There was no light coming through the window—no moonlight, no stars, trees, nothing. In their place, filling the entire frame, sat the hideous face of a massive Brean. Cold, red eyes studied me. It was huge, larger than any of the others I had seen. A long, ugly scar ran down the forehead and through its nose and cheek. It made no movement, except for its breath, which fogged the glass momentarily with each exhale.
Our eyes locked and it glared at me in hatred. Its lip turned up in a silent snarl. There was something different about this one, something about its presence. Its eyes were keener, sharper, more full of substance; and they were red, when the others had been black. Fearful, but momentarily intrigued, I tried to read its soul. I expected the dark vortex of nothing. What I found was something entirely different, and it left me aghast. This Brean had a soul. It wasn’t like that of an animal; it was more human, with thoughts and intelligence. It was also dark and full of evil. I got the impression that it was curious about me. His eyes probed mine—as if searching for recognition. I pushed deeper, trying to harvest some thoughts; but the moment I did, it burst into a terrible rage and let out a horrifying roar that covered the window in spittle and rattled its frame.
The intensity of its anger paralyzed me with fear and broke my mental link. A huge, hairy fist smashed through the window, sending shards of glass everywhere. With its incredible strength, it tore away large chunks of wood, increasing the hole where the glass had been, at an alarming rate.
The dog finally started to bark.
In an instant, my paralysis wore off and my mind screamed, Move!
I lunged for the rifle, snapped it up, turned, and fired. The deafening explosion and concussion from the weapon, in such a confined space, caused my ears to ring. Acrid smoke from the burned powder filled the room.
I cut through the lingering cloud with my special vision. The monster was gone. It must have seen me grab for the rifle and had dropped to the ground, because it was now streaking across the open fields.
I cursed and ran for the stairs. Jane and Sarah were halfway up, both wearing panicked looks. I shoved past them and leapt over Hannah, who was as the bottom of the stairs. Landing on my feet, I grabbed another rifle, sprung to the door, and flung it open. As I ran out, I wondered if this was a trap.
Fortunately, nothing happened. I forced my extended sight open again and saw the huge shape moving amazingly fast. It was almost to the edge of the woods. I raised Sarah’s long black rifle, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The weapon erupted in another ear-splitting boom, which rocked me back, and broke my concentration; the vision closed. By the time I got it open again, the Brean was gone. I strained, trying to find it, but it was out of range. I tried to summon the power that flowed from me when I was angry, but it was useless. Frustrated and exhausted, I let the vision close.
Slowly, I turned and faced the three terrified women.
Jane, with wide eyes, asked, “What happened?”
“We need to leave quickly,” I replied somberly.
“What? At this hour? But why?” asked Hannah.
I looked at Sarah; she was pale.
“Something’s changed. We’re not safe here anymore.”
I couldn’t explain how I knew—I didn’t really know myself. Perhaps it came from the brief glimpse into the monster’s soul. Regardless, we were in immediate danger, I was sure of it.
Jane and Hannah looked at Sarah, waiting for some sort of denial. She simply said, “Girls, you better get ready.”
They didn’t move.
“I want to know what’s going on,” demanded Jane.
“So do I,” added Hannah.
“Please, girls,” pleaded Sarah softly. “I wish we had more time for explanations, but time is the one thing we don’t have. Now let’s go and change. We’ll talk while we ready the horses.”
Reluctantly, and with anxious looks, they did as they were told; and so did I.
It only took me a moment to throw my clothes on and return, as it did with the girls. Sarah gave them some instructions as to what food to pack. It was too much for four riders and three horses to handle, and I told her so.
She simply replied, “I’ll take care of that.”
With the girls busy collecting food and supplies, Sarah walked me to the barn. I noticed for the first time that fog had rolled in during the night. The moon illuminated the eerie mist and bathed the barn in a ghostly dim glow, making it look like a leviathan rising out of the depths of a deep, dark lake. I shivered, partially at the thought of what else may be out there, and because my body was already preparing for the onslaught of cold.
“What happened upstairs?” she asked.
I told her, except for the part about digging through its soul. When she was opening the barn door, I added, as an afterthought, the detail about the monster having a scar.
She stopped. Her face drained of color and her hands trembled slightly.
“What is it?” I asked concerned.
She answered quietly, “That was the beast that beat me and dragged me back here.”
Her little revelation left me speechless, and I didn’t know what to say.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she continued.
“I think it does.”
She ignored me, walked over to a horse, and worked on saddling it.
Deciding I wouldn’t get an answer, I left the topic alone. I readied Smoke, who was eager for another adventure into the dark night. Finishing first, I went to work on the third horse, but Sarah stopped me. “He doesn’t need a saddle, he can carry the food.”
That doesn’t make sense, I thought. What is she riding? There are only three horses.
I protested, “We have to move quickly, and we’re already down a horse….”
Her expression stopped me as her meaning began to sink in.
“You don’t mean to come with us, do you?”
“No,” she replied.
“You must!” I exclaimed, alarmed at the thought of leaving her.
“You must what?” interrupted Jane as she entered the barn with Hannah in tow; both were carrying armloads of supplies.
“Have you guessed what happened to me in my room?” I asked.
Hannah replied, as if she was revealing some great secret. “A Brean tried to attack you!”
“Not just any Brean,” I said. “It was the same one who attacked Sarah when she tried leaving the territory.”
“No!” exclaimed Jane. “How do you know?”
I told them about the scar and what Sarah had just told me.
“And she says she isn’t coming with us,” I added.
Both the girls erupted in protest at the same time.
Sarah, who had been quietly packing the third horse, stopped, and with a long sigh explained, “It won’t work. For one, there aren’t enough horses…”
“Nonsense,” I cut in. “Smoke is strong enough to carry both the girls, and we can ride the other two.”
Looking tired and stressed she continued, “I’m counting on Smoke carrying the girls. Now if you’ll please stop interrupting me, we really don’t have time. I’m sure that Brean went to get more of its kind and will be returning soon. Now girls, you’ll ride Smoke, and John can ride the mare. This other horse,” she said, gesturing to the unsaddled bay, “is only good for packing. He doesn’t have the heart nor stamina to run fast nor far. He’ll fall behind quickly in a chase. If that happens, you’ll just have to abandon him—which you won’t do if I’m riding him. I’ll have a better chance here anyway. I can’t go into town, and camping outside it would be suicide. Jane can explain more about this to you later, John.”
I glanced at Jane and Hannah; both seemed to accept this explanation, for they both had tears in their eyes and offered up no more protests. With the argument over, Sarah finished packing our supplies. Taking the horses by the reins, she handed them to the girls and asked them to wait outside, explaining that she needed to talk to me alone. The girls obeyed.
When they had
gone, she turned to me and said, “I need you to do something.”
“Go on.”
“I want you to convince their father to leave Marysvale and come back here.”
“But it’s not safe,” I protested.
“We’re not staying; but don’t tell him that. And when you return, try to bring more horses if you can.”
She slipped me a small pouch with a few gold pieces in it.
“And if he doesn’t want to?” I asked.
She looked steadily into my eyes and said, “Find a way—by force if you have to.”
“I don’t know about forcing a man from his home,” I said, debating if I really had it in me to do something like that.
“I don’t think it will come to that. I believe he will come willingly. However, if he’s stubborn, tell him this will be the last shipment of food.”
“And will it?”
“Yes, but not by choice. For better or worse, things are going to change…they already have.” Then, with a distant look, she quietly added, “Your presence changes everything.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to explain more about that?” I inquired.
“No,” she sighed. “I’m not sure. But I’m hoping if things go wrong, your ignorance will save you. It’s not by accident you came to me. I believe you were guided here, and you have a role to play in the events which are sure to come. I believe I, too, have a role; but I’m afraid I can’t fulfill it if those I love are at risk.”
The way she was talking made me uneasy.
“I’m not looking to cause any trouble.”
“No…but it has a way of finding you doesn’t it, John?”
I didn’t answer. She was right and she knew it.
“Please, bring them back,” she pleaded.
“I’ll do what I can,” I said honestly, and vowed I would try everything reasonably possible to accomplish her wish. “But I won’t force Mr. Wolfe.”
She accepted that. Pulling a pouch full of cartridges from a sack, she handed them to me.
“Take the rifle,” she said, thrusting it into my hand.
She then gave me detailed instructions about the route to take.
“And one more thing—then you really must go, for I’m afraid we’ve taken too much time. Be careful with your gift. Pulling feelings and emotions from the surface is harmless; but when you dig down for thoughts, people can feel that. It’s like a pressure in their head. Most everyone simply dismisses it as a mild headache or one of those random pains that just happens…except for those who know better; and I believe there may be some of those in Marysvale. Unfortunately, I don’t know that for sure, nor do I know who they would be.”
This opened a flood of questions in my mind.
She could see the curiosity on my face, but before I could ask, she hugged me and said, “I wish there was more time, but we’ve already taken more than we have.”
“What about you? I can’t just leave you in this situation.”
“Don’t worry about me. I haven’t lived here all this time without preparing for a possibility like this.”
I did worry.
“What are you going to do?”
She took my hand and led me to the door.
“I can explain all my plans. However, the longer you wait, the less time you’ll have to get away safely; and right now there are others who need your help. Whatever just happened, I’m convinced that Jane and Hannah won’t make it back without you. And John, don’t spend any more time than necessary in Marysvale.”
I stopped.
“I want to know your plan,” I said flatly.
“Please,” she said in a panicked voice. “Trust me.”
She tugged me along with more strength than I expected, and reluctantly, I obeyed.
The girls were waiting outside with the horses. All of them quickly embraced and said their goodbyes.
I walked Jane over to Smoke and gave her a leg up.
“My goodness, he’s a big fellow,” she observed.
“Yes, and I should warn you, he has a tendency to take advantage of weak riders. You’ll have to show him who’s master, or you’ll forever have difficulty controlling him.”
I left the part out that Smoke didn’t really like others riding him, and I couldn’t think of any who had successfully done so, except Thomas.
I handed her the reins, said a silent prayer, and hoped for the best. The prayer didn’t work, or so I thought. Smoke, as if on cue to my silent Amen, lunged forward, nearly toppling Jane off his back. However, he only got in a few strides before Jane regained control. She halted him sharply, causing him to rear a little. She then proceeded to scold him severely, with a rather hard slap on the neck. For a moment, a small battle raged between them: Smoke trying to run, and Jane holding firm. Finally, after one last protest, he gave in and obeyed.
She turned him around and came back. Hannah took a small step backward and hid behind Sarah. She glanced longingly at my smaller and visibly more docile mount. She opened her mouth….
“No,” I said, answering her question before she could ask.
I walked over, picked her up, and tossed her behind Jane. She glared at me.
“You’ll thank me if we have to run,” I said. It was probably the wrong thing to say, because her eyes got wide, and she squeezed Jane so hard that if one fell, the other would surely follow.
I climbed up into my saddle and, without any more words, we set off at a canter. Glancing back, I saw Sarah run into the cabin, as it quickly faded and became obscured by the thickening fog.
***
The inky mist made it impossible to see more than a few feet. Everything visible looked ominous; even innocent trees appeared menacing. Every so often, I ignored my natural eyes and used my newfound sight to get our bearings and to check for Brean.
Not long into our journey, we were forced to slow our pace down to a mere walk. Sarah had overstated the bay’s ability, and it tired much sooner than expected. I wondered if the dog would have been a wiser choice for a pack animal. On the other hand, the mare I was riding did better than I had hoped. Smoke grew aggravated at moving so slowly and being stuck in the rear. He constantly tried to pass the others; but Jane kept him held back, which irritated him even more. Hannah still hugged Jane relentlessly, which she didn’t seem to mind.
“Do you know where we’re going?” asked Hannah.
“Yes.”
“How? You’ve never been to Marysvale.”
“I just do.”
Then, for her benefit, I described the town’s location, or at least where Sarah had told me to go.
“This doesn’t look like the right way,” she wailed. “I think we’re off course; we’re not even on a path.”
“No, we’re not. Nor will we be using any trails; but we will stay as close to the lake as possible.”
“But that will take longer!” she exclaimed.
Jane understood why and explained to Hannah that it would also be harder for anyone or anything else to find us.
“Oh,” said Hannah simply, and she lapsed into silence.
A few moments later, I discovered my first mistake. When I checked again for Brean, I saw eight dark vortexes burst into the edge of my vision, running full speed. The big, scarred one wasn’t with them, which unfortunately meant it was still out there. They were coming from the north and were only about two miles away, which appeared to be the limit of my sight. I wished my vision could’ve had the distance I experienced during my last uncontrollable rage. I remembered the Brean I’d seen so far away then. There was some nagging detail that seemed important at the time, but now the significance of its actions escaped me. What was it doing? I thought. While straining to remember every detail, Jane’s experience with her Brean popped into my head. There was something similar between the two.
The Brean drew closer, but we were far enough away that our paths wouldn’t cross…or would they? Abruptly, I knew what it was that I had missed. The Brean in the forest had been sn
iffing the air. During Jane’s experience with her Brean, it too was sniffing. It dawned on me that they relied heavily on their sense of smell. With that understanding came the terrible realization that our paths would indeed cross. Dismayed, I became horrifically aware that by hugging close to the lake, we would be up wind when they passed. Our scent would be carried to them on the breeze.
Instantly, I knew what needed to be done. The only question was: did we have enough time?
I turned to Jane and whispered urgently, “Follow me and do exactly as I do; and don’t talk until I tell you.”
Hannah started to ask why, but Jane gave her a stern, “Shhh.”
I turned with the breeze and set off at a run, with the reluctant packhorse behind me. We desperately needed to cut across in front of the Brean before they passed.
This plan presented me with two other problems. The first being the noise we were making, which wasn’t much; but under the present circumstances, it felt like we might as well had been banging pots and pans. Since there wasn’t anything I could do about it, I hoped that the Brean had poor hearing; or perhaps they were making enough noise to drown us out. Horses, on the other hand, did have good hearing, which lead me to my second problem. I wasn’t worried about Smoke getting scared. With a few reassuring pats, he could hide like a jackrabbit and would remain motionless, without panic, as long as I wanted him to. I didn’t know about the other two horses and could only hope they would stay still.
It felt like we were on a collision course, with the Brean drawing dangerously close. Would we be seen? Would they smell us? My heart was pounding and, despite the cold, I sweated—except for my hands, which felt numb.
We crossed their path, or where they would be in a few moments, and kept going. I reined up when the fear of being overheard overcame the fear of being smelled. Then I gave the signal to be quiet. We were only a little over fifty yards away from where the Brean would cross our tracks. The fog obscured us from view, but doubt gripped me, and I grew unsure of my plan. Would the breeze clear our scent in time? What about our tracks? Are they going fast enough to miss them? I second guessed myself. Perhaps we should have stayed the course. At least we wouldn’t be so close to them; and we’d have had more distance, giving us a better chance of running or using the lake for some type of escape. My internal wrestle was pointless. It was too late to do anything else.
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