Tranquil Fury by P.G. Thomas Page B

only gone a short distance into the forest when John said, “We’ll never get away from them this way. The wagon is leaving tracks that a blind man could follow.” Mirtza stopped the wagon, and went back to see what he was talking about. The ground was soft and John was right, a blind man could follow them.
    John looked to the forest, “Cut down some small trees. Eric, Logan, and I can swish them back and forth from the wagon, to cover the tracks.” Before John had finished his sentence, Eric jumped out of the wagon, and started to cut down three trees. The branches displaced and moved enough dirt that most of their tracks were covered. Mirtza tied the branches to the back of the wagon, so they would not tire by holding on to them, and when he went to the front of the wagon, was surprised to see that Lauren was not on the bench. She was ahead of the wagon, several hundred feet down the dirt road, and as he pulled the wagon up beside her, his voice still excited, “Get in. We do not have time for this.” She gave him an odd look, and then climbed back in.
    For about an hour, everybody was quiet, and then Lauren looked at Mirtza, once again, her pupils were large dark orbs, with only a thin iris circling them, “This does naught be called Dark Forest, its proper name does be Forest of Night. Small trees does only grow beside this road, as only here does enough light embrace their young struggle. Travel distance short into forest, dark as night thou would find it.”
    Those eyes, the voice, more elfin words, I am sure this time. How would she know that? What have I gotten myself into? Mirtza shifted his focus to the road in front of them, “John is your plan working?” All he heard was ‘yes’, and kept on going.
    It was thirty minutes later, Lauren began to sing, but the song had no words, just sounds. Slowly over time, her volume increased, and it cautiously worked itself into their travel, but nobody said anything, and in fact, they did not realize that she was singing at all, at least not until she stopped two hours later.
    “That was a lovely song. Was it from your childhood,” asked Mirtza?
    “It does naught be from mine childhood, it does be an old elfin song. Wilt thou please stop and make camp at clearing next?”
    Mirtza shook his head, “I would rather travel as far as we can tonight.” Then the words Lauren said registered, “What do you mean an old elfin song?”
     “Forest does be large, thou wilt naught get through it in one night. We does naught hath to worry about those who does follow us now.”
     Mirtza started to turn towards Lauren, thought of the eyes, turned his gaze back to the road, “What do you mean?” There it is again, elfin words.
     “Please does stop at clearing next.” And with that, Lauren did not say anything else.
    Mirtza thought about trying to travel longer, but was afraid that the eyes and voice might return, and pulled his wagon into the first clearing of sufficient size for them to spend the night, and the camp and meal preparation was uncomfortably quiet. At times like this, Mirtza would at least acknowledge them, despite his need to think, but tonight was different, he prepared the meal, but he did not partake. Lauren also refused to join the others—not even for tea.
    Mirtza sat on one of the chests, and leaned against the wagon, deep in thought. He may have been quiet on the outside, but inside his mind was racing. Lauren is acting different, knows things that she should not. Elfin words? That voice. Those eyes, it’s as if two people are looking through them. Something has changed. What happened in that forest? What happened to the riders? What have I gotten myself into?
    Lauren just sat on the back of the wagon all night, occasionally retrieving something from her pouch to eat, but she never said a word. The five boys sat around the campfire trying to quietly speculate on what had happened, the mysterious healing, the riders, Lauren, and now Mirtza’s