Drawings of the Moon
First Phase:
Spotted Dog sat alone on a rock, his knife reflecting the fading sunlight intermittently as he covered the steel with a cloth. He washed the knife at the same time each evening, the sky waxing dark as the knife waxed clean. From the opposite shore, Emerald watched him, her feet drifting idly in the shallow lake water. There were not many of them left. That meant what Auntie said was true: he was more dangerous than ever.
It had started almost a year ago, The first disappearance from the sleepy town on the lakeshore. It was the old lady’s nephew, Em could barely remember his name now. So many had gone missing, it was hard to keep track. The twins, Farmer Erol, that travelling merchant who had stopped for a visit at the wrong time of the month. All vanished. Only Crazy Tomm had claimed to have seen anyone, and even his story could hardly be believed. Mr. Saunters had questioned him too roughly, but people said that wasn’t his fault, his daughter-in-law had gone missing not a week before. All the poor Sherriff could get out of Tomm was blubbering and muttering,
“the lake… the lake… O’lord a’mercy Sir!… The LAKE!!” Tomm had wailed in the end, then simply sat on the bench, rocking and hugging his knees. Occasionally uttering a sob. There were only a score of them then, so they had all watched the interrogation. After his outburst Tomm refused to answer Mr. Saunters questions. The Sherriff had cursed him for a useless idiot and left the constabulary office in bad temper. Both he and Tomm had vanished before the end of the month.
That’s why only eighteen were there to search the lake once the Autumn tempests had subsided. The Sun had been shining, Tilma and Soddor, the young Widow Erol’s children, had a marvelous time, splashing and playing while the rest of them tried to find some inkling of what had happened to the missing members of their village.
For her part Em had wandered about in the shallows, half searching, half watching Spotted Dog. He was one of the better divers in town, so he had been among the handful who had swam out towards deeper sections of the water, and spent time divining the depths of lake for any sort of clues. After the better part of a day, the search was called off, but as they made their dejected way back home, Spotted Dog had seemed to flag behind the rest of the group. Em had slowed down to talk with him, but he seemed to be avoiding her. Later that night, she saw a figure with a lantern exiting the old shack he had settled in when he arrived. On a hunch, she had gotten out of bed, sneaking so as not to wake Auntie, and gone to follow him.
Fear clutched at her as she plainly saw that it was Spotted Dog with the lantern. What was he doing out in the middle of the night? Wasn’t he worried that he would be disappeared as well? A thought touched her mind, that she could not wholly reject. What if Spotted Dog was the one disappearing people? Could it be? But he was so quiet….
Spotted Dog had wandered into town a few months before the first disappearance, and more than a few of the villagers had pointed fingers his way when the vanishings started (She could hear her Auntie even now, “Why’s he gotta clean that knife so often? Tain’t natural!”). He was of great help to the village though, since he was well-traveled, and had picked up many useful skills from his journeys.
Em followed Spotted Dog to the Sherriff’s empty house. There was a light on inside the house, even though the Sherriff had been missing for almost a week. Spotted Dog circled round the back of the building, and climbed in through one of the windows. Em trailed him as quietly as she could, she had to know what was going on. There were sounds from the house now, voices, more than three. Who else was there? Em stealthily made her way to the window. She had to know what was going on. She was under the window that Spotted Dog had crawled into now. She wished there was less moonlight, as the lunar beams illuminated too much for her to feel safely hidden.
Who was talking, was that Mupp the Butcher? THAT voice was most certainly Edwood the Herbalist, Em was sure of it. From the vague snatches of conversation, she had heard from her position, it sounded like Spotted Dog was showing the group something. Something that was extremely captivating. She had to see what it was! Slowly, Em started to inch her way up the wall, she would peak for just a second, just long enough to see what it was they were arguing over. She was nearly able to see when a hand gripped the back of her shirt and pulled her away.
Her first thought was that she was going to vanish, and her first instinct was to scream, but as she opened her mouth a rough leather glove reached around and stifled the shout before it even began. Her second thought was to fight, and she reached her arms back, fingers scrabbling for any sort of leverage. Whoever had grabbed her had long arms however, and there was nothing to even grab hold of or push against. She scrabbled ineffectively at the arm of her assailant, panic mounting as she watched the houses of the village moving father and father away. In desperation she tried to bit the glove, but her assailant either didn’t notice or didn’t care about her efforts, and she was dragged farther and farther away from that window…
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.
