Secret Secrets: Chapter 4

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“I don’t know how people do this all day every day,” Sammal complained. She’d kept her thoughts to herself the whole time they had been walking together, but as the incline of the ground increased and the temperature plummeted, Sammal had to say something. 

“I don’t think I’ve walked this much in all my life,” she said as she stumbled over a fallen branch she hadn’t seen. She wanted to curse, she wanted to scream, but what kind of example would that set for Caledonia? She was pretty sure he was some kind of primal crossbreed, so she doubted he was very old—just very big. Sammal wanted to be the rock that he could lean on if he needed to; he hadn’t needed to yet, but she would be ready when he did. 

Caledonia turned to look at Sammal; he’d stayed by her side with ease, only following because he didn’t know the way. The only sound he’d made had been a surprised grunt when he’d stepped on a log Sammal had jumped over and it crumbled under his weight. Before that, Sammal had worried he might have been mute before his tongue was ever cut out. Not that this revelation made much of a difference, as he still couldn’t talk. 

“We should be there soon,” Sammal puffed, but she was very aware that she’d said this multiple times that day alone. She hung her head for a moment as she tried to regain her breath. Her knee ached, which made it even more difficult to travel all this way, but she had to push on. 

“Milarose told me Eirwyn moved up here because when she was young, she couldn’t control her magic very well. Her trainer lived around here and apparently she liked it so much she stayed.” 

Caledonia blinked slowly at her and nodded to show he was listening. 

“I sure hope Eirwyn can help you speak again,” Sammal said. “I’m so tired of hearing my own voice.” 

She gave her leg a little shake, feeling her knee pop in an uncomfortable, crunchy way, but they struck out together once more. 

The trees around them had mostly been birch and the odd oak or beech, but the farther up the mountain’s sloping foothills they travelled, the more pine trees they saw. Until finally they weaved through the undergrowth between closely packed dark trunks, their footsteps muffled by a carpet of fallen pine needles. If they hadn’t been here on such dire business, Sammal would have enjoyed the forest more. The last time she’d visited the healer, Milarose had flown her over the forest, so she hadn’t had the chance to see it from the ground. 

Caledonia looked up to the trees, small ears twitching, brow furrowing. He gasped lightly and stopped in his tracks. 

“What is it?” Sammal asked, anxiously looking around and trying desperately to hear whatever it was the younger drakiri had noticed. 

A guttural scream split the air, startling birds from their hiding places and flushing rabbits from the undergrowth; worse still was the kind of scream. It wasn’t one of fear or desperation, rather of feral rage. It sent a horrible chill down Sammal’s spine, but instead of turning to flee, she ran toward the sound with Caledonia close on her heels. 

The scream didn’t echo in the forest, there were enough trees and bushes that the sound didn’t have room to travel. This made it easier for them to follow the sound, whiskers trembling and hair raised along their spines as they drew closer. 

There was a break in the trees ahead, a clearing it looked like, but before they reached it, they heard another scream to their right, full of rage and pain. 

Caledonia let out a choked sound and skidded to a halt, heels digging into the pine needles and dirt beneath them. Sammal looked up to see him staring with wide eyes and followed his gaze. 

Through the trees, Sammal caught a glimpse of something pink as it moved, and she moved around a copse of undergrowth until she could see through the trunks properly. She wished immediately that she hadn’t. 

A creature staggered in the undergrowth, unrecognizable as drakiri except for the sawn-off nub where its horn had been and the bloody patches on its throat, chest and belly where the scales had been cut away. It had no skin, no mane or tail, its ears and horn had been taken too. Blood seeped from exposed muscles as they pulled and pushed at one another, white tendons straining as the drakiri stumbled from tree to tree leaving bloody smears in its wake. 

“Gods,” Sammal breathed, voice reedy as she trembled in horror, sick to her stomach. 

The drakiri’s head whipped around and Sammal let out a whimper. Even its nose had been cut messily away, the bloody sockets where its fangs had been bared as it hissed. Would they fight even in this state? Their lidless blue eyes spun wildly on their sockets without focusing on anything. 

“Hup,” Caledonia said in a startlingly deep voice. “Wuh have oo hup!” 

Hup—have oo—have to help! 

“Yes!” Sammal stammered, “yes we have to help!” She took a step toward the staggering, bleeding drakiri, only for them to lunge at her, throwing their head as if they still had a horn to wield. 

“Stop! Wait!” Sammal cried. “We’re trying to help you.” 

The drakiri stumbled to a halt, so close that Sammal could see the striations in the muscles that bunched and released with each movement they made. It was a sight she’d never be able to get out of her head. 

“You’re h-horribly hurt, let us help you,” Sammal said, trying to sound braver than she felt and like she had things even moderately under control. At best she sounded terrified. 

The drakiri stood there, eyes finally focusing long enough to look from one of them to the other, impossibly wide without the lids to cover them. Their legs shook visibly as they struggled even to stand there. 

“Take…me home,” the drakiri said, her voice strained and faltering. 

“Where is your home?” Sammal asked, relieved that the drakiri was at least coherent enough to understand them and respond. 

The shaking in the drakiri’s legs grew more noticeable and she swayed on her hooves as she said, “Follow the mushrooms,” and collapsed to the forest floor. 

“Oh gods,” Sammal choked out, her vision blurring with tears. “Is she dead?” 

Caledonia moved a step closer, eyes still wide and fearful as he looked down at the skinned drakiri. He looked like he was going to be sick. It was so easy to forget how young he was. He shook his head after a moment, watching the shallow rise and fall of the drakiri’s chest. 

“We…we have to get her off the ground,” Sammal stammered. “Find branches, we can make a sled maybe and pull her—oh! Oh be careful!” 

As she had turned to start looking for branches, Caledonia had knelt down and nudged the injured drakiri until her limp body rolled over. 

“Hep!” Caledonia rasped, looking up at the sprite with pleading eyes. 

The idea of moving closer to that poor creature made Sammal’s whiskers tremble, but she couldn’t just abandon them. So despite her fear, she moved forward and helped push the drakiri onto Caledonia’s back. He was small in comparison, but he could carry her without too much of her legs dragging on the ground. 

“What mushrooms?” Sammal muttered, closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to ignore the wetness of blood that clung to her fur where she had touched the other drakiri. “I don’t see any.” 

They looked around together, even walking to the clearing nearby to search. In the center of the clearing, they found a massive stain on the grass, puddled of what looked like black liquid, but the splashes of crimson on the blades of grass told them what it really was. 

“They got her,” Sammal breathed, shaking her head. She didn’t think she could handle seeing any more horrible things that day, she was exhausted, disgusted, and somehow despite all of this, she felt her stomach growl with hunger. 

“I want to go home!” she wailed. “I want Milarose back, I want the barn, I hate this!” 

Caledonia turned back to look at her with steely orange eyes, his expression set in disgust as if to ask her how she thought he felt, carrying a skinless drakiri on his back. 

Before she could say anything in response to his glare, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze snapped around to look in that direction and her tail lashed behind her in alarm. 

“Look!” she hissed, tossing her head in the direction of the ground to Caledonia’s left. A cluster of golden yellow mushrooms had sprouted out of the ground, growing rapidly before their eyes. More grew around it, faster and faster still until they spread out in a circle around the three drakiri. The circle thrummed with a power that could not be seen, but set their fur on end like static electricity. The mushrooms began to glow with ethereal golden light as more grew at unbelievable speeds, creating a bordered path for them to follow away from the circle of mushrooms that quickly retracted back into the ground. 

“Come on!” Sammal cried, leaping forward to follow the fungus. She heard Caledonia’s heavier, shuffling footsteps behind her, punctuated by the tinkling of the chains that still clung to his broken shackles. The mushrooms disappeared too quickly, they couldn’t wait, she’d have to hope he could keep up!

She felt her knee popping with each quick stride, her leg aching terribly as she sprinted after the mushrooms, breath coming in ragged, stinging pants. They led her around trees and through undergrowth that tugged at her mane and tail, dragging thorns through her fur that left stinging scratches that beaded with blood and mixed with the sweat that gathered on her flanks. 

Sammal looked ahead and saw an end to the tree line, laughing in sheer relief when she saw another ring of mushrooms ahead. These were smaller, brown, and grew close to the ground with space between them. She saw a few glow with golden light as the mushrooms she followed grew toward them, and they rejoined the mushrooms in the ring, spreading out until they filled in the spaces between them. 

The sprite stumbled to a halt and locked her legs as her sides heaved and the edges of her vision darkened. She stared up at the massive log house that stood in the middle of the large clearing. There were multiple stories, with old tiles on the roof that were draped in carpets of moss. Old Man’s Beard moss hung from the windowsills and the balconies, and in place of a lawn there were countless varieties of plants that grew wild with a winding path that travelled through leaves of all colors and flowers that bloomed bright in the early afternoon sunlight. 

“I know this place,” Sammal panted in confusion. Her heart fell as she turned to see Caledonia trotting after her, the skinned drakiri jostling greatly on his back, though she did not fall. 

“I know her,” Sammal said. 

Caledonia looked at her, alarmed as he asked, “Who?” 

“It’s Eirwyn,” Sammal rasped. “The healer we’ve been looking for. They skinned her alive.”

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