At first hidden by the rustling of branches and forest litter stirred by raindrops, another sound took shape within the trees. The hounds were so hungry that they cracked bones and gulped flesh and took no notice, but at the moment he realized he heard a group of men, they growled and lifted their massive heads to glare down the trail, back the way the monster had come from originally. He walked over to stand beside them with staff in hand, listening.
“Hush, you fool! What if it hears your nattering?”
“We thunder like a herd of cattle as it is. We’ll never sneak up on anything.”
“Ho! Watch that shovel. You almost stove in my head.”
“You should go in the lead, Atto. You’ve got the good spear.”
“Won’t! I never wanted to come at all. This is a stupid idea! We’ll all be devoured and to no purpose.”
“Shut up.”
He saw the men in the distance past fallen trees and shattered branches. They had not yet noticed him, so he whistled to get their attention and called out before they could react in a reckless way that might cause someone harm.
“I’m here,” he said, “a traveler. The creature you seek passed by some time ago. I and my hounds heard it pass.”
They hurried forward. They were what he expected: a nervous group of local men armed variously with spears, staves, shovels, and scythes and driven by one scowling big-boned man who walked at the back of the group holding the only sword.
“Who are you?” he demanded, pushing forward through the rest but halting when he saw the size of the hounds.
“I’m a traveler called Alain. I hope to find shelter for the night and continue my journey to Autun in the morning.”
“You saw the beast, yet live to tell the tale?” He indicated the carcass and the bloody muzzles of the hounds. “Pray excuse me, friend, if I doubt your tale. None who see the beast live to tell of it.”
“Has it killed human folk, then? What manner of beast is it that you stalk? Are you not feared to stalk a creature that will kill you once you see it?”
Several of them scratched their beards, considering these questions.
The one called Atto was young, with but a scrap of a beard and an anxious way of glancing from one side to the other. “That’s right, Hanso. We just found the one dead man, and him stark naked and so thin he more likely starved to death.”
“He’d been gnawed on.”
Atto shrugged. “Anything might gnaw on a dead carcass. A bear. Wolves. Wild dogs. Rats and crows and vultures.”
“What about the missing sheep and cows, then?” asked the leader belligerently. “How do you account for those? We must protect ourselves.”
“And get killed in the bargain?” Atto shook his head. “This is a fool’s errand. I’m not going any farther.”
“Then you won’t be marrying my daughter.”
That arrow hit home. That the two men disliked each other was apparent in their stiff posture and jutting chins, in the way the other seven men hung back as if fearing that a fistfight was about to erupt.
“Try and stop us!” said Atto with a smirk. “We’ll walk to Autun. The lady is taking in men for soldiers. They say she’ll feed any man willing to carry arms in her service. We’ll manage, and you’ll not be able to run after us and drag her back like you did last time. She’s two years older now, old enough to choose for herself.”
“And pregnant with your bastard!”
Feet shifted, scuffing the dirt as each changed position. Hanso drew a fist back.
Rage trotted forward and sat down showily between the two. Her growl drew such a hush down over the assembly that Alain clearly heard the tick of one of last autumn’s dead leaves fluttering down through branches as it fell at long last to earth.
“It’s settled between us,” finished Atto, flicking an uneasy glance at the hound.
“It will never be settled,” muttered Hanso. But he lowered his fist and turned his scowling glare on Alain. “What did you see?”
Alain described the encounter, and the men listened respectfully. “Have any of you seen the creature?” he asked.
Nay, they had not, but rumor grew like a weed. The corpse of an unknown man discovered by a holy spring. Missing ewes and cows since the autumn tempest that had blown down the trees and torn the roofs off a dozen sheds and houses in the hamlets hereabouts. Both strong ploughing oxen, owned in common by the villagers, gone and never recovered. The roof of their tiny church had cracked and fallen in, and the deacon had been killed. Then noises echoed out of the forest, dreadful cries and frightful coughs. The carcasses of deer, such as this one, had been found along animal trails disturbed by the passage of a huge beast: more than twenty such dead animals and all of them crawling with maggots and worms spat from the monster’s mouth. Two months ago a party of refugees had staggered out of the forest along the path and told of four of their number turned to stone and lost.
