In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 77: Havoc (Monsters are Real)

Only darkness and slivers of tight, white faces-- eyes peaked with worry as they glanced at the courtyard through cracked lodge doors-- greeted the dawn while Sashek worked on packing a satchel full of traveling supplies. Into the satchel were stuffed tea packets, bundles of healing herbs, small sections of cordoned kindling and cattle patties for starting fires. The two human children, Frankie and Blythewood, worked quietly beside her as they concentrated on which things they should take: dolls, rolled-up pinafores, blankets, or the wrapped calf-skins that were sometimes used as pillows. Toys were discouraged; why, Sashek had not been specific, but the confused little girls knew that the trip they would embark upon would be a long journey, indeed...perhaps the longest they had ever taken.

The Council, small though it was, had considerable clout with Hidden Well's superstitious inhabitants; the merits and cons of leaving the only village they had known for hundreds of years in lieu of a possible Draca attack had been argued and picked over in the town's meeting lodge deep into the Night. Of course it made perfect sense that the People should remain, argued one side, because packing up and deserting their comfortable village would almost certainly anger the spirits that lived in the wood, in the trees, in the streams, and even more so the capricious gods and goddesses that swam in the shining beams of the Twin Moons. They further made a case for more protection against Dragura's wrath if they remained, for the spirits and gods who relied on their worship would reward their piety. This group counted on the strength of their thatch-roofed homes, the cellars that a few of the richest could boast where they planned on hiding precious children, and the sharp weapons that every able-bodied man and teen-ager would be expected to wield against the sensitive underbellies of their attackers. The folk of Hidden Well knew the Draca feared fire above all else and rarely used it themselves-- thus, the majority of poles and staffs would be slathered with pitch and lit liberally at the ends.

All of this was poppycock, insisted the other group, which consisted mainly of furrow-browed older men, widows, and young mothers who clutched wide-eyed babies to their bosoms. Of what use were handsome thatched roofs when five-inch claws and paws the size of serving platters could rip these to shreds while swooping low at high speeds? Of what good were cellars if children were hidden and later debris piles covered the openings, leaving babes to suffocate before they could be dug out and young women to wail the loss of their first-borns? Of any who remained, there were bound to be deaths. No one drove this point home harder than the grandfathers and great-uncles of these young families, many of whom had seen Draca raids in their youths and remembered the carnage that had been wrought: houses razed to the ground, young women snatched by gigantic flying beasts who left only droplets of blood behind, thin young men snapped in half by raging dragons, and babies ripped from mother's arms, only to twist out of their abductor's claws and be impaled on the sharp ends of the very weapons meant to protect them. Of course they must go, it was decided; the sooner the better, and any who stayed behind for any reason were almost certainly fools to the death.

In the end, few switched sides. Only about forty percent of Hidden Well's thousand-plus inhabitants had decided to leave- among them Julian and his love, Lu-Lu-- but the difficult decision had been made to split the Council. It was recognized that each group of people, no matter how wrong or how right, would need a leader, and the sisters themselves had reportedly argued bitterly over the specifics.

Lomaris had decided to stay behind.

"Why do we have to leave, Sashek?" Frankie peeked at her from beneath a poof of black bangs with her too-small eyes.

Sashek glanced at her. "Because." Thinking of bloodshed, Sashek grabbed a roll of small white cloths and added them to the satchel. The moon-rays from the Celestial Twin Sisters would be evident soon, but how long would they have to wait before Dragura appeared with her wrath and minions?