My, What Supernatural Strength You Have

The bush rustled as the berry it had been hosting until just that moment was removed from its care. Lithe fingers transferred it from bush to wicker basket and returned for another pluck, moving deftly between the shrub’s defensive spines to seek out only the finest examples of its handiwork.

Several more berries were liberated before Rouge Petite let the bush be. It was not the first such victim of her foraging. Within the basket were apples, nuts, and other berries, all removed from nature’s embrace with specific care, not to mention the selection of breads and cheeses she had packed prior to setting out on this venture.

Satisfied with her haul, Rouge covered the basket with the patterned towel brought for that very purpose and continued on her way.

The path through the forest was not the most well-defined but it was worn enough by the passage of boots over time - most likely hers over the many years that she had made this same journey - that she had no trouble in following it. Like her hands, her booted feet were nimble and picked out a route over the roots and rocks that encroached upon the path, almost skipping in her levity.

In fact, such was the lightness of Rouge’s heart that she broke out into a whistle, the melody improvised and tuneless and a true reflection of a brain currently absent of thought, not because it was incapable but simply because the serene surroundings encouraged such meditative blankness.

So oblivious was Rouge of her surroundings that she didn’t sense the presence of another before it was too late. Her skipping feet collided with an unusually large obstacle in her path and, with a cry, she went tumbling. She landed heavily on the path and her basket skittered from her grip, ejecting its load in every direction.

From her prone position, Rouge glanced back to see what she had tripped over. There, on the path, a young girl in a particularly flouncy dress was picking herself up, cursing in a most unladylike manner. Her blonde tresses were set into curls and, hanging about her neck, a gold necklace dangled, its gaudy design dominated by a heavy blue stone that caught and reflected the sunlight in every facet.

“I don’t know why you’re cursing,” Rouge snapped, pushing herself to her hands and knees. “You were the one crouching down where I was walking.”

The other girl rounded on her. “I’ll have you know I was looking for something.”

“In the middle of the forest?”

“Yes.”

“What could you have possibly been looking for?”

“Clues.”

Rouge frowned. “Clues as to what?”

“Where the bandits are.”

Rouge had to pause in order to try and digest the information. “There are no bandits in this forest.”

“Yes, there are. They’re plaguing my father’s lands.”

“I go this way all the time to visit my grandmother,” Rouge expllained. “I’m on my way there now. I would know if there were bandits about.”

The girl, now likewise on her feet, regarded Rouge critically. “I am amazed you haven’t come across them standing out as you do in that red cloak of yours.”

Rouge began to start collecting the foodstuffs that had spilled from her basket. “It’s hard to come across people who don’t exist.” She paused for a moment as her brain caught up with what the other girl had said. “Wait, these are your father’s lands?”

The girl looked suddenly smug, as if she had been waiting for Rouge to fixate on this point. “Lord Bartol.”

“So that makes you…”

“Anya Bartol,” said the girl. “Lady Anya Bartol. You may curtsey.”

Rouge did no such thing but continued to collect the basket’s former contents. “These aren’t your father’s lands, you know.”

Anya stamped her foot. “Why do people keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true,” Rouge explained. “Everything beyond the forest is but the forest itself is commonland. I thought everyone knew that.”

“And that’s why you’re foraging in it,” said Anya in a sing-song voice. “This is not the first time someone has claimed likewise to justify their own acts of theft.”

Rouge retrieved the final hunk of bread to her basket and straightened, pushing smooth the front of her dress. “Maybe you should have considered their opinion correct on that occasion.”

Anya shook her head. “It’s a bit late for that.” She noticed Rouge looking her up and down “What?” she demanded.

“You’re looking for bandits?” Rouge asked.

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Dressed like that?”

“Yes!” Anya insisted. “What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re a little girl,” Rouge began.

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Dressed in something more suited to a ball than a hike,” Rouge continued, ignoring the interruption, “and it’s bright blue. You had the cheek to criticise my choice of red but at least my cloak is practical!”

“I want them to find me,” Anya insisted. “It’ll save me time.”

At that final word, the shrubbery around them exploded with bodies. Men clad in browns and greens interwoven with leaves and twigs burst forwards. Rouge screamed and raised her basket, for what insignificant protection it would offer.

Anya made no such utterance but instead reached towards her throat, where the bejewelled necklace hung. Before she reached it, strong hands gripped her wrists and pulled them behind her. A brief struggle ensued before Anya was bound and Rouge flinched as the girl’s gaze snapped towards her even as Rouge’s own hands were likewise secured.

“I hope you’re happy!” Anya stormed. “They caught us unawares thanks to you!”

“Me?” Rouge fired back, surprised at the level of rage Anya’s outburst had instilled in her. “You’re the one who was crouching on the path!”

“You weren’t looking where you were going!”

”Ladies!”

A man stepped between them, blocking Anya from Rouge’s sight. He was tall and stocky, clad in armour crafted from slabs of hardened tree bark. A huge axe rested casually on one shoulder and he looked Rouge up and down, raising an eyebrow in what she considered to be a most suggestive manner.

“Allow me to instroduce myself,” he said. “I am-”

“The Woodsman,” Anya snapped, cutting across the man. “Leader of these lousy, thieving, good-for-nothing-”

At a gesture from the Woodsman, one of his men pulled a taut length of cloth between her lips and tied it tight, reducing her insults to an irate muffle.

“How rude,” the Woodsman remarked. “I do hope I won’t have to treat you likewise?”

Rouge shook her head.

The Woodsman smiled. “Good. I do hate having to treat guests this way.” He glanced over his shoulder at Anya. “Unfortunately, some give us no choice.” He turned back to Rouge. “Regrettably we do have to take some precautions.”

Rouge jumped as a scrap of cloth was lowered over her eyes and tied off. It didn’t obstruct all light but it did enough to prevent her from being entirely aware of her surroundings. She provided only the slightest resistance as her basket was taken from the grasp of her bound hands and then she was led, taking tentative steps, away from the scene of their capture.

Through the thin strip of vision permitted to her where the bottom of the blindfold wasn’t quite snug, Rouge watched the ground go by. She had wandered the forest many times but was amazed at how quickly she became disoriented with such a limited viewpoint, like when she sometimes went walking in the half light of dusk or dawn and nothing seemed quite the same. About her, her captors spoke in low voices, no doubt cautious of being detected by any who might be hunting them.

Bandits. Anya had said she’s been looking for them. Well, they were here and what had Anya’s plan been? In the moments she’d had before hands had seized her, she’s reached up for her necklace. Was that her plan? Bribery? Even Rouge knew that was foolish. Anya was a little girl and there would have been nothing stopping the bandits from taking the necklace by force and then continuing their activities regardless.

Rouge heard the other girl from time to time, raging behind her gag. It was obvious it would do no good. If only she’d seen sense, as Rouge had, and shut up when she’d been told. But it seemed, when it came to speaking her mind, that Anya was beholden to no-one.

Rouge lost track of how long they had been travelling when at last the grass gave way to rock and the sunlight was replaced by a flickering, warm glow. Then her blindfold was removed and she was left blinking in unfamiliar surroundings.

She found herself in a cave, lit by a roaring fire in its centre and what partial light was visible down the tunnel they had entered by. Bandits lounged all about the space, laughing and conversing in small groups. Over the fire, a whole hog was being roasted on a spit, attended to by a bandit of magnificent girth who winked at her when he caught her looking.

“Welcome,” said the Woodsman, “to our humble abode. Don’t worry; we won’t be staying long. Just as soon as we find out who you belong to so we can extort a ransom we’ll have you on your way.”

Rouge frowned. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Really?” The Woodsman looked surprised. “No father? Brother? Uncle? You’re a child. Someone must be looking for you!”

Rouge pressed her lips tight together, determined not to mention her grandmother. She wouldn’t have coin to pay a ransom in any case.

“Suit yourself,” the Woodsman shrugged. “You’ll tell us when you get hungry enough. Honestly, I can’t get you to speak and I can’t get your friend to shut up.”

He turned to where Anya had been unceremoniously dumped nearby and reached out to deftly remove the gag, quickly withdrawing his fingers as Anya’s teeth snapped shut.

“What about you, girl? You like to talk. Care to tell us who might pay out for you?”

“You wait until my father hears about this!” Anya snapped.

“A father,” the Woodsman nodded encouragingly. “Father is good. And where might we find him?”

“He owns these lands!”

The Woodsman frowned. “No-one owns these lands. It’s commonland.”

“That’s what I told her,” Rouge added, before she could help herself.

The Woodsman nodded at her. “You’re not wrong.” He turned to Anya. “But if your father owns lands hereabouts then that would make him Lord Bartol, which makes you…”

“Lady Anya Bartol,” Anya announced, pride etched across every syllable, “and I demand that you release me.”

“Of course, My Lady,” said the Woodsman, sketching an elaborate bow that would not have been out of place in a royal court. Anya’s face turned smug. ”Just as soon as your father pays your ransom.”

Several of the bandits chuckled at their leader’s wit. Anya’s face darkened. The Woodsman ignored her and wandered away from his captives to join his fellows.

“Don’t antagonise him,” Rouge hissed. “We’re hardly in a position to do anything if they get nasty.”

Anya shrugged. “So you say.”

Rouge looked astounded. “So anyone would say. It’s common sense. We’re two little girls amongst a band of burly bandits.”

“Nice alliteration.”

Rouge ground her teeth. “It. Was. Not. Intentional. Stop treating this like a game.”

Anya gave a small laugh and turned towards the nearest bandit, a short man sitting apart from the rest who was busy inspecting his blade.

“Pst,” Anya hissed.

“Anya, what are you doing?” Rouge demanded in a low voice, her panic rising.

Anya ignored her. “Pst,” she tried again.

This time the man looked up. “What do you want?” he growled.

“Fancy letting us go?” Anya asked, gesturing as best as she was able towards her bound wrists.

“Yeah, right,” said the man.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

The man shook his head. “The boss will make it worth all our whiles.”

“Of course, of course,” said Anya. “I’m sure he splits all ransoms equally amongst you.”

The man frowned. “Well, not exactly equal,” he admitted. “He’s the boss, so he naturally gets more.”

“Naturally,” Anya sneered, “as if he’s above you.”

The man wagged a finger at her. “Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing,” he warned. “You’re trying to start a mutiny!”

“I’m just trying to say that you could have more yourself by letting us go,” Anya answered. “No-one would have to know it was you and you’d be a lot richer as a result. How about this? You let us go and I’ll let you have this expensive necklace.”

She raised her head to give the man a better look at the jewellery draped about her neck. She really needn’t have bothered, in Rouge’s opinion; the large blue stone was hardly inconspicuous.

The man’s eyes shifted back and forth between the necklace and his fellows about the cave, as if considering what he could get away with.

“I tell you what,” he said, putting down his blade and licking his lips nervously, “I think I’ll just take that necklace anyway and let the boss ransom you.”

He crept towards Anya, who seemed unfazed by his approach.

“Oh no,” she said, in a flat voice devoid of conviction or enthusiasm, “please don’t take my necklace.”

As the man reached her and extended his arms for the treasure, Anya turned to Rouge, nodded her head towards her and squeezed her eyes tight, as if encouraging Rouge to shut her own. Confused as to what was going on, Rouge continued to watch as the man’s fumbling fingers reached the necklace and lifted it over Anya’s head.

As soon as the necklace was removed, Anya’s head jerked back violently and her body began to spasm. Her mouth opened in a scream but no sound came out. Instead, it distended beyond the limits of what Rouge thought possible and, from that unnatural, cavernous maw, darkness spilled. It poured out in a continuous stream, coiling and flowing about Anya’s jerking form.

Wherever it touched, it pulled and twisted, distending and distorting her form into new and unnatural shapes, replacing her body with shadow one bit at a time. Eventually, only darkness remained, disturbed solely by two glowing points of light, like stars in the night sky, where the creature’s eyes might have reasonably been expected to be. The shadow-creature laughed, showing gleaming white teeth in the blackness of its mouth and Rouge shivered at the unnatural sound.

The bandit who had taken the necklace had not moved. He stood, rigid with shock, staring up at the creature that now loomed above him. The bandits about the room had likewise halted their activities and turned to regard the creature that had appeared in their midst. All were seemingly locked in indecision between fight and flight, creating a tableau of stillness disturbed only by the creature’s sinister cackle.

Rouge could take the suspense no more. She opened her mouth and gave vent to a scream of terror. As if this was the cue it had been waiting for, the creature that had been Anya raised one long, angular arm in a disturbing stop-motion staccato until its talons of darkness spread wide high above. Rouge just about had the presence of mind to take Anya’s last advice and squeeze her eyes shut as the creature’s arm descended. There was a scream, cut short, and a squelching thud before chaos broke loose across the cave.

Cries of terror and rage mingled with the stamping of boots and the ringing of steel. Threaded throughout was the cackle of the creature, the thud of its claws and the screams of its victims.

Rouge risked a glance through slitted eyes. Towering in the centre of the cave, the creature’s long, unnaturally angled arm rose and fell. Red fountained as another bandit was slain and Rouge looked on in horror as the shadowy form appeared to take renewed energy from the kill, swelling with supernatural strength as if every death fuelled it.

Rouge shifted her eyes from the gruesome sight, focussing on the ground before her only to have her gaze settle on something squishy and unidentifiable that had presumably once been inside the body of the first bandit to face the creature’s wrath.

With a squeak of horror, Rouge squeezed her eyes shut once more and rocked herself in an attempt to soothe and distract her fractured mind. All about her, the sounds of carnage continued and yet Rouge found she did not have the courage to flee, instead mentally preparing herself for the inevitable point at which it would be her turn to meet her fate.

Gradually, the screams and sounds of conflict subsided and still Rouge did not dare open her eyes. She strained her ears for any sound that might indicate the creature’s approach. At first there was none and then she heard a slow padding as heavy footsteps made their way nearer. Some elicited a clank as they collided with fallen weapons or armour. Some squelched as they trod in human remains. And yet throughout Rouge could not bring herself to open her eyes but simply sat and rocked and shivered in fear, her lips quivering and tears of terror running down her cheeks.

The footsteps stopped a short distance from her position and Rouge braced herself for the inevitable blow that would end her. There was a light tinkle followed by a feeling of pressure being removed from the air. She had not been conscious of it before, only noting its absence once it was gone.

Something touched Rouge’s shoulder and she screamed, all of the pent up tension released in one terrified noise.

“It’s just me!”

Anya’s voice cut through the terror. Not a bandit. Not the creature. Anya. Rouge opened one eye a fraction. There the girl stood before her, exactly as she had been previously, not a whisper of shadow about her and the necklace with its big stone around her neck once again.

“You changed,” Rouge managed.

“And now I’m back,” Anya replied. She moved around Rouge and began undoing the knots of her bonds.

“That monster came out of you.”

“And now it’s back inside.”

Anya finished untying the seated girl and Rouge began to massage her wrists, watching as Anya began to pick her way across the cave.

“Will it come out again?”

“If it needs to,” Anya replied, a disturbing level of nonchalance in her voice. “Ah, here we are.”

She stooped to pick something up and began making her way back towards Rouge, who noted in amazement that Anya had retrieved her basket, seemingly unsullied amongst the carnage.

“Here you go,” said Anya, holding it out to her.

Rouge reached for it tentatively, trying to make sure she didn’t come into contact with Anya’s skin.

“I’m not contagious!” the girl laughed, moving forward and putting an arm under one of Rouge’s shoulders to help her to her feet.

Initially Rouge flinched at the touch but then relaxed when nothing bad appeared to befall her.

“All those men,” Rouge began.

“Those bullies,” Anya corrected her, “picked on the wrong person.”

“You killed them!”

Anya shrugged. “The Striga did.”

“That’s what that thing’s called?”

Anya nodded.

“How did you-?”

“It’s a long story,” said Anya, cutting her off, “for another time.”

Rouge nodded, not wanting to antagonise the girl who could summon a shadow monster at will.

Anya inclined her head. “Are you coming?”

Rouge was taken off guard. “Where?”

“Out of here, for a start,” Anya laughed. “It’s hardly the most endearing of surroundings.”

“Yes,” said Rouge, getting to her feet. “Of course.”

And she allowed herself to be led from the cave, taking care as to where she placed her feet and her gaze, into the welcome wholesomeness of the world beyond. The sun warmed her face and the breeze played with her hair and she closed her eyes and took a moment to relish the sensation, allowing it to cleanse her of the recent horrors she had experienced.

“You said you were going to visit your grandmother when you walked into me?” Anya asked.

Rouge opened her eyes and frowned at the girl. “You mean when you tripped me up?”

Now it was Anya’s turn to frown and Rose held up her hands.

“Sorry,” she said. “Yes, I was going to my grandmother’s cottage.”

“Let me take you,” Anya offered.

“No, really,” said Rouge, “there’s no need.”

“Of course there is,” Anya insisted, stepping forward to link arms with her new charge. “Your grandmother will be worried about where you’ve got to. I’ll make sure you get there safe.”

“Thank you,” said Rouge. “I do hope she’s ok. She expected me hours ago.”

Anya smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be fine but, if she isn’t, then we’ll deal with that, too.”

And with that the two girls strode out into the forest, ready to face whatever came next.