Mercedes had been on the road for several days when she came across a small hamlet that was located at a crossroads. Too small to be a village, too large to be anything but a small collection of homes, it didn't boast any amenities, even an inn; just a crossroads of dirt in the center of town, a cluster of houses with a boundary of barns and fences that extended out to farmlands. There were small copses of trees here and there, but she could also see the scars in the earth of logging- there had been a forest here, once.

  The homes were built raised up off the ground just slightly, each surrounded with a boardwalk that joined the ones from the buildings to each side, so that the people could walk from place to place without walking through the muddy road. The houses themselves were wood, the boards chinked with a sticky-looking black substance; Mercedes couldn’t tell what it was.

  She rode through the place slowly, taking in the sights of this small collection of homes, out in the middle of nowhere.

  At first, there didn’t seem to be anyone about, but as she rode her horse down the street, she could see an older man sitting on a porch, spear within easy reach of his hand, working on something she couldn’t pick out, with his hands.

  “Hello!” She called out; he looked up at her and nodded.

  “Strange to see someone on the road.” He remarked casually to her, and bent to his work- something she still couldn’t see.

  She dismounted, armor clinking, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a vague sense of relief at having her own feet on the ground. Horseback riding was useful, efficient and altogether a necessary thing, but it was tiring all the same, and there was just something comforting about having her own feet under her, controlling where she needed to go.

  “Where is everyone?” She asked curiously, stepping up onto the boardwalk.

  “Mind scraping the mud off your feet first?” He asked instead, and then gestured over his shoulder meaninglessly. “They’re out in the fields, doing what they can.”

  She scuffed her feet on the wood planks scraping off the mood from her boots, and then came up to meet the man she was speaking to.

  He was tall, like most humans, with dark brown hair that looked to hang down past his hips, with a matching brown beard that hung halfway down his chest. In his lap was an arrow shaft, next to him was a sack of feathers and a small glue pot. He was dressed in simple linens, with a leather vest and pants.

  He glanced up at her then, and his eyes widened in surprise.

  “Blue.” He muttered, and then shook his head a little. “Never thought I’d see a blue cloak.” He mused with unfeigned curiosity. “You from the city, I guess?” He asked.

  “Yes, that’s right.” She replied, pushing back her hood once she came under the overhanging roof. “I’ve come from the church. I’ve heard there were dangerous beasts about.”

  His arm, the one closest to the spear leaning against the wall twitched as if he meant to grab it. “An elf!” He exclaimed, and gave her a guarded look. “From the church, you said?” he asked.

  She nodded. After a moment he relaxed. “‘Dangerous beasts’, indeed, Sister.” He remarked. “They’ve been here and there.”

  Her head tilted to the side curiously. “Will you tell me about them?” She invited.

  “Oh! Where are my manners? Of course.” He agreed, and pointed to a chair that was stacked with unfinished arrows. “Just set those aside.”

  She gave him a dry look; she wasn’t used to being treated so casually, but she did as instructed, and sat down. Almost immediately a great lassitude swept over her; how long had it been since she’d sat in a chair? Days? A week?

  “Hunting’s a part of keepin’ the home safe of course,” he began, and then picked up a long feather and gave it a spin. “And there’s always beasts about that want to make a meal of the herds, so everyone knows how to use a spear or a bow, and we keep a fair good watch over our own. Fire’s always good for keeping them away, too.”

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  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “But things have been different, lately. Fire doesn’t scare ‘em. Arrows aren’t enough.” He reached over and touched his spear with his hand. “Sometimes you can get them good with a spear... but they ignore it, as if they’re...” He made the symbol of the goddess with his hands, a peasant’s ward against evil, “possessed.”

  He glanced at Mercedes. “And they’re huge.”

  She took all this in, storing it away for later. “Huge?” She prompted. He nodded.

  “You know of wolves?” He asked curiously, and she nodded, despite not knowing a thing about them. Part of being a member of the Church was being able to reassure those they watched over, and so, if she had to pretend to know what a wolf was, she’d do it, if for nothing else but to keep him at his ease.

  “Last month, we killed a wolf that was about as big as your horse.” He shook his head. “Dark times.”

  Mercedes nodded at that. “I have a friend in the city that mentioned he’d like to examine the corpse.” She offered. “What did you do with it?”

  The man gave her a baffled look. “Examine it?” He asked. “Such a thing- we burned it. Something unnatural like that-” he shook his head- “A wolf’s fur is a good thing to have in the winter; it’ll keep you warm, but that thing...” He shook his head. “It was best to burn the thing, hide and all.”

  “Any idea where they’re coming from?” She asked.

  He combed his beard with his fingertips in thought. “The forests to the west. There’s logging down out that way; they’ll likely know more... iff’n they’re still alive.”

  He gave her a sidelong look. “Meaning no disrespect Sister, but... I see you don’t carry a spear. I know you go with the Goddess’ blessing and all, but... are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  She gave him a small smile and pulled her heavy cloak aside, revealing the longsword belted at her waist. She bared a few inches of the fine steel blade, then slid it back down.

  “I’ll be fine.” She assured him. “Blessings of the Goddess on you, sir.” She added, and got up to leave.

  He scrambled to his feet as she got up, and she schooled her face to calm as he towered over her.

  That was something that separated elves from humans; humans were naturally taller and somewhat larger of stature than elves.

  Mercedes had thought she was used to such things, but from time to time she ran across exceptionally tall humans and it always made her feel a bit overwhelmed.

  “Do you need anything before you set out?” He asked solicitously. “Food, water, an extra blanket, perhaps?” He offered.

  She thought for a moment. “Is there a place where I could feed and water my horse?” She asked, and he nodded.

  “Of course- over at the smithy. I’ll show you the way.” He replied, and trotted down the stairs to the street without bothering to check to see if she followed.

  Mercedes smiled a little. It was refreshing in a way to deal with people like him- open and casual, with none of the guarded politicking and maneuvering that was seen in Degan. Still, even if this villager was open and unguarded, she herself couldn’t be.

  As an elf living among humans, as a member of the Goddess Church, she had roles to play and secrets to keep, no matter where she was, and no matter what, she couldn’t let down her guard.

  So thinking, she followed the man- she suddenly realized that he hadn’t ever introduced himself- to the smithy, a single-floor building, that differed from the other buildings in that it was made from stone.

  The smithy itself had several stalls for horses; likely used when shoeing them.

  After he loaded a trough for her horse, Mercedes turned to the man.

  “Won’t the smith be upset to discover that you’ve helped yourself to his feed?” She asked curiously.

  He snorted a laugh. “Sorry Sister; it didn’t come to mind. I’m the smith here. I make just about everything we need.”

  She dipped her hand to her belt pouch. “A payment, then, for your services-” She began, but he shook his head.

  “Wouldn’t do me no good out here; most people just trade each other for what they need.” he explained, and and then snorted, “Besides, t’would be bad luck to charge a Sister of the Church for something as simple as fodder.”

  She opened her mouth, an objection forming on her lips, but suddenly, there was strange, coughing grunt- a noise she hadn’t heard before- at the edge of her hearing.

  Her head turned as she tried to locate the sound; suddenly she realized that she could feel something approaching, her body was tense, excited, jittery.

  “Something’s here-” She started, and then a hoarse, shattering roar ripped through the quiet village. It was deep, atonal, seemed to slam itself through her armor and strike directly at her heart like a blast of thunder.

  Whatever it is, it must be huge.