The Strangling

Despite all that had passed in these few days since she was taken from Riversbend, it was hard to believe that she was traveling here, and for what purpose. When she'd heard tales about the place, her practical side had always insisted it was just a barren place that no one wanted to go to. As they made their way, she began to see that her practical side was merely ignorant to the greater powers and dark beings within their world. She sensed them all around as the landscape grew more forlorn.

After a while, their path led them around a winding rocky outcrop and as the bend turned they came upon a ruined cottage. She saw another beyond it, as if they were entering a small hamlet that had once existed on the path through the forest. Bron paused for a moment, taking the opportunity to pull the water pouch from his knapsack.

Maerose stopped at his side and stared at the ruined cottage. Skeletal trees stood behind the dwelling and the ragged remains of curtains hung threadbare at the windows. The door was ajar and hung half off its hinges. At the side of the cottage, odd stones had been laid out, as if in a pattern, showing that there had once been a vegetable plot there. This was once someone's home, and she wondered who had lived there. Had they died here, or run away and escaped that fate? As she looked on, the door creaked open on its hinges, as if responding to her in some way. She felt a tug in her heart. The place wanted to live again.

Bron watched her as she looked around, and she knew he felt her thoughts, her emotions.

"It longs to be alive ... doesn't it?"

"Yes. You must think of summer.” He pulled the stopper from the pouch and offered her the water.

"What do you mean?” She noticed that the water tasted soured. Earlier that day it had tasted good, as if freshly drawn from the well.

"Bring summer with you. It's in you, Maerose. That is why you are the chosen woman; you are the May-born woman. The moon goddess and your sisters in faith have empowered you. Your gift of love will change this place forever."

"My gift of love?” Despite the discomfort she felt in their surroundings, she couldn't resist smiling at him. “Our lessons of love that we shared?"

He returned her smile “When your eyes twinkle that way, I believe you can achieve anything."

She was pleased with his remark, but looked around, puzzled. “I feel the despair, and the hope, here ... and yet I cannot believe that it can be done."

"We must believe. We must."

She felt the determined push of insistence in not only his voice, but also his will. She took another swallow of water, cringing at the taste. “It tastes bad."

"It has turned. Everything turns bad here."

Did he really mean everything—as in, they could turn, too?

He was looking at the canopy overhead.

She coughed on the water. “The sky is so close. I can almost feel it pressing down."

He nodded at her remark. “Dusk will be upon us soon. After it falls, it will feel worse, until the moment you really need to draw the moon in.” He glanced at her with concern in his eyes.

She swallowed down her fear. Swallowed down the urge to turn and run back to where the earth was living and green.

He urged her on, and as they passed the last dwelling of this desolate hamlet, their path became more treacherous. At times the narrow, rocky path disappeared altogether. They clambered through the carcasses of tangled, creeping vines, the heavy network of branches like a trap that threatened to capture them in its web at any moment. She saw the distant shape of more ruins at times, but looked away from the sorry sight. Bron led cautiously, his staff angled forward as he felt for the true path. She noticed how the stone at its crown glowed curiously at times, but didn't question it.

They passed places where bones lay in the dirt, skeletons whose bony fingers clutched at the ground, their gaping jaws angled toward freedom, as if they had been fleeing the place at the time of their demise. The sight sickened her.

Dusk fell. The indigo sky streaked through with blood red, then faded to darkness. She struggled to see and stumbled several times before the moon glimmered faintly through the canopy overhead, encouraging her steps.

At one point Bron stopped walking altogether. She was about to ask why, when a draft of air rose up around them. It lifted her hair and sent a shiver right through her. In the distance, she heard a wailing sound, like dying things struggling for life. The draft of air turned and raced back over them, making her body shudder and the skin on her neck crawl.

Bron squeezed her hand and nodded to her.

"What was it?” she asked.

"The time is near. The demon hordes are eager for their freedom and they are readying."

"How long..?"

He did not answer. Instead he pressed on with more haste. They stumbled on for another twenty paces and then he drew her off the narrow, rocky path, feeling his way with his staff.

"I cannot see the path at all now,” she whispered.

"We must leave it for a while. We need to find a safe place. I have to leave you alone for a short time."