Stay On the Path

Chapter 1

"There is nothing more frightening than an angry mob. When a hundred eyes turn to look at you, and you see no recognition in them, no love, you realize what true loneliness is. The sheer terror of it all slowly creeps inside of you, and you realize with a terrible certainty that only blood will serve to end the nightmare. Your blood."

-Marikosa Shelley

"It was him!" A tiny Woodlin creature screamed, jabbing one greasy paw at Judas. "He's the one who brought the forest folk to our village! He's the one that took our children!"

"No!" Judas bleated as he backed away, one hand instinctively touching the knob of silver along his brow. "Please! I didn't bring anyone here! I'm one of you! You have to believe me!"

"Liar! You're Hornsent through and through!" Another Woodlin cried out, clawing at the pages of their Scripture book. "Fear the beast born of Fang and Horn and Claw. Trust not their wicked words, for they will only lure you into their hungry maws!"

"I'm one of you!" Judas kept screaming, the very real fear sinking in that he might actually die. "I left the forest for a reason! I cut my own horns off to be here! I'm one of you!"

"Silence apostate!" Someone shouted.

"He took our children!" yelled another.

"Heretic!"

"Monster!"

"Traitor!"

Someone threw a rock at Judas, hitting him square in the temple and knocking him into the mud. Through the grime and tears, he could see the mob creeping closer, brandishing wooden farm tools, oaken staffs, some uncoiling rope from a heavy spool.

Mother protect his spirit. Were they intending to hang him?

"Please," Judas begged, tongue heavy and swollen in his mouth, bloody drool tickling his lower lip. "I didn't do anything! But I know who took them! I know where to find them! I can take you to him! We can get your children back!"

It was starting to rain now, the smell of smoke and burnt thatch mixing into the road dust and painting the world black.

"Quiet!" A Woodlin screeched, one of the baker boys by the size of his arms. "No more lies! You just want to lure us into the monster's lair! First he takes our children and then us!"

There was a terrible cheer, then another rock was flung, this one missing its mark and striking the old oak tree planted in the center of town. It ricocheted off the heavy trunk, bits of dry bark sprinkling down onto Judas. Lightning knifed overhead, freezing shadows in the afterglow.

"I'm not lying! I can take you to him!" Judas found his footing somehow, standing warily to his feet.. The mob surged closer, disinterested in anything he had to say.

Strange, he thought, how quickly some folk turn on you. Three years he'd lived in the Woodlin's village, helping them as best as he could, and not once asking for anything in return. He'd left the forest for a reason, he'd given up every gift the Old Dogs had given him so he could be a part of the Mother's village instead. And when tragedy struck, he was left to take the blame.

Somebody hit him. Might have been Esther, a Prickleback he'd helped a time or two with chores. Might have been old Solomon, a silver haired Flat Tail he'd helped build a barn once. The fur on the knuckles had been brown, and both were known to hit folk when they got angry.

Either way, Judas found himself sprawled out in the mud again, strong hands grabbing at him, tearing away his clothes, revealing shaggy, white fur beneath. They wrenched his head up, the sharp nip of rope coiling around his neck like a hungry serpent.

"Plea—," was all Judas could muster before a powerful force snatched him up and hauled him towards the sky. He kicked, struggled, the noose around his throat tightening, vision blurring around the edges.