Playing with Shadows
Something jolted Lincoln from a fleeting dream. Instinctively he felt for Octavia, but she was no longer beside him.
"Here," Octavia was standing in the centre of the hut, alert. "Something's wrong."
Lincoln paused to listen.
"I can't hear a thing," she continued. "The silence is so deafening that my ears are ringing."
Realization dawned on Lincoln. He motioned for Octavia: "Quickly, help me up."
As fast as they could, the battered Grounder and his muse got dressed and went out the door. They hobbled together, heading for the far end of the village where the well stood. Panting, they had almost reached their destination when they were stopped in their tracks.
There, to their left was the well. Standing next to it was the figure of a woman. At her feet two shadows danced, tripping over each other, playing with delightful abandon. The woman turned her head, hearing someone approach. But it was not Octavia and Lincoln she saw; from the right, a fourth player joined the game. Graceful and sinuous, most people would not have heard him draw near. But she did. A low growl radiated from the trees just beyond the boundary of the village. Through a hole in the log-built fence, yellow eyes blinked once and then disappeared. Sensing their diversion was over, the shadows danced away through a small opening where the boundary met the ground. The woman ran the opposite way, towards the man. He kissed her face, her hair, her neck, while peals of laughter issued forth from her throat. Then he removed a dark cloak from his shoulders and wrapped her in it.
Lincoln and Octavia had seen enough. Leisurely, they hobbled once again back the way they came.