To Walk

Another, Gone

~Unknown POV~

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          I stood behind a great oak, concealing the aura of my power, watching a pathetic handful of woodcutters assemble yet another little cabin. The town had grown faster than I anticipated, and already there were over fifty inhabitants. Only about twenty or so were women, and there were only six children. They had assembled over ten cabins, though many of the men were sleeping in tents. More trickled in every day. They were excited about this new town.

          It was almost time for the harvest.

          MY harvest.

          I was growing rather impatient. Each day, the men strayed farther and farther from the safety of the town, searching for better wood, deeper caves, more game. Soon, they would come across the mountain chain that protected MY land.

          A sudden commotion drove me from my musings. I need not move to hear what they were saying. My hearing was otherworldly, I could tell whose heartbeat was faster from over fifty blocks away. I could see a young woodsman running, stumbling in his weariness, shouting, "Hey, HEY! Maveric! I-I found something!" People turned from their tasks, watching the young man tearing through what they had deemed their main street.

          A man with flecks of gray in his black beard, whom the rest of the humans had deemed their leader, turned from the man he'd been conversing building strategies with, "What is it, John? More undead?"

          John staggered to a stop three blocks from Maveric, panting raggedly, leaning on his knees, "N-no, sir...no-nothing o-of the s-sor-sort. M-much wor-se."

          Maveric was immediately concerned, "Worse than undead? Tell me."

          John, still gasping for air, turned to look over his shoulder, into the woods, lowering his voice, "N-not here, pr-privately."

          This piqued my interests...I wonder what he was so afraid of. I had seen this human fight off undead before, but none had induced this sort of fear. His heart was hammering, not just from his frantic run, his eyes were wild, he was shaking, and stuttering. Humans around the town began to gather around John and Maveric, whispering and murmuring, wondering what John meant. I grunted in annoyance, they were blocking my view. Risking exposure for a better vantage point, I gathered energy about myself, teleporting to the top of a taller oak to my right. Ah, that was better.

          Maveric frowned, "Nonsense, John. Whatever you have to say, the whole town has a right to hear."

          Gesturing madly with his hands, he spoke in a low, intense voice, "You don't understand! We're in danger! All of us!" His voice rose, and he paused to calm down, "We're building a town literally five miles south of a graveyard! There's an entire town over there!" He pointed vaguely towards my valley, "It's been burned to the ground...there's...there are b-bodies there...blackened skeletons..."

          I could smell the tears that started to pour down his face, the crowd gasped in unison.

          John continued, "They...there were children! And HIS mark was there! A pick, drawn in blood, on a blackened tree stump..."

          I scowled...the blood for that mark had come from a pathetic victim, he'd begged for his life and even offered up his son to ensure he could be free. I had been disgusted, and dragged him, still screaming, to that tree, cutting his arm open, forcing him to watch as I used his life-blood to paint my symbol. Pulling myself from the memory, I again focused on the heated discussion. Perhaps this town would meet its destruction far sooner than I had anticipated. I smirked darkly at the thought.