Like a Moonbeam There You Were

chapter 1: i came to town to search for gold

Whispers still flitted at the edges of Noora's hearing as the trees of Valewood gave way to the sparse farmland of Gilded Vale. Farmers stared as she trudged past, bruised, hungry, and weary down to the bone; muttered to each other in voices not quiet enough to escape her ears. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, tugged at the hood in a futile attempt to cover the glowing crescent on her forehead, found herself missing the solitude of the woods already. At least the caravan folk had had the decency to leave their comments until they thought she was out of earshot.

Adine dogged her steps, huffing and worrying over her companion like the mother of a sickly cub. Noora gave the bear a reassuring scratch behind the ears. Not long to the village, she thought; not long, and there would surely be some answers for what was wrong with her. Had to be.

She smelled the tree before she saw it; the unmistakable carrion-stench of decay, hanging heavy and stagnant in the air. It was strong, too strong for some flyblown carcass in the woods or sick livestock left to rot by the roadside, strong enough to send the bile rising up the back of her throat. Adine caught the scent, too, ears drawn back flat against her skull, sniffing at the air. A seeping feeling of dread pooled in the depths of Noora's belly as her aching legs dragged her on, deeper into the gullet of Gilded Vale.

When she got closer, saw the rotting bodies dangling from gnarled branches like some obscene crop, it took all her willpower not to spill her meagre lunch right there on the cobblestones.

Raedric must be mad , she thought to herself as Urgeat blathered on, his face drawn and hungry as a gul's in the shadow of that monstrous thing. Her eyes kept straying to it, the bodies twisting in the wind, the villagers milling around it, unheeding. This whole town must be mad.

Her head and gut still reeled, but Urgeat had mentioned an inn, and she stumbled toward it in a daze. She'd rather sleep anywhere but here, right now, but there was no other option; she'd collapse if she pushed on any further. Perhaps tomorrow, she'd wake up, and find something to show her the world hadn't gone mad after all.

There was a commotion in front of the Black Hound. A hooded man - another outsider, from the sound of things - held his hands up before him, trying (and, apparently, failing) to placate a gaggle of angry townsfolk. They were red-faced and stunk of stale beer, but their eyes were bright with fury and their knives sharp at their belts, and Noora felt the hanging-tree looming at her back like an evil spirit.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, one cautious hand settling on the limb of her bow. She was tired , so bone-tired she felt she might collapse any moment down into the cold sticky mud. But there was still more that needed doing. Adine's comforting bulk settled in step beside her, and she forced her face into the friendliest smile she could manage. One more thing to do, one brewing fight to defuse, and then she could rest.

***

Three bodies lay in the mud before her, the sharp smell of blood mingling with the corpse-stink of the three. Noora swayed on her feet, feeling another lurch of nausea. Adine licked the gore from her claws, unbothered.

"Perhaps I could join you."

The wizard's eyes shone hopeful beneath the hood. His face was steady, but his fingers beat a restless tattoo on the cover of his grimoire.

She thought of Calisca and Heodan, bodies barely cooling on the steps of Cilant Lîs; thought of the robed figures, the bîaŵac rattling through her bones, the visions that took over her senses until she couldn't tell what was real.