Giles' Keeper
Chapter 1

An owl squalls in the distance, the sharp scream breaks the tranquility of night. Is it late enough? Rolling over my eyes drift upwards to peer out the dirty fogged window, clear streaks of rolling dew languidly clean the green surface. The silver moon sits high in the midnight sky and my heart soars. Hopefully Papa is asleep. Rising I tighten my chemise before I don my winter kirtle and my thick stockings. With a long and frigid journey ahead of me I need to make sure I’m prepared.

One last glance towards the midnight sky and I tie my boots and secure my weapons belt, slipping from my room I pause and listen. A crackling fire illuminates Papa’s hunched form as he snores loud enough to rattle the windows. I smile seeing him clutch his trusty dagger sheathed to his chest. Habit makes me grab the throw he uses and tuck him in.

Papa rumbles in his sleep, a mutter grunt as his head lulls to the side. Please don’t wake up. I know the second Papa wakes up he’ll read me the riot act for the thought of hunting alone. Especially at night. With the dying fire I add two logs to the glowing embers, the pile of embers shift and send a small plum of ashes. I hold my breath as the logs settle with a raspy thud, Papa’s snores shift as he grumbles.

“Damn coyotes- they never give up.” Soon his breathing settles back to his deep snores, with one last peak at his weathered features I stand to slip from the warmth of the cabin. I close the door behind me, frigid air blows across the farm. My hand adjusts my dagger on my hip as my eyes take in the cold night. Our decrepit farm has seen better days, even our crop yield this year was scarce.

We are on the brink of collapse. With Papa’s health declining- there hasn’t been much I’ve been able to do. He want’s me to focus on finding a man to marry rather than the land and our livelihood. I’m sure he hopes I’ll go on to forget him and not worry over him. And that’s just a load of crud. As I walk towards the tool shed, I peek down the aisle of the barn and smile at the quiet.

We have so few animals left; two goats, three chickens, one horse and a sheep. Rare occasions a barn cat will appear for a short while before they move on to better and greener pastures. That’s the story that goes through my mind anyway. Cold metal greets my hand as the wooden door creaks open, lit only by the silver rays of the moon I find my hatchet. To hang the familiar weight on my left hip.

Now for the true masterpiece. The hickory bow smooth to the touch, well loved, a recently replaced string makes it the best tool Papa owns. Grabbing my quiver of arrows I sling the strap over my head and ready for the long walk. I walk to the edge of our land and glance over my shoulder towards the cabin.

An orange glow is emitted from the window in a beckoning call. It’ll be nice to return to. As is, I already feel a cold chill sting my exposed cheeks. Surrounded by the soft chirps of crickets and chatter of other woodland creatures I make the venture past the broken fence of our farm down the familiar path.

I wish Momma was still around. My mind wanders as nature surrounds me with it’s soothing embrace. It’s been years since Momma has been home, years since we heard from her. Papa had been called to the Kings court to join the army for a few brief months. And that’s when it all changed. I was young at the time and didn’t know that ‘Uncle Sebastian’ wasn’t just that. By the time Papa had come home, their relationship was deep and he was an outsider.

The eight months away gave ‘Uncle Sebastian’ all the time he needed to woo Momma and steal her heart. As a rich business man from the city, he gifted her all the pretty jewels and gowns. When Papa returned home she was gone a few short days later after a nasty argument. She didn’t even kiss me goodbye. Papa and I didn’t know how to act after that, she was our home. And then it was all gone.

It was strange learning to take over the house, Papa didn’t know how to cook, we ate more burnt stews and raw jerky. Thank the good Lord for Miss Mary. She was a savior, when Papa was called back to court to serve she took me in and taught me more than anyone. My thoughts are shattered at the sound of sticks breaking, a snorting cough of a deer as it bounces off, white tail flicks angrily.

Smart. The decent sized doe disappears in the thick brush with grace. A fine mist thickens the air and drops the temp tenfold. A quick glance upwards makes me wince, it’s past midnight. I need to keep moving. Papa is an early riser and will no doubt give me an earful if not a paddle to the backside.

I lighten my steps as I continue on, the recent drop in weather has killed the foliage on the trees, left the leaves to fall with grace to cover the ground. My mind echoes the soft crumple of leaves that crunch beneath my boots over the miles of forest. Wind howls sharply in my ears as it whistles between the trees.

I think back months ago when Papa first introduced me to this trail and ultimately the clearing. Ever since then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I don’t know what it was about the fairly typical space. Maybe it was the mystery to the large cavern. It was a shock to learn that we had a cave system so close to home. Probably best I didn’t learn about it until now.

The vast opening of the cave called to me, I wanted to explore the depths of, learn the secrets it protected. I wonder when our family came to care for it? He spoke little on why he visited the cave, why it was important to the family. Just that it was close to his grandpa. I smile seeing lightning bugs dance ahead of me, sparkling in the thick woods. Off in the distance I hear the sharp high pitched cry of a coyote starved for its next meal.

A trickle of high pitched cries follow as if locked on to a prey. It sounds so eerie. A shiver dances down my spine at the threat that hangs in the air. My hand tightens around the bow, arrow drawn in a relaxed state against the bow, ready for any more surprises. The last was just a doe.

I’d rather not come face to face with a coyote. Taking a deep breath of cold air, my eyes scan the path that opens up to the meadow. Wheat colored grass sways effortless in the wind, similar to last time my eyes are drawn to the mouth of the cave. I wonder what lives inside… Bears? Wolves? Nothing at all? I fist my skirts up as I enter the clearing and find my way towards the rocky terrain.

The unkempt flora snags at my skirts as I wade through the brittle stalks, moss covers the flat stone surface, creeping over the surface. My copper locks are blown into my face, tickling my neck and a giggle slips from my lips as a shiver tingles down my spine. A rush of power sparks through me as the wind teases my hair. Is this what a warrior feels like on top of a hill watching the aftermath of battle?

Crouching down I admire nature and all it has to offer in this clearing. Now please let me catch a deer. It’d be a blessing, one I doubt will come. This year has been rough, from a drought to brutal heat waves, now a frigid wet winter. I pray next year will be better. A rabbit or a coyote would do. Pheasants would be a nice treat. The population has been the only thing that grew this year, having eaten most of our crops.

Papa’s words flash brightly in my mind like a stark warning of the long honored family tradition. ‘Remember- if you ever return to hunt, you must leave an offering at the mouth of the cave. No further!’ He spoke with stern conviction and a pointed look before he waved a hand. ’But you are never to return alone, the woods are a dangerous place.’ He explained it in such a simple way of feeding the animals within when you take one, you leave one in return.

Having heard the legend of the old man on the edge of the woods, I’m not in the mood to change it. His daughter was the one to find him - or what was left of him. He was found after four days missing, his daughter spoke of the injuries he had sustained. Said they were like nothing she ever saw, swears it was no bear that left those wounds.

Blowing out a breath I stare a head inspecting the dancing grass. A small section of grass lays depressed and I stare at it for a long moment, the silver rays of the moon obscured by a scant layer of clouds. The small lump bounces and my eyes light up at the rabbit. Perfect start. Blood rushes through in my ears in a dull constant thrum.

As I take my aim I track the rabbit. Deep breath, steady, release. Papa’s words filter through my mind in a gentle reminder. The arrow flies through the air with a silent and gentle whip of air. With true aim the deed was done quickly and I got the urge to do a happy dance. We can have dinner… As long as I can catch something else. A quick glance up towards the sky makes me wince.

It’s already late in the night, or early depending on how you view it. Waiting another ten minutes I move to collect the rabbit and my arrow. The scent of blood fresh on the air, I wipe my arrow on my apron before I head to my perch with a curious glance at the cavern. Is it warm inside? The wind whistles softly as it drops into the clearing and clears the few clouds in the sky. A high pitched howl sounds close to the clearing.

The eerie sound has goose flesh pebbling my arms, a deep yearning settles deep in my belly. A soft whisper sounds in my mind, urging me to face the darkness… to go inside. Stop it! You need to focus. I shake my head and turn away, rubbing at the tension in my mind. A low growl sounds near the spot of blood, bright white glowing eyes and my heart leaps to my throat.

That’s a coyote. It’s high pitched howl cries again as it snarls, teeth gnashing in hunger. I draw an arrow from my quiver as my belly clenches in fear. The coyote releases a horrific sound as it crouches, tail still ready to jump. The starved creature yips as it pushes of powerfully and I aim my arrow and miss it. My mind scatters as I fumble to grab my hatchet, fear balls tightly in my belly as I listen to the snarls of hunger. With a deep breath I release my hatchet with true aim.

A dull thunk sound fills the air and everything falls silent as the panic makes my heart stutter watching the life leave the coyote’s eyes. Good grief… Way too close. I sit there for a long moment before I glance at the coyote with a shiver. At least that can be my offering. After a while of sitting on my butt I stand up to drag the carcass to the cave, taking a moment to peer inside to the shadows of darkness.

I feel watched. Stepping back from the entrance, I’m horrified at the large rolling cloud of steam that leaves the darkness, a low growl rolls. I stumble backwards, hitting my butt I scuttle on my hands and in the blink of an eye, the coyote that was there is gone, only a spot of blood remains. Oh my… I got to go. In a rush I grab my skirts in a tight fist and stumble down the rocks in a careless rush.

Another growl sounds that stops me in my tracks, the growl is different, softer in tone. Another plume of steam rolls from the cave and I turn to run home. What was that?

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