Aelfir. The Hada. Will-o-the-wisps. Hags. Child-eaters. Daniel had heard all the names, all the warnings, all the whispers and screams but nonetheless, his eyes were drawn to the lights and his ears to the subtle rhythmic hum in the darkened forest.
His bare feet, scarred by thorns and worn by work, splashed into the mud when he jumped out of the apple tree. He had friends, yes, friends to meet in the forest......
Daniel had never heard them called friends, but he accepted the idea with little resistance. His short legs made a quick trip into the forest, to greeting cackles and aching hungers.
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An ascetic fire-haired young man pushed back his untamed mane as he sprung out of his straw bed. Peasants were yelling, banging on his flimsy oak door, hopefully calling for something other than a priest's blood.
He threw open the door to see frightened peasants. He recognized one, a grim scarred man that served as the local blacksmith, Roland or something. The others were women, kept back in thatch huts away from the world of men. One was barely out of girlhood, beautiful and virginal if not for the pox that marked her skin.
"Father Ignatius?" The scarred man asked with a pleading tone.
"Yes?" They were here for help. It was funny, none but the peasants would curse the priests openly, and none but the peasants would grovel when something needed done. Ignatius pulled a stray lock of hair back from his face, revealing eyes that burned more intensely than faith itself. The pox-marked girl gave out a gasp. Ignatius's eyes frightened many. He rejoiced in her fear.
"Daniel.... my son." The scarred man cleared his throat. "'E's been taken in by the forest."
"Oh...." Ignatius's tired resolve wavered a bit. He was not yet used to the beasts of the Northlands, and he had not been a martial cleric even in the tamed South. The peasants looked fearful for a second as he tried to form words. "Gather the headmen. We head into the forest. May the Horned One protect us from the dark!"
He made the sign of the horns and then the cross, and the peasants followed. Ignatius doubted they attended the Carnal Mass except under compulsion.
Ignatius hoped he wouldn't die between the cold timbers.
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There were two of the Aelfir. A breeding pair. They looked almost identical in their squalor.
Blackened, yellowed teeth, long and pointed nonetheless. Mottled skin, broken with pox, bruises and liver spots. Fleshy insect-like wings in darkened by knotted veins. A long hooked nose, covered with warts. Sparse, grayed, oily hair falling in front of beady glowing eyes. The female had flabby breasts, worn by age and child-bearing.
The Aelfir were not handsome beasts.
Long fragile fingers had smashed a rock into the boy's skull, who was still smiling while unconscious. The two had dragged him far in their weak, stuttering flight, finding the right place to feed.
They had found it, a quiet brook with a nice flat stone to place the innards upon. A quiet brook to drown him in.
Ignatius and the headmen arrived after the child gave his last bubbling breath. The vile creatures, with their stinking breath and slobbering jaws, flew upon the headmen, long, untamed nails threatening to bite into eyes and throats. They were struck down by a moment of pure religious fury from Ignatius.
They roasted slowly on the forest floor, crying out the names of those they killed as their fat hissed and popped, weeping about their hungers as their bones singed into ash.
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The entire village, excepting Daniel, attended the next Carnal Mass.
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