The Tale Teller

Ch 33

For a land so riddled with death, all Vaun could see was life before him. It was a twisted version but it breathed through the bare branches as clear as he in and exhaled himself.

The air of the west was still with a forewarning, something many shady spots along a forgotten path in the east also held. Vaun wasn't unnerved by the sight. Surprised, intrigued; but not unnerved.

His toes stood on the edge of the thick forest as the sheep turned their backs to him, bored with his defiance. Before him, birds hopped along the tree branches.

They were as black as a raven or a crow yet the size of a small robin. Their feet were the shade of soured milk. Curled, sharp, as though capable of ripping the eyeballs from a man's head. They watched with beady eyes so dark that they reflected blue. One called out with the same cry that had beckoned Vaun here.

Beneath them, grasses grew. They stood tall in places, thick and coloured as though covered in the dust of a day's sweeping. Other patches of ground lay as though the sheep had nibbled it down until the roots were exposed to a sunlight Vaun knew didn't enter these trees.

He walked until he was beneath their shade, tugging his cloak to cover his chest as the chill hit him. Forests were always cold, especially on a day like today. This one was especially so though.

The air was too still, yet it felt like a thousand eyes were watching every step that Vaun took. The birds were all staring at him, but it felt like more life was hiding behind the thick trunks and the gnarly branches they sat on.

The ground was soft in a way that almost reminded Vaun of the spring of a fresh loaf, popping up again once a finger had pressed it down. It sounded like mud beneath his feet. The forest was otherwise silent.

He breathed in the air, only to find the expected pine replaced with a sickly sweet that mixed with the smell of the raindrops on nature. The west held as much familiarity as it did abnormalities, though nothing Vaun could see was too strange yet.

The more he walked, a few birds rose from their perches to follow, flying from tree to tree intent on watching the journey. Vaun doubted they were used to seeing people in these parts. Sometimes the mountain villagers came here in hope of finding firewood, but it was so rare that many of these small birds may not have even been alive to have witnessed it. They were so small that they seemed little more than adventurous chicks born last spring, eager to experience the returning warmth once more. Vaun wondered if this forest ever truly felt the heat of the sunshine. Glancing around, it was a struggle to imagine. It felt like so long since Vaun had had it bathe his skin that he almost wondered if he had dreamt it's touch. If he stayed here, it seemed like his chances would be low of ever feeling it again. It was so cold.

A breeze rustled against the leaves so icy that the birds jumped from their branches with a cry before fluttering off in a frenzy to heat their feathers. Vaun was alone in the blink of an eye, shivering under the mercy of the west.

The wind soon stilled, but the rustle continued. The birds cried out once more, but it was a sound mixed with something else. Vaun looked ahead to where the trees seemed to thin to make room for a clearing. It was there this new sound was coming from.

The closer he stepped he could see movement behind them, flashes of greys and black amongst the browns already there. There was the distinct laughter of a young woman just as the birds reentered the air with a squawk. Their call was like a warning, for Vaun didn't hear the footsteps approaching from behind or feel the breath on his neck until one arm grasped around his throat as a hand came to cover his mouth.

"Stay still. Stay silent." Vaun knew that voice, though it took a moment for his mind to catch up as to just who the owner was. The Bard. "Walk until you reach the clearing, and don't dare run."