Denial of the Whisper

Chapter Two.

Days passed, and I still thought about the soldiers now and then. About the money he - Srin - had given me. Way too much money for the medicine and my name.

I almost waited for them to come back, to do some of the unspeakable things I had heard soldiers sometimes did during the last wars. But none of them came back. The day before, I buried half of the money in my backyard, in another place than I usual did. The other half, I gave the orphaned children of the village. Well, not exactly giving them, as they were just as sceptical towards me as the rest of the village. I simply dropped a few coins and waited for them to pick them up once I was out of sight. It was better this way.

Another week passed, and I almost forgot that the soldiers had ever asked for my herbs. Every day was the same, getting up, taking care of the herbs, making potions and balms, searching for wild berries in the woods and going to the village twice a week, trying to sell whatever possible.

The days grew hotter and hotter, solstice came and went by. My usual daily routine got disturbed by some young boys from the village who had tried to jump over one of the big campfires, trying to proof their courage.

They only proofed their cowardice.

I tended their burns on their legs, gave them some balms and only nodded when one of the infuriating fathers refused so pay me, shouting I had done something so that the fire had been burning so high, that it would hurt the boys.

Of course, I hadn't.

But as a half-breed in human territory, I didn't insist on payment.

The next day, I took one of my mothers' old books and tried to find out which Lord had the blue colour in his coat of arms.

I found none. But the soldier had said something about Ilryn. And Ilryn was, as far as I knew from my meager knowledge in geography, some distance away.

Maybe, the soldier had lied to me. But I would never know.

In the next morning, I took fresh clothes and headed early to the river again, intending to wash the dirt of the last days off my skin.

Quickly swimming a few meters in the cold water to get my circulation going, I realised the unusual quietness of the forest. Some birds were singing, it was still early in the morning after all, but all in all... it sounded a bit muffled. Dull. I looked back to the shore, decided that I was far enough and swam back. The spot I had chosen for my bath that day was one of the better ones, rather shallow to get out easily, the tide not too strong.

But something was off.

I didn't care to use the spare cloth to dry myself before getting into my fresh clothes, now almost hurrying.

It was too quiet. Too....

I looked up from tying my boots and froze immediately on the spot. Yellow eyes. Grey, smutty fur.

A wolf.

Almighty Sladowran.

A wolf. And a big one at that.

He eyed me.

And before I was able to raise my knife, he pounced at me.

I was smacked to the side, landed with a splash in the cold of the river, my back crashing against some of the bigger rocks. But it was not the wolf who had tackled me, it was a man. Or rather, a giant.

He was tall, incredibly tall, and as he raised the one sword that wasn't strapped onto his back, I saw that he was also muscular. A warrior, a fighter.

All I was able to do was to look as he buried his sword in the wolfs' body, as the big, wild animal attacked him. The silent forest was filled with the howl of a dying animal for a moment, then, all there was left, was utter silence. And a panting, tall giant.