Chapter 1
David checked the camera hanging around his
neck and surveyed the inn’s taproom. It was a charming place, if
the visitor had a thing for medieval Polish décor. He doubted the
place was that old, but it was scenic.
The occupants of the room were just as
interesting as the furnishings. A grizzled group of men, a couple
sporting matching Goth looks, a cheerful old man waving at him from
a corner table. Curiosity caught by the old man’s urgency, David
walked over, taking the offered seat.
Blue eyes dancing with interest slid over his
face. The old man proved himself sharper than David expected. “You
are American, yes?”
“Yes.” David stifled a smile at the eagerness
in the man’s voice. “How did you know?”
“You have good Polish,” the man said, “but
not good enough to keep my ears from hearing the difference.”
David snorted. “My accent gave me away, did
it?”
The man grunted an agreement as he leaned
forward to brace his elbow on the scarred tabletop. “What brings
you to Poland? What brings you here, to our tiny village?”
“I’m a wildlife photographer.” David lifted
the camera. “I’m here to take some pictures of the nocturnal
animals for a book that-”
“Nocturnal . You want the pictures of the night
creatures?” The man sat back in his chair, his face growing pale
before a splash of red coated his cheeks. “Here? In the
forest?”
“Yes.”
“No, sir. You mustn’t. You are just a
traveler, yes? So I will help you.”
“You know of some good places to wait?” David
grinned. The locals always knew the best spots.
“No.” The old man’s brows lowered,
emphasizing the seriousness of his thoughts. “I will tell you to
stay out of the forest completely. It’s not safe. Especially at
night.”
David sighed. He’d traveled to many different
places all over the world. This wasn’t the first time he’d met
someone who was utterly convinced the American couldn’t handle
himself. Fear of the dark and creatures with sharp teeth was etched
onto the human psyche, and everyone was convinced that their night
was darker, their animals more vicious, than anywhere else.
Visitors would surely die from their lack of knowledge of the
area.
“I appreciate the warning,” David said, “but
I’m used to being by myself in the forest. I can take care of
myself.”
The old man was stubborn. “Not here.”
“Henryk!” The bartender materialized at the
table, his bushy gray brows beetled at the other man. “No scaring
my guests!”
“But he wants to go into the forest.” Henryk
was mutinous. David almost laughed out loud, but didn’t want to
offend the man who was so convinced he was helping.
“I know.” The bartender rolled his eyes and
looked at David. “Forgive my friend. He’s telling you the old
nonsense our mothers would tell the children. Scary stories to keep
the little ones out of trouble. He is an old man now, but this
one…ah, he still believes.”
David eyed the empty glass at Henryk’s elbow.
“Or you served him one too many.”
“I’ve seen them!” The old man turned to
David, pleading his case with fanatical eyes. “There are women in
these forests. Beautiful women. Dangerous women who will steal your
soul, young American.”
David rose from the table, casting a glance
out the window and judging the time to be right. The sun was nearly
gone. “I’m not here for the women, sir. Just the wolves and
owls.”
“The wolves are protected here,” the
bartender warned, “but they stay deep in the woods. You will take
care to not get in their way because there will be no help for you
if they attack.”
“The wolves and the women!” Henryk jumped to
his feet, arms waving wildly even as he lowered his voice to a
dramatic hiss. “They will sing to you, dance with you. And then
they will steal the breath from your lungs and leave you to a cold
death in the forest!”
The bartender snorted. “Nonsense. My American
friend, take the
David checked the camera hanging around his
neck and surveyed the inn’s taproom. It was a charming place, if
the visitor had a thing for medieval Polish décor. He doubted the
place was that old, but it was scenic.
The occupants of the room were just as
interesting as the furnishings. A grizzled group of men, a couple
sporting matching Goth looks, a cheerful old man waving at him from
a corner table. Curiosity caught by the old man’s urgency, David
walked over, taking the offered seat.
Blue eyes dancing with interest slid over his
face. The old man proved himself sharper than David expected. “You
are American, yes?”
“Yes.” David stifled a smile at the eagerness
in the man’s voice. “How did you know?”
“You have good Polish,” the man said, “but
not good enough to keep my ears from hearing the difference.”
David snorted. “My accent gave me away, did
it?”
The man grunted an agreement as he leaned
forward to brace his elbow on the scarred tabletop. “What brings
you to Poland? What brings you here, to our tiny village?”
“I’m a wildlife photographer.” David lifted
the camera. “I’m here to take some pictures of the nocturnal
animals for a book that-”
“Nocturnal . You want the pictures of the night
creatures?” The man sat back in his chair, his face growing pale
before a splash of red coated his cheeks. “Here? In the
forest?”
“Yes.”
“No, sir. You mustn’t. You are just a
traveler, yes? So I will help you.”
“You know of some good places to wait?” David
grinned. The locals always knew the best spots.
“No.” The old man’s brows lowered,
emphasizing the seriousness of his thoughts. “I will tell you to
stay out of the forest completely. It’s not safe. Especially at
night.”
David sighed. He’d traveled to many different
places all over the world. This wasn’t the first time he’d met
someone who was utterly convinced the American couldn’t handle
himself. Fear of the dark and creatures with sharp teeth was etched
onto the human psyche, and everyone was convinced that their night
was darker, their animals more vicious, than anywhere else.
Visitors would surely die from their lack of knowledge of the
area.
“I appreciate the warning,” David said, “but
I’m used to being by myself in the forest. I can take care of
myself.”
The old man was stubborn. “Not here.”
“Henryk!” The bartender materialized at the
table, his bushy gray brows beetled at the other man. “No scaring
my guests!”
“But he wants to go into the forest.” Henryk
was mutinous. David almost laughed out loud, but didn’t want to
offend the man who was so convinced he was helping.
“I know.” The bartender rolled his eyes and
looked at David. “Forgive my friend. He’s telling you the old
nonsense our mothers would tell the children. Scary stories to keep
the little ones out of trouble. He is an old man now, but this
one…ah, he still believes.”
David eyed the empty glass at Henryk’s elbow.
“Or you served him one too many.”
“I’ve seen them!” The old man turned to
David, pleading his case with fanatical eyes. “There are women in
these forests. Beautiful women. Dangerous women who will steal your
soul, young American.”
David rose from the table, casting a glance
out the window and judging the time to be right. The sun was nearly
gone. “I’m not here for the women, sir. Just the wolves and
owls.”
“The wolves are protected here,” the
bartender warned, “but they stay deep in the woods. You will take
care to not get in their way because there will be no help for you
if they attack.”
“The wolves and the women!” Henryk jumped to
his feet, arms waving wildly even as he lowered his voice to a
dramatic hiss. “They will sing to you, dance with you. And then
they will steal the breath from your lungs and leave you to a cold
death in the forest!”
The bartender snorted. “Nonsense. My American
friend, take the
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