“They won’t leave.”
The Swordswoman was right. Shelter, water, and grass. The horses wouldn’t leave. Looking down at Lebendig, she saw the grass near the Swordswoman bent toward her. The nearest stalks caressed her skin. Where they touched, Stehlen saw thin lines of blood.
Blood. She pinched the wound in her arm, spilling more of her own blood to the ground. The grass there went berserk. She tried to step back but something held her foot. With a snarl she yanked it free leaving a bloody footprint in the grass. Checking the bottom of her bare foot she found it spotted with hundreds of pinprick wounds. But there was nothing below her foot other than…the grass. Tearing her other foot free she ran for her boots. She left a trail of bloody footprints. Balancing on one foot at a time she yanked her boots on. “Get up!” she snapped at Lebendig.
“It’s nice here,” said the Swordswoman reclining in the grass. “I can’t remember the last time I was warm and dry.” Lebendig grinned, eyes still closed. “You didn’t tell me about the scarves. Was it your mother’s?”
Boots on, Stehlen kicked her in the ribs. Hard. Lebendig grunted in startled pain but didn’t roll away.
Eyes open, she stared up at Stehlen, blinking in confusion. “What the hells—?”
Stehlen kicked her again. “Get the hells up!”
“Thieving cunt!” Lebendig reached for her sword and discovered it lay beyond her fingertips.
Stehlen kicked the sword farther away as Lebendig struggled to lever her torso off the ground and failed. Grabbing the Swordswoman’s ankles, she dragged the woman from where she lay and flipped her onto her stomach. As she feared, her lover’s back was a bloody mess of thousands of tiny pinprick holes. Lebendig screamed as the pain hit and Stehlen released her, backing away.
The Swordswoman touched her back and stared at her bloody hand. “What the hells?”
“Stand up now or I’ll kick you again.”
Lebendig pushed to her feet, pale and unsteady. “Why am I bleeding?” Her eyes focussed on Stehlen. “You kicked me!”
Stehlen, naked except for her boots and scarves said, “You asked about my scarves.”
“I did? I… I wouldn’t…”
“Put your boots on. Fast. They’ll get your feet.”
“They?” Lebendig asked, hobbling to her boots and stepping into them. She collected her swords, tossing the scabbards to the ground and looking for an enemy.
“The grass,” said Stehlen, gesturing at the Lebendig-shaped bloody stain. “There’s something here.”
The Swordswoman shivered, only now feeling the cold. Blood ran from her back, sheathing her torso in a slick sheen of sanguine. “I feel weak. Tired. I need to lie down. Need to get warm again.”
“Lie down and I’ll gut you myself.”
Lebendig glared at her but nodded. “It’s like…I know I shouldn’t but every time I get distracted I just want to lie down.”
Stehlen understood. Her knife felt heavy in her fist. She should put it down, lie in the grass. Rest. She cut herself, bringing the world into sharp clarity.
“Collect our clothes,” said Stehlen. “I’ll find the horses.” Lebendig nodded, her eyes slipping closed in a languid blink. “If you’re lying down when I get back, I swear I’ll kill you.”
Lebendig focussed on her. “You’d like that, having me serve again. It’s what you want.” Her swords rose in challenge. “Try and—”
Stehlen killed the flash of rage and hurt by cutting herself again. She took Lebendig’s swords away and handed them back sheathed. The big woman blinked at the scabbards in muddled confusion.
“It’s this place,” said Stehlen, spitting at the grass. She showed Lebendig her bloody arm. “I’ll cut myself to nothing before I hurt you.” Then she turned away, stalking to the lake, careful not to let the grass touch flesh.
She found the horses, drained and empty husks of dry flesh stretched over bone, by the shore. Grass entwined them, burrowed into eyes and flesh, knitting them to the soil. In another hour, they’d look like small hills. Stehlen saw the ground surrounding the lake was misshapen and lumpy. Countless thousands of grass mounds dotted the shoreline.
“What are you?” she asked, neither expecting nor receiving an answer. Was this the burial site of some long dead god, or perhaps a numen, an Ascended spirit bound to this place by the worship of man. Whatever it was knew enough to work Stehlen’s emotions. “Were you human once?” She tried to imagine an eternity tied to a copse of trees because the humans in the area worshipped you as a local spirit. Or had this been a regular pond at some point in the past? Had the ignorant fears of humanity manifest something evil here after some poor moron drowned in the shallow waters?