IN THE FOREST I

by Rebecca

18/4/13

   It was nearly dawn. The makeshift path through a forest was barely visible in the morning mist that wrapped the surrounding trees and anything within its vicinity. The canopy of leaves above allowed a peek at the dark sky beyond the towering trees, while morning dew plopped down onto the damp ground beneath it. Gnarled roots of ancient trees snaked across the path and met each other in a tangle of knots. A cicada gave one faint encore of its music before disappearing into the crack of a tree trunk. Save for the occasional fall of a withered leaf, it was mostly silent. A wild pheasant was foraging for food for its young ones, it's black and brown feathers camouflaging it from beasts of prey. Suddenly, it stopped and raised its head, alert and watchful. It heard the sound of a broken twig again and in the next second, an arrow whizzed over its head. It hastily disappeared into the abyss of shrubs.

   A profanity about somebody's mother rang out from behind the trunk of an old jhomonsugi.

   “That could hv been our breakfast, fool!” a raspy, male voice hissed.

   “Why don't you shoot next time then?!” a nasal one snapped back.

   They were leopard poachers. On a good day, they could bag and haul two or three leopards to the black market. On a bad day, they robbed and killed civilians for supplementary income. Today was going to be one of those days.

   Silence followed after that. Both the men crouched low as they squinted their eyes to see better through the cloud of mist. Somebody was approaching. At least they wouldn't return home empty handed.

   A lone figure could be seen softly treading down the walk path. Clad in a black tunic and dark brown leather vest, the figure seemed average height. The face was partly concealed by a hood. The two men could make out a thick belt with a scabbard on the right side. Other than that, they did not see how the person could pose a potential threat; alone and with only one weapon, it was easy meat for them. The raspy-voiced one chuckled. Loud enough to be heard by the approaching stranger. The stranger stopped.

   The two men practically sauntered towards the stranger. One held a drawn bow, the arrow already aimed at its target. He was tall and gaunt, with hard eyes. There was a scar on the right side of his face. He spoke with a raspy voice.

   “Bit early for a morning walk, eh, stranger?”

  “Yeah, would you like some company? We're kind of free..” the nasal one snickered. He was stout and had dark, matted hair. He used his dagger to scratch an itch on his neck.

   The stranger said nothing.

  “Oh, don't care for a friendly chat? No matter, just unload whatever you have for a start. Then we'll think about what to do with you. Would that be eyes first or tongue first, Bo?” The raspy one asked meaningfully to his companion.

   “Well, Heng, I'll leave that to you to decide. My hands are itching to cut something. It's been a dull morning,” Bo licked his lips and chortled again.
(To be continued...)