“Hobyahs are extinct. At least, that’s what the stories claim.” Much like goblins or redcaps, the hobyahs were fierce, frightening creatures that lived in dark forests and menaced humans. Though apparently, there had been only one tribe of hobyahs, and they had met a grisly end. According to legend, the hobyahs had tried to kidnap a farmer and his wife and were eaten by the family dog in the end, so there were no more hobyahs in the world anymore.
But the Wolf snorted. “You’re in the Deep Wyld now, boy,” he growled.
“This is the place of old legends and forgotten myths. The hobyahs are alive and well here, and there are a lot of them, if you can’t guess by looking at the tracks.”
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Glancing down, I saw he was right. Three-toed prints were scattered haphazardly in the mud between rocks—small, light tracks with claws on the end of the toes. Here and there a blade of grass was crushed or trampled, and a strong musky odor lingered in the air.
The Wolf sneezed and shook his head, curling his lips in disgust. “Let’s keep moving. I can’t track anything past this abominable smell.”
“Wait,” I ordered, and dropped to a knee in the grass at the water’s edge, brushing the trampled vegetation. Hobyah prints were everywhere, but there was a shallow indentation in the grass that faintly resembled…
“A body,” I muttered, as the Wolf peered over my shoulder. “There was a body lying here, on its stomach. Not a hobyah, either. My size.”
“Are you sure?” the Wolf growled. Lowering his muzzle, he sniffed the spot I pointed to and sneezed again, shaking his head. “Pah, I can’t smell anything but hobyah stink.”
“They had it surrounded,” I mused, seeing the scene in my mind. “It must have come out of the water, pulled itself onto the bank, then collapsed here.
No, not just one.” I ran my fingers over the grass. “There was another one here. Two of them. The hobyahs probably found them when they were passed out.”
“Hobyahs aren’t anyone’s friends,” the Wolf said gravely. “And they eat almost everything. There might not be anything left once we catch up.”
I ignored the Wolf, though a cold rage burned deep in my stomach, making me want to put my sword through some creature’s head. As I 119/387
followed the tracks farther up the bank, more of the scene played out before me. “They dragged them away,” I continued, pointing at a spot where the grass was f lattened and bent in one direction, “into the forest.”
“Impressive,” the Wolf growled, coming to stand beside me. “And unfortunate, considering those two are now at the mercy of bloodthirsty cannibals.” He sniffed and gazed into the dark tangle of trees. “I suppose this means we are going after them.” Relief, swift and sudden, bloomed through me. They were still alive.
Captured perhaps, in danger of being tortured or killed, but for now, they were alive. I shot the Wolf a cold stare.
“What do you think?”
He bared his fangs at me. “Be careful, boy. In some tales, the hero gets eaten by the monster after all.”
Tracking the hobyahs through the dark, eerie forest proved easier then following the river. They didn’t bother to cover their tracks, and their greasy odor clung to every leaf and twig and blade of grass they stepped on or brushed by.
The trail led us deep into the woods, until at last, the ground sloped away and we were staring down into a shallow basin filled with swampy water. Thatch huts stood on wooden stilts over the murk, and long spears standing point up in the mud held an assortment of rib cages, rotting carcasses and severed heads.
Small, pale creatures like those from the riverbank swarmed the village like ants whose nest had been invaded. They barely came up to my knee. Along with their dark cloaks and hoods, many of them wore thin spears that looked to be made of bone.
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The Wolf growled and shifted beside me. “Disgusting things, hobyahs.
And they taste even worse then they look.” He turned to me. “What are you going to do now, little prince?”
“I have to find Puck and Ariel a, if they’re down there.” “Hmm. Perhaps they are in that pot.”
An enormous kettle hung on stilts in the middle of the camp, with a crackling fire underneath. Noxious black fumes came from whatever was in the pot, and I shook my head. “No,” I mused, dismissing that notion immediately. “Both of them are too smart to end up like that.”
“If you say so,” the Wolf mused as we circled the camp. “I hope your faith in those two does not get you killed.”
“There you are!” hissed an impatient voice above my head. “Where have you been? I was beginning to think the dog had eaten you after al
.”