Rain beat steadily upon the crooked roofs of Flagstone, a village all but forgotten by the kingdom. The narrow lanes had become rivers of mud, and every cottage stood dark behind shuttered windows, save for the faint glow spilling from an old timber barn at the edge of the fields.

The moon was nowhere to be seen.

Thick clouds smothered the night, leaving only the endless hiss of rain and the occasional groan of wind through the ancient oaks beyond the village. Somewhere in the darkness, a loose shutter knocked against stone in a slow, lonely rhythm.

Inside the barn, the warmth was almost comforting.

Lantern light flickered across damp beams blackened by age. Bundles of hay were stacked against the walls, and the smell of wet earth mixed with spilled ale and livestock. Three men sat around a scarred wooden table, their tankards never empty for long.

Errol leaned back with a contented sigh, scratching at the grey stubble beneath his chin. Years of farming had left his hands cracked and swollen, while time had stolen most of his teeth, leaving behind a crooked grin that somehow never faded.

He lifted a finger toward the others.

"I'm telling you, lads," he said. "Whatever it is... it cannot be good."

Johnny sighed before Errol had even finished speaking.

"Oh, here we go."

"I met a traveller while tending the fields yesterday morning."

"A traveller?" Paul asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

Errol nodded.

"A soldier by the look of him. Came from the northern road."

The barn grew quieter.

"He said folk have seen fires burning deep inside the mountain forests."

Paul frowned.

"Bandits?"

Errol slowly shook his head.

"He said the fires move."

Johnny snorted into his ale.

"Old horse kak."

The old farmer frowned.

"I'm serious."

"And I'm thirsty."

Johnny reached for the ale jug and filled his tankard until foam spilled over the rim.

"I've no time for stories meant to frighten children."

He raised the drink.

"What you need, Errol, is a warm woman."

Paul smirked.

"The kind with a fine pair of breasts."

Johnny pointed across the table.

"Now you're thinking."

"The sort that makes a man forget all about storms like this."

The barn filled with laughter.

Even Errol could not help smiling.

He drained the last of his ale before slamming the tankard onto the table.

"Another!"

A loud burp escaped him before he could stop it.

Paul chuckled, rubbing the empty socket hidden beneath his leather patch.

"You know where a man finds a woman like that?"

Johnny looked him up and down.

"You?"

He laughed.

"Stick to the sows, boy. You've not the stomach for a real woman."

Paul threw back his head laughing while Errol wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.

"I once knew a woman in Raven's Hollow..."

Johnny looked over.

"Oh?"

"She had..."

Errol stopped.

His brow furrowed.

"...she had..."

Johnny waited.

"What did she have?"

"The..."

Errol scratched his head.

"...the thing you just said."

Johnny blinked.

"What thing?"

"The..."

Errol waved his hand uselessly.

"...never mind."

Paul laughed into his drink.

"The ale's won."

Johnny leaned back.

"It finally drank the rest of your wits."

Errol scowled at them both.

"You can laugh..."

He pointed toward the rain beyond the doorway.

"...but the trees are watching."

Johnny and Paul burst into another fit of laughter.

Errol huffed and planted both palms upon the table, pushing himself upright.

The heavy oak groaned beneath the effort.

Three tankards wobbled violently.

"Ooooh!" Johnny shouted.

"Save the ale!"

Paul lunged forward, catching his drink before it toppled onto the floor.

"That would've been a greater loss than Errol."

The old farmer waved dismissively.

"I'm going for a wee."

More laughter followed him as he wandered toward the open doorway.

The cold struck him immediately.

Rain soaked through his shirt before he'd taken three steps.

"By the gods..."

He pulled his collar higher.

"...that's fresh."

Making his way around the back of the barn, he found shelter beneath the overhanging roof where the rain fell only in scattered drops.

With a relieved sigh, he turned toward the wall.

The sound of rain swallowed the village.

No voices.

No animals.

Only the endless whisper of water.

Then...

something else.

A faint crack.

Behind him.

Errol frowned.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Nothing.

Only darkness stretching toward the distant tree line.

He chuckled to himself.

"Too much ale."

Turning back, he froze.

He had managed to soak the front of his own trousers.

"Oh, you fool."

He shuffled sideways, shaking his head.

"Focus, old man."

He laughed quietly.

Then he heard it again.

Not a crack this time.

A voice.

So distant it barely reached him.

Small.

High.

Like a child speaking somewhere deep within the woods.

His smile vanished.

Slowly, he looked toward the darkness once more.

The rain seemed quieter now.

The trees stood perfectly still.

He narrowed his eyes, searching between the trunks.

Nothing.

Yet the feeling remained.

Someone...

was there.

Watching.

His breathing slowed.

The air suddenly felt heavier, as though the night itself had drawn closer around him.

He swallowed.

"...Boy?"

The word barely escaped his lips.

"Who's... who's out there?"

No answer came.

Only the rain.

Then...

another whisper.

Closer.

Too soft to understand.

Errol's heart began to pound.

The hairs along his arms stood upright.

He wanted to shout.

Wanted to run.

Instead, the words stumbled from his mouth.

"Please..."

His voice trembled.

"...leave me be."

Silence.

A shape seemed to shift between the trees.

Or perhaps it was only the wind.

He could no longer tell.

The night no longer felt empty.

His chest tightened.

"No..."

he whispered.

"...no..."

Suddenly—

The barn window crashed open.

"WHAT IN THE GODS ARE YOU BABBLING ABOUT, OLD MAN?"

Johnny's voice tore through the night..

Errol lurched so violently he nearly lost his footing.

His heart hammered against his ribs.

For a long moment he simply stared toward the woods.

Then he let out an uneasy laugh.

"Shut your mouth, you fool."

He forced a grin.

"I was only talking to myself."

Johnny leaned out of the window, shaking his head.

"Well stop talking and get back in here."

"The ale isn't getting any warmer."

"Aye..."

Errol muttered.

"...I'm coming."

He started toward the barn.

Halfway to the door, he paused.

Against his better judgement, he looked back one final time.

The woods were empty.

The rain still fell.

Nothing moved.

Yet as Errol disappeared into the warmth of the barn...

he could not shake the feeling...

that something had been watching him all along.