Doctor Who_ Wooden Heart - Martin Day [13]
Saul settled behind a squat flowering shrub and gently parted the leaves. There were two outsiders, completely unknown to him. The man was dressed in a subdued manner, as if he wished to wear nothing that would detract from the expressive force of his own personality. The woman, on the other hand, was as brightly coloured as a flower desperate for the attention of a life-giving bee. Her clothing was a kaleidoscope of hues and textures and her dark hair resembled the crest of some exotic songbird.
The more he considered it, the more Saul concluded that – whoever they were – these people were not a threat. And, if that was true, then what – or who – had caused such a palpable shift in the atmosphere in the woods?
Pushing these concerns to the back of his mind, Saul was about to rise from his position and greet the outsiders when he heard a twig crack, far away to his right.
The woods – despite the constant, frantic bickering of the couple in the clearing – became quieter still. Saul, holding his breath, moved his head slowly in the direction of the sound.
He could sense that something was coming, alerted by the sounds of the trapped man and his friend. Something grim and purposeful, something as different from bear or wolf as he himself was from a hen or a swan.
Something huge and threatening, something from legend, was advancing towards them.
Petr found the Dazai sitting on the steps that led up to her home, regarding the trees of the forest’s edge as intently as one would pore over an ancient document. Her broad forehead had cracked into a puzzled frown, but something like a smile played out on the edges of her lips.
Petr stood for a few moments, unsure if the Dazai had heard him coming. ‘Noble Dazai,’ he began after a few moments – as irritated as ever by the lack of authority and assurance in his voice.
‘I heard you,’ snapped the Dazai, still regarding the dark, swaying trees. ‘Unlike your brother, you thunder around with all the subtlety of an amorous bull!’
‘Noble Dazai,’ said Petr, swallowing down his embarrassment, ‘I did not mean to…’
‘Shh!’ she hissed, a finger appearing at her lips. ‘Something is going on, deep in the trees…’ She paused, her eyes active – and then sighed, turning to Petr. ‘Ah, the moment has gone,’ she complained. ‘We will find out soon enough.’
‘I am sorry,’ said Petr, bowing low.
‘What do you want?’ snapped the Dazai, her eyes still blazing. Then, as Petr stood there, trying to clear his throat and formulate what he wanted to say, she seemed to cast off her irritation like a discarded cloak. She rose, unsteadily, to her feet and, one hand gripping a cane tightly, extended the other to lightly touch Petr’s arm. ‘Come, you can tell me as we stroll through the village. A walk will do me good.’
Without asking, the Dazai looped her arm through Petr’s. They began to head towards the village green and Petr’s formal hall at its far side.
‘My brother came here this morning,’ Petr said simply. He knew it was better to be blunt with the Dazai; she disliked many things, and needless embellishment was one of them.
‘Who told you?’ she asked, though her former irritability had subsided. It was a question, not a criticism.
‘I saw him myself,’ said Petr. ‘I did not sleep well, and was watching over the village before sunrise.’
‘Hoping that your own attentiveness might save the children?’
‘Or prevent them from returning to us, yes,’ said Petr. ‘If I could, by my own actions, save our village from its fate…’
The Dazai glanced at Petro. Her voice became quieter still. ‘Noble Petr… You would indeed do anything to save your subjects.’
‘They are my family,’ said Petr simply.
‘Indeed they are,’ said the Dazai. ‘Why do you ask about your birth brother? It is no secret that he fetches me water each morning.’
‘Forgive me, noble Dazai, but… I need to know if the two of you have discussed anything regarding this… situation.’
‘Your brother is a loyal subject,’ said the Dazai.