.”
Grimey and Smythe followed, more confused now than they had been when entering the woods, as Eli led them all back to the small village. Grimey had no doubt about what really happened but couldn't understand what Eli was doing. Why was Eli being so kind to this man? Why the compassion? Why were they even going back to Woodlawn? These questions not only burned in Grimey's mind but in Smythe's as well.
Back in Woodlawn Village it didn't take long for a crowd to gather around the four men. Suspicious eyes fell on Grimey and Smythe. Even when accompanied by the village elder Woodlawn folk remained weary of outsiders. Murmurs filled the air. Hushed whispers of Grimey and the trader, referring to Smythe were audible as fingers pointed at the two hunters. Eli stepped forward and the crowd fell silent.
“My friends. As you all know Morgan's wife, Serena, has not been well. But there is more to it.” The elder said. “She has been slain.”
The crowd gasped in shock. The air fell heavy and murmurs about the new monster resonated in the crowd.
“Yes. The new monster. It killed her.” Morgan said. The crowd began to bustle with echoes of the new monster. Somebody called out that the monster must have been driven to the village by the two outsiders. Morgan seized the opportunity and rallied the crowd. “That's right! We had no problem with any monsters. Until they showed up.”
The crowd grew raucous with shouts about outsiders bringing trouble to Woodlawn. They sneered and shot accusations at the two hunters. Eli stood by quietly. Grimey had had enough.
“Monsters don't leave behind stab wounds and a blood-stained knife!” The bearded hunter roared. The volume of his voice shocked the crowd into silence. “The knife of a trapper nonetheless. Your knife.” Grimey pointed at Morgan. When Grimey and Smythe had first dug up Serena's body there was no doubt the woman had been murdered by a blade. Not killed by a monster. The wound in her chest was too clean. A monster attack leaves more of a mess. And when they found Morgan's knife it was the same size as the stab wound.
“It's true.” Eli said. The elder explained who the two hunters were and retold the events of the previous night and what they had found buried in the woods. The villagers, shocked by the news turned angry eyes upon the pale man. Like Eli, the villagers of Woodlawn respected the word of a hunter and many of them had heard of Grimey and most of the village knew Smythe as he was one of the few that traded with the hidden village. Even outsiders, though not welcome, could be honest. Morgan felt the glares bear down on him and listened as murmurs arose calling him treacherous and no better than a mindless monster. He heard a woman's high-pitched voice comment on how he couldn't keep a wife settled. The high-pitched voice was followed by bubbly laughs. Morgan, knowing he had lost support of the crowd, lost what little composure he had left.
“She deserved it!” Morgan shouted. His quiet shaky demeanor broke into a fit of rage. “She was my wife. And I caught her. With him! That trader. Conroy. She betrayed me. So I put her there. Into the ground. Where she belongs!”
The crowd was again shocked into silence. Grimey's eyebrows arched in mild surprise. He didn't think Morgan had that sort of spunk in him. The silence did not last long though. The crowd erupted, calling for punishment. Some shouted for hanging, others for stoning, but all who shouted called for Morgan's death. A life for a life, the way they figured. Grimey's eyebrows furrowed at this idea. He wasn't one for killing people regardless of the circumstances. People weren't supposed to kill people, only monsters did that. Eli listened to the crowds urges and raised his hand for silence. Although they called for Morgan's death, Eli had another idea.
“His fate will be his own.” The silver-haired elder said. “Morgan shall be cast out of Woodlawn Village and r
eleased to the woods. Nature will dole out whatever punishment is befitting of his actions.”
Typical Eli, Grimey thought to himself. He held the woods in high regard believing they would allow a man to live or perish. But he liked the idea and gave a subtle nod of approval. Smythe did the same. The two hunters knew that retribution would come swiftly to Morgan out in the woods alone. He may survive a short time having the skills of a trapper but sooner or later the woods and the monsters within them would claim him. The villagers also quieted their voices in respectful approval of Eli's decision. But that did not do anything to quell their glares. Morgan sulked away into the woods alone as the sun lowered onto the horizon.
The day had grown late and Eli offered to house the two hunters for the night but they refused. They figured since there was no actual monster they would begin their journey back to Quarry.
The sun was halfway hidden behind the horizon when the two hunters got back to their campsite and packed up for their journey home. They could make some ground before total darkness fell.
A short while into their hike back home the two hunters came upon a familiar face. His complexion was as pale as they remembered and his mustache was as black as ever. But he laid motionless on the ground, a gaping wound bore into his chest.
“Lad didn't last long at all.” Grimey said. He looked down at Morgan's body and couldn't help but feel a hint of sadness for the man.
“Now that's the kind of wound a monster leaves.” Smythe said, his head hung low.
The two hunters continued north toward their home. The dark of night loomed on the horizon.
When night fell the hunters set up camp and started a fire. The flames flickered low in the night breeze but it was enough to heat a pot of water. Smythe relaxed against the trunk of a tree sipping a cup of hot tea. The spicy herbal flavors relaxed the hunter and warmed his weary limbs. Grimey stretched out on the ground with his head rested on the roots of a tree opposite of Smythe. The two did not speak. Instead they decided to dwell in their own thoughts as the woods whispered in the breezy night.
Grimey began to doze off when he heard a strange yet familiar sound. A gurgling hiss. The same sound that spooked Morgan the previous night. Then there was a rustling of leaves. Whatever it was was getting close. Grimey reached for his axe. He glanced at Smythe who was enjoying his drink with an easy smile. He hadn't heard the noise.
Suddenly something burst out from the trees. Grimey jumped to his feet, axe at the ready. Smythe, startled, jumped and spilled his drink into the fire. Flames shot high into the air momentarily illuminating the small campsite. Grimey saw a creature on four legs. It about waist height, had a rough hide, a whipping tail, and two horns on its head. The horns protruded upward and curved back but the beast would only have to lower its head to bring the points level with anything in front of it. One of the horns was stained red. The beast snarled with saliva-drenched teeth and glared with red eyes. It crouched low ready to pounce.
The beast leaped at Smythe but the hunter dove aside and scrambled for his sword, which was against the tree he had just been resting against. The monster turned to strike again but was met with a large boot in the face and fell back. Grimey stood over the unfamiliar beast and watched it get back to its feet. The monster snarled viciously at the bearded hunter and lowered its head, pointing its lethal horns directly at the bearded hunter. The beast charged. Grimey swiftly introduced it to the blade of his axe. The beast went silent and fell to the ground.
Smythe, who had found his sword, stumbled alongside Grimey. The bearded hunter eyed his friend with a wry smile.
“What?” Smythe asked.
“Tea huh? Never known a tea to make flames dance like that.”
“Well I may have spiked it with a little something.”
Grimey smiled, amused with his friend. The two turned their attention to the dead monster on the ground.
“Angry little fella.” Grimey said.
“Never seen one of these before.”
“Aye. Looks like there really was a new monster.”
-** --*
