A Murder

The scent of wet dew made the singular Naguul stir from his sleep, stretching his sore and weary limbs as he came to. His body gave a slight shudder in the autumn chill, and he reached up to rub his eyes, groaning under his breath. The cold always made him stiff. He sat up in his makeshift lean-to, stretching out the kinks in his back. He went about his daily routine of cleaning his face in the freshwater stream near his campsite, and slowly eating through his rations of berries. None of it was filling, but it was all he had. It was all he could do to survive. As he sat on a grassy knoll, the wind whipping at his scarf, he stared at the far-off, bleached white walls in the distance. The place that used to be his home, and the place he was now glad to be far, far away from. He could never go back there again. Not if he wanted a true life, that was. He sighed and got to his aching feet but twisted his head to the side for a second, as if he imagined he heard something. He flinched a little when the rustle of flapping wings came down from the trees, and a pigeon dropped a scrap of paper down in front of him before fluttering away. Immediately, he bent down, scooping up the crumpled note. It was the only way he and Rees could communicate. All technology had been compromised. Hurriedly he folded it open, reading the message with shaking hands.

“They know where you are.”

His heart plummeted in his chest. The sound of haunting, discordant voices made his heartrate spike, and he shot down the hill. How could they have known?? He’d been so careful!! Panic started to overtake him as he dashed through the trees, trying but unable to outrun the song gaining on him. Desperate tears started to run down his face. It couldn’t end this way. He’d tried so hard! He’d done everything he could! He heard voices in front of him now, they were closing in. He couldn’t run. Instead, he scrambled into his camp, grabbing the nearest pen and pencil he could. He scrabbled down a quick note as fast as he could, dashing to where he kept his own pigeon. Throwing open the cage door, he gave it the note, and sent it into the air. To think it would be the last thing he wrote… The dark, robed figures were visible now, their haunting voices closing in on him. He sucked in a breath and shifted to his natural form, roaring as loud as he could. He couldn’t even get a strike in though, as all at once, multiple screams pierced the air. It felt like a long nail driven into his head from all sides. He choked, convulsed, and fell to the ground, eyes wide, nose bleeding.

The pigeon flew off in the distance.