“Try not to get eaten whilst you’re about. Might be kinda hard for me to explain to your folks, eh?”
Leo nodded, saluted the gardener, and continued up the path.
At first, it was a fantastic feeling. The forest at that time of year was a heavy dark green that breathed mystery. The birds sang tempting tunes like sirens, not so cheerful as to destroy the ambiance. Leo felt that surge of manliness common to all young adventurers and tried the mettle of his beanpole on an offending sapling or two. Perhaps it was a little lonely sallying forth on his own. Perhaps he would have preferred a brave comrade-in-arms. But there’s a certain spirit that follows the solitary adventurer and prevents any real loneliness from setting in.
The path was broad, for many lived in the higher reaches of the mountain and trekked down to the lower village once or twice a week. It was hardly the right location to hunt monsters, but to Leo it was nonetheless exciting. He’d never before been so far away from home on his own. In fact, he had never before been so completely alone.
This thought struck him just as he came upon the silver-branched sapling tied with a red scarf. It was a threadbare scarf looped around the thin trunk. The red dye was so faded with age that it was lucky it caught Leo’s eye. Obviously, someone had placed it there as an unobtrusive marker, not for the whole world to see. Leo might have stopped to wonder how the gardener knew about it or why he had decided to point it out to Leo . . . but he didn’t. His mind was much too caught up in the sudden decision presented him.
The deer trail led around the mountain rather than up, and it led deep into the forest. The dark forest. Like a pathway into the blackness of a mine, the light dimmed and then vanished only a few paces in.
Leo had to make the choice. Did he truly desire the adventure he had come seeking? Did he truly wish to make that plunge and hunt the monster? Or would he rather turn around and call it a day after a brisk and relatively interesting walk? No one would blame him, after all.
For a terrible moment, he stood undecided, doubting his own courage, excusing his fear.
Then from the depths of the mountain forest, so distant as to sound like an echo, he heard a trill of silver notes from a bird that might almost have been singing words had Leo known the language.
And something about that song told him, It’s all right. Make the plunge. Hunt your monster and see what you find.
With a mighty cry to prove to himself how unafraid he was, Leo smacked his beanpole against the sapling as hard as he could, making it sway and tremble. Then he pushed through low growth and on down the narrow trail.
The going was slower now, since he had to watch the ground for roots and duck to avoid branches that swung at his eyes. His heart raced, but it felt good to let it race, and his grip on the beanpole tightened until his knuckles were white. In his mind he pictured the monster again and again, remembering the bits and pieces he’d overheard.
A demon, Leanbear had said. Leo imagined a towering, lurching, spine-shouldered fiend with dripping jowls and red eyes. He imagined his beanpole really was a sword, slashing away grasping claws and driving home to rid the world of this abomination.
A dragon, Redbird had remarked. Leo saw in his mind scaly wings, smoke-fuming nostrils, and a long, sinuous tail. Of course, it would be difficult for a dragon to crawl about in this overgrown forest without making a terrible racket.
Perhaps a sylph, a creature of the wind, wafting and horrible, with sharp white claws. Leo liked this idea better. Immaterial monsters were frightening, but they were less likely to cause physical harm . . . and when one was venturing out with only a beanpole for protection, this was just as well.
Monster after monster flitted across Leo’s imagination. The day lengthened, and the path beneath him did as well. He could not guess how long he had been traveling; it seemed like forever. All that tramping around, even sheltered as he was from the hot sun, made Leo hungry, and the monsters in his mind swiftly grew less interesting.
“Bah!”
His beanpole out at an awkward angle to push aside a clump of nettles, Leo froze. Then his heart started to pound wildly, yet still he could not move. Other than the birds’ random twittering and the crunch and crash of his own feet on the uneven terrain, he hadn’t heard a sound that deep in the forest. Not until this moment.
“Baaaah!”
It was closer now, he thought. Was it moving his way? He’d never pictured seven-foot spine-backed fiends making noises quite like that, but who was to say what monsters sound like? He brandished his beanpole, leaving the nettles to swing back and bite him in the leg. “Dragon’s teeth!” he yelped.
“BAAAAH!”
Leo whirled around, for the sound had come from behind him. Peering into the brambles through which he had just come, he saw fur and an inhuman body. And for a second, he saw the glint of an evil yellow eye.