Ravens Gathering by Graeme Cumming Page B

shape.  Possibly an
oval.  Scattered around it was the usual debris you could expect to find
in such a place.  Fallen branches, rotting leaves and a handful of
wildflowers were accompanied by the ashy remains of a camp fire and, hanging
from a branch of one of the sturdier trees, an old car tyre on a rope. 
Local kids, no doubt, making good use of the recent school holidays.  She
momentarily envied them the simplicity of their lives.  Innocent of
danger, free of all cares.  Enjoy it while you can, she thought.
    The path they were on led up to the clearing, and appeared
to carry on beyond.  Although there were no obvious hazards, Martin
squeezed her hand gently and said: “Stay behind me and only walk where I
walk.”  Before she had a chance to respond, he was moving forward.  He
still kept a grip on her hand, but let his arm fall back so she would follow
him.  Unsettled by his words and manner, she watched his feet, and tried
her best to put hers exactly in his footsteps.
    His caution was unnecessary.  They reached the edge of
the clearing without incident.  He stepped aside as he entered it,
allowing her to move next to him.
    “Do you want...?” she started, but he raised his free hand
to her face, his expression leaving her in no doubt that she should keep
quiet.  Frustrated, but still unnerved by his sudden seriousness, she
resigned herself to waiting for him to decide when to tell her what was going
on.
    Apparently satisfied that there was no immediate danger to
them, he took a tentative step forward.  He was still holding her hand, so
Tanya came with him, feeling as if she was being dragged along.  His next
steps were equally cautious.  Each one was punctuated with a few seconds’
pause, before he moved on.  Tanya found herself searching the trees that
surrounded them, not really knowing what she was looking for.  And that
was the part that was both scary and ridiculous at the same time.  Fear of
the unknown, and the growing suspicion that she was having the piss taken out
of her.  She was even beginning to wonder if this was some elaborate game
that Ian had arranged just to wind her up.  Not that he was that
malicious, and she didn’t think he had the imagination to do it even if he had
been.
    Nothing was moving among the trees, either at ground level
or up in the branches.  There was no sign of anyone stalking them, nor of
any wild beast roaming the woods.
    The clearing itself was, she guessed, about thirty feet in
diameter.  Now she was in it, she could see that it wasn’t a perfect
circle, but it still seemed more circular than oval.  The trees that bordered
it were evenly spaced, the gaps between them each wide enough for half a dozen
or more people to pass between side-by-side.  She didn’t recognise the
type of tree.  Her interest in the countryside being less than passing,
she couldn’t have told anyone whether they were silver birch, scots pine or giant redwoods.  What she did know was
that they were big.  The trunks looked to be about six to eight feet
across, and the lower branches were no lower than head height on any of them.
    Apart from the grey dust that took up a square foot or so
near the centre, the floor of the clearing was a carpet of fallen leaves, a
mixture of browns and greens.  Some of the leaves had obviously been there
longer than others.  Occasional sticks of wood and fallen branches were
scattered about.  The tyre swing was over to the left, hanging perfectly
still in the late afternoon air.
    They stopped in front of the remains of the fire.  She
looked up at him questioningly.  Without the heels, it was a bit more of a
strain on her neck.
    He must have recognised something in her expression,
realised it was time to explain himself.  She saw him open his mouth,
hesitantly, but definitely with some intent.  Behind her she heard
something rustle.
    Perhaps it was her nerves, wound up from the tension Martin
had created with his seemingly paranoid