by Madel_H » Thu Feb 26, 2004 12:04 pm
The chirping of birds filled the midday air, a cheerful testimony of the beautiful day. Trees quivered in the wind, but never more than a slight breeze to startle their peaceful slumber. Through the serene landscape the ranger moved, silent steps and careful movements giving no hint of his passage. Through a parting of the trees, he can see a deer grazing on a patch of grass untouched by winter's blanket. A doe, with small fawn beside. Both added to the scene, enhancing the joy the ranger felt whenever he was in these trees, any trees. Despite the image, he never paused to watch, but continued his vigilant patrol of the woodlands. Besides, he could pass near enough to touch the doe, and she would never had been any the wiser. A chipmunk perched on a branch above him, chewing furiously on a pecan. A gloved hand was raised to it, and suddenly the tiny ball of brown stopped chewing, stared forward at him. It dropped the pecan and went down on all fours, twitching nervously as the ranger's hand revealed him just beneath the creature. Whispered words passed his lips, a quiet assurance. Tension would ease from the small animal, and it began to study the man, running up and down the branch in short burst, looking at him from every angle. Madel's hand was extended a bit further, palm up to the chipmunk. In its center, the bits of pecan that remained. The animal seemed to ponder for a moment, then skittered into his hand, taking up the food once more. With a smile, the ranger continued forward, chipmunk finding its way to a perch upon his shoulder.
He pushed forward, through trees whose branches hung low, through vines whose thorns rose high. And yet, never did he disturb the landscape. The chipmunk had long departed, skittering away to find a new tree in which to rest. Darkness was coming now, and the creatures of Myrken knew what was coming, even if a long absent forest-guardian did not. As the sun's round sank beneath the trees, Madel knew that it was coming time to return home. He had journeyed far this night, far enough to warrant a hard-worked day. Just a little further, he told himself, then I can go home. And so he pushed just a little further. At first. Just a little further, he continued to tell himself, until he had walked well into the night and the moon stood high in the cloudy sky.
Something snapped a twig off to his right, and he turned for just a moment to look. When he turned back, he nearly fell back onto the ground. The trees were blackened, twisted sacks of pulsating flesh hanging from them in a mockery of life. He turned to view the carnage that touched the trees, and kept turning and turning. He could see it now, the black death moving slowly further and further, cutting into the woodlands that he called home. One of the fleshy sacks squirmed, and he took a few slow steps toward it. He could faintly make out the general shape. He knew what it was, but he hoped he was wrong. He hoped with all his will that he was mistaken. Another step brought him a little closer, the image taking a more distinct shape. He had never been a religious man, never truly trusted in higher deities. But he prayed now. He prayed to every god he had ever heard in his long life, he prayed and prayed that that shape was not what he knew it was. He uttered promises to do anything and everything if he could only be wrong. He wasn't. The sack was most definitely a chipmunk, roiling and twisting as the misshapen tree utterly absorbed the life from it. A tear drop fromed in the ranger's eye, tore a line through the grime on his face.
The sound came again, a rustling in the sickening mass of plant life that had once been a bush. Cautious steps carried him closer, one hand easing his belt dagger out of its sheath, the other parting the foliage before him. What he saw made him retch.
A twisted lump of flesh clawed at the ground, skin bathed in blood. It was its own blood, apparent due to the lack of a lower body. The form ended at what would have been the waist, dwindling off into trailing organs and blood. What remained was a torso ripped to shreds by some unknown assailant, two upper limbs that clawed at the ground, and a head. A closer inspection revealed something far, far worse. It was a human head. A face turned up to stare at the ranger, a young and unscarred face. He could see that it was a youth, barely seventeen. "Please," the voice died away, replaced by a wheezing breath. "Please, help me." Blue eyes stared up, pleading with the ranger. "It hurts-" another rasp of breath. "-so bad. Please help."
Madel looked on with pity. So much pain lay in the boy's eyes, so much loss. "I can't feel my legs." The voice was just a whisper now. "It hurts so much." The dagger shook as tremors ran down the hand that gripped it. Madel looked down at the blade. He knew what he should do, but the pain in the boys eyes threatened to crush him. In the end, it was that pain that convinced him to follow through.
The ranger left that spot, ran as fast as his legs could carry him, pumping them harder than he could ever do again. He tore through the branches and shrubs and vines, broke of small twigs and left deep prints in the snow. He ran and ran and ran until he collapsed on the ground just outside his own house. Tears streaked down his face, the face of a grown man that had been reduced to a shivering mass of sorrow. Only exhaustion pushed him into sleep.
When he awoke, he discarded that dagger, threw it as far as he could into Silver Lake. The blood that had stained the blade had been fresh.