Chapter 122

Sums o’ Ara

Abigail

At last. Rural Lunstad.

I walked the narrow dirt roads between farms. Passed a few oxen, shepherds, and goats. Then by a napping farmer beside a yoke and plow. Farmers occasionally waved to me from the middle of their fields.

I came upon a cottage set quite close to the road. Shirtless, tanned men in simple pants smiled and nodded at me. I approached the cottage. Put a hand on the wood rail fence.

“Excuse me, gentleman,” I said.

“Ma’am,” One or the other said.

“This might sound strange, but I’m looking for a monster. Resembles an evil… teddy bear.”

The men took this in. Looked at each other. Mumbled for a few moments.

Then one said, “No monster round ‘ere. Ain’t to say hasn’ been sumtin in the tree lines.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Things weren’t right a couple days ago,” said another. “Ask Bill.”

“I’m Bill,” another said. “Couple days ago I felt something… spooky. Wife felt it too. Kids too. The goats were spooked, that’s for sure.”

“Same’s cross the way,” an older farmer said. “Goats be bleating. Sumtin like a… dark cloud passes over. Cept it was sunny.”

“Like an ominous feeling,” Bill said. “When the animals feel sumtin, you best believe it’s sumtin, aw’right.”

“Have any of your animals gone missing?” I said.

They considered each other like any one of them could have the answer to that. After silent deliberation, they shook their heads.

“Anything else unusual?” I said. “Plowed earth? Like the earth had been stampeded or something?”

“No’s I can say,” one said.

“Well,” Bill drawled. “There was’a one thin. We’s heard a big calamity on the water.”

The other farmers made a great show about remembering that part.

Another farmer nodded and said, “‘as right. Big ol’ boom down by the rocks. Hey now, maybe tha’s why Tom been having trouble a’fishin. Whatever she talkin bout scared off the fishin.”

“Where can I find this Tom?” I said.

“Same as you find any fisherman,” Bill said.

They were a good natured lot and pointed me down the road that slipped between farms and brought me to the water. Up until then, the coast had been but a background to my travel. Being so close to Lunstad had brought me right up to it.

I found Tom untangling fishing nets from a long boat.

“Excuse me,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to be Tom, would you?”

“Well, I’ll be,” Tom said with a cheery smile. “Sure glad I am Tom today!”

“I’m looking for a monster. Seen anything unusual lately?”

“Matter of fact, bout two days ago I went fishin. Came back with nuthin. Normally, I’d say that’s the way of the sea. Cept it ain’t the way o’ Tom. Tom always comes back with sumtin. Then there was this ‘splosion on the cliffs. Pieces o’ rock came flying everywhere.”

“Where?” I said.

Tom pointed. “See that there tree line?” I nodded. He continued. “Well if you follow that to the water, you’ll find a crater s’filled with water. Wasn’t there before. ‘Nother thing, miss. I’d been seeing skeletons in the water. Wood an stuff too. The skeletons don’t look human to me. Don’t know if that helps any.”

We talked for a bit more until I thanked Tom and cut across four acres of farmland to reach the tree line. I followed it to the water. Saw the crater.

I went deeper into the treeline and found Thrush’s footprints.

Gotcha!

I spent an hour trying to figure things out. His footprints led me in the direction of the crater, but I saw none returning. I looked out at the sea. Looked up at the city of Lunstad.

You’re going around. Aren’t you? This means that Hawkin isn’t in Lunstad. He must be right outside. He must live on a farm like these folks.

I cut back across the acres of farmland and went to find Tom. Boat and man were long gone. I retraced my steps down farm roads until I came back to the cottage of men. There were fewer men. Bill was still there.

“Any luck?” Bill said.

“I found him,” I said. “Thanks so much, gentlemen.”

“Pleasure,” another said.

“I think I’m looking for a farmer. He might live north of Lunstad. Name’s Hawkin.”

The farmers deliberated through facial expressions. Bill shook his head.

“Sorry,” he said. “Don’t know nobody by that name. There’s a man named Walkin. But he lives about twenty acres south of here.”

“Really?” I said. “No one named Hawkin?”

“Not ‘less one of them incoming rich folks bought up some land recently,” Bill said.

How the hell? If he’s not in Lunstad, where the hell is he? Don’t forget, Abigail, Thrush needs to deliver cowbell roots to Hawkin. What choice do I have but to keep traveling north.

“One more thing,” I said. “This might be a stupid question, but is there anything north?”

“Farms,” Bill said.

“After that?” I said.

Bill shook his head.

“Now wait just a minute,” the older man said.

“What’s that, Bob?” Bill said.

Bob twisted himself to look at his companions. “Y’all remember them brothers last year? Them monks? Fat ones? Ate an entire cured ham leg in one sitting like licking meat off a boiled bone?”

“Yep,” Bill said. “Pretty sure they’s long gone by now.”

The farmers chuckled.

“Now listen ‘ere,” Bob said. “They came by. I should know. It was my ham I gave ‘em. Anyways, they tell’d me about a man who lives up north. Way north. North as north gets. Said they came upon him by accident. Lost their way. Now, I’m old, you see, and I’m not no good with names. Haven’t been for a few years now, but I reckon ‘name Hawkin sounds mighty familiar to me.”

“Bob,” Bill said. “Don’t be leading beautiful strangers on while goose chases.”

“No, no, please,” I said. “Please, keep going.”

“You see?” Bob said. “People want to listen whens I got sumtin to say. Not so bad for an ‘ol man. If I ‘member correctly, Hawkin is one of ‘em hermit people. And what them monks say? They said… said… he took a liking to beer and they saw a goddess ‘a some such.”

“Holy shit,” I said.

“Alright, Bob,” Bill said. “That’s enough outta you. I’m sorry miss lady.”

“No! No, please,” I begged. “Please continue! That’s—that sounds like the man I’m looking for! How far north is he?”

“...mmmm hard to say,” Bob said. “Months. Whole season of travel. Sumtin like that. Lives close to the sea if that helps.”

“Bill,” Bob chastised.

“Quit interrupting, boy!” Bob said. “Why would monks lie to an ‘ol man tha’s feeding ‘em!”

Bill put his hands up in surrender. Sat down and shook his head.

“Thank you so much gentlemen,” I said. “You’ve been a great help. You have no idea! Thank you so much!”

With that, I was off. I pulled the cork from a Speed attribute beer and chugged the entire bottle. I raced down farm roads, leapt over fences and cattle, and sped around Lunstad.