Elderwood Forest
trees swayed in the early morning wind, allowing sunlight to peek through the thickly shaded wood and cast shadows on the refugees inside Elderwood Forest. Sweat rolled and flicked off the ends of his hair as Merrick sat on a stone, rocking his falcon, Rora. He clutched her against his chest.
She laid limply in his hands. He couldn’t feel her breathing anymore and tried to remember when he’d last felt her small figure move.
Merrick had run through the night. He did not know how well a wyvern could track through the great canopy of Elderwood Forest, but he felt his best chance to evade their detection was to run and not look back.
Forcing himself to do so, Merrick slowly lifted the bird to look at her. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t stir.
Rora was gone.
Tears streamed down the huntsman’s face, mixing with his sweat and dripping off his chin.
“Rora, I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.
Though truly, he knew he could have done nothing to save her. Her loyalty to him was unyielding, and she had sacrificed herself to save him. And save him, she had.
He cut a piece of cloth from his cloak with his dagger and wrapped her broken body with delicate purpose.
He sat, catching his breath, for a long while. He didn’t move. So still was he that a deer walked beside him, startling him back to his present predicament, which in turn startled the deer that scampered off through the thick wood.
Merrick realized then he had no idea where he was. He did not know in which direction he had run the night before and did not want to stay in Elderwood Forest longer than he had to. It was a dangerous place, filled with vicious beasts and unknown magics. He reasoned that, if the wyvern riders hadn’t found him at that point, they likely had stopped searching. He tried to see the sun through the thick canopy but only got glimpses when the wind moved the treetops just right. He was an experienced huntsman, however, and found his bearing. South would be his best bet; maybe he could make it back out to the plains.
When Merrick stood, he rocked. He hadn’t examined his own condition while he was sitting or realized how exhausted he was. He determined to set out anyway and walk as far as he could before the early evening shifted to night. He hoped to find a good place to make a fire and find rest. Maybe he could even set up some hare traps and provide his weary body sustenance.
The huntsman walked all day, twisting and turning through the thick tangled forest. He stopped often, realigning himself with the sun, whenever the encroaching canopy allowed. He continued until he reached a small natural well. The sun shone full on the singular oasis, and Merrick was pleased to find the sparkling water to be crystal clear. To the other side of the waterhole was a small cave that could provide shelter for the night. That spot, of any in the entire forest, seemed the only one with a sense of peace.
It would be a good spot to bury his friend.
After resting for a while and grieving his loss, Merrick found a heavy stone a few feet from the well. He dug a hole large enough for Rora and placed her wrapped body into it with care. He buried her, glad he had found one spot in that crooked wood that would grant her a peaceful rest.
He knelt for a long time, saying goodbye to his companion.
Afterward, Merrick set up a small camp for himself. He gathered wood and placed it near the mouth of the cave. He pulled his extra bowstring from a pouch and set it as a trap on what appeared to be a small game trail. As he made his way back to the cave with kindling, he noticed how thirsty he was. He had been so busy preparing for the night he had forgotten to drink.
Merrick knelt beside the pristine waterhole. The water sparkled in the late evening sun that shot through the biggest window in the canopy he had seen all day. He cupped his hands and scooped water to his mouth, splashing some down the front of his tunic in the process. He took some more and poured it on his hair. The water was crisp, refreshing, and sweet. He drank more.
The water replenished more than the physical; it did wonders for his mental state, too. He felt revitalized. He retrieved the kindling and stood, swaying right and almost falling to the ground. Merrick tried to shake the exhaustion from his head. He needed a good night’s rest. He took a few steps and swayed again. All of a sudden, he felt top-heavy, as if his legs could no longer carry his body’s weight. He turned a contorted face to the natural well.
What was in that water? he thought.
Recognizing he may soon black out, Merrick lurched toward the cave, praying he might get far enough to cover himself for the night. He sprawled on the ground just inside the mouth of the cave. The world spun, and just then, he noticed a large opening in the back of the cave. He cursed himself for not checking it further before landing himself in his predicament. The dark of the opening grew in his delirious vision until he was swallowed by the void of unconsciousness.
When Merrick awoke, he wasn’t quite sure he had. In his groggy state, he opened his eyes and saw only the obsidian of darkness. He raised a hand to his head, which throbbed. He could not even see his hand when he waved it before his face. He groped around, plying his fingers across the stony floor. He blindly navigated his way to a wall of the cave, stepping in a puddle of water—at least he hoped it was water.
He wet the front side of his hand and raised it ahead of him, hoping to pick up a sign of wind or fresh air in the darkness. He held as still as possible for as long as possible until he thought he had caught the slightest of breezes.
That way, he thought to himself.
Gingerly, he felt his way down a corridor. One hand slid along the wall to keep him grounded, and the other he held high in front of his face, hoping to detect any low-hanging stalactite that might threaten a concussive blow. His feet made short, deliberate sweeping motions to test his walking path before every step. Falling into an abyssal crevasse was a legitimate concern.
Despite his care, Merrick banged his feet and hands often, and occasionally, his head, as he continued through the corridor, until his eyes began to work again. He shook his head a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, but sure enough, he saw an eerie blue glow ahead. As he approached, the corridor curved into a wider section filled with a million glowing fungi. The scene was breathtaking. Merrick stopped in awe, taking it all in. The fungi grew from floor to ceiling, dangling from stalactites and clinging to the walls.
Even more beautiful, Merrick felt a light breeze brush past him, a sign that he was, in fact, going the right way. The cave floor was devoid of fungi, revealing to the huntsman it was a well-traveled path. Taking a moment to inspect himself and his situation, he noticed his cloak was mangled and torn and reasoned he must have been dragged into the cave by some unknown monster. The thought did nothing to relax him, and a sudden noise stiffened him.
Clacking echoed through the corridors, bouncing off the walls. Merrick instinctively sought somewhere to hide. He was in no shape for a fight with an unknown assailant. He saw a particularly thick grove of fungi nearby and dove into it. Glowing blue spores transferred to his clothing like they were magnetically drawn. Realizing he might be a dark spot among the fungi, he rolled a few times, covering himself head to toe with the glowing spores.
The noises continued to click-clack, and the resonating sounds indicated the creature was nearing. A loud, pitiful screech rang out. There was a flurry of clacking, like some sort of scuffle, followed by a loud crack! And the struggle was over. Merrick laid there, silently controlling his breathing. He waited for a long time before the clacking began again, and the creature skittered into the fungal corridor.
Merrick couldn’t get a glimpse of it. He laid perfectly still, hoping he’d blend in with the fungi. As the mystery beast approached, Merrick smelled and heard its rancid, belabored breath. Finally, it came into view. It was a rinont!
Rinonts were hideous, heavily armored insectoid monsters. They had six legs that ran down their bodies like razor sharp swords. Their massive heads were long-snouted and covered with horns. Thick, naturally developed armor plates ran along their hides. Merrick had never encountered one before. He had only heard tales of rinonts in the caves of the dwarves.
The massive rinont dragged its latest victim, clamped in its horned maw. Like Merrick, the deer must not have suspected the dangers of the waterhole and taken a drink.
Quite the efficient system for the rinont, though, Merrick thought.
The creature halted near Merrick. It wheezed as it sniffed the air, confused by the scent. Merrick gripped his dagger, relieved at the small victory that it was, indeed, still attached to his belt.
The rinont slowly turned in Merrick’s direction. For a split second, the two stared hard at each other, neither making a move.
He was caught.
The rinont rushed straight at Merrick and slammed into the wall next to him with a bang that echoed through the fungal corridor. Spores flew in every direction, coating the rinont and everything else in its glowing powder. The creature flailed its legs wildly, attempting to stick Merrick with one of them.
The huntsman drove his dagger into the underbelly of the rinont, its weakest point. The monster screeched with horrific rage as it stumbled backward, its horrifying legs clacking feverishly. It charged again at Merrick, trying to catch him in its terrible, toothy maw, but it had forgotten the deer stuck in its mouth. The beast shook savagely, trying to free itself from its victim so it could finish the huntsman as well. Merrick, however, saw his opportunity.
He bolted down the corridor, following the weaving of the caves until he had run so far he no longer had light from the fungi. He threw out his hand to ground himself on the wall and ran on. He stumbled and banged along until he tripped on a low stalagmite that sent him sprawling to the cool stone floor, shaking much of the glowing spores from his clothes.
The clacking behind him closed in.
Merrick jumped to his feet and continued running. Finally, a glimmer of faint light up ahead—the shine of the moon in the singular clearing he had found?
Yes!
He burst from the front of the cave, not stopping to look around. He raced to the other side of the clearing and hid behind an ancient tree where he could catch his breath and watch the cave and his pursuer.
The rinont stormed out of the cave, a piece of the deer hanging from the side of its jaws. It screeched furiously as it looked this way and that, trying to pinpoint its escaped prey in the moonlight that bathed the clearing. It grunted and shook its massive head a few times, disappointed at losing such a special meal. It did not often have humans in its diet. Eventually, it clacked back into its cave, defeated.
Merrick exhaled heavily. How on earth did he manage to survive that? The rock next to the water glimmered and caught his eye.
Perhaps one last gift from an old friend, he thought, nodding to Rora in her final resting place.
He sat there for a long time, not so foolish as to go back into the clearing, but also not eager to go farther into Elderwood Forest at night. Not in his state, anyway. He needed to rest. He looked at all the trees around the clearing for one he could climb and perch among the branches to get some rest.
Crack!
The sound of a broken stick behind him caused Merrick’s head to droop in defeat. He was exhausted.
What now? he thought.
He turned and came face-to-face with an enormous bear looming over him.
“Oh, come on!” Merrick yelled.
The bear’s humongous paw came down on him like a hammer.