In the small settlement near pathway the small farming community has lived relatively well. Near enough to pathway to benefit from its patrols but far enough away to avoid the higher cost of living so close to the military and magic protection of pathways defences. The worst they have had to deal with in recent years is mild bandit problems and the usual wild animals that can threaten their live stock.
It is in this sleepy little community of about thirty people who slumber so soundly, the two cattle herders who where luckless enough to be assigned to watching the livestock this night stand watch in the makeshift shelter that overlooks the fields.
The cool winters air freezes their breath as they try to distract themselves from the bone shattering cold as it bites their warm flesh.
‘By the harrans nipples its cold out here tonight.’ Stan Burrowman, the larger and stocker of the two stamps his feet in a vain attempt to get some feeling back into them. He hated the night shift, especially in the winter. It was dark early, not to mention the bitter cold. There were more predators hungry for a meal, and that meal didn’t always have to be the live stock either. Those wolfs would quite happily take down a full grown adult if they were hungry enough. He held out his hands next to the single lantern that hung between the two of them, trying to gain a little of the pitiful warmth it gave out.
Looking over at his friend leaning against the wooden post of the small shack with his eyes closed, he gave a scowl and an unnecessary loud cough. The damn man could fall asleep standing up. It’s a trick he’d of loved to learn, but someone had to keep an eye on the cattle so if he had to suffer doing it, so could this lay-about.
'HEY! Wake up you sorry son of a beggar. If I an’t getting any sleep, neither are you...'
A smile slowly spread across his friends face, still with his eyes shut.
I assure you my good friend, I am quite awake. You need not fear you are alone.
Raising a curious eyebrow Stan looks over at his friend again. It wasn’t like him to smile while out in the freezing cold in the middle of the night. Come to think of it, he’d never heard him speak without slurring his words and fitting in half a dozen swears into each sentence either.
'Errrr... Are you alright mate?'
A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature sent its icily shards right into Stans core as very slowly, his friend moved away from the post and leaned forward right into the lamp light, lighting his face on one side and casting the other in deep shadow.
Very slowly, his eyes opened and Stan looked into them with fear. They were not the usual happy-go-lucky friendly eyes he was used to. They were cruel, calculating, haunting. They looked right at you piercing your flesh and looking right into your very soul. The eye in the light looked normal enough but now, terror gripping him as realisation came over him he could see the eye that was concealed in the darkness glowed a murderous blood red. The face of his old friend twisted into a terrible smile as he spoke.
Alright? I could say I’ve never been better. Tell me my friend.... Have you considered Death as an option?
...........................................................................................................................................
The morning sun rises in the blood red sky, shining down on a new day. The sunlight pierces the mist and smoke in the freezing air of morning. The farmstead stands now as nothing more than blackened ruins smoking in the Moring mist. No birds sing. The usual lively morning bustle of many farm workers is unheard. No living thing makes a sound except for a single voice... It cries.
It is a Childs voice. Calling out, in terrible sadness she cries. Blood soaked and bleeding, she cries. In desperate terror and pitiful despair, standing in the devastation of burnt out homes and blood soaked pavement, she cries, and looks with unrelenting sadness upon the soul wrenching scene before her.
A woman is tied by a leash to part of a half burn post. Her twisted features turn her once beautiful face into a dark feral and hateful apparition of death. Her skin stretched across her bones and her once soft hands that had tucked the little girl who watches into bed at night, now turned into fearful murderous claws. The sickening sound of tearing flesh is joined by the terrible crunching of bone as the restrained ghoul feast upon the body bellow it. The hansom features of the farm hand are torn and raked by the savage hunger of the ghoul. The little girl, paralysis by fear and remorse can do nothing but watch as her father is consumed.
Through desperate tears the girl screams at the ghoul, her voice a shriek in the deathly silent morning air.
Mummy!... MuMMY!! Please! Please STOP!! Oh God PLEASE STOP!
The ghoul looks up from its grotesque meal and snarls at the girl, then leaps at her full of unrestrained fury. Claws flying and jaws snapping the girl screams and backs up as the leash on the post holds back the snapping jaws of death. The girl stares in horror as the ghoul fights the rope holding it back. The weakening wood cracks and splinters under the relentless jerking on the leash.
She turns and runs. Tears in her eyes, terror drives her forward. The sounds of snarling and finally breaking wood sends fear driving though her heart like a wooden stake. She runs like she has never run before, torn and bloody night dress blowing in the wind she flees for her life...
... she almost made it to the road before her mother catches up...
