The Forest Keeper

The caravan stopped at the edge of the wood to make a case for the night. The stars shown overhead twinkling about the dark expense above. Fires were started. Tents were constructed. A soft cold wind swept through the camp, causing the flames of the campfires to jump and spark, casting strange shadows throughout the camp. On the edge of the Jasol forest, the merchants readied themselves for a good night’s sleep. Laughter died and sleep overtook them. Silence embraced the camp.

Until somewhere from deep within the forest a lone shrill howl filled the night air. The night watchman stirred and focused on this sounds drifting from the forest. Again, the lonely note echoed from the forest. The watchman moved quickly and silently into a tent, his heart pounding inside him. He resentfully woke his master and told him about the noise outside. Bleary eyed and quite confused, the head of the merchants rose quickly from his mattress and stumbled outside, following the watchman. The howl rose again from the forest, much louder and closer than it had ever been. If the merchant’s eyes grew wide in the fading moonlight nobody could tell. He swayed as he stood, as if he wasn’t confident in his balance, listening to the haunting note. In all of his travels along the edge of this wood, he could not remember such an occurrence. He shivered when the note sounded again.

The watchman had stirred the coals in the fire and started a small blaze to shed some light among the limbs and boughs overhanging the campground. A chill raced down his spine. Then, he came to his senses—of course it wasn’t real. He figured he dreamt or the wind played some sort of trick among the trees of the forest. He told the guard to dismiss the sounds but to keep a watchful eye on the woods. Thieves had been known to reside in the forests. Yawning, he stumbled back to the tent and a good night’s sleep. The howls subsided and all was silent.