The fire burned low in the late night, a pocket of molten-colored embers sprouting the occasional flicker of flame. The camp was well flanked by large trees in a black forest wall. Not far away, sounds of the Vudrask River, swollen with spring rains, gurgled as water splashed against rocks in its steady, ceaseless flow. Magiere rolled over on her blanket with a low murmur. Wisps of her hair loosened from its braid and caught in smudges of leftover dried mud on her face. Chap glanced at her once and then resumed his vigil.
Movement flashed between two trees a half dozen leaps outside of the camp.
Chap raised his head and growled for the first time since his companions had settled down to sleep. Silver-blue and gray hairs rose on his neck, and his jowls wrinkled until teeth showed between his lips. The rumbling growl swelled into a snarl. Magiere struggled in her sleep, but didn't awaken.
Another quick blur passed in the darkness.
Haunches, shoulders, and leg muscles tensed. Chap dropped his head down again, growing silent, and inched forward along the ground.
A white face with eyes like glistening stone appeared above a bush two leaps out. It stared at Magiere.
Chap launched forward with a high-pitched snarl. In the time it takes to lick a muzzle clean with the tongue, the forest wall covered him from sight.
Magiere woke in a panic and thrashed off her blanket in time to see Chap's rapidly moving body disappear into the forest. She jerked her falchion from its sheath in confusion, still heavy with sleep as she wondered what noise had broken through her exhaustion.
"Leesil, wake up," she said quickly. "Chap is gone… after something."
The dog rarely barked unless threatened. He never attacked unless ordered to do so by Leesil, and in the years Magiere had known him, the hound had never abandoned camp.
An eerie, hate-filled cry floated through the forest from somewhere near the river. It was nothing she could imagine coming from a dog's throat.
"Leesil… did you hear me?" She got to her feet. "Something is out there." Her amulets brushed against her companion's shoulder as she leaned over him and snapped, "Get up!"
He murmured something and rolled away from her. The wineskin lay empty beside him.
"You drunken sot," she said in frustration.
Another raging cry echoed low through the trees, and this time she knew it was Chap. She hesitated for a moment as she considered whether or not she should leave Leesil alone. Then she charged into the forest toward the sound.
Something had spooked the dog so badly that he'd attacked without orders or even bothering to wake the camp. Visions of Stravinan wolf packs tearing him apart pushed Magiere to move faster. She smashed through low-hanging branches and underbrush, the sound of the river growing stronger ahead.
He wasn't even her dog, but he'd thrown his own body between hers and danger enough times that the thought of him being hurt bothered her more than she expected. The strange wailing snarl she'd heard earlier mingled with Chap's usual growling bark, but the closer she got to the river, the more the gurgling rush of water made it difficult to get a bearing on the dog's location.
Magiere called out as she ran, "Chap, where are you?"
She had no torch, but the nearly full moon gave just enough light to distinguish some passage through the forest. Twice she tripped, catching herself with her free hand while gripping the falchion tightly with the other. The earlier bungled fight with Leesil had left her muscles sore. She cursed the overzealous hound, from both frustration and concern. Through the trees she caught the glitter of moonlight on rippling water.
"Chap!" she called again, rushing forward.
A flicker of white passed through the left corner of her vision and she stopped. From the same direction came the sound of Chap's chopped barks. Magiere ran toward the sound, only to have it move off to the right, again toward the river. The forest broke into a small clearing upon the river's shore. What she saw caused her legs to freeze. Even from behind Chap, she could see the dark stains around his neck and shoulders. She moved wide to his left, not wanting to startle him.
His muzzle was smeared and dripping, and though it was too dark to tell the color, she knew it was blood. Whatever fur on his body wasn't matted and wet stood straight out, making him look even larger than usual. The lips of his muzzle were pulled back, showing teeth in a shuddering snarl. Magiere's head turned slightly toward the dog's quarry, trapped against the river's edge.
Man-shaped, it crouched in the mud and gravel, hands placed flat on the ground as if it could move on all fours if it so wished. Shreds of a shirt hung from its torso where Chap had torn at it. Trickles of blood ran from wounds down the arms and chest of this moon-colored man. The dark hair hanging to his shoulders appeared out of place, as if he'd been carved from pale wood with blackened com silk placed on his head as an afterthought. The stringy hair shadowed his face, but his eyes shone as if reflecting a nonexistent light. He lifted one emaciated hand to stare at the gashes of teeth marks ringing his wrist. Small gnarled nails, like misbegotten claws, extended from each fingertip.
"Not possible… just dog… but its touch burns." The man's voice was filled with surprise. "Filthy mongrel…" he hissed in anger, "could not hurt Parko, not like this."
Glowing eyes turned away from his wounds as he became aware of Magiere's presence. The man's head began to tilt to one side, then farther and farther still, until it nearly rested upon his shoulder like an owl as he stared at Magiere. Hair fell away from his long face, and she tightened her grip on the falchion.
Sunken cheeks and eye sockets made dark pockets in skin as white as a cave grub's. Some illness had wasted him away to thin muscle and bone.
"Hunter?" he said with a sharp intake of breath, voice sweet and tonal. His head tilted farther sideways, then crow-chatter laughter erupted from his throat. "Hunter!"
Magiere felt cold and fearful at that word. The man knew of her, or at least knew why she'd come to this place, yet she had never seen him before.
He dodged left, springing from all fours.
"Chap, stay back," Magiere ordered, but not quickly enough.
Chap mirrored the man's movement, but before he landed, the white figure reversed direction in a forward leap to the right. Chap's front legs gave in the loose gravel as he tried to twist back. He toppled, skidding in a clatter on the river's rocky beach. Magiere saw the man's movement, right then left, then her eyes flicked toward Chap as the dog fell. She blinked.
The man was in the air coming down upon her.
Magiere ducked and rolled forward along the ground, passing under the airborne arc of the man. There was no time to ponder how he moved so fast or leaped so far. She spun and came up with her back to the river in time to see her assailant twist in the air, already facing her again. His feet barely touched the ground before he lunged at her.
Magiere swung the falchion in a fast, short slash between herself and her attacker. It was a feeble attack, but she hadn't intended it to strike home. All she wanted was to scare him off. It would do no good to kill a local villager now, after she'd successfully worked her way out of Leesil's little impromptu performance.
The white man ducked and hopped to the side, avoiding the blade. She took advantage and shifted the opposite way to get her back away from the river. The man's disturbing laugh echoed off the surrounding trees.
"Poor hunter," he moaned playfully, raising fingers with stained nails and straightening from his crouch.
Magiere took a step back. "I just want the dog. I don't want to hurt you."