Phillips Harbour
Friday, October 23, 1868. Mid-Morning.
The sun is well above the horizon as Caliban and Mr. Shaft make their way to their companions, who've been separated from them in their mad rush to escape the summit of the sinister Hill. Shaft's Compass, attuned to St. John, points accusingly towards the summit some hundred feet or more above their current position. Rev. Hale has gotten to his feet and is making a futile effort to brush the dust from his cassock. "Are you all right, Miss Townes?" he inquires, in a not-quite-steady voice.
The young woman is perched on the back of her horse, her mount shaking almost as much as the rider. The mare's eyes roll, agitated and panicky from shock.
"Hmmm," Shaft muses, and asks Caliban, "Are you sensing anything from the hill now?" as the pair makes their way towards the other survivors.
The chimpanzee clings to his master's side as they clamber through the trees. He looks over his shoulder frequently, his eyes round with worry. His utilitarian shirt and harness seem to have become somewhat littered with twigs and leaves; these he seems not to notice. At his boss's question, he stops a moment to listen.
Dr. Townes is still clinging to the mare's neck, torn between a helpless need to clutch Slate, and a feeling like she shouldn't deserve to. "I know, Slate," she pants, still breathless. Her eyes squeeze shut, tears she hates herself for streaking her cheeks. "I know..."
Caliban peers up the slope, then looks back, fearful. He says nothing, only takes his master's hand and urges him to graeter speed downward.
"Miss Townes?" Hale stops his reflexive fussing with his clothing to focus on the young woman, walking to her side. Gently, he lays a hand over hers where it rests against Slate's neck. "You did the right thing. You did what you had to."
Slate paws at the ground, her flanks shivering.
Taking Caliban's reaction as answer, Herbert hurries as much as he can. He's not used to fighting through underbrush and such, after all.
Bernice flinches, but doesn't jerk her hand away, Hale's touch getting her to at least open her eyes. "I.. I... I don't know w-what I thought I could do other than this." She sniffs, and wipes her eyes. She sounds like she's talking as much to the horse as she is to Hale, and when Slate seems to respond, the woman shivers again, and slides off the mare's back, staggering a little as she touches down. "H-he.. Slate, he w-was going to use the Hill... p-please, don't you see..? He was carrying h-her..."
Stopping for a moment at the next turn, the chimpanzee turns his gaze toward the town, shading his eyes from the sun. He peers into the distance.
Slate edges away from Bernice after the woman dismounts.
"Is everyone all right over there?" Herbert calls as he and Caliban get closer, and thus misses the ape's look towards the town.
"You did the right thing, Miss Townes," the reverend repeats, patting her back comfortingly. "He was no innocent woodland creature, believe me. The two of them have conspired to kill many, over the years. He know what she was. And I know what he was trying to do -- he was attempting to summon the Hill's power, which, believe me, we did not want him to do. You did a very good thing by stopping him before he could finish walking that pattern."
Distracted by the conversation, the chimpanzee turns to ook and eep at Miss Townes and Slate. He points up at the hilltop, then waves his hand vaguely toward the town.
The town's not visible from this side of hill, blocked from sight by the curve of the summit. As Caliban and Herbert approach the ledge with Slate, Hale, and Townes, the rise of the hill drops its shadow over them, interposed between them and the sun.
"It.. no.. it's not your fault, Slate," sobs Townes, clutching herself as if cold. "If.. if anything, I used you. Like... like she used him. J.. judge me if you have to, but don't blame yourself." She doesn't move from her spot as Hale touches her, but it seems as though she at least gets a better hold of herself. "I never wanted to hurt him, Slate. I came out here with the rest to hunt St. John... when Caliban told me she'd cut her own throat, I... I knew it had to be for a reason. The stag, he.. the blood, it was... from the, to the stones..."
Herbert picks up his pace a bit, not wanting to linger in the hill's shadow. When he can see the state Bernice is in, though, he tries to hurry even more, fearing injury or worse has befallen the doctor.
The mare shakes her head, stamping one hoof. She glances uneasily between her mistress and Caliban, but her gaze is drawn above again. Her ears flatten back.
"Perhaps we should move to someplace a little less eldritch to finish recovering," Herbert suggests as he and Caliban meet up with the others. "The animals are getting nervous, and I'm not sure St. John is quite as dead as we would prefer."
"Agreed." Hale puts his arm around Bernice's shoulders in a supportive gesture. "You'll feel better away from this place, miss. As will your friend, I'm sure." Despite his words, he gives Slate an uncertain glance.
The chimpanzee makes soothing gestures in the air toward Slate, ooking and eeking. His gaze turns toward his master, and the Compass, however, and he makes a cautionary eep.
Herbert looks from Caliban to Slate, and then checks the compass again to see if, against all reason, the pointer is moving.
Now that Herbert is standing still, the compass is pointed fixedly in the same direction: the center of the Hill.
"Help guide Slate, Cal," Herbert says softly, and goes to follow Hale and Bernice.
"Ook eek?"
"As in, make sure she doesn't bolt off in some random direction," Herbert clarifies, bending over to whisper into Cal's ear.
Bernice twitches as Slate sidles away, as if stung. She puts her face in her hands, blocking out a world from what looks to most like an already one-sided conversation. "W-what else could I have done?! You know I've killed before! T-to eat, and to... am... maybe he..." The woman is rattled, and shakes her head. "I didn't know it'd have to be this way!"
Caliban gives his master a wry look. "Eep."
The group is on the north and steepest side of the Hill. Slate, Bernice, and Hale had already galloped/slid down the worst of the slope -- it's a miracle they're no worse than bruised from the difficult descent -- but it will still be difficult going to get back to the trail on the west side. There are no paths on this part of the slope.
Slate gives an unhappy whicker, not looking at Bernice or Caliban.
"There is a time to reflect and a time to take action, Doctor Townes," Herbert states, reminding Bernice of her professional stature. "If we dwell on things right now, we will be exposed in more ways than one. Let us deal with our sins once we are in safety. Besides, you're the only one of us that can find a path out of here."
The monkey turns his thoughts to more mundane concerns, like getting down the hill in one piece. He scampers ahead of the others and up into the branches to get a vantage point, so that he can scout out a likely route.
Rev. Hale raises an eyebrow at the title, but offers only a nod of agreement. "I cannot recommend going back the way we came, even if we could." With a hand at Townes's elbow to encourage her, he starts cautiously towards the route that Caliban and Shaft blazed to get here.
Bernice flinches as if slapped, though she doesn't make it clear whose remark she's reacting to. She takes her hands from her face, and looks around a little dazedly. After a few blinks and a numb nod, at Hale and Shaft, she seems to look around and take in her surroundings at last.
Between Caliban's scouting and Townes's experience in the wilderness, the group manages to make their way back to the trail without incident, albeit slowly. Slate follows at the rear of the group, quiet and plainly unhappy. After a quarter of an hour, they're back to familiar ground. Hale sighs as they reach the trail, with one eye on the sun. "My associates are going to be perturbed by my long absence this morning, I fear."
"Should we visit St. John's camp?" Shaft asks, addressing Bernice more than anyone else.
Rev. Hale hesitates. "I confess I am more concerned about the bodies than anything else, at this point. I am not sure which is more ill-advised: leaving them here, or attempting to recover them."
The ape falls back a little, now that he's not so needed to scout the way, and exchanges quiet ooks and neeping with Slate.
The doctor nods moodily. "You'd best get back as soon as you can, Reverend. At least things should be quiet now until the .. Banefire, was it?" She lifts a hand and points. "That way will take you across some game trails until you find a logging trail, and then town should be easy to find." The woman shakes her head, which turns out to be the final straw for her braid. It comes undone, her tangled auburn hair spilling loose. "Go ahead back to town and make sure there's no ruckus to cover. I'm going back for the bodies."
Slate's expression in response to Caliban is somewhere between bewildered and upset.
Bernice shoves the mess of her hair out of her face with a listless hand. "There was nothing left at St. John's camp, Reverend. The only things you might be concerned with now are the artifacts I kept locked away... if I don't come back, you should all be the ones to sort them out and defend them. They're in a hidden compartment in the floor of my cabin, under the table."
The ape eeps at the gray horse, his gestures exasperated in tone, a little apologetic.
"I'll be going with you, Miss Townes," Herbert says. "You will most certainly be coming back."
"That is reassuring, Miss Townes," Hale says. "But I meant the bodies on the top of the hill. However you may feel about the situation, I see no reason to leave the task of disposing of them to you alone."
Slate pulls her lips back from her teeth in response to the chimpanzee, her ears flattened further. If whatever he said was meant as an apology, it doesn't appear to have been received as such. The mare stomps away from him, moving to the put the rest of the group between herself and him.
Bernice blinks dully a few times. "E... enough, Caliban. Please." She shakes her head at Hale. "The reason it has to be left to me alone is because your associates will already be agitated with how long you've been gone. Mr. Shaft will likely also be missed. I, however, live in a distant cabin and am known to travel. I won't be missed for a while."
"It's late enough now that an additional hour will not make a difference, one way or another." Hale starts back up the path leading to the hilltop. "No sense in wasting more time, however. If we mean to do this, let's do it."
The chimpanzee grumps visibly and audibly. "Mmf." He gives Miss Townes an apologetic look and a few ooks. He looks up at the hill and then adds some more eeps, these sounding cautionary.
"Things will go faster if we all help," Shaft notes. "Even moreso if Caliban does. Besides, I need to determine something involving St. John's body."
The doctor clutches her forehead, but says nothing else. Looking resigned, she turns back, and begins picking a trail toward the Hill again.
After another ascent to the top of the hill -- all the activity is wearing out everyone's feet, except perhaps for Slate's -- they find the clearing at the summit much as they left it: blood- and gore-spattered rocks and tall grasses. There is one key difference, however: the lifeless body of a naked woman has replaced the gigantic lupine corpse they saw earlier. The wounds on the body are the same, including the bullet wound to the head and the slashed-open throat.
Hale grimaces at the sight. "That is an unfortunate turn of events. The wolf carcass would have been easier to explain. We might even have allayed some fears with it, reassuring the townspeople that the monster stalking their town had been stopped. That may still be true, but I daresay we can't prove it with this."
"This is hardly a fitting place to bury them," Shaft says, although the though of carrying the corpses down the hill isn't a pleasant one. "If there are no bodies, then there will be nothing to explain. Your colleagues can discover the campsite, and determine the monster has moved on."
The ape looks on-edge, glancing about constantly. "Ook, eek eek," he murmurs to Miss Townes, looking pointedly down into the dirt.
"Burying them here is out of the question," Hale agrees. "But we'd best be cautious. We've been gone a long time and people are no doubt about in the wounds. We don't want to be seen concealing an apparent crime."
Bernice gives Caliban a strange look, then peers at the Hill. She's lagged a bit behind the group, having paused to select a couple long, sturdy sticks. "How can you tell?"
Shaft frowns in thought. "It still makes little sense to me," he notes. "We attempt such a desperate act, when she could have fled - unless she had planned to do this all along?"
The ape ooks and eeps softly at Miss Townes.
Hale looks down at the ruined bodies of the stag and the woman. "I am reasonably confident that whatever they had in mind, this wasn't it. However ... this hill is the site of ancient pagan practices. According to my sources, men once sacrificed animals and even humans on this spot, to gain power from whatever demon possesses this place. I do not believe St. John meant to sacrifice herself here. Such self-sacrifice is not in her character. But I fear that their deaths here may have awakened something, even so."
Bernice nods thoughtfully. "Yes.. when I focus, I can feel it too. It's like the old Oak was." She looks over at Slate, her face solemn. "Slate, I'd like to take a blanket from your saddlebags so I can finish this travois. If you want, I'll take the saddle and saddlebags off you."
Slate's nose wrinkles. She prances a few nervous steps to one side, then nods to her msitress and stands still patiently for her.
Bernice walks slowly to the mare's side, and begins rummaging through the saddlebags, coming up with a sturdy wool blanket, some leather lacings for snares, and a small camping hatchet. The doctor begins sloughing loose bark from the sticks, and shaping the uneven ends.
Caliban scratches behind an ear thoughtfully. "Ook eek?" he asks of his boss and Miss Townes. He pantomimes dragging something, then looking around furtively, then pulling it some more.
Herbert tries approaching the body of St. John, but keeps hesitating. "Ah, Caliban, could you... move the former Miss St. John outside of the circle of stones for me?" he finally asks, once Caliban gets his attention with the dragging motion.
"I intend to bring the stag back to the Silent Wood," says Bernice. She looks sidelong at the body of St. John. "I suppose they ought to go together."
While Bernice works on the travois, Hale lays out the corpses and quietly administers last rites to St. John -- a service she most likely would not have appreciated in life. He doesn't share Herbert's squeamishness, although he does remove his cassock first to keep blood off its already dirty and torn cloth.
The ape assists Rev. Hale in the grisly task, though he entered the circle of stones with obvious trepidation, going so far as to raise a hand and feel the air, before taking a first step inward. When nothing obviously horrible happens to Rev. Hale, he follows with broadly portrayed nonchalance.
Once the bodies are moved, Shaft checks the compass again, to see if it points to the body or too the circle still.
"Don't walk from one stone to the next," Hale advises. "I believe that is the ritual motion to which the Hill is most attuned."
Although the body has been moved, the compass's direction does not change. Maybe it's broken.
"Oh, dear, I think we might have been too late after all," Herbert mutters. "I wish Mrs. Everchild had talked about how the compass would react if St. John died."
The monkey peers at the body thoughtfully, or perhaps with great worry, judging from the forrowing of his brows. He examines it head to toes perhaps in search of identifying marks.
St. John's hands, arms, and face are tanned and lined; the rest of her body is somewhat paler, suggesting that her dark complexion is more the result of much exposure to sun than innate. Her body is free of tattoos, and in fact surprisingly free of scars or other marks apart from the recent and grevious wounds..
Townes looks discomfitted by the notion. "I suppose that's all the more reason to take these bodies back to the Still Forest. The Oak knows of the Hill... it warned me away from it, said it was a malevolant thing. But I suppose if anyone would know about it, the Still Forest would. They said that when we were ready to strike, they would aid us... I hope that still applies now."
Bernice turns to Herbert. "I don't know how Mrs. Everchild's device measures things, Mr. Shaft. But the druids believe that when a person dies, they move along to another world, one closer to the Source. It was why we were worried about the Opening, because of this balance between worlds. I shouldn't expect the compass to point to anything if this had happened."
"It's pointing to the circle," Shaft notes. "That could mean that St. John's spirit is somehow mingled with the Hill Spirit.. or that the Compass has resumed its former use of detecting the strongest sources of local magic."
The ape scratches behind his ears. "Eek, ook ook," he says, standing up from his inspection.
Rev. Hale regards the artifact uneasily. "I suppose it's possible that it's simply fixated on St. John's location, with no new bearing to focus upon."
Hale loads both corpses onto the makeshift travois, with help from Caliban and rebuffing Townes's offers to assist. The reverend agrees that it would be as well to keep the two together in death.
The young woman gives up after several tries, and stands to the side looking on, clutching one of her arms as if unsure what to do with herself. "I suppose we'll find out when we return to the forest, sir. If it is indeed pointing to the nearest strong source of power, it will reorient itself on the great oak."
"Oop ook," observes Caliban to Rev. Hale.
Bernice purses her lips. "Well, as I'm not helping with the load, I'll return to pathfinding to make bearing it easier."
Bernice adds, "And in the process keep an eye out for anyone."
Shaft asks Caliban to keep high in the trees to keep a watch as well.
The group proceeds down the hill, Slate towing the bodies and prancing a little as the smell of blood makes her anxious. Caliban and Bernice scout ahead to keep an eye out for other humans, but they don't come across anyone while still in the hills. When they get to level ground, Hale takes his leave in order to return to the church and his associates. He offers a final blessing to the group before he goes, and leaves them to go on alone.
As they pick out a path amongst the stretch of pines east of the Still Forest, Caliban spies a trapper out checking and resetting fox traps. The chimp is far enough in advance of the group that the man hasn't seen them yet, but there's a good chance that he'll see them if they continue on, or if the trapper's rounds take him back their way. The trapper, a weatherbeaten and balding man in his early thirties, is alone.
Caliban moves back to the group and waves for the attention of the others, then points in the direction of the trapper. He crosses and uncrosses his hands in a warding gesture, then points a different direction.
"Someone up ahead," Shaft mutters, interpreting Caliban's signs to be of a trap - thus, a trapper.
As fate would have it, Caliban realizes that the man's rounds are taking him in the general direction of his party, even after he steers them away. The man appears to catch the sound of Slate's hooves, because he gives a "Hullo there" in that direction. The woods are thick enough to screen them from view, however.
The ape freezes. He looks over at Miss Townes and Slate, then nods his head toward the man.
"Shall I go talk to him while you continue on?" Herbert whispers to Bernice.
Bernice sighs inwardly. She gestures at the travois, and sweeps her hand away, then shoulders her rifle and shakes her head at Herbert. "I beg your pardon sir, but I have a feeling you can't relate as well in wilderness terms," she murmurs quietly. She begins advancing through the brush, in a louder voice saying, "Hello?"
"Miss Townes?" the trapper calls back. "Careful out here, little lady, I've got fox traps laid."
Herbert remains quiet, and looks up to Caliban. He goes to pick up the handles of the travois, and then waits, listening. No sense in making any noise if Bernice can get the trapper to move away.
The woman stops. "Oh, sorry sir! I've been looking for a bit of small game myself. I have some rabbit snares set up this way. Best we skirt around, then, I reckon we'll tangle our traces if we're not careful. Good day to you!"
Caliban listens intently, then as the turn of conversation becomes plain, moves quietly to observe the trapper's movements.
"You do, miss?" The man's voice sounds puzzled. "I laid some traps up that way recently, jes' out checkin' them now. Though I suppose if you ain't seeing any trapped animals I may's well leave those. Keep an' eye out for 'em, though. Wouldn't want you getting a boot caught in one of 'em!"
The ape checks the ground for small stones, then picks one up and hefts it thoughtfully. He waits to see how things develop.
The doctor closes her eyes and massages her temples. "Not many, sir, just a few along some rabbit trails. I haven't seen hide nor hair of anything yet in mine, so I expect there isn't much else out here. If you do find one of mine that's caught something, do help yourself. I never know if Dr. Green will need to keep me for the evening."
"I'll give you a holler if I see any, ma'am. You do the same now, and be careful out here. Strange things be afoot, y'know." But the trapper doesn't push his point or press his services as a A Man to Protect Her upon Miss Townes. Instead, he tips his hat and goes back the other way.
The group manages to reach the still forest without further incident. The woods seem even quieter than usual, solemn as if in anticipation of the burden they bear. Squirrels and birds pause on tree limbs to watch them advance, along with the occassional rarer animal: a few hares, an oppossum, even a porcupine. At length they reach the oak at the heart of the woods. The wind stirs, rustling the orange and gold leaves of its branches.
Shaft looks around at the assembled animals, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "We've slain their hero, do you think they will attack?" he quietly asks.
The ape appears awed by the silence of the woods, and then as they come upon the Oak, his face seems that of a young child. After a bit, he whispers an ook to Miss Townes.
Now that the procession has come to its stop, the presence of the watching animals becomes even more pronounced. More come. They are skittish, even at things as simple as mild as Shaft's whisper or Caliban's soft ooks. They stay well outside of reach, hanging back among the trees that surround the oak at a respectful distance. But they watch.
Bernice paces ahead to stand beneath the Oak. She lifts her head at nothing in particular, then tilts it to listen for something that can't be heard. At length, she nods quietly. She turns to look back at Shaft and Caliban, then turns back to the Oak. "It is up to the Forest. But if you can't hear it, you may wish to return to town anyway."
Herbert shakes his head slowly, and nearly chuckles. "It was a foolish notion only. Animals are without sin, and do not seek revenge. The same must be true of forests."
The wind rustles, the noise it makes barely audible above Herbert's voice.
The chimpanzee looks doubtful at his master's suggestion, but listens quietly as he stands to the side.
"They are," the woman replies. She kneels down again in the leaves, folding her hands. "We will return the shells of St. John and the Stag to the earth. Then we will return to the Game and ensure the way remains closed, preserving the balance. I will also return to the Hill. St. John fled to it, and there she spilled her blood on it. Her stag attempted to carry St. John among the stones. We attempted to intervene, fearing some pact. I remember your warnings about the Hill."
The leaves crucnh a little beneath Bernice's knees. A squirrel skitters backwards at the noise, than srambles into position again. The animals aren't going anything. Just watching. Slate flicks her tail from side to side, chasing the flies from her flanks and from her cargo as well. She turns her head to nose at one side of her saddle, where the travois is secured.
Herbert considers kneeling as well, but refrains. He isn't part of the conversation, just a bystander.
The ape appears to be of the same mind, as he stands next to his master with hands behind his back.
Bernice looks over her shoulder at the way they came, as if she could somehow see the Hill in the distance, though that's impossible. "We were concerned about that. The man has a device that senses spirits, and it seemed to indicate that St. John's spirit was within the Hill. What does it do with them?"
The wind turns cold, blowing in from the south. The animals stiffen and scamper back, disappearing behind tree trunks and into bushes.
The ape looks worried, looking side to side as if looking for a hiding spot of his own.
At the mention of the compass, Shaft takes it out to check once more. Especially if the chill breeze is coming from the direction of the Hill.
The wind is coming from the south, and the Hill is northeast of here. Which, not coincidentally, is where the compass still points.
"I see," murmurs the woman, casting her eyes down again. "Then they are no longer a threat, in any case, unless there is something the Hill can do with them."
To that, the forest has no answer.