By the time the horses settled the men were lost. More annoyed then scared at this point they decide to stop for a moment by a stream of water. Dismounting from their horses, the tension was real between the friends. Otto, confused as to why Anders would say such things pushing off the thoughts racing in his mind. Truth be told Anders was his only friend in life, so he has always given in to the fights and frustrations. He knew Anders wouldn’t and then they’d both lose the only person who ever stayed.
Anders pulled a map from his coat pocket. “You stole my father's map, really?” Otto realized his annoyance wasn’t hiding as well as he had hoped. “Ya, well it’s not like he uses it. Unless you need a map to get around the shop.” Anders replied curtly. Otto sighed loudly at Anders continuing to turn the map around in his hands. Attempting to get his bearings. “So where are we?” Otto asked in the most monotone voice he could muster. “Clearly by the river.” Anders stated pointing at the small stream in front of them. Otto rolled his eyes. “That hardly constitutes as a river I would think.” “Do you? Do you think?” Anders snarls back. “The stream has to come or go to something. It’s moving with speed so I would say we aren’t far off. There are no streams on the map this far north, but I suspect that’s the fault of the map owner.” Otto stood looking at his friend dumbstruck. He’s never heard Anders speak like this; in fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Anders know anything. “Huh, okay. Lead the way I guess.” Otto says as he takes a step back and mockingly bows at the hip with his arms crossed to his stomach. Anders scoffs and takes Arrow’s lead, pulling the still bothered horse along a path to the east along the stream. Otto takes a moment to pat himself down, ensuring he hasn’t lost anything. If they are as lost as he suspects, then they best have his gear. They’ve never ventured this deep into the forest before and he’s heard things. Like where did that boom come from, or the fog that hid him from his friend?
Both occupied in their own minds they don’t even notice the small figure following behind. Light enough to not make a single leaf crinkle the small creature attempts to get closer. Atlas started to pull her lead from Otto’s hand, bothered by the movements. “Oh, Atlas. I get you’re upset now but whatever is bothering you is probably just a mouse. Don’t be a baby.” Anders stops for a moment and tosses an apple from the satchel to his friend. “Here, they’ll probably calm down a bit with a treat.” Both men feed their horses as they look around. The forest has somehow gotten very dark again, just a small shimmer of light coming through the branches above, enough to see a few feet ahead and each other. At least the fog has let up. The air humidity was high, so they suspect it’s getting to mid-day. Otto pulls off his coat and wraps it into Atlas’ pack. Anders takes note of the extensive weapons collection strapped to his friend. “Going to share?” Arches an eyebrow looking meaningfully at the cutlasses sheathed to Otto’s hip. “Oh yes. Sorry, got a bit distracted.” Otto replied handing one to Anders. Anders demeanour begins to loosen, making Otto feel a bit better about their interaction earlier. Why he felt bad, he really wasn’t sure.
“The next part looks thick of thorns. We should probably mount to get through.” Anders nods towards thick woods ahead. “But I can hear the rushing water, so we are close.” Otto nods in agreement and the men mount their horses. The small creature takes this as an opportunity and slips into the open pack with Otto’s coat. Cozy and warm the creature settles in for a ride.
Clearly annoyed at the mess the boys left in the house, Cilla begins cleaning up the cellar. Anders must have taken this week’s portion of bread for the family. Scoffing she places everything in and closes the door. “That man has some nerve.” Mumbling under her breath she makes her way upstairs. Her brother hasn’t made as much of a mess to organize as his friend but never seems to remember to close a door or cupboard to save his life. That is when she notices, Otto took her favorite cutlass. Feeling her face redden in frustration she shakes her head, closes the door with force and walks towards her bedroom. Just as she sits beside the open window with the sun reaching around the buildings resting on her face, she hears a boom in the distance. Placing her book down she leans out in an attempt to see what could have caused such a forceful sound. Almost as soon as she stepped on her tip toes to stretch her head far enough birds began falling from the sky. Just tumbling to their death along the cobbled roads and roofs of her neighbors. She could hear thuds above her and moved just in time to not be stuck by one of these birds. Screams echoed from all over the town. Cilla grabbed her coat from beside her table and ran down the stairs to her father in the shop. Magnus was peering out the shop half wall holding a black mass in his hand. Cilla scurried up beside him, announcing her arrival as she did so since her father was often surprised by her sudden appearance. “What happened?” She asked. Magnus still peering out the window but not down at the birds, up towards the forest. “Raining birds?” He responded, sounding confused but not bothered. That is when Cilla notices the black mass in her fathers’ massive fist was a crow. “Uhm father?” pointing down at it. Magnus looked at his hand, tossed the bird out the half wall and promptly closed the awning and shutters. Turning without a word he walked into the house and Cilla could hear him pumping the water.
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Cilla decided to venture out of the shop doors into the street. Dozens upon dozens of dead black as night birds littered the stones that glistened with red blood. Gasping at the sight she felt a presence come to a stop beside her. “You should probably go inside.” Said a deep voice, one that did not match the stature of its owner. Cilla knew of Ivor; they grew up around the same peers and went to the same school. Although he dropped out at a young age to work with his father in the bakery. Small and skinny Ivor looked like he didn’t enjoy the fruits of his labor. Known as a great bread maker he did not match his father’s muscular stature in the slightest. In fact, he was often teased for looking young although he would be turning sixteen in the coming winter. Ivor and his father where the only two in his house. His mother had passed around the same time as Cilla’s from the same illness. His sister to. Oddly enough many of the women in the town had gotten ill and passed within a year or two of each other. Cilla and a few of the younger girls didn’t seem effected, the midwife and her close friends also made it through. The town often whispered of midwife Agnetha being a witch since the incident but not much had come from it as she was the reason so many of the women had lived through childbirth. But since that summer Cilla and her friends where no longer allowed to play in the field of lavender by the midwifes hut in fear of what would happen. Cilla still liked to sneak by there in the early light of the morning to trade books with the midwife just outside the stone fence surrounding the town. She was very careful though as she knew her father wouldn’t approve. She still wasn’t sure how he didn’t notice she had a different book every week though. Then again Magnus probably didn’t care. She dreamed of learning all she could then traveling to a faraway town to begin life as a midwife. She knew more than the doctors she had seen come through. Always selling their concoctions of the next cure. Usually bringing a new illness with them.“I am fine, Ivor. Thank you.” Cilla said sternly, she didn’t much like the boys telling her what to do. Ivor rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Well then if you’re going to sneak over to the witches later do you mind bringing her the herbs she ordered.” Cilla turned to look Ivor in the eyes, how did he know. “I don’t know what you ar-” Cilla started but Ivor interrupted, seeming annoyed that she was protesting. “I won’t tell on you I just don’t like going over there, the hospital makes me uncomfortable.” Ivor looked down at Cilla with pleading eyes. Many of the town folk hated going close to the decrepit building deemed the ‘hospital’. Although it hadn’t housed patients in years and was mostly just the fireplaced used to cremate the past ill in an attempt to ensure the illness didn’t spread. With a graveyard for those the families who refused to cremate. “Fine, bring them by this evening. And a loaf of bread, preferably rye as payment.” Cilla bartered. “More bread?” Ivor was taken aback. “You ate a full loaf already?” Ivor’s eyes slowly went down and back up the length of Cilla’s body as she stood there facing him, stopping for a moment at her chest before meeting her gaze again. Cilla shivered at his ogling and rolled her eyes. “No. The other one was taken. I just need another no questions. Got it?” She barked back in her most scolding voice. Much to her vexation still sounded childish. Ivor laughed. “Okay, fair. I’ll bring the herbs and rye after dinner this evening.” “Before.” Cilla snapped back rougher than she intended. “Okay, okay before. But if you’re getting a Rye loaf, I need more than just herb delivery.” Cilla shoulders sunk, she had a feeling Ivor has liked her for a long time, why else would he know where she goes if he’s not watching her movements. “I need to know what fixes a cough, not a regular cough. It’s deeper than that. The sounds crack in his chest.” Ivor continued. Cilla looked at Ivor’s face and realized he had stopped gazing at her like a hungry cat who just saw a lost mouse. “Can you describe it to me?” she asks. “I just did?” Ivor quips annoyed she is asking questions. He didn’t want to admit his father was coughing like the women did years before. He could distinctly remember the sound of his mother bedridden before her passing. And when his sister began just as his mother did shortly afterwards. Father had to take his sister to the hospital for rest. The town folk wouldn’t buy his bread if it was infected. Now if anyone heard the baker have that cough, they would be kicked out of town with nothing. Cilla agreed to the terms and turned to go back inside. Almost forgetting about the birds surrounding them on the ground.
“Someone go get the witch, I mean mid-wife. She needs to make sense of this mess.” Hendrick, the towns carpenter states loudly. One of Cilla’s classmates goes off towards Agnetha’s hut. Cilla looked down at one of the crows, its neck turned at an odd angle, eyes wide open looking directly at her, laying in a pool of blood. She felt a chill go down her spine as the temperature seems to dip. Cilla steps back through the shops doorway and closes the massive steal door, locking it as she moves.
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