“Who are you?” I demand. “These are my woods. My space. My duty.”
This time the growl sounds closer, and I shiver. “No man should—”
“Not a man,” the voice agrees with a growl for punctuation. “Nor are you.”
And in a rush of fear, I realize the growls and words are from the selfsame mouth. The creature—for that was what has spoken—stays outside the halo of light, but it circles like a predator. In the shadows, I make out a human-shaped thing wearing a red cap.
“Are you the thing that killed my father?” I ask. “That attacked me?”
“Why would I do that?” it scoffs.
“Excellent question.” I let Imp prance in a full circle, watching the creature, as I think on my list of suspects. This is not any of the beastlike animals that are more common in the wood. It is not a nuckelavee, which does occasionally wander out of the river and into the forest. It is not a redcap, with bloodstained skin. It is no apparition. This is a physical creature. It speaks as a redcap might, but with an articulation common to human, not beast. The only logical answer is that this is the creature that attacked me, that killed men, that murdered my father.
“You don’t belong here,” I tell it. Whatever it is, it ought to be in Faerie. Not here. Not in our world, and most definitely not in Brimmond Wood.
“You, little wisp, dare challenge my domain?” it asks.
The creature lifts a hand as if to strike me, and I see the sharp claws that jut from its hands, as if its fingernails have grown long and been coated in precious metals. No wonder it can behead men so easily.
“This is my wood. My home.” I draw a sword with one hand and pull out a fistful of salt and seeds with the other, surprised it’s not yet attacked me. “Youneed to leave.”
Imp steady beneath me, I toss the salt and seeds at the beast.
It laughs, a harsh grating noise, and I see blood on its surprisingly perfect teeth as it mocks, “That won’t work on me.”
Then, it launches at me, flinging its body through the air.
My hand tightens. I’ve seen its strength, felt it toss me through the air, seen men’s heads severed, seen my father die from its strength. I brace for the attack.
Instead of attacking, the creature knocks the lantern to the ground. Glass shatters on the rocks. A brief flicker of fire is snuffed out in the wet loam and moss on the forest floor.
Too long until the sun rises to cast some light in the forest,logic reminds me.
I’ve felt the power in the beast’s arms before, and fear rises. With no light, how do I fight the creature? I will be found drained and bloodless.
I think of my theories then and blurt out, “Ihunthere. My father hunted. His father. This isourwood. I am no stranger trespassing in this forest.”
The creature doesn’t answer, but it also doesn’t attack.
I dismount and draw my sword as soon as I realize as I stare at it that I can see better now thanwiththe lantern. The harsh glare has been an obstacle. I can now see as clearly as in daylight, perhaps more so. Like my changed hearing, my vision is better. I haven’t noticed because of the lantern. Later, I can ponder. For now, I’m faced with a beast aspale as any of the bloodless corpses I’ve seen. Its hands are weapons, and its eyes look as bloodless as its flesh. Thick fur covers its lower half and chest. The beast’s arms look like a person’s.
“You look different now that I can see you clearly,” I say without meaning to. I remembered the claws differently. Fear must have clouded my memory.
“You need to stay out of the Brimmond Wood,” the creature says. “It is not safe for you here. You must hunt somewhere else.”
I glance down to see an injured deer at the feet of the creature. “I have no objection to you killinggame, but you killedmen. They are not food to hunt!”
It frowns. “I do not eat men.”
“Drink them. Whatever you call it,” I say. “Humans are not prey. I have vowed to kill you.”
The creature smiles at me.
“I will not let you prey on people.” I lift my sword, ready to defend against its attack. I’ve felt the strength in those arms twice now. I am admittedly afraid. “You must return to Faerie or die.”
“Faerie? Why would I gothere?” The beast laughs. “What a strange thing to say. My life is here.”
“You killed men. They are not—”
