The wind’s picking up. The scents of pine needles and wood smoke tickle my nose. Phineus’ strength fortifies me. I’m already falling in love with him. He’s edgy, but calms down at my touch. I can feel his emotions through his skin. When I jump up on him I can feel his joy. Two days of riding pass and we approach a small enclave surrounded by a wall of considerable fifteen-foot poles. Tendrils of smoke drift down the mountainside, so someone is home.
We stop at the edge of the road and look over the path leading to the front gate. Bets murmurs, “Why do they need the walls? What are they trying to keep out?”
“Let’s find out,” Samuel says as he throws a rock at the gate. “Hello. Anyone home? We’d like some shelter for the night. We have barter.”
Samuel’s announcement is met by silence, although the smoke continues billowing. Theo walks up to the gate and looks for a bell or knocker of some sort. “It’s strange they have no one on watch if they’re concerned enough to build this wall.” He examines the gate closely. “There’s sign of a struggle here. The gate is torn up and there are scorch marks. He pushes on it and it gives way. We join him and the gate swings open with a screech of tortured wood and bent metal.
“Hello?” Bets yells as she draws her bow and peers into the commons. The fortress contains a dozen simple log buildings, a few trees, and a large, whitewashed, plank barn. The smoke originates from a stone chimney in one of the houses. Its window is shuttered but the door is ajar. No movement, animal or human, is evident.
“This place’s a graveyard,” Theo says in a hush. “But there might well still be some ghosts hiding in the shadows. English and Bets come with me. Amy and Samuel stay here with the horses. If you hear a commotion, come in with your swords drawn.”
The three deftly approach the building. Bets and Samuel cover the door while Theo rushes into the space. Theo reappears shaking his head. “There’s a fire in the hearth but no one there. It’s as if everyone vanished. Let’s check the other buildings.”
Each house is filled with the stuff of life — clothing, blankets, books, preserves, and firewood. The fireplaces are cold and food is left on the tables in many of them. It seems that whoever lived here left without packing and with no sign of the struggle that was written on the outer wall. The barn’s empty as well, although fresh hay is scattered in the stables. We ready the horses for the night when I notice one of the little green ones sitting on a bench near the east wall. I had no idea they traveled beyond our village. I smile at it. It seems unfazed by me, hopping up, looking down, and then vanishing into the ground.
I walk over to the spot and notice an iron ring jutting from the dirt. I brush the soil away to uncover a large wooden-plank door leading to what appears to be a huge root cellar. “Hey, English and Samuel. Come over here and help me open this up. Maybe the answer is down here. Or we might find some provisions.”
We lift the heavy door and a pungent, slightly sweet funk assaults us. We can see a ladder but the bottom isn’t visible. English croaks. “Bets, please be a dearie and bring over a torch.”
Samuel smiles crookedly. “Want to draw lots on who goes down in there?”
“I’ll go,” I say.
“Not the chosen one, peaches,” English gently pushes me back while grabbing the torch. “Wish me luck”. He descends. Within moments, he reappears, his cool expression replaced by the pallor of a corpse. “Well, I found the townspeople. They won’t be bothering us.”
English nearly falls off the ladder back into the hole when Theo shouts, “Get over here quick. I found someone.”
We discover Theo holding a small boy, about twelve years old, by the scruff of his tunic. The kid is agitated, but in good health, relatively clean, and well fed. He begins shouting. “Who are you people? Why’d you come here? They’ll come back now, so you got to leave. Please let me go.”
“Who are they?” English asks. He’s regained his composure with impressive speed.
“The fog,” the dark boy answers as if English is stupid for asking.
“What’re you talking about?” Theo asks.
The boy’s face betrays confusion and mistrust. “Where do you come from? How can you not know about the fog? We had a truce with them since before I was born. But, when the moon went dark, they came for our blood. I hid. But they got the rest.”
Bets kicks a clod of dirt. “Apparently, we’re not the only victims of this horseshit monster attack. Kid did your village have someone special?” She looks directly at me.
“What you mean lady? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Was there someone who tended your gardens? Had gifts? Like they could see the future, grow anything anywhere, catch animals without effort? Someone who got special attention and was treated better than anyone else?”
“No, but, we had visitors here — two men — that wore strange clothes like yours from down the mountain. More than three seasons ago. They were traveling with a tall, cloaked man who did not enter our town. We only let them stay here for a few days before they left early one morning with no warning and no provisions. My parents and the other grown-ups said they brought ill will to us. After that, we didn’t allow any strangers in. Not that it matters no more.”
My stomach flipped. Wenn, father, and perhaps Fromer had been here. I knew it. “What’s your name?”
He runs his hands through his thick black hair. “My name’s Philip, although the town people and my folks mostly call me Flip. We’ve got to hide. I can feel when the fog’s coming. The grown-ups always relied on me to let them know when to be ready.”
It dawns on me that Flip is the special one. I can feel it in him. The green one I saw over the death pit wasn’t there for me. It’s with him.
Theo regains control. “Flip, this fog. You’re saying that it’s to blame for the…” He stops to think of a gentle way to ask. “The loss of your people? How’d the fog do this to them?”
Again, Flip looks as if he is being asked a stupid question. “The fog turns into monsters. The monsters kill and eat us. Simple.”
We consider this for a spell, reflecting on the similar events that destroyed our town. I take the boy by the hand. “Flip. Show me your town. We’ve been traveling hard for the past couple of days and we’re tired, hungry, and cold. Can you show us where we can get some warmer clothes and food?”
“Follow me,” he says pulling me toward the largest building. “We stored stuff in here.”
Once we are beyond ear-shot of the others my interrogation begins. “Flip, tell me the truth. Could you always see the little green creatures? You, know what I’m talking about don’t you?”
Flip’s eyes widen as he scratches his head. “You see the greenlings? I thought my mother and me were the only ones.”
I smile sadly. “Well, I thought only girls could see them. What did your mom do?”
“First, I’m no girl. About my mom, she tended to the forest. My family’s loggers and millers. We produce the best wood in these parts. Our mill is about a mile from here, along the ridge. I went there after the fog lifted, but no one’s there. My dad and brother went missing at the mill. My mom—” He looks over at the root cellar door.
I change the subject. “Flip, show me where the provisions are.” He shows me shelves of preserved vegetables, jerky, hardtack, cheese, and even some salted fish. Barrels of ale and wine extend into the shadows These people were prepared for a siege. After that, he leads me to his family’s house, where he opens an enormous cedar chest full of his mother’s winter clothes. This breaks my heart.