"ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪɢʜᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴜʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴏᴜʟ."
Tastrim is a town of God, a close-knit community isolated within a forest-clad valley. When winter comes and the pass is filled with snow, folk light their fires, lock their...
"It is either God, or devils, or men, or inferior creatures, or ourselves, that we fear." – Richard Baxter
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Songs:
The Village Score - 02 - What Are You Asking Me? - James Newton Howard
Brian McOmber - Sarah's Understanding (It Comes At Night OST)
Brian McOmber - Paul's Regret (It Comes At Night OST)
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The mood in Tastrim was tense with anticipation. The scent of smoke still hung in the air from the barn that quietly smoldered on the Fishers' land. Fear lingered heavily, like an old stench that could not be dispersed. But there was hope, also. A quiet excitement that had begun to build since the first folks rose from their beds that morning.
It was the night of full moon. The Rites of Sacrifice were only hours away. Deliverance was tantalizing near.
I had parted ways with Mason that morning after giving careful instructions to collect whatever supplies he could for himself and Cassidy. They would need enough for at least three days if they were to reach the nearest city. Then, when dusk came, he would wait for me just outside the Pilgrim's Wood. I had instructed him also to bring the things that I could not, without arousing suspicion. Fresh candlesticks, twine, oil, and supple saplings of elm and oak.
I would collect the other necessary things. Cauldron's Cap was needed, but I had no ready supply. It was typically collected and consumed only on Winter's Solstice Eve. Luckily it was a hearty little fungus, and would likely still be nestled beneath snow and soil. I needed only to find it. The most likely place was along Dogman's Creek, just a little east of Tastrim.
I saw the expectant looks on folk's faces as I passed them. They nodded, with weary smiles, ready for the ordeal to be over with. As I tended Cassidy a final time, I lessened her poison. She would need to be awake once we entered the woods, and ready to run.
The thought occurred to me that I should visit my father for a final time. I tried to correct my feeling, even as I turned down the little street that led to his quant home, that certainly there was nothing final about the visit. If I was successful – and you will be, be strong – then certainly I could continue life as normal. Or so I hoped.
