room4/NightHaunt

4.1.2023 : ROOM FOUR / the Night-Haunt

Your hand discretely untoggles the axe at your hip from leather straps all the while your eyes staring into the eyes of the shadowed creature some twelve feet away. 

You grip the handle of the weapon ready to defend yourself against whatever thing it is. You cannot see any form or shape of it in the darkness. Only it’s eyes, too wide apart for a human, forward facing, almost almond shaped. 

Your curious mind wonders what sort of science is behind eyes being able to glow like that. Abruptly it pounces! You discover to your horror you are too shocked to be able to move quickly, the small axe held heavy in your trembling arm which does not rise to strike the beast.

Still sitting upright you are pinned to the Tor by your shoulders as the creatures eyes come so close to your own you cannot focus on it. The creature seems somehow to radiate a malice so dark your nerves are frozen. But it also has curiosity. 

You taste it’s breathe heavy with a musk of decay as it sniffs. The thing has no snout like most animals do. Instead it’s face is flat enough to get close to yours. It is larger than a man’s with no nose. Spittle of mucus flecks onto your face as the creature sniffs you. It’s leathery, wrinkled skin is night-time black and withered as though it’s juices and bodily fat have been sucked out of it. 

Then with a swift, silent motion it is gone. You catch your breath back as your adrenaline kicks in. Immediately on your feet, senses returning. 

Sensing out to the darkness you feel a cold emptiness. Not the same cold emptiness from proximity to the fetid thing. Your shoulders both begin to sting. Checking on them you see your clothes and skin have been slashed by razor sharp claws. It is not a fatal wound, more an annoyance which will heal so long as it does not become infected. Blood is sticking to your clothes. 

There is no sign of Clay. After staring into the darkness you manage to rekindle the fire. Clay returns. 

“Aye oop.” He says. “Call of nature. Whatever woke ye?” He sees your injured shoulders. You tell him about the creature. 

“Night-Haunt. I’ve seen them before. You’re lucky it did no kill ye.” His pack contains moss and a small earthen jar of astringent oil stoppered by wood and rag. “Medicine. From boiled fat and herbs from the hills.” 

You observe the jar is 2/3 full, the waxy stuff has finger gouge marks revealing has been used already to heal other wounds. Clay explains. “Our grandmother taught us this recipe before she passed away. I mean she taught me this recipe and to my brother whose body ye wear.” 

You observe how clear manner of speaking is a matter of fact. He explains simply, but informatively what the situation is.

Is that his natural personality or a result of having lived through the extreme and difficult situations of his world? Which is now the world you find yourself in. 

You tell Clay what happened as he applies the lotion. He comments on your freeze-response when the creature gripped you. 

“It is the body. Although my brother has it toned through practice and experience of fighting, you do not have knowledge of the movements to tell the body what to do. We need practice fighting together. I will have to train you. My brother and I would fight often. My failing is I never wanted to hurt him so I held back. My brother never had that concern and fought me savagely as one would fight an enemy whom he intended to slay. I understand and even agree with the need to do that for play-fighting is not the same as real fighting. Yet although I understand the need for that it did not help me to build trust with my brother. He thought I was weak. I asked him one day whether he would kill me. He said if he had to, without hesitation. He was always a better fighter. I prefer the gentle arts of herbs and soothing.”

With your hessian shirt off, you decide to examine the body you find yourself ‘wearing’ for want of a better word. It is muscular, a warriors body. 

Clay shows you healed scars across his own body similar to those fresh on your shoulders. “Razor-claws made by a night-haunt. The one which did this swept me up in its wings. My brother slew it even as it flew away with me. It was a year ago.”

The more you think about Clays description of the world, the more you recognise it is too simple. You weigh the information. Your way of thinking has adapted to another world more complicated perhaps than this one. 

Clay told you what you needed to know to coerce you into following his plan. 

Can you trust Clay? 

Accuse Clay of being a night-haunt and attacking you.

Accept Clay as your useful guide in this horrific world.

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