Faithful Pebble
Part Fifty-Eight
"Are you scared?" she asked.
The man shrugged. "Not particularly," he said, "I didn't promise anyone not to go in." The wanderer hoped the boy heard that loud and clear. "But my source did say there was a pretty hefty price for those caught breaking that law." The wanderer walked to the edge of the woods, towards its menacing entrance following the girl's stubborn steps. She seemed more afraid of the town than of its rules and regulations. Not that he blamed her, mind you. No, he thought, he didn't blame her for that at all.
Pebble paused before one of the half hidden yellow signs. It peaked slyly from behind a briar bush. She pointed at the bottom. "Is that law written here?"
"It is," the wanderer answered. He read it out loud—for her benefit, not his own. "Anyone caught entering these woods without proper authorization will be killed on sight. This wood is forbidden to all citizens and travelers alike unless they bare the proper sign. See the Town Hall of Warble Heights for further details. Signed the Headsman.
"Is that the sign?" the wanderer asked. Underneath the roughly etched writing, the wanderer eyed the red coarse emblem. It was hidden haphazardly behind a cluster of prickly branches. The man squinted barely making out the image of a spread winged dragon curling in on itself. The man frowned and crossed his arms.
Pebble nodded.
Subtly, the wanderer eyed her. He watched her as she stepped through the foliage and onto the path that wound between the tree trunks. They were too thick to climb, too close to tread between gracefully, too dark to see and too high to let in the light, the morning sunshine that was now nothing but a faded memory. Before him, she stopped as black hands, clawed hands, blood-drenched crimson tainted hands reached up to untangle something from beneath the casual folds of her cloak. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
- Calla