Life by Moonlight: Part 6

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               Then after a short while, they emerged in the shadow of a giant willow. Will remembered playing around the base as a child and made him think that even the oldest of things can have new life in them. With some help. Merchants had been welcomed here centuries ago, and had stayed in the same spot, year after year. The giant spindly arms caressed the tops of the wagons, parked beneath. Crisp white, striped with an earthy green, as the leaves tumbled down the branches, desperately trying to reach the warm embrace of the ground. Laughter filled the air as young children ran and played in the local fields of lavender. The sent flowing, and mixing with the ash of the cooking fire.

          ...

     

The small group was warmly welcomed in a bustle of motion, and were soon consumed by children. They immediately stopped their games, to investigate the strangers approaching. They were not fearful and scared, because it was not the travellers’ way. From a young age they had been trained in several fields of expertise and had learnt who they could trust, this was an important life skill. The children simply wondered over to the group and led them into the centre of camp. Although valliens were a rare sight, to be seen this far within enemy lines, they were greeted by waves and smiles, from the travellers. The occasional passer by, ventured over and welcomed the three, but the majority of the camp continued on with their daily chores.  Eventually they made it to the small glade that Eoghen’s wagon was situated. It was right at the back of the camp, backed up against the trunk of the eternal tree. Bathed in a flickering emerald light, it seemed homely and familiar to the friends.  

The interior was cramped but cosy, and reflected the travellers way of life. The walls were constructed of drawers and hidden compartments. . It meant that everything needed was close at hand, while nothing fell during transport To anyone alien to their way of life, this might look cluttered and confusing, but Will and Aurora quickly learnt their way around the wagon. . The covers were painted a bright yellow, in a failed attempt to make them less noticeable There was clutter everywhere, boxed and crated were stacked at the side, while cages and other objects hung precariously from the ceiling. The only furniture in the room was a bed, covered in blankets and tucked away in one corner. It was evident that its function was for both entertaining and for sleeping, but this was common. Fine tapestries and carpets were draped on the walls and floor, adding a personal touch, to this otherwise emotionless room. Some of the rugs were piled up near the bed, as extra seating for when there was company. The scented warm air reminded the group of a warm summers evening and of times long gone.

They talked late into the night, till the stars shone like beacons to the world below. Then when at last they went to leave, they said their goodbyes and emerged under the star filled canopy of leaves. The air was cool now and everything was covered in a silver blanket, from the moons light. The night was refreshing, like many were at this time of year, and the two friends walked home in silence, thinking over what has been said that night.

Will crept in later on. The giant oak door creaked on its hinges and echoed throughout the silent house. The fire had been extinguished, long ago and the air had since had gained a chill. Only the strike of his boots, hitting the wooden floor, was audible and soon even that sound was silenced.

It crept through the undergrowth, searching, chasing, hunting. Inch by inch, it stalked forward, hunched over in the darkness. Clouds obscured the moon and cast a shadow over the valley floor. The air was abnormally cold and the woods as silent. There was no life around the half-human creature. It was as if it was sucking the life out of everything. The sounds usually found within the woodland were strangely absent and nothing stirred. The air was stale and had the distinct odour of death about it. The ground was hard and frosty beneath him. Then, with a sudden bolt of its head, it was off. It didn’t run, as so much floated, forwards. The trees rushed past, as the creature advanced. Certain on its prey and unveering, it rushed on. It broke free of the tees and emerged into the streets. Houses on either side, the creature proceed. Suddenly, the creature was inside a house. It didn’t know where it was, or why it was there, it knew only one thing. To kill whatever it found inside. The stares were behind it as it moved down the corridor, certain on its course. Then it came up against a large oak door that opened instantly. It emerged in a small room that had one door leading off of it, but this was unimportant. The creature was only interested in the pile of blankets, in the corner. As the creature approached, the mass of sheets turned and a face appeared. He looked familiar, to the creature, like a distorted memory, but this was soon forgotten. Two pointed ears were visible underneath a mass of dark brown hair. The creature lent forward, as if to whisper something, and –

Will sat upright at an instant. Sweat covered his body, glistening in the light and streaking down his back. His eyes were wide and frantic, searching his surroundings for any sign of life. It felt like his heart was about to be ripped out of his chest, as the beats softened back down to a humble throb. But he was used to these dreams; he was used to long hours in the night where sleep would evade him. Hours of searching for the ever-elusive dreariness that would inevitable claim his havocked body. But sill, this dream felt different. He had never seen the other side of these dreams. Each time he experienced these abnormal dreams, he was himself, free to act and feel as himself, but this time was different. He felt trapped and constrained. Required to do someone else’s bidding. But worse. He had wanted to. That blood-thirst and fury he had felt were his own. He was not a captive in his dream. He was the capturer.

***

The slanted rays of springtime beamed down into the valley on a beautiful day as always; perfect blue shy unmasked by anything. ‘Yes, today was going to be perfect’ Will thought to himself as he wondered through the valley greeting the neighbours he had known all his life. Mrs Parthol, Aliceina Broben, Old man Wolfam, kind greetings gently passed amongst one another and the occasional wondering comment as to his family and farm but nothing substantial. Mostly all conversations were about the big festival that was held in the valley once a year, a time for joy and laughter enjoyed by all, to celebrate the onslaught of summer. The days grew longer, the nights warmer and then the work really began in the valley as most of its inhabitants were small time specialist farmers. Sure the summer had, gruelling, back breaking work but it provided enough sustenance to support a family and enough spare to sell at the farmers market. It was a huge town celebration in the centre of the valley, encasing the river crystal, that was the sustainer and supporter for the valleymen.  Huge banners ran down the dirt paths following in the footsteps of the humble homes of the village, colour awash, everywhere people’s senses were overpowered: delicious scents from the dozens of kitchens baking the morning away, swirls of bright unnatural colours towering above the people as the banners cascaded from building to building, children laughing and singing in the distance drawing people towards the crowds and the festival.

Yes. Today was going to be perfect ...