SNAFU: Hunters

His throat went dry; he tried to swallow, but it was difficult. “They were.”

Marcellus’s gaze was intense.

Silanus looked away. “No. No, they weren’t.”

“Why were they in that village?”

“To retrieve me.”

“You’re a deserter?”

He nodded and thought he was going to be sick. “When my father died, he left me to the legion. Wanted me to be a soldier like him. My mother had died in childbirth and we had no other family. The cook they placed me with, he… Well, he tried to do things with me. And so I ran. Those soldiers had been sent to drag me back. And now they’re dead because of me.”

“Yes. They are.” Marcellus leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What will you do with me, sir?”

“The punishment for desertion is crucifixion.”

Silanus lowered his head and nodded. After everything he had been through, it seemed wrong he would die this way. His knees trembled and he thought he might fall, but he didn’t. That was something, he supposed.

“I said I knew your father,” Marcellus said. “What I didn’t tell you was that we served together in Spain. He saved my life a dozen times over and I saved his nearly as many.”

Silanus looked up, hope suddenly within his reach.

“When we have killed this thing, you will take a day’s worth of rations and go into the wilderness. You may live out your life there. You may even marry some barbarian girl and have children. But if you ever set foot in a Roman settlement again, you will be crucified. Is that understood?”

Hope faded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go wake Crito and the two of you get started carving up the lumber we brought in.”

* * *

Dark clouds hid the moon and only the torches they had placed around the farm’s perimeter provided any light. They danced in the wind and Silanus thought for certain they’d blow out, but each one held. He was stationed inside the house, the door open and snow gathering on the floor. Pieces of yew had been carved into rough weapons, one end pointed and the other hacked into a grip – Silanus held tight to his. Marcellus had insisted he sit there in the dark; am I some kind of bait? If so, the position wasn’t undeserved.

The house creaked against the wind. Or was that Lepidus and Crispus shifting their weight on the roof, faces painted black with soot? He wasn’t sure.

The other soldiers were out there somewhere in whatever positions Marcellus had placed them. If he had to guess, he’d say there were two more men atop the shed. As to the other four, he couldn’t imagine where they might be hiding.

A tickle in his groin told him he would need to empty his bladder soon. Would the Decanus be angry if he stepped outside to do so? He could just go in here, he supposed. It’s not like anyone would be living in this room anytime soon.

One of the torches winked out.

Silanus blinked. Rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t been mistaken. Must have been the wind. The only light now visible was the orange flickering onto the snow from the next torch over.

That, too, went dark.

He crept to the door, fear flooding him as, one by one, the torches died.

Then he saw it.

A dozen yards away. Little more than shadow. It stood tall and stretched its arms high. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it a tree.

It vanished.

It was coming for him. He had hurt it and it came to pull his lungs from his back and drink his blood.

Knowing he shouldn’t but not caring, he slammed the door and ran to the corner of the house. Piss streamed down his leg as he pressed his back to the wall and gripped the yew tight. He trembled in complete darkness for several minutes, waiting for a thud against the door or a scratching on the walls. How disappointed his father would have been.

The rough scrape of bone against wood.

Silanus’s breath caught and he slid down onto the floor. It was in here. With him. How was that possible?

The noise came again, frenzied now. Something brushed his foot.  He ran. Colliding with the door, he tumbled out onto the snow.

The clouds had parted and the moon shone brightly on the farm. He rolled onto his back and looked into the house. The Droch-fhola was pulling itself free from the wall as though it had always been a part of the wooden structure. Those empty sockets locked on Silanus as the thing’s feet snapped away from the house and came after him.

It was out the door before he could get to his feet. I’m going to die here.

A dark shape dropped onto its back. The Droch-fhola buckled but did not fall as Lepidus wrapped an arm around its throat. The soldier raised his yew dagger as the creature stood to its full height, thrashing and bucking like a rabid stallion.

Lepidus fell from its back.

It turned to him as Crispus slammed into its side. The two crashed to the ground, snow dusting the air, and the soldier brought his dagger down into the Droch-fhola’s thigh. It screamed that same awful scream and bent its head backward at an impossible angle, clamping its jaws onto Crispus’s face and rose.