When the Forest rumbles

The open road

The quiet creaking of the saddle was drowned out by the trills of starlings and the convulsive cries of jackdaws. An intoxicating smell of humus rose from the rotten leaves, and the sun's rays, breaking through the withered foliage, blinded the eyes. Mavka Tharya, weary from the long journey, shook herself, rubbed her eyes and bit her lip in an attempt to cheer herself up. She traveled this route for more than three days, with a couple of short breaks for restless sleep. Her stomach growled loudly. Her horse Goleufa bucked, shaking its mane braided into thin braids, neighed indignantly and froze abruptly. Mavka would have almost fallen face-first if she hadn't grabbed the saddle in time.

Tharya dismounted with a loud curse, leaping off in a single motion. As she looked around, she saw the ancient road of browned brick, now overgrown with weeds, stretching ahead. However, thin paths branched off from the main road, disappearing into the wildness of the Forest. There was no wind, no birdsong, and no sound of animals under the ancient treetops.

"By leaf and petal, I can't endure this any longer," Mavka exclaimed. She stretched her shoulders with a sharp movement, causing her vertebrae to crunch loudly. After tying her horse to a nearby tree, she disappeared behind a bush to relieve herself. As Tharya tucked her shirt into her pants, she heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps.

People blink slower than Mavka takes out a dagger.

"Who are you and why are you following me?" she threw the unlucky spy into the withered leaves and put her knee to his throat. The tip almost touched the man's eye.

"I don't... Please have mercy! I didn't intend to! I was just following orders! I beg you!" shouted the young Carf, no older than nineteen. His light green skin glowed emerald in the dim light of the branches.

"Whose order?" Putting the dagger in the sheath on her boot, Tharya grabbed the spy by the chest and pulled him to his feet. Shaking off the leaves, Mavka walked around him and grinned. "Aren't you too young to go out on patrol alone?"

"N-n-no, my lady Mavka, I don't..." Bowing awkwardly, he perked up and, throwing back the tangled blond strands from his narrow face, proudly announced: "I am the vassal Zenova, I was ordered to guard the sacred Grove."

"Yeah sure. Why are you following me? We have always been here, and we do not need the help of filthy traitors."

"My lady, I am not a traitor, I..." Zenova blinked rapidly, his hazel eyes glistened with moisture. "I am ready to give my life for the sake of the great Thongrong."

Mavka sighed heavily, straightened the two-handed sword on her belt and, taking a couple of steps back, looked at the unlucky spy with a heavy gaze.

"And I thought that nowadays all the carfs serve the Usurper," she spat contemptuously at his feet and walked up to the horse. A Spotted Rowan Thrush landed quietly on an alder branch and bowed its head, carefully studying the newcomers.

Goleufa snored and buried its heavy head in her shoulder, as if indicating, "look in that direction." Tharja turned and noticed a swaying shadow in the dappled darkness of the forest. The air began to tremble, filling with a barely audible piercing whistle. "Quickly, on the road!" Zenova hesitated, and Mavka had to grab him by the collar and drag him onto the road. The shadow was approaching, and the plants that its blurry edges touched turned into dust before their eyes.

Goleufa galloped for half an hour, lathered and snoring from the sharp blows of the leather whip. Zenova quietly whined, tightly clutching Mavka's back. Finally, the horse stopped, wheezed, and raised its head, forcing the passengers to dismount.

"My lady, what was that?" Zenova was paler than any young leaf, but he tightly clutched the hilt of his saber with his thin palm.

Tharya was about to answer but changed her mind. She waved her hand, drank the last water from the flask, and the horse snorted nervously, kicking its hoof. It didn't immediately allow the owner to pull up the saddle.