Gigamaster001

Young Marianna, wearing her new dress of velvet night, sang as she twirled among the weeds. Her goal was to pick flowers, but many of them had died by the time the frost had passed. The early cold was bringing a toll to many people, especially poor old Farmer, who hadn’t yet brought in this year’s crops.

Regardless, she did not want the frost to kill her spirits. She continued to twirl among the weeds until many ugly flowers had been picked and dry tinder for the night’s fire had been found. Determined to get home, she quickly ran to and fro, gathering herbs for the Alchemist in town. He was so old these days; he could barely pick himself up anymore. Marianna did not want him to die so old and alone, so she helped him as much as possible. Very few seemed to realize that the old “Witch Man” was really quite harmless and only wanted to help, but all they saw was his potential for malicious crimes.

She shook her head as she stood up, disbelieving of peoples’ blind hearts. She began the first few notes of her song as she turned, only to scream the last of the first line.

“Calm! It’s only Rita!” a woodland woman called.

“Rita!” Marianna exclaimed, hugging her friend. “You scared me! You always play such tricks!”

Rita laughed and accepted the gesture of affection. “Only to little girls, Marianna! I just wish I could be as joyful as you.”

Marianna smiled as she looked at her older friend. “You can still be little, Rita. You just have to smile and sing like I do.”

“Alas, if I shall sing, I shall never marry!” Rita smiled, obviously teasing her younger friend. “As it is, I shall be reaching my twentieth year without a husband to my name!”

“Then stop living in trees, elf maiden!” Marianna laughed, twirling away and snatching a flower that had previously escaped her gaze. “I am still in my sixteenth year, and Father is still mad I haven’t yet found a suitor. Perhaps we should switch places; I have heard the blacksmith’s son has taken a liking to me!”

“Alas again. I could never stand the pounding!”

“Then take your pick. He does have seven sons!”

Both laughed as gaily as the light on a summer’s day, but Rita’s smile died from both her lips and her voice. Marianna’s worry was apparent the very second she noticed.

“Rita, pray, what’s the matter?”

Rita sighed before she replied. “Oh, Mari, I wish I could say. There have been disappearances of late in the nearby towns. There has been talk of evil trickery such as witches, men of the night, and werewolves!”

“Rita, Rita!” Marianna giggled. “They’re only stories! Everyone knows a man with fur cannot exist; just as a woman who travels on a broom and a man who drinks blood is any more real!”

“Please, hurry home!” Rita begged. “Be these not real, the murders are! Already I have heard of twenty people dead in their homes, and many more missing to the world around them. I do not want you counted among the dead!”

Marianna nodded. “Then what shall I do? Father would like his flowers and the alchemist needs his herbs!”

“If you must travel, do so with an escort,” Rita scolded, noting how Marianna was alone when she was found. “Travel with a man at your side at all times and you will be safe!”

Marianna nodded again, sighing away her laughter with her breath. She could see it hang on the winds and disappear to the world it belonged to. “Alright, Rita. I’ll go home.”

Rita nodded in reply, shifting the bow slung across her shoulder. Not a word was exchanged as the little girl in Rita’s life left her, and she could only pray no harm came to such a wonderful heart. She turned to the wind, facing its cold sting.

“Shall you bring any harm, I shall kill you myself!” she hissed, listening to the wind taunt her with another hiss of its own. She turned, marching back to the village with determined pace, and the meadow was empty.

Save one…