Meisla returned to the village around midday. It was a sizeable village with mostly single-story stone houses in uneven rows that made up the perimeter. On the right was the village’s field of crops of various vegetables, fruits, and ears of wheat near a river. An enclosure for the cattle, pigs, chickens, and a stable for a few horses was on the village's opposite side. Near the village’s center was her home—the only wooden house in the village and as big as two of the ordinary houses. Meisla spotted people gathering around her home.

The crowd buzzed with curiosity about the cage with a tarp over it. The people stayed a few feet away from it. No one was brave enough to look under it. A soft growling from inside deterred them. As Meisla got closer to her home, she saw her friend and raced over to her.

“Lenna!” Meisla shouted, “Have you seen the adventurers yet!? How do they look? Are they knights? Are they close to our age? Do you think they’ll let me sketch them? What’s that they brought with them!?”

“Meisla, calm down before you burst into flames.” Lenna laughed, chiding playfully at Meisla. “The travelers just got here a little while ago.”

Lenna was wearing a white woolen dress, brown boots, and long, amber yellow hair flowed down to the small of her back. She looked at her friend with her grassy green eyes in mock disappointment.

“Shouldn’t the chief’s daughter be composed and elegant at yet another momentous occasion? Not cavorting around the village, dragging around that cloak all over the ground and not wearing it with grace. How unbecoming of a young lady! Thirty whips with the cane at the end of the lesson!” Lenna said in a nasal voice.

“Oh, please, Elder Famma, not the cane again!” Meisla pleaded, feigning fear. “I’ll hunt a skunk for you so that you can make your famous perfume!”

“Hmm, I do love smelling like rotten eggs. Deal!” Lenna said, voice going up in a shriek. Some of the villagers standing near the two girls looked at them for a moment before going back to their own conversations. Meisla and Lenna looked at each other and giggled.

“Meisla! Meisla!” A familiar high-pitch voice shouted from outside the crowd. The two girls instinctively straighten up and put on an innocent smile as an old woman approached them.

“Good day Elder Famma,” Meisla said, trying her best not to laugh. Lenna gave the elder a bow while covering her hand with her mouth, hiding the huge smile on her face.

Elder Famma was a thin woman with a dark brown dress, stringy white hair, and beady blue eyes as sharp as her nose. The scent of Famma's notorious homemade perfume invaded Meisla's nostrils. A scent so rancid the girl's eyes started to water.

“I have been looking for you and your brother for hours! We have a group trying to challenge the Mage of Darlocke forest, and neither of you was there to greet them with your father. Shameful! Just shameful!” Famma yelled.

“I’m sorry. I went out to see Varlo this morning and got distracted by the scenery as I was heading back.” Meisla replied slowly.

Famma eyes softened slightly at Varlo’s name. She shifted her feet awkwardly as she muttered, “I’ll punish you later then. For now, where is Denlo? Being the next chief, he’s in even more trouble!”

“I haven’t seen him since last night Elder Famma,” Meisla responded; memories of her shouting at him the night prior haunted her mind.

“I see. Well, go to your home and greet the travelers, and don’t barrage them with your stupid questions.” Famma said, walking off in search of Meisla’s brother.

As the elder became out of earshot, Meisla and Lenna laughed among themselves.

“Before I go inside, I want to see what’s under that tarp!” Meisla exclaimed, walking over to the cage, ambivalent of the growling.

“Please stop, Meisla. That is completely dangerous. Someone stop her.” Lenna spoke flatly.

Meisla waved her hand at Lenna. Like she’s done so many times before getting into trouble.

The older boys in the village are the closest to the cage. Egging each other on, seeing who was brave enough to see whatever beast hid under the tarp. Some of them stared at Meisla with wide-eyes and shifted awkwardly among themselves as she came forward, except one.

“Oh, the great and fiery Meisla finally graces us with her presence.” Rozo, a sixteen-year-old, a year older than Meisla, sneered as she walked over to him.

“Well, as the chief’s daughter, it is my duty to show all of you boys up. Surprised, you haven’t gone and seen what’s under there, Rozo.” Meisla said as they stare each other down. Meisla being the shorter of the two by some inches, was the one staring up. Rozo straightened his back to look more imposing.

He’s never letting the height difference go. Meisla thought.

“Bet you can’t stand in front of the cage.” Meisla taunted.

“I bet you my hunting knife that you’re too chicken to get close enough to pull the tarp off.” Rozo taunted back.

“Deal!” Meisla shouted.

“Here, they go again.” Lenna sighed in the distance.

Meisla and Rozo began to elbow each other as they get closer to the cage. To the other villages watching, the two’s actions seemed playful, but their eyes said otherwise. They didn’t hate each other. They can’t resist one-upping each other. As the growling became more audible to Meisla and Rozo’s ears, they stopped shoving and stared at the tarp. Some of the adults in the crowd stepped in closer, ready to swoop them away. No one bothered to try and stop them from getting too close to it. Once Rozo and Meisla go at it, there was no stopping them.

The growling from the cage was steady and low.

Maybe it’s sleeping? Meisla thought, silently hoping she’s right.

“Now’s your chance to back out. Wouldn’t want the chief’s daughter to faint and make a fool of herself.” Rozo said snidely.

Meisla stuck her tongue out at Rozo before reaching over to the tarp and grabbing it with both hands. The hairs on her neck straightened, her heart beated intensely, but she pulled the tarp down anyway and revealed the beast for everyone to see.

It was a large boar tall as a horse and as wide as two of them together. Its shaggy black fur covered parts of its dark and lumpy skin. Two large yellow tusks pointed straight and not curved like a typical boar, and sharp knifelike teeth line the boar’s mouth. It stared at Meisla with deep black eyes. Growling softly, the boar did not get up and only continued staring as if in a daze. Meisla can’t help but stare back, resisting the urge to come closer to it and see if it will react to her presence.

“He’s a beauty, isn’t he?” A feminine voice whispered in Meisla’s ear. The girl jumped back and saw a tall woman with sandy blonde hair smiling mischievously at her.

“You’re lucky we have him calm, or else it would have tried to impale you as soon as it saw you!” The woman laughed. “I’ll give you two kids points for bravery, being the only ones getting close and all, but I will warn you,” Yoviene continued speaking to Meisla and Rozo in a playful tone with a hint of venom. “It’s rude to mess with another person’s things.”

While Yoviene was speaking, the boar slowly stood and growled intensely. Its eyes blinking rapidly.

“See? Now it’s getting agitated.” Yoviene scoffed. “Can’t have you wasting too much energy before the big fight. Gaerra! Sylvar! Hurry up and calm him down!” She called out to two of her companions that were watching in front of Meisla’s house. Meisla also saw her father standing next to them, glaring at her as he impatiently tapped a finger over his walking stick.

Gaerra and Sylvar were both equally tall, slender, and youthful with tan skin, rose red eyes, and hair as silver as the moon. Gaerra’s hair was long and straight, and she wore a dull yellow robe. Sylvar was wearing a green woolen shirt and brown pants. His hair was short and pointed upward like flames, his pointy ears visible for the world to see.

“You two are elves!” Meisla shouted, her mind forming a dozen questions. “What's the land of Allanar like? Is it true that every elf awakens to the blessing of mind? Don’t elves typical only travel to other lands if-”

“That’s enough questions, Meisla.” Her father hissed, walking over to her. “Please forgive my daughter. She’s an inquisitive one and doesn’t know when to stop berating visitors with questions.” Renlo said to the pair as they began their work.

“I shouldn’t be surprised you haven’t seen our kind since this place is so far inland,” Sylvar said as he picked up the tarp on the ground. Gaerra nodded politely at the chief before turning to face the caged beast and held her hands out to it, and whispered an incantation.

All the villagers curiously stared at Gaerra as a white aura surrounded from her head. The air bent around her as the aura flowed down from her head to her arms and hands. It transferred over to the stirring boar. A few times more, the beast shook his head before it calmed down and lied on its belly, staring straight ahead at nothing and growling softly. As Gaerra finished the spell, Sylvar drapped the tarp over the cage.

“So that’s your secret weapon? A large beast. I’m glad at least you brought something more fearsome than those hunting dogs a different group did a few years ago.” Renlo said, looking at Yoviene skeptically.

“That “beast” is an Erymanthian Boar. One of the last of its kind. They’re bred so that their hides are resistant to the elements. When it charges at that mage of yours, and he tries to sling a fireball or whatever element he’s blessed with at it, the boar won’t feel a thing and will keep going.” Yoviene said, giving Renlo a toothy grin.

“Ordinarily, the boar can’t be tamed and is aggressive to anything it sees were not for my elven companion here who can keep it calm until we’re ready to let it loose.” She continued. “The boar will either kill the Mage or distract him long enough for us to land a killing blow. Tonight, your mage is as good as dead!” Yoviene declared confidently to the crowd. Meisla smiled from ear to ear in astonishment at Yoviene while some of the villagers cheered the woman on. Others, including Renlo, still look at the adventurer with a hint of disbelief in their eyes.

“Tell me, young lady,” A voice from the crowd began. “Exactly what do you know of the Mage of Darlocke Forest?” The speaker was an elderly man wearing a dark green shirt, a brown jacket, and brown pants, stroking his long gray beard as he walked up to the group. Elder Famma was next to the old man, and a young man about eighteen years old followed behind quietly.

“Ahh, Elder Canno, and Elder Famma. I see you found my languorous son.” Renlo said, giving his son a look of disappointment. The young man didn't respond and stared at the ground with a blank face.

“Oh, leave him be, Chief. Denlo was tending to the stables.” Elder Canno grumbled. “Right now, the focus is on our would-be saviors here. Now please answer my question, my dear. How much do you know?”

Yoviene looked at the old man and crossed her arms, “I know from others that the Mage is some evil spellcaster who’s lived in the forest for over a hundred years. I heard of expert spellcasters using magic to prolong their lives. I figured that’s the case here, except he’s sadistic enough to torment this village all this time.”

Canno looked at Renlo and smiled at the chief, saying, “Good. You didn’t tell her the story.”

“I know how much you love to tell it, Canno,” Renlo responded, rolling his eyes. Meisla did the same, knowing what’s coming.

“What story is that?” Yoviene asked with irritation growing on her face.

“The Mage of Darlocke Forest isn’t an ordinary spellcaster.” Elder Canno said. “He’s a heretic that was powerful enough to banish the Gods from the forest and claim it as his domain.”