“Eh,” came the reply. “I guess.” Simon pulled ahead a few steps and fell silent. Each of the friends retreated into their own thoughts.
A large bramble patch required them to make a wide detour, and for a time the path disappeared completely from view. None of them wanted to get lost in the woods and have to use the air horn to call for help, so they fell silent and concentrated on getting through it. When they did finally find the trail again, they gave up being sneaky and stuck to the open ground. The sky darkened as clouds passed in front of the sun, and the path took on a grayish hue. An unfamiliar trill floated through the air, answered by another in the distance. Everyone in the group froze and crouched instinctively, fearing another ambush. The calls repeated twice, but there was no visible motion on either side of the path. Stu held up a hand, pointed to himself, and made a walking motion with his fingers.
As he crept forward, his eyes scanned left and right for any sign of danger. The ground beneath his feet was covered by a soft layer of pine needles and moss, so he made no sound as he moved. The birds called back and forth once more, and again he froze, eyes squinting. A light breeze passed through the trees, and the leaves rattled. Up above, he spotted a flash of red, and this time the trill was accompanied by the sound of flapping wings receding into the distance.
The tension drained and he stood up from his crouch. “Looks like it’s all clear, guys. Really was a bird. Never seen one of those before. Must be migratory or something.” He shrugged. “Let’s get moving again and see what’s up next. I can’t imagine that the doom the crazy goblin predicted was that little ambush. We should try picking up the pace.”
The group all agreed with Stu’s assessment, and off they went again, moving a bit more quickly to make up for the time they had lost detouring around the brambles. At some point, wagon ruts appeared on the path they were following.
“Nice touch,” TJ remarked when he noticed it. “I wonder how long it took them to get those put in. Must have taken quite a while.”
“Eh,” replied Chuck. “We had that rain last weekend. I bet it made the ground all nice and muddy.”
About twenty minutes later, they began to detect signs of other people. The scent of a wood fire drifted toward them on the light breeze, and in the distance they could hear the sound of voices. The path bent slightly to the right, and when they rounded the bend they came upon a small settlement. There were half a dozen ramshackle cottages clumped together along one side of the path. Between several of the buildings were makeshift roofs, under which some scrawny-looking goats had taken shelter.
Two small children were playing with sticks in the dirt alongside the path, oblivious to the approaching friends. The six stepped out fully into the clearing, and Stu cleared his throat loudly. The children looked up and squawked in alarm before running into one of the houses. One of them shouted, “Maw! Paw! Soldiers!” The door slammed behind them, leaving the adventurers turning to each other in surprise.
Moments later, a man in his mid- to late twenties emerged from the house, angrily brandishing a pitchfork. A woman’s head peered out through the cracked door. “What are you folks doin’ here?” the man asked. “We don’t need or want your kind here. Go on, now. Git.”
“Quiet, Claude,” hissed the woman through the doorway. “Remember what happened to ol’ Clem. Just give ’em what they want and ask ’em to move on. We don’t want no trouble.”
The man—Claude, evidently—spit a glob of phlegm on the ground and grumbled, “Naw, we don’t want no trouble. But we don’t want none o’ what you folks are peddlin’ either. You wanna take my goats this time? Or my kids? How ’bout you just slit my throat and be done with it? You’re just about there as it is. Hmm?”
Stu looked around helplessly, clearly out of his element. Simon stepped forward and spoke in soft tones. “Hello, sir. Claude, is it? It is good to meet you, friend.”
“You’re no friend of mine, ya pointy-headed freak. You or the other one, wherever he’s from.” He nodded toward Stu, who stood with mouth suddenly agape at the obvious reference to his brown skin. “You ain’t welcome here. Now git.” The woman in the doorway cringed.
Exchanging a glance with Stu, but deciding to ignore the slights, Simon continued. “We may not be friends yet, but that’s simply because we haven’t met.” He smiled and nodded at the rhyme. “I think that you have mistaken us for someone else. We mean you no harm, and we certainly don’t want any of your livestock. Or anything of yours, except perhaps information. We are simply travelers passing through, and we have stumbled upon your town. It is still early yet, and we plan on moving on soon.”
“That’s what your kind always says. You’re just passing through. You don’t mean any harm. Well, here’s what I have to say to that!” He coughed up another loogie and spit just in front of Simon’s feet.
Simon looked around for backup. TJ and Chuck exchanged glances and shrugged.
At last Allison sighed and said, “Are we really gonna be stopped here by some angry pitchfork-wielding peasant who is at best not going to tell us anything and at worst deranged?”
The man shot a look at Allison, and a visible change came over him. His eyes widened, his jaw grew slightly slack, and he knuckled his forehead. “M-m-milady,” he said. “I didn’t see you standin’ there until just now.” He stood up straighter and said in a more measured tone, “Please forgive my gruffness. We have suffered much at the hands of outlaws pretendin’ to be the king’s soldiers. And at the hands of the king’s soldiers pretendin’ to be outlaws.”
Simon and Stu both looked at Allison in amazement, until they remembered the armband she was wearing that signified the powers of her ring.
Without missing a beat, Allison replied, “There is nothing to forgive, my good man. These are troubling times, and it is important for you to stand up for your home and your family.”
“Thank you, my lady.” He bowed to her, then half turned to face the house. “C’mon, woman! Put a kettle on and brew up some tea for Her Ladyship and her servants!”
TJ smirked and muttered, “Servants? Really?”
“Shush,” replied Allison quietly. “Let the poor man believe what he wishes. It’s certainly a better reception than before, so just go with it.”
During this exchange, some of the other villagers had emerged from their own dwellings, and a sorry lot they were. It quickly became clear why Claude alone had stood up to them—no one else was in any position to help. The next youngest was easily thirty years older than Claude and walked with a crutch under his left shoulder. The hair on all the rest had long gone gray. Any one of the party—including Allison—could have beaten them single-handedly. Each one, as they approached, nodded in Allison’s direction, and the woman’s peering face in the crack of the door had been replaced by those of the two children.
“So can you tell us what has been bothering you of late?” Simon tried engaging the man in conversation once again. “We fought and dispatched some wolf men not so long ago. If they were troubling you, they are no more, and you can now live in peace.”
“Wolf men? Here?” There was a flutter of discussion and panicked looks on their faces. “No, there ain’t been none of them here since my great-grandpa’s time. If you really saw some in these woods, ’tis dark news indeed. We have had a hard enough time scratchin’ for a livin’ with only other men to contend with, not nature’s freaks.” He had the grace to blush, then bobbed his head toward Simon. “Milady’s companions not included, of course.”
He paused before continuing. “We have long been at the mercy of the brigands who pass through these woods. And when the soldiers come from the king, they are just as bad. Ain’t no justice to be gotten from them. Everyone takes from us; they are all the same.”