Something stirs

Previously: Mira, her concerns and distrust of their 'guide' voiced, reluctantly follows her companions into what she believes will be certain danger...

My legs, watery as they were, propelled me forward. Hustyn. Great, shaggy, man-beasts as ill-tempered as a wounded bear--and about as intelligent. Their reeking kind were not as common as they once were (probably because male and female Hustyn had no stomach for each other) and rarely seen in most civilized lands. In some, they were thought to be mere myths or villains in stories meant to scare children into doing their chores. I knew they yet lived, for I had encountered plenty of strange, dangerous creatures in the course of my travels, but I was be surprised to learn of a settlement so close to an established human town. Surprised and frightened: I had no qualms with admitting that. Hustyn were fearsome creatures, prodigious in strength and driven to acts of unprovoked, unspeakable violence.

And, from the looks of Seymuhr's posture—he moved stealthily, with a mace in each hand—we meant to provoke them.

I had time to think of an escape. We were still among the trees that bordered the town of Alt. Tall and straight with thick branches beyond the reach of any but the tallest man, the trees provided few obstacles but plenty of cover, should we have need of it. We moved with relative ease, although the occasional low-lying twig slapped painfully against my skin. A blanket of last year's leaves softened our footfalls. Soon the trees would grow wider apart and the land would slope up, giving way to the grassy hills where, apparently, our quarry...nested? Lived? What did a Hustyn settlement look like, anyway? Well, now, that would certainly provide for an interesting detail. Perhaps if I survived this mad quest, I could gather enough information to earn a few coins for my trouble. If I made it out alive.

The easiest way to make a hasty retreat was to use my Traveling Stone, a magickal trinket given to me long ago by the priests of Tooman, but I was loathe to use that device for I knew not how long it would last. Surely, the energies infused into it would run out at some point. Besides, it was a better idea to rely on one's own abilities rather than some supernatural artifact. It kept you from getting careless.

Should I abandon my new companions, then? I owed them nothing—less than that, even, for I was brought to them unwillingly. Still, the idea of leaving a man (however repugnant) to face such a horrid fate merely to save my own hide didn't sit well with me. Some type of diversion, then, would be in order. Hustyn weren't known for their intelligence—there was a reason that the phrase 'as gullible as a giant' was heard in so many marketplaces. I would have to take careful note of our surroundings when we arrived to develop an appropriate plan. Still, I felt the familiar, smooth shape that hung from a plain strand of leather looped around my neck. It was good to know that my Traveling Stone was still an option.

We moved silently through the forest for what seemed like hours. It could not have been so long, for the night was still unblemished by any gray trace of dawn and the trees above us were still live with the sounds of night creatures stirring or hissing at our sudden passage. This wounded man must have been deaf as a turtle not to hear the commotion our presence caused—that or he knew that he was not alone in the forest and didn't care. That was a chilling thought, because that meant...

I swore silently and looked around for Merrick, Broo-Fang—even Seymuhr—but didn't see any of them. Then I noticed that the forest had gone silent, at last, and I was the only person moving in the twilight. I paused, holding my breath as my heart pounded in my ears like a drummer on a marching line. Had I somehow veered from our course? Fallen behind? Or had they stopped and allowed me to stumble on into certain danger?

I knew better than to call out and my throat was too tight to try, anyway. I decided that I could manage a hoarse whisper and was about to give it voice when a cold hand grasped my chin and I was pulled roughly to the ground. I struggled, my voice muffled by the strong fingers clamped over my mouth. I kicked and felt my heel bite into a hard surface—a shin, judging from the grunt of pain that followed, and was about to start throwing elbows when I was turned quickly over and found myself staring up into the face of Connell Malak. He held a finger over his lips—which were, in fact, squeezed in an expression of pain—and nodded to see if I understood.

I stopped struggling, and he released me. I rolled away from and spat to rid myself of the taste of his flesh. It didn't quite work. "You keep your lice-ridden paws off me," I hissed.

He rubbed his shin with one hand, an irritated expression on his face and pointed beyond the trees with the other.

"Just be quiet, you stupid woman," he snarled. "And look."

The trees fell away, revealing a clearing that was shaped roughly like a gigantic egg. The grass there was well-trampled and still. A figure cautiously detached himself from the trees on the up and to our right and moved slowly into the center of the glade. He looked about wildly, jumping at sounds I suspect only he heard, and kept his hand on his sword. I could see the bandage even in the wane light of the moon. It was the wounded man from the tavern.

And beyond him, where the trees gathered together once more at the base of a gentle slope, something was stirring. Something big.