There’s never a warm welcome for those who come crawling from the dark.
The walls of the watchtower were as secure as humanity could make them but even that would not keep away the winter chill. A flock of men crowded around the fire pit for some relief; chattering, warming their hands.
In the colder part of the room, there was her - cowering in a corner, buried under thick layers of wet and soggy fur. But just because she avoided the men and their jeering conversations, it did not mean she’d escaped becoming part of it.
Every wave of laughter was at her expense. That was the exchange for sheltering here from the rain; she was to be the evening's entertainment.
“Got a wild look, that one,” a guard snickered, trying unsuccessfully to meet her stare from where it was pointed to a spot on the stone floor. “What’s got her skulking around here after nightfall, I wonder?”
“Nothing good, I’d wager,” came another, who was crouched by the fire pit in order to maintain the flame. “Only witches and wild beasts wander the country while it’s dark. That, or a special kind of stupid.”
“Think she’d be interested in company? Gets’ awful lonely around here during the winters.”
“I dunno. Ask Marcus - he’s the one who invited her in.” The guard shrugged. “How about it, Markie, she seem the type? Are you listening, boy?”
The youngest of the group, Marcus blinked, returning to the conversation from where his thoughts had drifted. “Right, sorry.”
“Well? How’d she seem when she first turned up?” The guardsman cocked his head. “Was it, oh I dunno, amenable to you?”
Marcus blinked, recalling the moment the girl had emerged from the rain. There’d been the initial flash of the soaked furs, illuminated by the torchlight and his hand had gone immediately to his weapon. It wasn’t uncommon for animals to find their way to the Watchdrawer, drawn in by the light and promise of warmth. Big, dangerous ones.
But then, a face had followed from out the gloom - blemished, hairy, not a pretty one by any stretch. But enough for the grips on his weapon to loosen, although not drop entirely. Bandits weren’t unheard of in these parts either.
The first tangible thing he’d registered was the facial hair - thick, silvery mutton chops that, along with her mane of spiky locks, were unlike anything he’d come across before. The next was that every inch of her was shivering, so heavily that each lurching step forward came as both something of a shock and a miracle.
He’d been obligated to invite her inside from the rain. There was no rule that degreed they receive any travellers and none of them possessed the sort of kindly nature that would compel them - they were guardsmen, after all. But news travelled slowly around these parts and a shambling hobo like this one could be its own sort of entertainment.
Or, that was the reason he gave himself. In truth, Marcus hadn’t taken part in any of the mocking conversations that’d been held especially for her. In fact, he’d done nothing but simply observe; watched her find that corner and stick to it for the past dozen or so minutes. In that time, there hadn’t been any movement that he could see. Maybe she’d crawled there just to die.
With all that in mind, the young guardsman gave a shake of his head. There were many things to be said about the strange girl and her rugged, hairy appearance. Amenable was certainly not among them.
“Goddamn shame, that is,” the guard grumbled.
“Well, somebody give ‘er a poke then,” one of the men jeered. “Check if she’s still with us. How about, she can share a spot by the fire if she gives us a story?”
“But who? I don’t like that look in her eyes, I’m tellin’ ya-”
“Marcus should go.”
“Yeah. Makes sense. You’re the rookie. Here’s a little initiation for you.”
A firm shove on the back of the young man’s shoulder sent him tumbling forward. No - too late to turn back now. Not when the girl’s wild stare had moved upward from the floor, registering his hesitant approach.
Standing over her hunched form, Marcus found himself much taller than the strange girl buried in furs. That did little to set his mind at ease.
“Hey-” There was a lump in his throat that was difficult to overcome. “I was wondering - me and the boys at the fire, I mean - if you had anything to share about yourself. Gets awfully boring around here, is all.”
That unshaven face peered at him, pupils slit almost like dark crescents. Seconds passed, long enough for Marcus to interpret her silence as an answer. His brain was in the process of sending the move signals to his shaky legs, when she spoke.
“Staying for the full moon,” the stranger grunted in response. “When it’s back behind the clouds, I can be as I was.”
Then she smiled, wickedly and sharp-toothed, before retreating back under the layers of fur.
Nothing left to say, Marcus scurried back to the others. By then, the guardsmen had lost all interest in the strange girl; one was busy recounting his dealings with a wench in one of the local taverns. The boy’s weak attempts to make himself were shushed and drowned out amidst the laughter the men tossed between them.
But perhaps that was for the best. The theory his mind had begun to form could only ever be called madness - even Marcus himself could scarcely entertain it himself. The furs, the teeth, the full moon - but if creatures of such kind truly even existed, then surely they’d have no reason to fear the moonlight.
So he resolved to wait and say nothing. Let the others have their fun. The sun would soon rise, and with it, proof that it was only delusions that his mind conjured. That was all.
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