Chapter Three #2
Fortunately, he started walking, saving Tasia from coming up with a response.
As they walked, she stealthily transferred one coin at a time from her right pocket to her left, until they felt pretty even.
The process took longer than she would have liked because Bagni kept turning around to make unwelcome suggestions and observations.
She also discovered within the bag a strange, oblong piece of metal that turned out to be a folding knife.
Her feelings about the knife flip-flopped between gratitude that Grandmother saw fit to provide one and apprehension that the older woman felt it was necessary.
The woods looked foreign as they traveled the path in reverse.
The shadows shifting with the dropping sun added to the sense of unfamiliarity.
As she suspected, the trees Dino had faithfully pointed out were indistinguishable from the rest of the oaks, pines, and chestnuts (or whatever). Bagni didn’t help with that, either.
Whenever he wasn’t making her wish she was a thousand leagues away, he would pick out a common pebble or shrub and say, “Do you remember seeing this one? What about that one?”
Tasia had thought she was starved for conversation. Bagni’s ceaseless prattle changed her mind; she was starving for conversation with a real human, not this gross facsimile.
She finally recognized a portion of the path that was within forty minutes of the village, she thought.
Bagni didn’t move as quickly as Dino, and she hadn’t needed to request a break yet.
If she paused to think about it, her feet ached and her breath was harder to catch, but neither of those was enough to make her willingly spend time with the sleazebag who had moved to walk beside her now that the path allowed it.
Encouraged by the sight of the troll boulder, Tasia sped up, heedless of her blisters and sore muscles.
“Whoa there, girly.” Bagni wheezed a laugh. “What’s the rush? Ol’ Bagni’s going to think you don’t want to spend time with him.”
Tasia glanced over her shoulder at him. He was still smiling, but his hand now lingered over the handle of the knife tucked into his belt. She made a show of looking at the sky.
“It’s going to be dark soon. I don’t want to be out in the woods after dark.”
A knowing grin stretched across his gristly visage, revealing more rotting teeth. “I understand, little lady.”
Tasia doubted this. His next words confirmed it.
“Good thing you have a big, strong man here to keep you safe from all the beasties.”
Right now, the only beastie she feared was walking beside her. An involuntary shiver shook her shoulders. She scanned the trees so she didn’t have to look at her guide.
Bagni loved that. He began describing the many terrible things that could be lurking behind every bush.
Tasia knew he was trying to rile her up by exaggerating the perils.
But thanks to the growing shadows and the “what if” scenarios that had been playing in her mind for a full week, she wasn’t able to disregard his words as she wished.
“Now, bears aren’t much of an issue ’round these parts,” Bagni said with the air of disclosing great wisdom, “probably. But if they were, playing dead can sometimes work.”
Tasia frowned.
“That requires real— Uh. Real courage,” he corrected himself. “To lay there not breathin’ or movin’ is a real feat when an animal larger than a horse is sniffing around your face. Not sure if the huge teeth or razor-sharp claws are worse.”
He scratched his belly and belched. When Tasia grimaced, he nodded sagely.
“Yes indeedy. Bears are bad. Harpies are worse, though. Nasty, dirty bird women.”
That was rich coming from a man who likely hadn’t washed his hair since birth and had visible fleas jumping off his person.
“Won’t even give a fellow the time of day, either.”
Ah. That was likely his real issue with the faeries.
Before moving to Bavenpier, Tasia had tried to research the local faeries, animals, and general landscape.
She hadn’t learned everything, but her findings suggested that while harpies were large half-woman/half-bird creatures with sharp talons and less-than-stellar personal hygiene, they usually kept to themselves.
There were stories here and there of men being taken, but none of the sources agreed about why.
Tasia hadn’t worried about them in her reading, and Bagni’s account actually reassured her.
The path narrowed again, and Bagni took his place in front of Tasia.
More enthralled with his scary stories than he had been with leering at her, he turned around and walked backward several times.
Tasia worried that he would trip and fall, requiring some form of sympathy from her that would undoubtedly be misinterpreted as personal interest.
“Wolves are the real danger in these woods.” A terrible glee shone on Bagni’s face. “They got great hearing and sense of smell. Can track you for leagues, they can.”
Reports of wolf attacks occasionally reached their ears in Diomland.
The merchant caravans or hunting parties had run-ins from time to time.
This had once given her a vicarious thrill in the safety of her parlor, but hearing about the reality of wolves while in the forest was a vastly different circumstance.
“The worst part is how quiet they move. Never hear ’em coming until they gotcha by the throat.”
Tasia’s hand crept to the soft skin at the front of her neck involuntarily.
“Me an’ the boys woke up to wolves in our camp once.” Bagni rubbed his hand up and down the other arm, looking genuinely unnerved for a moment. “They was going for the deer we killed. Didn’t string ’im up high enough, I guess.”
Tasia swallowed hard, not excited to hear the rest but unable to stop listening. A twig snapped under his foot, causing Bagni to stumble. He faced forward again and kept talking.
“Wolves is susceptible to the blade, like the rest of us. It’s gettin’ the blade in ’em that’s difficult.” He coughed. “If they hadn’t been tryin’ for our deer, we never woulda stood a chance.”
Not sure what exactly “stringing up a deer” looked like, Tasia guessed the carcass was hanging from a tree in some way.
Her imagination filled in a grisly nighttime scene dramatically lit by a campfire.
In it, vicious, deranged wolves circled a tree with a dead deer in it while slovenly men who looked like Bagni menaced them with swords.
She knew her imagination was leaving out the gorier details because she had never been hunting or used a sword, but she was grateful that the scene playing in her mind without her consent wasn’t any worse.
“I only had a knife at the time,” Bagni continued, oblivious to her reaction. “Tried to hang back, but one of the b— Beg pardon. One of the beasties snuck up behind me. Gave me this.”
With growing horror, Tasia watched as her escort pulled up his shirt and showed off his hairy gut. Three jagged lines of scar tissue scraped across the bottom of his ribs.
“Any lower and I’da been a goner, right ’nuff.”
They had stopped walking for this spectacle. Tasia could feel her eyebrows trying to become part of her hairline.
“Oh my,” she offered weakly.
Thankfully, Bagni was quite satisfied with this response. He released his shirt and started walking again.
“You got that right. Yer walking through these woods with a real man,” he boasted.
Tasia breathed deeply for the first time when she saw that they were within sight of the village.
She had forgotten her aches and pains during the terrible story time, but they returned with a vengeance.
Somehow, she managed to take her leave of Bagni without promising anything or suggesting that her gratitude meant more than the simple “thank you.”
Mother Anthi still expected Tasia to make dinner when she got home.
Presenting the contents of one of her pockets sufficiently distracted Anthi and Stavros long enough for her to sneak into the bedroom she shared with Chara.
Tasia hastily hid the remaining money in the bottom of her trunk.
She knew it couldn’t stay there, but delaying might make the others suspicious.
She slipped out of her shoes with a stifled groan. As she suspected, several blisters had formed. Oh well. Cooking barefoot wouldn’t hurt anyone but herself. She would deal with her pain later.
After serving a slapdash dinner, Tasia crashed into bed, falling asleep before her bedmate and fending off dreams of sharp teeth for the rest of the night.