Rusted chains creaked as the autumn breeze rocked the old wooden sign above the Parish Hall doors. John stared ahead at the swaying treetops across Forever Road. The winds had increased each day since the darkness was first spotted and the rustling boughs seemed to be taunting the young guard, as if taking delight in his apprehension to the ever-present gloom.

"Blasted cold!" blurted Dutch, the guard stationed with John. He was older (and fatter, some would say) and near the end of his service. In fact, he hadn't been officially compensated as a guard for a long time, but instead volunteered his time now. Although no one in their right mind would tell him to his face, Dutch was past his prime, but still well-respected, and John looked up to him and viewed him as more of a member of his family than as a friend.

John smiled. "You just want me to tell you it's okay to go inside, have a hot meal."

"What?" hollered Dutch. "That's not true, you wretch!"

John laughed.

"I'll not abandon my post! Never!" He paused, then added, "Besides, a pint will do just fine." Both men laughed.

The sky had darkened from deep blue to near black. The stars gleamed like crystals overhead but lower in the sky were blanketed by the smog. John scanned the darkness beyond the tree trunks, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Any moving figures.

"The dark plays tricks with your mind," he said.

Dutch nodded in agreement. "It does. I keep thinking I'm seeing things creeping about, but then find it's just a branch tossed by the wind. Gets your arm hairs raised, though."

A branch crashed down through the lower boughs of an oak tree nearby and both men gripped their spears and thrust them forward, anticipating some sort of an intruder but then composed themselves.

"Damn!" grumbled the older guard.

John looked over at Dutch and began to laugh and Dutch joined him. "You may be old, but you've still got plenty of spirit, Dutch!" John slapped him on the back and smiled. Suddenly the smile dissipated as the young guard's gaze fell on something far off in the shadows of the trees. He pointed. "There's a light." With that, he jumped down the stairs and ran off.

"John!" cried Dutch. "You fool! Get back here!"

Dutch looked around for other guards who might have heard the disruption. Then, one of the men guarding the rear doors trotted up to him. "What is it?" he asked.

"Something in the woods."

•

The farmer had departed from the hermit and begun his way toward the jail when suddenly there came a flurry of voices from the direction of Parish Hall. There was shouting and the sound of metal against metal, like that of swords clashing. Farmer James bolted from his spot and Jacob hobbled after him.

Outside the hall, Ellen, Fauna and the Mordigan children were among those gathered, but they were being ushered back into the hall by two guards.

"What's the commotion?" asked Farmer James as he came running toward the hall.

Ellen turned to him. "Something's wrong! The guards just rushed the Mayor away. Against his orders, Garrin and Bayard followed."

Dutch turned to the Farmer James. "They were headed for the Docking House!" he yelled.

Farmer James dashed away toward Beach Hill. When he finally reached the bottom he slowed to a walk as he caught his breath. Two guards – one of them John - were bent over the reeds that surrounded the Docking House. One was in the water. Mayor Froswirth stood nearby, holding a torch. The guards were busy attempting to hoist something heavy from the river and Farmer James hurried toward them. As he approached, he caught the scent of charred flesh, much like when an animal was roasted over an open fire. Then in the flickering torch glow, he spotted tangled knots of grayish-brown fur – or hair, depending on how one saw it. The arms and legs were limp as they dragged a wild man – a Woodwose - from the bank and laid his dead body on the wet grass. The coroner had already been one of those present and was inspecting the body.

"What happened?" called Farmer James.

The Mayor shook his head and mumbled. "What's a Woodwose doing here in our town? This is most disturbing!"

Mr. Boggledin, very out of breath, stumbled toward them. "And near the water, no less. They are not known to leave land. Afraid of the water, they are."

The coroner removed something embedded in the wildman's fur. Without asking, Farmer James took the object from the coroner (who seemed annoyed by this) and examined it. It was only a fragment but the farmer knew the characteristics almost immediately.

Mr. Boggledin marched up and Farmer James handed the item to him. Hard and smooth, the combination of fantastic colors - blue and pale green with blotches of deep violet were found in only one place in nature.

"What is it?" asked the Mayor.

"A shell," said Mr. Boggledin. "It's from the tip of a Waterbourne's spear."

Farmer James had walked past everyone, to the bank. He looked out past the torch's glow at the black and suddenly sinister water.