Chapter 2
Lazar was gliding through the grass brush, scanning the ground for wild chamomile. The great Grey Mountains loomed up above the ground, acting like a steadfast divider between Lightwood and the rest of the allod. For some strange reason, the chamomile seemed to grow best along the southern border of the range, between the Grey Mountains and the Dead Thicket, a rather dismal place populated by werewolves, wolves and other such predators. He shivered as the foreboding darkness of the foliage washed over him, stifling the warmth of the sun's rays.
His golden eyes flickered in his sockets as he searched the place, on the lookout for both the chamomile and hostile animals. It did not take him long to find a small cluster of chamomile, the white petals peeking out at him amongst the dull green grass. A roguish smile crept across his face as he cut the herbs from the ground with his sickle. At least now he had something to show for his efforts. In all honesty, Dead Thicket creeped him out, and he wanted to spend as little time in the place as possible.
As he continued his search for another cluster, he heard movement. He locked up, moving slowly, stealthily, so as not to attract attention to himself. 'Could it be a wolf?' he thought to himself, hoping to stalk whatever made the noise and get the advantage on it. Clutching his sickle more tightly, he inched toward the source of the noise in the thicket. Slowly, he pulled back the leafy foliage. Then, he froze.
There, lying in the clearing was the corpse of a woman, or so it appeared. At first glance, it certainly did seem like it was dead. Her body lay crumpled on the ground, and her clothes lay tattered and torn about her. Through the rips and tears he could see her thin, dark skin stretched over her ribs. Those ribs, moving up and down. Her arms and legs, unholy steel prosthetics. His eyes, originally wide from shock, narrowed in speculation over the figure. He tentatively reached a hand out to touch it.
Then, it coughed.
Without further thought, he tore away from that clearing in the thicket with an amazing speed. As he ran, a million thoughts flew through his head. 'Who was she?' 'Why was she lying there?' 'Was she hurt?' 'Was she already dead?' 'Where did she come from?' 'How did she get there?' 'What was she?'
When he got back on the road to Novograd, he slowed down to catch his breath. How uncouth it would be to show up back at the shop in his shape, out of breath and out of sorts! He glided down the road, straightening his tunic and vest and fixing his hair.
Then, it happened so fast. A huge dark shadow suddenly materialized out from the trees lining the road and the form lunged at him, tackling his small frame to the ground.
"Wah!" he screamed on his way down in shock, trying to push the furry brown bear off him. The bear simply looked at him before barring its teeth in a semblance of a smile. Not too far away, he heard laughter. Turning his head, he saw his friend, Dmitri, trying to stifle his guffawing.
"Oh, ho, ho. Very funny," Lazar remarked sarcastically, his initial reaction of shock melting off his face into a more annoyed look.
"Hey, it was just a joke," Dmitri said, flinging his ponytail off his shoulder.
"Mmhmm. Sure,"
"And if you were paying attention, you would've seen us coming up behind you,"
"Well, you could at least tell Asimov to get his butt off me," Lazar said. Asimov, the brown bear, was still seated on him, slowly crushing his chest.
"Heh, fine. Here, Asimov," Dmitri called the bear. Quickly, and rather uncomfortably for Lazar, the bear moved its bulk from rest on Lazar and lumbered over to Dmitri's side. It was almost how funny the two of them looked like each other. Dmitri was a tall bear of a man, and if he ever forgot to shave one day, he and Asimov would be near indistinguishable.
"Anyways, Lazar, what's got you so tense?"
"hmph," Lazar snorted
"I mean, you look like you saw a ghost or something," Dmitri said as he helped Lazar to his feet. Changing his face into mock concern, he said, "Oh no. Don't tell me an Empire spy is holding your dear mother captive and charged you not to tell anyone! It's okay, Lazar! I will bring this fiend to justice!"
"No, it's none of that," he said, a faint smile peeking on his face. 'At least, I hope it's nothing of the sort,' he thought to himself. "My mom just sent me to pick some herbs in Dead Thicket. That's all."
"Ah! That explains everything!" Dmitri said in a tone of relief. He knew how much that place creeped him out, and in all honesty, who wasn't at least a little tense in that place.
The three of them, Lazar, Dmitri, and Asimov, began to casually walk back to Novograd together. They bantered idly, talking of things only they would find humorous or meaningful. Before long, the trio was back at Lazar's shop.
"Well, I suppose I should get back to work. My mom's expecting these chamomiles," he said, gesturing to his satchel.
"If you ever need any help, just ask. Me and Asimov here would be happy to oblige our services should you need it," Dmitri said seriously, before a large smile floated onto his face.
