Hanford was a village of barely a hundred people on the vast plains in the shadow of the Rokwrath mountains. The mountains loomed in the distance, their rocky bases scarcely visible beneath the clouds. This was the wilds of the frontier, the edge of Saine's borders. The last stop on the main road leading to Marduk.
Even though Marduk worshiped the sadistic Goddess Minerva over her kinder sister Solaris. It didn't stop the adventurous and fearless traders from doing business with the supposed heretics. After all, even the most devout, be they Cardinal or King, couldn't resist the taste of Mardukian Pepper and Rum.
Likewise, those of Marduk bewitched by Saine confections had a sweet tooth for Sainian sugar and flour. A mutual exchange of vices stabilized the strained relations between the two territories.
Hanford, being such a vital stop on the singular trade route, provided them benefits not seen by their neighbors. The Templar Order of Saint Albert established a fort a day's ride away. This provided the town with protection and security that allowed the hamlet to grow into a full-blown city. It could be called the cosmopolitan center of the frontier. With more protection than a small castle town, a sense of security not seen for the frontier flourished in Hanford. Parents thought nothing of sending children into the woods for chores, even at the twilight hour.
Hazel Spree was one such child. She merrily swung her bucket as she danced. Her braided honey blonde hair bounced on her shoulders while she hummed her way to the river. As she spun and twirled her way across the grassy fields, she looked from the hill, her sapphire eyes sparkling as she gazed upon her home.
Usually, she'd go to the well, but that would cost her two coppers. Hanford experienced influxes of travelers, all of which occupied the watering hole today. A whole caravan arrived late this afternoon. Wagons stretched all the way outside of town, fifteen altogether. Rather than wait, she opted to trek to the nearby river.
Hazel wanted to get done with her task before curfew to play with her friends. Briarwood forest was only a few miles outside of town. She's gone there plenty of times to play in the stream. Even the hour's round trip was better than the hours-long wait in Hanford.
The river, which was called Wrath's river, cut across the green ocean of the tallgrass like a raging serpent. Though it streamed as a gently slithering snake by the time it came to Hanford. Her mother explained the water flowed from the north side of Mount Rokwrath to the south. The river divided the tallgrass from the southern frontier forest.
She had merely nodded to her mother's explanation, not truly understanding how it came to be. Regardless of how the river formed, she loved the crystal clear water. It was always cold, and she could catch fish in the shallows with nothing but a sharpened stick if she were so inclined. The boys of the village certainly loved to fish. She did as well, minus the skinning and gutting. She let the boys handle that.
The entrance to the forest came into view. A worn sign marked the narrow path. A lanky white-bearded man puffing on a pipe emerged from the shadowed entry, a bundle of fish thrown over his shoulder.
"Mister Kenneth!" Hazel remembered her manners and curtsied.
Kenneth Gatorholz, age sixty-nine, is the third-oldest man in Hanford. His enterprise of wagon crafting and repair provided an indispensable service for the town. With the number of travelers going through yearly and the seasonal needs of the surrounding farmers, there was no shortage of work for his workshop.
"Good evening Hazel," Kenneth said, "Getting water from the river? Best not take too long now. You'll worry your mother if you stay out past the last light." Even from here, one could see the line of wagons from the knoll. Hazel nodded vigorously while Kenneth puffed faint white clouds of smoke from his pipe. He chuckled, perhaps charmed by her smile. "Well, I won't keep you. You best hurry. The night comes fast this time of year, remember?"
"I know. I won't linger." Hazel smiled and curtsied Kenneth, who took his leave.
Skipping at a brisk pace, Hazel resumed her humming, her bucket swaying in tune to her wildly flailing arms. Though the low sun cast threatening shadows over her path, she feared no evil. What was there to harm her so close to home? The gentle sound of flowing water reached her ears, the last rays of light shined off the stream. Standing on the banks of Wrath's river, Hazel removed her shoes and stockings, and dipped her toes into the frigid creek.
"Burr…" Hazel plunged both feet into the water, hugging her body tight while adjusting to the temperature. "Lumi must be coming early. It's much colder than usual."
Wading through the crystal clear water, Hazel approached the center of the river, the edge too shallow to fill her bucket. She need not fear losing her footing or sinking into the mud for a bedrock of cobblestone laid beneath her feet.
Mister Kenneth told her once it was for wagon crossings, which confused her since the cobble stopped before the opposite bank. Thick thorny roots guarded the opposing slope, as if daring anyone to go further.
From what she understood, they never finished the road and their parents warned them to never climb up the opposite bank. To say they never tried would be a lie, but the bank was protected by a long thorny wall of vines and roots. No matter where Hazel and her friends searched, there was no gap for them to break through. The briars of the Briarwoods were long as nails and sharp as a sickle blade.
One boy hammered a crude shield to break through, and the thorns pierced the shield! He was lucky to escape with only cuts, and not lose a finger or worse. Still, the briars stuck him good, and he needed stitches on his arms and legs. They fibbed the cause to Doctor Hoss, but let sleeping dogs lie from then on. Thus ended their fancy with the opposite bank. They only gazed upon it from afar, wondering what mysteries lurked on the other side of that dark wood.
Resting the bucket handle in the nook of her elbow, Hazel pulled the hem of her skirt up above her knees. The priest would scold her if he saw her, but she wasn't about to get her dress wet. Fastening her skirt into a knot, Hazel took her bucket in hand and kneeled into the water, scooping up a full load in one go. And smiled happily at her success.
Wading back to shore, something warm enveloped her naked leg. Imaging an animal upstream of her, or worse, a human, Hazel bristled, checking her bucket for contaminates.
The water in her bucket shimmered not clear blue, nor sickly yellow, but deep crimson! She tossed it away with a scream. The bucket hit the banks, staining the clear shallows a deep red. Hazel's blood ran cold, but the water swirling around her feet was hot! She dared to look, seeing only red-stained water around her.
"Is this… blood?" Her stomach tightened as the world spun. In a panic, she ran to shore, catching an upturned stone with the flat of her foot. Her scream was cut short when she fell face-first into the water.
The blood-filled water.
Hazel broke through the surface like a hooked fish, splashing frantically and gasping for breath. Facing the setting sun, she saw the crimson glare of the blood reflecting on the surface of the water. Following the glittering red trail, she found the source.
Resting against the large boulder she and her friends jumped from, half-submerged, was a man. Something on his left arm was caught on a nearby sapling, keeping him from being washed away by the gentle current.
Steeling herself, Hazel pulled herself to shore. Soaked to the bone, she made her way to the man, careful to avoid the thorn-laden branches on the ground.
"Are you alright?" She yelled at a distance. The man didn't stir. Was he already dead? Hazel crept closer and called again. "Sir… are you alright? Do you need help?"
The man stirred.
"Hold on! I'll get you out!"
Running to the edge of the bank, she grabbed hold of the line wrapped around the sapling. It was a chain, of all things. Digging her feet, she backpedaled, slowly inching the man to shore. Keeping a hand tight on the chain, Hazel ran to the edge of the bank and did her best to pull him up without hurting him further. This proved to be difficult as her feet sank into the muddy bank and the man was heavy as a stone. She grunted and chaffed, but only sank further.
I should go back to town and get some adults, but what if he dies before I get back? No, even if I can get him to shore, I can't carry him all the way to town. Best I can do is get him out of the water and by a fire. Once he's dry and bandaged, I'll get help!
Shifting her position, Hazel scooted her rear onto the grass of the bank and heaved! Pulling the man up just enough so his arms were on the grass. Pulling her legs free of the mud, Hazel shimmied out from under the man and after whispering a sincere apology. Pulled on both of his arms. The man let out a pained growl, much more reminiscent of the beast, then a man. Hooking her arms under his shoulders, she dragged him fully out of the water. Much to her own surprise. The man was tall, his length that of a prized fish.
"Just hold on, sir! I'll get help soon, after I get a fire going!" She said, scrambling for kindling. The shimmer of Solaris's azure sun dimmed behind the mountains in the distance, the promise of night coming fast.
How fortunate she and her friends left the means to easily to start a fire nearby. This being one of the many spots they'd host bonfires. In the hole under the boulder they jumped from, there was a box with flint and a knife. Hastily Hazel fashioned a firepit, carefully building a pyramid of thorny briarwood, and with the aid of some pinecones. Lit a fire for the man.
"There, we'll have you dried off soon." Hazel beamed as the heat of the fire stirred the man awake. She'd been so frantic that she'd hardly gotten a good look at him. The dim evening didn't help, but with the glow of the fire, she could make him out a bit. "I'll fetch the doctor and others. You look unwell, Sir."
She didn't want to be rude, but his skin was ash-gray. His hair was much more vibrate, it was black with a burning ember like streak running down the middle of his wild wet mane. Giving his hair a flame like appearance.
You don't see that every day.
There was more blood running down the side of his head, too. She shouldn't waste any more time.
"Once I get my shoes, I'll run back to town as fast as my feet can manage and bring help. I promise to return. You have my word, mister…" Hazel paused as the man scooted closer to the fire, the flames obscuring his face. "I'm sorry, this isn't the time, but what's your name? I'm Hazel Spree."
It really wasn't the time, but perhaps the man wasn't in as much danger as she originally assumed. That wasn't a reason to dawdle, but the manners instilled in her sprang up out of habit.
"Forget it!" Hazel said hurriedly, making for her discarded boots. "I'll be back!"
She'd hardly taken a step when the man replied, his voice hoarse and gravely, "My name is…"
Hazel paused instinctively. Turning, she faced the man, only to recoil in blood curdling terror as his body exploded with inky black fur. He morphed into a wolfish creature with massive front paws and split toe hooves on his rear legs. A pair of craggy stone like cutaneous horns grew from the side of his head. A crimson brand blazed on his forehead as his blood-red eyes burrowed into her, rooting her in place. The man had become a Beast, no worse, he was a demon!
The demon snarled, hot acidic drool dripped from its mouth of yellowed fangs. It stalked closer, the chain still attached to its leg jiggling with every step.
Hazel remained rooted, Pastor Sawlock's many tales flooding her mind.
A demon… he's gonna eat me! Or worse…
Hazel could not fathom what else might be done with her. Many fables told of what demons did to humans, especially to maidens. And none of them were romantic.
I… I need to run! Move legs! Move!
Before she'd even realized it, Hazel was sprinting full tilt through the trees. She'd abandoned her shoes. Deftly evading the fallen branches of briarwood, to avoid snaring her own feet. The path would be faster, but perhaps the hazardous thorns which the briarwood was famous for would slow the beast down. She certainly wasn't turning around to look.
Only someone blessed by Solaris can defeat a demon. I have to get to Pastor Sawlock!
The edge of the forest came into view. Years of logging turned the north side of the river into a rather pitiful grove compared to what it was before. That suited her just fine. Maybe the beast would hesitate to follow her out in the open where others could see it. Either way, once she got to the knoll outside of town, she'd scream her lungs out for help. Surely someone would hear her.
With only one fallen tree between her and escaping, Hazel vaulted over the trunk. Her blood pounded in her ears as her eyes widened at what lay on the other side. She'd gotten too careless. A literal bed of thorns lay beneath her feet. This was the briarwood, notorious for the Briarwood tree. A tree known for its breathtaking emerald rose like leaves and its barbed branches. Branches that littered the forest floor like a field of caltrops. Not only were the barbs sharper than nails, they were over three inches long.
Hazel landed on them with both feet like a hammer to a nail. The wooden spikes penetrated her soft flesh with ease. She crumbled to the ground, struggling to hold back her screams as the barbs skewered her feet.
Hot tears spilled down her face. She clenched her teeth, holding in the cry that so desperately wanted to escape. Ripping a piece of cloth from her dress, Hazel bit into the dirty fabric. The flood gates opened as she wailed like a newborn, her fashioned gag mitigating her wails only slightly.
What now…
There was no way for her to reach town now. Hazel continued to crawl, fiery blood running down her legs as she kept her feet aloft. A part of her wondered what was the point? The beast would certainly catch her. It would be upon her any second.
And yet, it wasn't.
Though it was difficult, Hazel forced a breath, gaining some much needed clarity. She spotted a small burrow carved into a half rotten tree. If she couldn't run, she'd hide. Clawing at the earth, she forced her way across the thorny ground. More nasty barbs pecked at her skin, tearing through her dress with ease, but she pressed on and crawled into the burrow, curling up like a frightened hare.
"Oh, Solaris," Hazel clasped the symbol of her patron goddess, a silver four-pointed star. She prayed with all her being. What else was she to do? She prayed desperately, a fresh stream of tears running down her face as she begged for Solaris save her.
CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
The sound of twigs snapping under foot made Hazel look through the hole to the outside. She could see little as darkness began to fully set in. The trees cast long, dark shadows against the last waning ray of Solaris's light.
THUMP! THUMP!
Hazel flinched at the noise, the fallen tree groaning as the beast climbed over it. The beast should have fallen into the same snare as her, but the barbs that had so easily done her in snapped under the demon's mighty paws.
Don't find me, please… just go away! Hazel clutched Solaris's star so hard the points pierced her hand, but what was a little more pain at this point? A single eep would spell her doom, so she put her all into remaining silent as the grave, even if she must swallow her own tongue.
The Beast's shadow appeared, moving towards the edge of the forest with its back to her. It didn't find her, but she held in her relief as the demon snorted, pressing its canine nose to the ground. It dawned upon Hazel the beast needed little help to find her. She'd left a blood trail even the most novice of hunters could follow.
"Please… please… help… please…" Hazel chanted to Solaris while pressing against the wall of her burrow.
CREAAKK!
Hazel's blood froze solid as the trunk creaked. The Beast's head whipped right at her, a low thunderous growl escaping from its throat as it marched on her.
"No…, please… spare me… please… please… don't hurt me!" Hazel clasped her hands in prayer as she cried. "Please, Solaris! Please help me! Anyone!" The Beast broke through the rotten trunk of the tree, filling up the small burro with its bulk. It paused as if considering her pleas, or perhaps it was merely deciding how to devour her.
"No! Stay back! Get away from me!" Hazel screamed, what could be her last words, while flailing her arms and kicking her legs. This did little to disway the demon as it pressed against her, pinning her against the interior of the burrow.
She could only cry wordlessly, screaming with every fiber of her being as the Beast shifted, shedding its pelt. The man from before emerged from under the fur and pinned her arms above her head with one arm, while locking her legs in place.
"No… no… please…" she pleaded with a resigned sob.
A mangled, grotesque hand of claw and fur reached towards her, the tip of the Demon's claw burning a bright crimson. Hazel closed her eyes, her entire body suddenly feeling hot, as if her blood were boiling. It was painful at first, but it gradually became soothing. Even the pain of her skewered feet seemed to fade. She dared to open her eyes, but they became heavy. The last thing she saw was the burning brand glowing on the Demon's chest. The same that had been on its forehead.
Darkness took her, leaving Hazel at the demon's mercy. She couldn't help but laugh.
A merciful demon? As if there is such a thing.