Fyglia

VIII ~ The Smell of Burning Leaves

   

               He led his horse through the darkened trees of the darkened forest. The warm glow of his oil lamp and the paced trotting of his animal had slackened the tension in his body. The mildly howling air made him sleepy. The young man leaned his once-strained shoulders back and let out a sigh. The night before was such a blur. He had been drinking ale from his flask, stopping by a local pub to further drown his troubles. Everything that happened after that moment came in fragments – hooded figures, a bearded bar man, as well as a glimpse of raven black hair. All of a sudden, the wagon jolted up from the ground, filling some of the gaps in the young man’s memory.

            A girl. She had hair as dark as a raven’s feathers, he thought to himself. But that was all he could remember. He could not piece together her face, he did not know the colour of her eyes, or if her brows were thick or thin, her lips pink or pale.

           But there was something about her that remained in his mind. This feeling of…familiarity? Was she someone he knew before? After venturing deeply in his mind to try to retrieve his forgotten memories, the young man gave up silently and tugged the rein back to slow down his horse’s movements. It’s probably for the best. Not to remember, he decided, glancing up at dark leaves that hung above his head.

              The man narrowed his brows.

               What is that smell?

              He looked at the lamp beside him and sniffed the air.

              The smell of burning leaves?

           The scent was heavily potent as it permeated throughout the air. Veering off the dirt road, the young man pulled back on the reins, bringing his horse to a stop. Quickly, he jumped out the wagon and went to tie a rope to the horse’s leather halter. After enclosing the tail of the rope around a tree branch, the young man stroked the animal’s nuzzle and soon headed off to follow the smell that lingered in the air.

           Within a few hasted steps, the trees ahead of him began to diminish. Flickering lights peeked in between trees as he squinted, ducked from branches and stepped over rocks. The clearing was not too far. And the smell grew more distinct as the young man grew closer and closer. As the trees no longer blocked what was ahead, the young man stopped in tracks at the scene before him. The town. The town that was stricken with poor locals left and right. The town that was the cause of his repressed memories.

            It was ablaze.

∞

      

           I screamed awake when the cold water splashed against my body. Blinking with a blurred vision, I made out the figures that stood before me. I  peered at them  through the water droplets that hung from my lashes.  Fingernails digging into my flesh, my drenched body shook uncontrollably.

“Where is he?” A voice spoke. I hugged my arms to my chest as my hair dripped with water.

“Where is he?” The question was repeated and one of the figures stepped forward. Convulsively, wheezes escaped from my mouth as I tried desperately to move away.  My soaked hair strands slapped against my neck, its sharp strikes leaving my skin stinging.

 “W-Who?”  I croaked, barely able to release a coherent word from my throat.  

“James Aldebourne,” He replies, and it is only then  I realize who he is. The green-eyed man. His eyes were like those of a serpent’s. It reflected a coldness similar to the chill of the night air. “Your lad  threatened  Grifon here.” He motioned behind him as another stood forward. It was the bald man from the pub.The two men towered over me like the trees in Godwich, but unlike the trees in my forest, their domineering qualities intimidated me, rather than making me feel safe.