Warm rays pierced the thick foliage of the EverGreen forest, illuminating the disturbed ground where thorny brush stretched upward from the soil below, spreading branches toward harsh light that left but a shadow beyond the canopy’s grip. Between branches, a tanned boy in hard leather moved without sound. He gripped a sharp stone wrapped in thick leather between his fingers, pressing the rough texture as he raised his slingshot and feeling the stress of tested leather, stressing the strap. His gaze locked on a white rabbit chewing a scavenged snack. Eyes focused, slingshot stretched to its limit, the young boy’s arms tested his resilience. When the wind calmed and his held breath settled, natural instincts commanded the shot.

  Harsh vibration broke through the brush, followed by crackling sticks that excited his prey. The rock ripped through light twigs offering little resistance, yet as it neared his prey, the creature glanced his direction. As if time stood still, he watched the small thing hop backward, stone flaring dirt while the trot of horses filled his ears. Rising, he saw the trail mere feet away, that newcomer Marcy quickening herself atop a white steed toward their home.

  Inward anger flooded his veins. The boy tore through brush, with insults ready to hurl. His foot stepped from rocky thistles onto soft trail only to see another passing horse. Wide-eyed, he threw himself backward, falling atop stinging thorns that tested his leather armor and marked flesh with light wounds.

  “What’s this?” Fernando brought his horse to a slow beside the road, the animal releasing an amused neigh. “Tom the younger, what brings you to such rash antics?”

  Pulling himself free, the snap of twigs signaled his position to his blood brothers. Tom the older, a tall teen with a sack of dead rabbits tore through the wild, his younger brother Tom Tom trailing behind him like a shadow. The two approached their youngest brother dawning smiles.

  Fernando and Tom the older exchanged grins. “The battle was swift!” Fernando announced.

  “Good. The newcomer?” Tom the older asked.

  “Yes, how is she?” Tom Tom added.

  “Quiet,” his older brother interrupted as Tom the younger brushed thistles off his armor.

  “The newcomer hides something,” Fernando said. “Master will take care of it.”

  More horses worked down the path, echoes beyond sight.

  “Morning’s meal awaits serving.” Tom the older hefted his sack. “We hunt, you victors can skin.” His tease carried warmth.

  Fernando smiled and took a deep breath. An awkward grin dawned, perking his cheeks as he released their signature crow, that silly rooster sound carrying down the road to announce their return. With a kick of reins, hooves smashed soft dirt, propelling him forward. Tom the younger, Tom Tom, and Tom the older all ran alongside the road, the steeds.

  Within their domain, rooftop cabins dotted the clearing while boys’ voices punctuated the escape of freshly cooked meat’s aroma. Marcy dismounted and walked into the welcoming village of warrior boys. From all directions they emerged from the green, each group sharing leather sacks full of bloodied kills taken that morning.

  As she watched, a hand tugged her horse’s reins. One of the many boys stood before her, “I can take’em from here.” The boy said.

  “Thank you.” She relinquished the horse.

  Following the path to where she’d awakened, she found her few belongings scattered about. Kneeling to collect them, she sensed Rutger’s familiar aura approaching. Marcy stood and faced the blind man.

  “How goes?” His wooden staff tapped ground.

  “Your boys are impressive.” She said.

  “I trained them how I fought, outnumbered, and outarmed. Something tells me your training may have been more complex than our simple ways.” He said.

  “You wish me to teach your children the ways of death?” She asked.

  “Is that what you call it? They know death’s ways, they walk it every day.”

  She watched the lot returning from combat, some with blood stained weapons. “We saw knights upon the battlefield. Must these children fight?”

  “Knights rarely arrive, the occasion is more than rare...It’s an anomaly.”

  The ache of a lost life pressed against her chest, the monster born within beckoned it’s feast of guilt. Looking upon the weak made strong, these boys who called themselves Roosters. “I can’t train them all, but I may train some.”

  Rutger smiled. “Good, this is good.” Fresh-cooked pork nabbed at their stomachs. “First course is nearly ready, then the boys prepare rabbits and root stew, with left over pork fat to flavor the dish. Eat, we’ll show you the Rooster’s way soon.”

  The encampment feasted again, a somber meal, less energetic than the evening prior. Many faces bore marks of battle alongside hunters who’d provided the feast. The three Toms huddled at their small wooden table among long extending tables littering the open dining courtyard. Both dance and meal would be taken here, atop floors littered with wood pellets, remains from trees cleared for encampment and training utilities fashioned from bark, carved for novice and expert alike. Marcy absorbed it all. The forest beyond reeked with a wild odor carrying an order of chaos, yet here their cheer and order demanded peace, accented by fresh-cooked game. Rutger settled beside her alongside young Cole, who gazed upward from his short, fragile position.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “He always follow you?” Marcy asked.

  “No. He’s following you.” Rutger replied.

  She met the boy’s warming smile.

  “I’d like to ask about those strange tribal men.” She said.

  “I feared you’d mention such things. Are you done with your meal?” He asked.

  She looked down at an empty bowl. “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s walk... Cole, see to dishes and help yourself to sweet fruit.” Rutger said as he rose.

  Their feet disturbed the light soil, red clay clinging to shoes. “Cole’s sister was afflicted by the same disease you carry.”

  Marcy’s hand rose unconsciously to the strange biological adornment marking her otherwise acceptable face. “No one knows it’s origin.”

  They moved from the crowd’s clatter, the sound of dinning fading.

  “It comes from the dark, I suspect. Those living near the wood often see such afflictions among children.” Rutger pondered, “A marking of unknown origin. You’ve traveled—do you know lands without such affliction?”

  “I came here because I was born here. Long ago, on the Twilight Mountains’ outskirts.” Words escaped like confession well-kept, yet that aura of peace felt threatened by lies or concealment.

  “I suspected. Rarely is someone from beyond the green welcomed among its fold.” Rutger said.

  “What does that mean? What is the green? Is the forest alive? And those wild men?” The brush surrounded them as conversation led deeper.

  “We don’t speak of wild ones. They’re like you and I, of the Lands of Light, yet they’ve embraced something strange, an unknown entity that demands...” Rutger seemed to peer between shrouded brush and thick canopied trees looming overhead. “Can you feel it?”

  Examining silence, Marcy’s instincts whispered. “They’re watching.”

  “They are here.” Her lips parted.

  “No. It watches us... We welcome it when it enters our minds and darkness seeps into hearts. Those wild men embraced it, I have no true name other than that work, it... It hardened them.” His words carried sickening truth, poison tainting ground. “Let’s not continue this. I’ll end with a tale: When my eyes saw clear and my body was strong, no chanting came from those thick woods. It’s ancient people kept far from the few who dared toil. Boldly, I trotted through their domain with little regard, seeing myself as one with our forest. At times they accepted me. I would crow, they’d return a tiger’s roar, but one day trotting through, no roars came from the EverGreen. No children’s joy spying from deep wood. That unmarked day, I felt high strangeness perk my senses. I felt that creature prowling where tiger once loomed... Days later, the first afflicted were born. A little girl, darkened swirl upon her left cheek.”

  Her hand found the affliction, darkened scab-like adornment swirling upon her face.

  “I cannot say if that girl was you. Nonetheless, you’re here, you know enough. If you wish to leave, now’s your time. I’ll prepare things, you may traverse these lands alone.” He turned towards the encampment’s path.

  “I’ve made up my mind.” She said. “Remember?”

  “There’s apprehension about you…” Turning towards her, his blind eyes pierced Marcy, “What have you done?”

  The guilty beast’s growl rose from her stomach’s pit. “I...” Thick taste of acid dripped from teeth as words regurgitated. “I killed many. Betrayed the most powerful. Failed my evil masters.” Words coursed through like poison reaching her heart. “I can’t. There’s no place for me...” her past flashed forward like a darkness from beyond. “I’m sorry. I hurt so many in so called order’s name. You don’t want me here.”

  Rutger’s heavy step echoed as he stood forth. “What?” That single word parted through darkness deep within her heart’s abyssal nothingness. “Who told you that?” His lips moved yet words carried from all directions, assaulting shadow like water slipping through dry desert’s cracks, bringing first rains of a mighty storm.

  “I don’t know...” Eyes closing, she asked that terrible question. “Who told me?”

  Within the darkened forest of her heart, she saw his words’ like-light engrafting her. Yet the guilt-beast stood boldly, it’s hideous unmasked form reeking. Feeling a foreign protection, she stepped toward it.

  “Who are you?” She beckoned.

  Small goat legs quivered. A Large belch escaped it’s huge belly with a guttural laugh, sending the snorting creature backward until it landed on its rear. It grunted in sickening delight, fur quills escaping it’s form. “Who am I?” Words emerged between haunting chuckles. “I am your son.”

  It’s words fell like black bile, staining flesh. Like a force the words pressed against her, she caught herself, one knee stinging against hardened ground. Palm reaching into ash-like sand, grasping her subconscious world’s very foundation, she whispered,”no.”

  With vengeful fury and a lifetime of callous murder, she summoned the warrior within. Taking a single step forward, the beast erupted with guttural cheers, its form shrinking while guilt’s pressure weighed down. Taking another step forward, perseverance and strength fueled by fear and discipline. “If... I... Am... Your... Mother.” Body weight pressing in, she knelt beside the beast, it’s cries pitch lightening as it’s strange shape morphed into a hideous child-like creature before her. “I deserve this.” She said, kneeling down and feeling the jagged texture of a hefty stone. “I will kill you.”

  Stone raised overhead, warm blood streaming down wrist and shoulder. The creature’s screeching grew, reverberating throughout the forest, shaking the surrounding brush and coaxing a terrible wind. She pressed arms back and hurled stone downward. “NO!” She shrieked, bringing a silence to the forest.

  The creature blared anguished frustration. “You bitch!” Endless profanity streamed forth as Marcy stared at bloodied hands.

  A thousand kills stained every red droplet. “I’m sorry.” Far-off profanity became muffled, tears splashed against a bloodied soil, her sorrow embracing the red. As A ripping pressure crawled up her spine, pressing downward toward ash-covered ground. “I’m Sorry! I didn’t know what to do. I was just a girl when they took me in—I didn’t know anything else! Please forgive me!” An unfamiliar pressure rushed forth from all side, surrounding her by a blinding white, forcing her down to a knee.

  A bird cry chirped through the thick Evergreen overhead as vine-like branches of root trees broke Marcy’s fall. Two arm-like roots embraced her while Rutger stepped forward. Through watery red eyes, she gazed into near-perfect ocean of pearl white housing ancient peace within his blind eyes. Wisdom poured out like salvation’s flow embracing her child-like form. She reached toward the old man, clenching his aged robe’s softness, finding a father’s embrace within his warm. Unknown safety engrafted the poor girl, joy and anguish flowing from her eyes.

  “Welcome home, dear daughter.” Rutger knew he’d found yet another lost soul of the green.