The Woodland King (Working Title) - Chapter One - The Hunt
The hunt had carried long into evening and night was falling swiftly. Long shadows blurred together creating an impenetrable wall of blackness as the sun sank lower into the sky and the temperature began to drop rapidly. Pulling his heavy fur cloak around him tightly to help ward off the chill, Carrick surveyed his surroundings for signs of prey, his spear tucked tightly into his heavy fist. He knew before he started that it was futile. The deer and other game that once flourished in this forest had grown scarce and none of them were brave or dumb enough to wander so close to the camp. The sounds of even the nocturnal forest creatures were beginning to still as they detected the presence of the hunters. Soon they would have no options left and they would have to return home in humiliating failure.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned slowly towards the source. The remaining warriors were returning to the camp, many of them empty-handed as he suspected they would be. He grimaced. The recent seasons had not been favorable to them and their village was on the brink of starvation as their crops too failed. The elders said it was their punishment for turning their backs on the forest gods. All nonsense and fairy-tales as far as he was concerned. Still, there was no doubt that they were struggling and there had to be an explanation. He gritted his teeth and turned intending to return to his tent for the night when he heard a shrill cry reverberating through the dense underbrush.
He froze and turned slowly towards the source of the sound. Their population was aging and no new children had been born in quite some time but the noise was unmistakable in spite of having been absent from the village for so long. There was a baby somewhere in this inhospitable forest. He listened intently following the mewls that broke the stillness of the otherwise silent night. The sound grew louder as he hurried carefully through the thick copse of trees. His foot landed sideways on a brittle twig. As it snapped under his thick sole, the sudden screech of a massive raven reverberated directly beside his head.
He instinctively thrust his spear in the direction of the overlarge beast but was nowhere close to hitting the creature and it flapped to a high branch over his head cawing loudly as if mocking his failure. His face filled with rage as he shouted at the bird, still feeling the breeze from the push of its wings. He whipped back around to the overgrown path and stilled at the sudden unnatural silence that had fallen over the land with the raven’s departure. The hair on the nape of his neck stood on edge and a chill came over him. He should have at least been able to hear the wind in the trees or the echoes of twigs and leaves crunching under the feet of the warriors returning to the camp. He hadn’t wandered that far. He glanced ahead at a large white tree, taking note of his position and turned to face behind him.
He couldn’t keep the shock from his features as he spun to face the same great tree as though he hadn’t moved at all. The effect was dizzying. Maybe he’d just gotten disoriented in the dark, but the prickle of hair rising on the back of his neck told him something unnatural was at work. He turned again to the path. The massive birch tree seemed impossibly closer, though he knew he hadn’t advanced one pace. An uncomfortable feeling twisted in his gut and he adopted a defensive stance. A feeling like electricity flowed through his limbs and his feet began to shuffle forward of their own volition. His limbs went numb and his spear dropped from his hand to clatter uselessly to the forest floor. He tried to shout to the men at the camp but it was as though his lungs were frozen and no sound escaped him. He could only watch in horror, his eyes casting back and forth as his body moved on its own closer and closer to the massive trunk. His mind went hazy and all sense of time abandoned him.
Bewitched, he dropped to the ground on his hands and knees near the roots of the great behemoth and reached out through the tall grass with no control over his limbs. He tried to tense, expecting an attack from a wild creature at any moment, but his muscles still would not obey his will. He belatedly realized that he hadn’t heard the cries of the infant since his encounter with the accursed raven, but as his fingers met soft warm flesh all coherent thoughts left his head.
The haze surrounding his mind began to clear and the sensation returned to his limbs as he gazed down where his hands made contact with the tiny bundle nestled safely in a large hollow at the base of the tree. The baby couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old and it was wrapped snugly in a strange fabric he had never seen before. He carefully lifted the infant to his chest and tucked it into the warmth of his cloak. Now that his senses had been returned to him, he was able to feel the strong chill in the air and he knew that the babe would not survive the night without warmth.
Carrick studied the child’s resting place for any sign of where it might have come from but found only a woven basket and a light blanket made of the same strange material as the one that swaddled the infant, though both were otherwise nondescript. Whoever had left the defenseless creature here had either been hoping it would be found or, he thought darkly, praying it wouldn’t be.
“I can’t keep calling you ‘It’, little one. Let’s get you back to camp where we can look you over properly and find something for you to eat. We’ve more than enough mouths to feed and few resources, but none of us would be heartless enough to abandon a babe when we’ve so few of our own to care for.” He gazed upon the newborn tenderly as he brushed his large thumb over a soft cheek.
A voiceless whisper trickled across his mind and settled deep into his awareness. Saoirse. A fierce name for such a tiny girl.
Gathering his fallen weapon and collecting the basket from its hollow, he turned and made his way back to the camp. The dull glow of the campfire began to lighten the darkness surrounding him as he carried his delicate bundle close to him. When he finally reached the line of tents, there was a loud commotion.
“Carrick! We looked everywhere for you! Where have you been?” Garen, his second-in-command came barreling towards him, the anxiety clearly written on his face. They must have panicked when they returned and he was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t like him to abandon camp.
He dropped his spear thoughtlessly to the ground and held out his hand to halt the man’s approach before addressing the assembled warriors. What he was about to tell them would send shockwaves through their ranks.
“Silence! I come bearing a gift from the gods themselves!” All at once the arguing ceased and with practiced control, the men stood at attention facing their leader, the disbelief not hidden from their faces. He reached into his cloak and slowly, carefully, he brought forth the infant for their appraisal. It was a strange sight to see this large battle-worn warrior cradling such a tiny and fragile creature as though it would break.
An explosion of furious voices sounded at once as the men all shouted questions at their leader. The baby, who didn’t make a sound on the way back to camp, stirred and began to whimper at the loud and jarring noises.
“Quiet!” Garen shouted at the men, his wide eyes never leaving the impossible bundle in Carrick’s arms. A baby. An honest to goodness baby. Where in the seven hells had Carrick found it? How had it survived this damnable forest alone? Something wasn’t right.
Carrick worked to settle the startled nursling as he cradled her against his chest and began a gentle bouncing motion. It just looked wrong. Garen’s gaze hardened as he took in the sight.
“Carrick,” he kept his voice neutral though unease boiled below the surface, “do you realize how long you were gone? Where did you find that baby?”
Carrick blinked at him owlishly. He’d only been gone for a few minutes. Or at least, he supposed he’d only been gone a short time. The memory of the electrical feeling he’d experienced in the clearing caused him to shudder. Maybe his sense of hearing wasn’t the only awareness to have been suppressed by the strange magic.
“I suppose it must have been longer than I imagined for you to question me like this. How long was I away? It felt like only moments.” He met Garen’s stare that was bordering on hostile and was taken aback by the rage in the other man’s eyes.
“Something about this entire situation is not right. You were gone for a full week. We nearly thought to leave you for dead. There was not even a sign that you still walked these woods. As a matter of fact, it’s my belief that you didn’t. Where did you get that baby?” He glared at the bump beneath his captain’s cloak as the growing feeling of distrust threatened to blossom into something more dire and he gripped the handle of his weapon tightly. Carrick watched the man suspiciously and shuffled into a more protective stance.
“Stand down, Garen. If you truly believe there is any harm to come from rescuing an infant from certain death in this forest, then maybe it is you who have taken leave of your senses. We’ve been on this hunt for far too long with little success and I think it’s high time we returned home. Clearly, it is taking a toll on all of us.” He turned and addressed the rest of his men who were shuffling with unease at the confrontation between their two leaders. “Make ready to leave. We depart at first light. It’s time to go home.”
He strode with purpose to his tent, ignoring the mutinous glances from the less confident of his ranks. He needed to focus on getting the girl out of the woods and back to the village before Garen could challenge him again. He didn’t like the attitude his second-in-command had taken with him in front of their troops nonetheless. He couldn't afford for the already wary soldiers to decide to turn against him while the situation was already so precarious.
He dropped to the cot carefully and rearranged the blankets to provide a warm bed for Saoirse. It was strange that she hadn’t made a peep since he’d removed her from her hideaway. He’d abandoned the basket in the confrontation with Garen, but he’d wrapped her snugly in the blankets she’d been left with. He set her down carefully and moved to cover her with a light throw but was stopped in his tracks at the sight of her brilliant green eyes boring into his own. They were almost glowing in their vibrance. He sat stunned as he could do nothing but stare at her. As though she had accepted her savior she merely blinked, yawned, and fell fast asleep.
A feeling of warmth and comfort came over him as he watched her even breaths for long minutes before rising again to begin the unpleasant task of breaking down his lodgings to prepare for the early departure. He couldn’t understand why Garen had been so averse to her appearance. She was just a baby! He knew he would have to get to the bottom of it if they were to have any kind of peace. He needed his men to be focused on the task of getting home safely and there would be mistakes made if their leaders were at odds. The way to the village would be treacherous even without the presence of predators along the way. He was hesitant to leave her alone in his tent for fear that some overeager and exhausted soldier would come and do something terrible to seek Garen’s favor. There was no telling what stories were being spread among them even now that he had returned.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned slowly towards the source. The remaining warriors were returning to the camp, many of them empty-handed as he suspected they would be. He grimaced. The recent seasons had not been favorable to them and their village was on the brink of starvation as their crops too failed. The elders said it was their punishment for turning their backs on the forest gods. All nonsense and fairy-tales as far as he was concerned. Still, there was no doubt that they were struggling and there had to be an explanation. He gritted his teeth and turned intending to return to his tent for the night when he heard a shrill cry reverberating through the dense underbrush.
He froze and turned slowly towards the source of the sound. Their population was aging and no new children had been born in quite some time but the noise was unmistakable in spite of having been absent from the village for so long. There was a baby somewhere in this inhospitable forest. He listened intently following the mewls that broke the stillness of the otherwise silent night. The sound grew louder as he hurried carefully through the thick copse of trees. His foot landed sideways on a brittle twig. As it snapped under his thick sole, the sudden screech of a massive raven reverberated directly beside his head.
He instinctively thrust his spear in the direction of the overlarge beast but was nowhere close to hitting the creature and it flapped to a high branch over his head cawing loudly as if mocking his failure. His face filled with rage as he shouted at the bird, still feeling the breeze from the push of its wings. He whipped back around to the overgrown path and stilled at the sudden unnatural silence that had fallen over the land with the raven’s departure. The hair on the nape of his neck stood on edge and a chill came over him. He should have at least been able to hear the wind in the trees or the echoes of twigs and leaves crunching under the feet of the warriors returning to the camp. He hadn’t wandered that far. He glanced ahead at a large white tree, taking note of his position and turned to face behind him.
He couldn’t keep the shock from his features as he spun to face the same great tree as though he hadn’t moved at all. The effect was dizzying. Maybe he’d just gotten disoriented in the dark, but the prickle of hair rising on the back of his neck told him something unnatural was at work. He turned again to the path. The massive birch tree seemed impossibly closer, though he knew he hadn’t advanced one pace. An uncomfortable feeling twisted in his gut and he adopted a defensive stance. A feeling like electricity flowed through his limbs and his feet began to shuffle forward of their own volition. His limbs went numb and his spear dropped from his hand to clatter uselessly to the forest floor. He tried to shout to the men at the camp but it was as though his lungs were frozen and no sound escaped him. He could only watch in horror, his eyes casting back and forth as his body moved on its own closer and closer to the massive trunk. His mind went hazy and all sense of time abandoned him.
Bewitched, he dropped to the ground on his hands and knees near the roots of the great behemoth and reached out through the tall grass with no control over his limbs. He tried to tense, expecting an attack from a wild creature at any moment, but his muscles still would not obey his will. He belatedly realized that he hadn’t heard the cries of the infant since his encounter with the accursed raven, but as his fingers met soft warm flesh all coherent thoughts left his head.
The haze surrounding his mind began to clear and the sensation returned to his limbs as he gazed down where his hands made contact with the tiny bundle nestled safely in a large hollow at the base of the tree. The baby couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old and it was wrapped snugly in a strange fabric he had never seen before. He carefully lifted the infant to his chest and tucked it into the warmth of his cloak. Now that his senses had been returned to him, he was able to feel the strong chill in the air and he knew that the babe would not survive the night without warmth.
Carrick studied the child’s resting place for any sign of where it might have come from but found only a woven basket and a light blanket made of the same strange material as the one that swaddled the infant, though both were otherwise nondescript. Whoever had left the defenseless creature here had either been hoping it would be found or, he thought darkly, praying it wouldn’t be.
“I can’t keep calling you ‘It’, little one. Let’s get you back to camp where we can look you over properly and find something for you to eat. We’ve more than enough mouths to feed and few resources, but none of us would be heartless enough to abandon a babe when we’ve so few of our own to care for.” He gazed upon the newborn tenderly as he brushed his large thumb over a soft cheek.
A voiceless whisper trickled across his mind and settled deep into his awareness. Saoirse. A fierce name for such a tiny girl.
Gathering his fallen weapon and collecting the basket from its hollow, he turned and made his way back to the camp. The dull glow of the campfire began to lighten the darkness surrounding him as he carried his delicate bundle close to him. When he finally reached the line of tents, there was a loud commotion.
“Carrick! We looked everywhere for you! Where have you been?” Garen, his second-in-command came barreling towards him, the anxiety clearly written on his face. They must have panicked when they returned and he was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t like him to abandon camp.
He dropped his spear thoughtlessly to the ground and held out his hand to halt the man’s approach before addressing the assembled warriors. What he was about to tell them would send shockwaves through their ranks.
“Silence! I come bearing a gift from the gods themselves!” All at once the arguing ceased and with practiced control, the men stood at attention facing their leader, the disbelief not hidden from their faces. He reached into his cloak and slowly, carefully, he brought forth the infant for their appraisal. It was a strange sight to see this large battle-worn warrior cradling such a tiny and fragile creature as though it would break.
An explosion of furious voices sounded at once as the men all shouted questions at their leader. The baby, who didn’t make a sound on the way back to camp, stirred and began to whimper at the loud and jarring noises.
“Quiet!” Garen shouted at the men, his wide eyes never leaving the impossible bundle in Carrick’s arms. A baby. An honest to goodness baby. Where in the seven hells had Carrick found it? How had it survived this damnable forest alone? Something wasn’t right.
Carrick worked to settle the startled nursling as he cradled her against his chest and began a gentle bouncing motion. It just looked wrong. Garen’s gaze hardened as he took in the sight.
“Carrick,” he kept his voice neutral though unease boiled below the surface, “do you realize how long you were gone? Where did you find that baby?”
Carrick blinked at him owlishly. He’d only been gone for a few minutes. Or at least, he supposed he’d only been gone a short time. The memory of the electrical feeling he’d experienced in the clearing caused him to shudder. Maybe his sense of hearing wasn’t the only awareness to have been suppressed by the strange magic.
“I suppose it must have been longer than I imagined for you to question me like this. How long was I away? It felt like only moments.” He met Garen’s stare that was bordering on hostile and was taken aback by the rage in the other man’s eyes.
“Something about this entire situation is not right. You were gone for a full week. We nearly thought to leave you for dead. There was not even a sign that you still walked these woods. As a matter of fact, it’s my belief that you didn’t. Where did you get that baby?” He glared at the bump beneath his captain’s cloak as the growing feeling of distrust threatened to blossom into something more dire and he gripped the handle of his weapon tightly. Carrick watched the man suspiciously and shuffled into a more protective stance.
“Stand down, Garen. If you truly believe there is any harm to come from rescuing an infant from certain death in this forest, then maybe it is you who have taken leave of your senses. We’ve been on this hunt for far too long with little success and I think it’s high time we returned home. Clearly, it is taking a toll on all of us.” He turned and addressed the rest of his men who were shuffling with unease at the confrontation between their two leaders. “Make ready to leave. We depart at first light. It’s time to go home.”
He strode with purpose to his tent, ignoring the mutinous glances from the less confident of his ranks. He needed to focus on getting the girl out of the woods and back to the village before Garen could challenge him again. He didn’t like the attitude his second-in-command had taken with him in front of their troops nonetheless. He couldn't afford for the already wary soldiers to decide to turn against him while the situation was already so precarious.
He dropped to the cot carefully and rearranged the blankets to provide a warm bed for Saoirse. It was strange that she hadn’t made a peep since he’d removed her from her hideaway. He’d abandoned the basket in the confrontation with Garen, but he’d wrapped her snugly in the blankets she’d been left with. He set her down carefully and moved to cover her with a light throw but was stopped in his tracks at the sight of her brilliant green eyes boring into his own. They were almost glowing in their vibrance. He sat stunned as he could do nothing but stare at her. As though she had accepted her savior she merely blinked, yawned, and fell fast asleep.
A feeling of warmth and comfort came over him as he watched her even breaths for long minutes before rising again to begin the unpleasant task of breaking down his lodgings to prepare for the early departure. He couldn’t understand why Garen had been so averse to her appearance. She was just a baby! He knew he would have to get to the bottom of it if they were to have any kind of peace. He needed his men to be focused on the task of getting home safely and there would be mistakes made if their leaders were at odds. The way to the village would be treacherous even without the presence of predators along the way. He was hesitant to leave her alone in his tent for fear that some overeager and exhausted soldier would come and do something terrible to seek Garen’s favor. There was no telling what stories were being spread among them even now that he had returned.
Comments
Post a Comment