Melody of the Fates

Chapter 6.0

Werim held out a hand containing the other two pairs of unbroken spectacles. Bud snatched one up right away, slipping them over his head and adjusting them. Werim went to give the second pair to his sister, but she shied away.

"Come on, 'Ree. They're not going to bite," he said.

Bud added, "You're not going to be able to see without them."

Sharee frowned, but grabbed the remaining pair out of Werim's hand. He hid his smile at her obvious discomfort. It reminded him of the time he put worms in her hair. That was hilarious. Girls, he mused silently, shaking his head. She twisted them in her hands before finally slipping them over her head.

"Whoa," she said, looking out the door, "the fog is gone."

"You think?" Werim responded.

"But... how?"

"Does it matter?"

Bud was flipping his spectacles up and down, alternating his view. He took them off, studied them from all angles, and then jammed them back on his head. A grunt was his only response as he trudged off into the smoke.

To Werim's eyes, the blond boy's form dimmed a bit when it entered the darkness, but was otherwise easily seen. Werim could certainly tell where the smoke started, but instead of being a wall of swirling, pulsing murkiness, it looked like his front yard on a cloudy day. Colors were muted, but visibility was not a problem. Bud paused for a moment as if expecting something to happen. When nothing did, he continued off toward the center of the village.

"Wait!" Werim hollered after his friend. "Where are you going?"

Sharee brushed by, hurrying after the blond boy. "To find Mom, of course," she responded.

Werim cast an annoyed look at her back as she bounced away, satchel at her waist. His pack waited for him at the foot of the stairs. It was far from heavy, but he still grunted as he tossed it over his shoulder. Of course he'd taken the larger bag; it was expected of him. He wasn't sure if he'd even need any of the items he'd thrown in there, but it was better to be prepared than not. Besides, he didn't want to hear Sharee complain if forced to carry useless items.

"Wait up, you two," he called as he left the house.

He turned to shut the door, but there was no door to shut. It had been destroyed by the big man. The same heavy corpse that he'd had to lug around the corner of the house to get it out of Sharee's sight. That had not been easy work, either. Why did he always have to do the heavy lifting?

Catching up to his sister and friend, Werim crouched and took the lead. He was the best at sneaking, after all. He'd proven that over and over again when they'd played Hide and Find in the woods growing up. Those two were always finding each other, but never him. They always stayed in one spot, hoping not to be found. The trick, as Werim had figured out, was to sneak back to places they'd already checked. He'd found that people rarely checked the same place twice. Though they hadn't played the game in years, he was still relatively confident that he was the best of the three.

Shortly, they came to the first house of the village. It was the Bourge homestead, one of the harvesters in town. Many families tended the vineyards that provided the main source of income to the village, and the Bourges were typical of the bunch. Old man Bourge lived with his two sons and their wives. There were half a dozen grandchildren, much younger than Werim, that usually ran around in the yard while their fathers worked. Obviously, none of them were out now.

Werim crept around the corner, spectacled eyes sweeping for any more of the inked men, and quickly found a window. Standing up on his toes, he peeked inside. The dwelling appeared to have been deserted. Chairs normally tucked neatly beneath the kitchen table had been overturned, presumably in haste, but otherwise the interior was motionless. If anyone was inside, they were most certainly hiding and unlikely to come out.