“Are you sure that thing is safe?” Preston asked. He tried to keep the apprehension from his voice, but did not entirely succeed. The creature before him should not exist, totally unlike any other Preston knew.

“What? Kashehotapalo is safe. If ye do no attack him, the animals, or burn the forest. Try no to look him in the eyes. No fer too long. He’ll take it as a challenge to his superiority.” Granny Esmer blinked her too old eyes in her too young face. “Though, thinkin' about it, best no to have mean thoughts 'bout nature either.”

“Mean… about nature?”

She nodded. “He’s protective. Particular o' deer.”

“Huh.”

A low growl filled the air, but it was no noise made by flesh. It was the growl of stone crumbling before the tireless grip of the tree roots, digging ever deeper. It came from a man shaped figure, man shaped but inhuman. No skin or hair covered the figure, raw muscles of twisted wood and bones of gray rock forming a bulk radiating raw brutality.

Preston was used to being the largest two legged lifeform in any given scenario, but the giant topped him by a good three feet, even if one ignored the antlers of a dozen points lifting from the crown of what could be considered the creature’s head.

The Granny Woman had called it ‘Spirit of the lowest mountains, and the warped tree, and boundless deer’, but Preston suspected it was a Spirit of Power, like those he heard guarded the Capital at Wassertyne.

“It’s not going to attack, is it? I was not thinking… mean thoughts,” Preston said. Like his size, he was used to being comfortable in the fact he could likely overwhelm any threat through sheer physicality alone. But this thing could crush him with one three fingered hand, and that made Preston very wary.

“The… death… of… deer… abounds… thy… mind.” Preston suppressed a shudder. The voice was slow, and had no discernable source. It came from the tall creature of tree branches wrapped around stone chunks the size of a human head, but there was no obvious place where the sound was produced. A deep and cold voice, like the depths of an ancient cave beneath the mountains.

“Kashehotapalo, dear, we’ve talked of this.” Granny Esmer sounded much like a grandmother scolding a favorite grandchild. “Ye need to speak faster, it helps humans to understand.”

“Thetreesdonotspeakfast. Onlythebluebirdandhisfoetheraven. TheMoutainsdonotliketheraven.” The voice sped up, to something closer to human speech, but still off from normal, still made by something inhuman.

“Better. Try slower if ye can, but better,” Granny Esmer said. Her smile beamed, matching the rising sun for its brilliance. “Now Kashehotapalo, if I send ye with Preston here to do a little scoutin', will ye do it?”

“Our bargain struckremains. TheWarpedTree follows.” Parts of the speech were still mashed together, but Preston could understand as it spoke.

“What bargain?” The extent of what Preston knew about the spirit was Granny Esmer summoned it to deal with the supernatural defenses and things humans couldn't sense at the Manor House. The ritual she had used to summon it was something beyond his understanding. She did not allow him to witness the ritual, but he did know it involved burning cow shit. The smell had wafted around the trees he’d been forced to wait behind. Why cow shit, he could not tell.

Some of the aspects behind the magic the Knight had done made sense to him. The idea of making concepts into a physical object like a feather to hold their power was easy to understand, even if Preston could not do it himself. Binding said objects together was more complicated, but involved much the same reasoning. He may not understand the specifics, but if he didn’t think about it too hard, it mostly made sense. Summoning spirits with burned cow shit? Nothing he could rationalize there.

“Mutual benefit. Kashehotapalo assists me with minor tasks twice a year and I maintain the reign of Nature in the valley.”

“How did you come into such a pact with… it?”

“He, dear. Kashehotapalo worked with my Mentor, an’ hers afore her.” The Granny Woman leaned close and whispered loudly, “I can no be sure, but I believe he worked with the natives before. Quite worldly, Kashehotapalo is.”

“And what am I supposed to be doing with him?” Preston was not arrogant enough to believe he could scout the manor fully by himself. He was willing to accept he might come up a little short when it came to magical and supernatural defenses, but did not want to be paired with the giant. It was the creepy aura the spirit emitted, permeating the entire forest. A hidden undercurrent of hate, and bloodthirst.

“Take him to the Manor. He will inform me o' the magical happenings o' that place. I imagine there will be many. He’ll listen to yer commands, most o' ‘em, an' won’t harm anyone without threat to his life, or direct confirmation from me.”

The creature did not disturb Preston any less from the corner of his eye than from straight on as he side eyed it. Still a mockery of Man, gnarled and twisted. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look happy.”

“How happy would ye be if yer family were murdered and driven from their lands, only to have the murderers build their homes on the ground they stole?”

“I’m sure the natives had treaties, or…”

The growl from the creature made the very air vibrate, and Preston could taste iron.

“Oh, I would no say such if I was ye.” The Granny Woman frowned. “Mayhaps this will no work. But it must. Ye, Kashehotapalo, I know this idjit seems an ass, but he’s the least bad option. Akis is the greater threat.”

The air crackled with the built up charge of the creature’s anger, but Preston watched warily and did not step back. A spirit of nature would not appreciate perceived cowardice. Nor did Preston wish to give the impression he was submitting to the spirit’s unspoken threat. Like with most big animals, if you showed you were not afraid, and unconcerned, they would leave you alone.

The anger drained from the air as the spirit seemed to come to a decision.

“Nanishtahullo speaks ofwhat she does not know. The worm cannotpitythe raven.”

“Good thing we ain’t animals,” Granny Esmer said. “By our bargain, the soldier is to be treated as ally. Ye go with him to the house o' the demon an' report back to me what ye find. Ye won’t need to fight anyone. Know ye do not like to fight.”

The spirit might not like to fight, but it was impossible Kash was not good at combat. As Preston had seen before, this thing could crush him with one hand. Combined with literal rock bones and wooden flesh, there was little Preston could do to harm the creature. A ten inch cannon barrage might do, but only if the creature stayed still long enough to aim.

“Ye good to go?” Granny Esmer asked, snapping Preston out of his violent contemplation.

“Wha-? Yes. Ready.” He pointed at the spirit. “This thing isn’t coming with me, is it? It’s magical, I know, but there’s no way it’s hiding what it is. And I don’t think Akis and her thugs will believe I found him in the woods.”

“Inthewoods, warrior, thy skull wouldfeed the raven.”

“What is it with you and the ravens? Every time you talk, raven this and raven that.” Erratic speech pattern aside, the spirit had the annoying habit of focusing on a single subject. Like Campbell’s mumbling, it was beginning to grate on his nerves. He hoped the thing would not continue talking as they went about their business, or he would discover how they matched up in fighting ability.

“Kashehotapalo will go with ye to the boundary stones. No need to wander these woods alone, no with demons on the prowl. Now go, I must take the Knight into the mountains.”

“To the place of… sharp air anddarkblood. The cleansingplace.” The spirit’s wooden neck creaked as it nodded, antlers swaying from the motion. Wood should not bend so much without breaking, nor should true horns. Whatever those were, it was another mystery. He was not going to ask. Raven feathers, probably.

“Aye. Now go.” Granny Esmer turned before she finished speaking, and called the last over her shoulder. “Remember to keep the talisman hidden, soldier. Akis will kill ye if she finds it.”

The talisman was already secured to a leather cord around his neck and tucked behind his shirt, but Preston tugged the cord to test the knots and be certain the talisman was secure. He did not intend to die, not for the moment. A scouting expedition would be an embarrassing way to die. No glory in a meaningless death.

Preston looked to where the antlered spirit had stood, but it was already gone. He shrugged and turned to the woods. For all Granny Esmer’s talk about Kash helping, he was sure he would not like the help the creature would provide. If it left him alone, all the better.

He didn’t know where he was by exact measures, but he remembered enough of Howard’s directions to the farmhouse to backtrack. As he walked, Preston reviewed what he was to use as his excuses for returning empty handed.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sudden appearance of the spirit, antlers lowered for a charge. With a yelp, Preston leapt behind the nearest tree thick enough to withstand a charge from the giant. It was an unconscious reaction, from deep in Preston’s ancestral brain, the instincts telling him to hide from the reapers of men, the colossi who haunt the night. Preston would have fought any man who charged him, but victory was beyond hope against the spirit.

Several moments passed, and Preston’s heart fought to escape his ribcage, seeking to flee the maneater. The danger never materialized. No sound of trampling hooves, no feeling of burning pain as antlers crashed through the tree to gore Preston. A deep rumbling reached through the ground, into Preston’s feet and legs.

It took several more moments for the Captain to realize the spirit was laughing.

“Had I wishedthee dead, thy bones wouldline the rivers. Rotwould takethy flesh and the ravenwouldfeast.” A hint of amusement filled the spirit’s stilted speech. Preston jumped at voice behind the tree, dozens of feet from where he had seen the spirit. He responded to the fear with anger, stepping around the tree to glare into the melted amalgamation of human and cervid features.

“What is it with you and the damn raven?” Preston snapped, waving his pistol at the creature. After registering what he had done, Preston couldn’t remember drawing it.

“Theraven sees all. She screamsforblood, and the bones.” The reply did not answer Preston’s question at all, but suddenly he did not want to know what kept the spirit’s obsession with the raven. The spirit tilted its head to the side. “Whatstrange weapon is this?”

A monstrous finger, larger than most men’s wrists stroked the pistol in Preston’s hand too quickly for Preston to pull away. Already small for Preston, the creature’s absurd size made the pistol seem a child’s toy. Light flashed as the wooden finger touched the bright metal, and smoke curled as the giant flinched back.

“Dangerous,” Preston said with as much calm as he could summon. "Keep back, or I might need to use it."

The creature narrowed its rock browed eyes. "An endto the confinesofthebody, I wouldwelcome. Dangerousweapon soitis. Warrior thou art intruth. Boundlessdeer follow.”

The spirit turned and walked away, in the same direction Preston had been going before it appeared to startle him. Though it hadn’t said anything, Preston got the distinct impression he had been moments away from death. The weapon had proven his worth as a warrior, and kept the spirit from “feeding his skull to the raven”. Preston did not like the spirit, nor the raven it revered.

But regardless, he had a task to do, unpleasant as it was. Unpleasant tasks were a fact of life on the farm, and Preston was used to them. He followed the creature through the woods, keeping a watchful eye on it. The creature told him it had no interest in harming him, but Preston did not trust it. Coyotes around the farm ran away when they saw you, but hamstrung the calves as soon as your back was turned.

And coyotes were not the only danger a farmer had to guard against. The demon Akis had given no sign when she’d commanded him to hunt the Knight, but it was possible Preston was not the only one sent out to find Campbell and the Granny Woman. The last thing he wanted to do was run into other enthralled hunters. One eye on the spirit in front of him, one eye searching for thralls left little focus for navigating.

Fortunately, the spirit knew where it was going, and the pair arrived at the edge of the forest, looking into the valley. The town of Quincy Hill sat, fresh painted buildings and polished stone gleaming in the sun, grown in a wide arc around the black stoned Manor House. The home of a demon vampire, the murderer of at least a dozen people. One of whom was a walking corpse guarding the premises.

“The homeoftheraven, takento decay. Rottedto thecore.” Preston started as the spirit spoke. He’d let his vigilance lapse for a second upon seeing the dark home of the demon, and the spirit had taken the opportunity to prove its superiority again. That the runegun he carried had some ability to harm the spirit was of little consolation when the spirit could appear and disappear at will. Preston would be crushed before he could locate the threat.

“The raven? The demon is the raven?” Preston asked, surprise at the revelation overcoming his surprise of the sudden movement of the spirit.

“Thedemon eats theraven, whilst being eaten. Oneshall consume theother.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. The demon is not the raven?”

The spirit turned its massive head, fixing Preston with its hard stone eyes, but remained silent. Preston sighed.

“Nevermind. Best we split up here. Can’t have anyone see me in the company of a forest giant. Someone will tell Akis.”

The whistle of the wind was the only response Preston received. He glanced at the spirit and found it gone.

“Of course.” He shook his head and marched down the hill towards the town.