Big City Darkened Nights
#4 - rolling hills & twisted trees

Riding at a comfortable pace, Carr and Bolt reach the rolling grasslands by daybreak.

As the sun slowly rises, they follow the highest ridge south. Trotting along briskly Carr looks down noticing the horse’s long strides. At first impressed by Bolt’s speed now admires its endurance.

Surveying west across the rolling grasslands he studies the distinct dark Ironwood Forest. Envisioning encounters with never-before-seen beasts that could be waiting causes Carr to shudder.

Finding a seldom used, trail west they start traveling the ups and downs of the descending rolling hills. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

After the first hill the horse noticeably enjoys it, building speed going down to quickly crest the next. Zipping over the short sharp hills causes Carr’s stomach to lift, into his throat, but he likes it.

Cresting the last hill he slows Bolt, to look at the forest ahead.

Halted he scan back towards home and the city.

Next dilemma he wonders what to do with Bolt. Keep the horse close and risk being detected. Wanting to hold to a promise made he can’t leave the horse tied up in there, to be eaten.

Getting down he directs Bolt back towards the city, “Thanks for the ride, Bolt. You can go home now.” Carr slaps the horse’s hindquarters.

The horse whips Carr’s face with its’ tail.

Stepping back Carr feels his cheek. He watches the horse walk away, grazing, “Thanks. Try and at least graze your way back. Unseen.”

Shaking head and shrugging Carr turns to focus on the forest. With a deep sighing breath, he heads for the tree line.

Strange noises emanate from the forest making Carr nervous. Drawing his long-sword cautiously enters, “What the hell am I doing? I hope this is going to be worth it.”

Looking about, most of the trees are tall and twisted, with little low foliage. Carr’s concerned any one of the trees could be a Treant or all of them.

Vegetation is not as overgrown as Carr pictured. In fact, large patches throughout are barren of growth.

Listening to strange noises, he only sees birds and the odd squirrel. Once and a while large flying insects occasionally buzz by his head, checking him out.

A few hours into the forest Carr spots a fallen tree off the path to rest on. The forest darkens as the afternoon sun, becomes obscured by clouds.

Leaning the sword against the fallen tree Carr sits. Resting the backpack on his lap sees if Mother included anything useful.

“Oh crap.” Carr pushes the pack’s contents around, “All she put in here was a few days of rations, a bandage with herb pack. My other cloak, a couple canvass sacks, an extra dagger. And the lock picks, a lot of good they’ll do me, out here.”

Thinking for a minute Carr mutters. “Well maybe I could, Eeoow!” A biting pain on the back of his right thigh causes him to jump up, dropping the pack onto the ground.

Reaching down Carr’s fingers touch a hard wriggling and writhing critter.

Quickly grasping and plucking it from the leg he yelps. Bringing into view a giant centipede almost two spans long.

It hisses at him as its dozens of legs and body segments writhe about.

Disgusted and vengeful Carr firmly presses the critter against the tree.

With his free hand takes up the sword lopping its’ head off. Immediately whipping the squirming body deep into the woods.

Another centipede crests the tree rearing its’ head hissing. With the flat of the blade the oversized bug is batted away. Leaving several twitching legs behind. He watches the other part of the centipede scurry away.

Feeling something move under the back of his long hair, he expeditiously reaches back, snapping up a third.

Hesitating to watch the critter, as it wraps its’ legs around his wrist. The bug tries to bite repeatedly but its’ mandibles can’t reach flesh.

Knowing the bite of these creatures can paralyze Carr has an idea, “If I had a dozen of these things?”

Spotting the sack spilled from the backpack, he grabs it. Shoving the centipede inside.

Closing the bag tightly while leaning over the fallen branch, notices a long-rotted hole.

Tapping on the tree a centipede pops it’s head out. Carr snatches it and adds it to the sack.

He repeats the actions until the canvass bag weighs half a stone. The sack moves about so creepily it gives him a goose-bumpy shiver.

Making sure the sack is tied tightly Carr pushes himself off the tree. Attempting to turn around his right leg gives out. Putting the knee into the ground, he drops the sack.

Grasping the leg Carr curses, “Damn it! My damn leg is paralyzed.”

Picking up the long-sword for a crutch, he ambles about looking for a walking stick. Finding a suitable hardwood branch, trims it up slightly before sheathing the sword.

After shaking the sack of bugs about, for the leg bite, Carr places them into the pack.

Hobbling down the path deeper into the darkening forest, Carr keeps an eye out for a good hiding place.

As the forest blackens the strange sounds actually disappear. Leaving the just the rustling of leaves and creaking trees. This creaking doesn’t sound right, making him very uneasy.

Ahead a massive tree’s exposed roots, meet requirements for a place to hide.

Checking out the backside of the roots only a few normal spiders can be seen.

Crawling under the roots Carr gets as comfortable as possible in an eerie forest. Focusing on the direction he came from.

It’s not long before his senses kick in. Listening to the air hears nothing. Resting his ear to the forest floor he can feel vibrations. Telling him, hoofed animals are approaching.

The forest becomes very still, not even a creak to be heard. Staying as calm as possible Carr listens intently.

A long minute passes before catching the faint sound of hooves on the ground.

Straining to hear Carr makes out voices. Hopeful it’s the party of wanderers, he keeps still. Allowing small insects to cross his body.

Shortly voices, pounding hooves and clinking metal mark the approach of beings.

BZZZZ! An insect flies past reminding him of a night huddled under an ancient, decaying tree stump. Hiding from a pack of bugbears out hunting him.

Much smaller then, he still had to squeeze into a space, that resident creepy crawlies didn’t wish to share. Taking several different bites that night in teeth gritting silence. Where he learned better to be bit than eaten. Being too scared to even whimper also helped.

Back to the present he focuses on the forest. If the woods weren’t so dark the nearing group could be seen. Familiar sounds of clinking metals put a glint in his eye.

The ground begins to visibly vibrate.

Staring down the path silhouettes of riders are seen.

Within minutes five men ride past carrying with them the smell of Orc.

Slowly Carr crawls out of the roots, “Only five? Maybe I do have a chance.” He waits a moment before struggling to stand.

Gathering his things staggers back onto the path to follow them.

Ambling along, the forest behind becomes filled with the usual sounds.

Looking up past the twisted canopy he tries to get an idea of what time it is. The only visible sky is grey cloud.

Feeling the leg becoming mobile again Carr notices a spot of froth.

Squatting down pokes it with his finger to smell, horse sweat. Carr smiles knowing the horses are exhausted and the group will have to stop.

Leg still rubbery Carr rounds a corner on the path noticing a distant orange flickering.

Focused on the area Carr soon catches the scent of burning wood.

By the time Carr is certain it is fire, rough male voices are heard.

Stepping off the path Carr stealthily moves through the dark woods. Praising his deity or whichever one is responsible for the sparse floor vegetation.

Creeping from tree to tree he slowly nears. When the group becomes quiet, Carr wonders if they might be on to him.

Slipping to the next tree Carr can see their campsite. Horses are lined up a couple paces past the fire.

Easing forward Carr spies past the horses an Orc sits on a boulder. The male’s back is against a tree but head is slowly dropping.

Studying the ground to the site Carr walks thick exposed roots. His right leg is almost back to normal.

Just a couple strides away from the camp he can make out the four others, sleeping around the fire.

Crept in close and concealed beside a tree Carr takes out the sack of centipedes. After loosening the strap, he uses the hardwood walking stick to lift the bag into the clearing.

Lowering the bag, a couple of the critters start to exit the sack crawling for soil. The big bugs hit ground before the sack. Centipedes still inside creepily flow out scattering around and away from the fire. Most take cover under the sleeping party. A few disappear into the woods.

Pulling the stick and self-back, a few paces, Carr waits to see what will happen. Hoping the Orcs and Hobgoblin are not immune to the insect’s bite. With great care he sets the stick down and takes out the throwing knife.

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