Chapter 3

                        In a village fifty kilometers from where Kieran lay asleep an intruder prowled. The intruder was only moderately acquainted with this village, having only visited it a few times before to scope out the “situation” and lay of it. The intruder, who would later be called Der Teufelmann, was slight and had a pernicious air to them. Though they moved at a soft trot they made hardly any sound as they went through the town center. The only sound discernable was the soft swishing of the long hooded cloak they wore, the hood shadowing their face and giving an even more sepulchral look to the face hidden within. The half moon shone down and mingled with the houses and shops lining the street, giving a feeling of chiaroscuro to everything underneath it. It was through this dappled light that they crept up the street, looking for the house they had marked earlier. When the intruder found it, they stood a while out in front of it, taking in the high gables and wooden construction.

            Then they slowly and silently opened the door and slipped in. Like a pale ghost, they swept through the house looking for their target, peering into each room and sweeping their gaze along every surface and corner. Though now, in addition to the rustle of their cloak, a soft muttering could be heard, as if the intruder was reciting something long known and often said. The words were said so softly and familiarly that they seemed to run into each other and created a hissing noise every time an S was hit upon. The intruder went from room to room, taking in the pale richness of the victim’s life with eyes well accustomed to taking in nocturnal scenes.

            Finally, the intruder entered the third room and there, like a giant lump under the bed coverings, was the man they had been searching for. He was fast asleep, his massive body size rising and falling with every rasping breath he took. Hah! He was already very sick, he probably wouldn’t last very much longer anyways. The intruder could almost smell his rotting innards, so imbibed in alcohol they were. He smelled of stale bread, vomit, and old beer, his head poking out of the blankets, like a great turtle from its shell, was covered in long greasy hair. Of course no one smelled particularly good and most people did have a layer of grease over them, but this man was just loathsome. A large knife lay next to him on a small wooden table. It had a sharp blade and seemed to taunt the intruder, sighing as it longed to separate the human flesh. To feel the soft resistance of the skin and see the dimple it made in the skin. To hear the small purr of the knife sliding through the skin after the initial cut. To have the satisfaction of drawing a knife through flesh as if it were soft cheese. It was pure art. The intruder crept closer, a smile playing on their lips.

            All of the sudden the man let out a tremendous snort and grunted rolling over onto his back, at the sound of the snore the intruder leapt two feet straight into the air then stumbled backward alarmed. Though the intruder was well accustomed to sneaking into houses at night, they were always had an infinitesimal amount of fear in their heart. And at times like this when they were almost caught it came out and enveloped their body.  It took a second for them to realize the man was still asleep and then another half-minute to calm their hammering heart.

            When the intruder was fully confident that the man was asleep they smiled widely, for now was the exciting part. This was the part the intruder loved; it was why they came. One could even say they lived for this. The intruder thrived off the energy that accompanied a job like this. This was the best form of entertainment,; the highest form of revelry the world had to offer. They spent a few more minutes watching the man, watching him take his deep raspy breaths and how the blankets moved with it. Then came the work.

            The intruder reached into a deep pocket in the cloak and wrapped their hand around a knife. They pulled it out and held it at arms length. The scabbard was made of stiff leather and was beautifully decorated with swirls and patterns reflecting the might of nature. The intruder unsheathed it and stuck the scabbard back into their belt for later. Then they inspected the knife for any dirt or residue from its past adventures. The intruder was desperately protective of this knife and cleaned it almost every night, there was never a mark to be found on it, and it remained as pristine as the day it was forged.

            There was good reason for the intruder to revere the knife; it was a beautiful thing, with a handle made from bone and a blade made of silver that shone even though there was scant moonlight in the room. The intruder had come by it one night many years ago. They had spotted it in the possession of a certain king and after deliberating over it for almost a week the intruder decided they had to have it. so that night they snuck into the king’s chambers, slit his throat, then took the knife. They stole a giant ring with a purple stone in it too for good measure. The intruder carried that around with them as well, stowed in the leather pocket under the cape. They had kept it by them ever since. The intruder came out of their reverie with a start; they realized they had been stoking the blade of it softly, like one might do to a pet. Letting out a soft laugh, the intruder stepped closer to the man and knelt down, and then they let habit take control.

            First, they slipped the knife into the man’s chest, between his ribs and into his heart. Though it would not have seemed it from a casual observer, this took extreme skill and precision; it was exceedingly hard to kill the man so quickly and, most importantly, so silently. The intruder pulled the knife out again and watched with a curious almost childlike cock of the head as the man bled out. Once the intruder was sure the man was dead, he had not made a peep, they proceeded. Silently they checked that the blood that had spurted out of the body had not gotten on them, then the intruder then made the only fully audible noise of the night; they pulled the man so he fell with a loud thump to the floor. They removed the blankets then fully undressed the man (this was not very difficult as most people slept with little to no clothes) and adjusted him so he lay spread eagle on the ground, in a pool of his own blood. With an expert’s hands, they sliced open his belly. The knife sliding through his skin so smoothly it was almost elegant. But murder was elegant. The intruder thought of it as a refined and elite art form. Smiling widely, they slipped their left hand deep down into the body cavity, the warm blood and organs a mess beneath their touch.

            “Don’t worry I’ll straighten you up,” they said to themselves, then laughed at the small witticism. They hummed a cheery tune as they felt around a bit more then pulled out the whole length of the man’s intestines; they were still warm and covered in wet blood that dripped profusely around him.. Then with superior precision, they aligned the man’s bowels in a perfect circle surrounding him, tying the small and large intestine together for more length. This took an exceptionally long time as it had to be a perfect circle to complete its use.

            Coming to the end of the squishy, slightly smelly rope, the intruder let out a breath and thanked the heavens the intestines were long enough; it took too long to stretch them and it would be getting light soon. The intruder stepped lightly into the circle and gently closed the gaping incision in the man’s stomach.  then, giving one last look at their newest piece of art, walked down the stairs and out the door. Their bloody footprints were lost in the dirt and sand of the village road. Antonia, Kaja, Karina

When Kieran woke up the light from the sun seemed to be shining through the tiny window directly onto his eyes. He had spent the last few days with his father, working in the shop; it seemed his father was making an effort to teach him his trade. Though carpentry was interesting enough, Kieran longed for the outdoors. He loved the sun and the green and all of the other dazzling colors that one could see just from stepping out of doors. And he wanted to go into the forest again. Not just to see Emma per se, but to see the wild tangles of plants all mixed up with the dirt and wood and animals and streams. It was so beautiful out there and Kieran longed for it with all his heart. He knew resolutely that he was not going to stay inside all day again. He was going to breathe fresh air and moist dirt and living things.

Kieran swung himself off the bed and paced around his room. The morning air was chilly and pinched his bare thighs and arms, but Kieran ignored it. He has thinking of more important things, like rabbits. The things were all over the forest. And though they ate them every so often for the many feasts celebrated in his village, Kieran found them sweet, and very cute. Except when he caught them in the garden nibbling on the vegetables. Then he would chase them down and wring their necks. The snap meant he and his father would have fresh meat for a week, and that was always welcome. Kieran thought maybe children were like rabbits. Everyone coos over how cute they are and how sweet they look, but as soon as they become the slightest bit destructive or disobliging…

Well maybe people didn’t wring children’s necks, but they came close enough.

Following his theory Kieran figured he should probably get going and give the semblance of a desire to work, that way his father would have no reason to get angry with him.  He figured he would start by getting dressed for the day

Kieran pulled on his stockings and switched his thin undershirt for an identical clean one. He found his tunic balled up on the ground of his room and pulled that on too, tying the belt around his waist. He stuck his little knife in its sheathe into his belt. Kieran had been given the knife by his father on his 8^th birthday. It was one of his father’s small whittling knives but had grown dull and his father had no more use of it. So it had been given to Kieran. He had sharpened it again and rubbed off all the rust, he shined it every chance he got with animal fat and kept it in perfect condition. Lastly, he found his cowl and cap and put them on over his head.

When he finished getting dressed he padded down the stairs and entered the kitchen.  His father was sitting at the wooden table drinking a mug of watered down beer. Kieran sat down at the table opposite him and got himself a cup of the same. His father silently passed him a bowl of the thick stew from the night before. Kieran ate hungrily, his meal from the night before had not stuck with him through the night. He finished his meal and looked up.

“Father?” He got a grunt in return, “May I go work in the gardens today? I need to go work on planting.”

His father looked at him carefully, nodded, the dropped his head to his hands. He was obviously suffering a hangover. Kieran stood up and grabbed his little bowl, spoon, and cup. He drained the last dregs of his ale and put his breakfast things away. He turned from the room and started to walk out of the room. Just as he was going through the door he turned and took one more glance at his father, he was staring blankly at the wall nursing his ale and drawing patterns on the table with his finger.

Kieran headed through the alley outside his house. The sun shone brightly today unlike the past few days and there was not a cloud in sight. Kieran circled the abbey in the center of the town and nodded a hello to Father Bernhard, a strict, nosey monk who was always investigating other’s business. He had petitioned a few years ago for Kieran to be taken into the Abbey as most people saw his father as unfit for parenting a boy like Kieran. But eventually people lost interest and he dropped it. Kieran stayed with his father.

Kieran walked along the dirty road of the main street and headed to the gate where he could sneak out without anyone seeing him. He left the main market area and walked along the edge of the city gardens. These were for people living in the town who had not quite enough money to buy all their vegetables yet had other professions that kept them from working under a lord in the fields. Working as a peasant farmer was not a glorious life and was not to be envied.

Peasants were usually the poorest of the poor and had little to their name. Kieran was lucky his father was not a farmer; he would not have any time for fun or sneaking off with Cianna. He would spend all day in the fields and still be the poorest people around. Kieran did not fancy that sort of life, and the fact that his father was a carpenter was really quite a good thing. Kieran’s father owned a smaller plot of land near some of the other families who made adequate amounts of money. Kieran was usually in charge of the garden because his father had barely the sense any more to garden. And though spring was coming Kieran would not do the weeding today, tomorrow, he thought to himself, tomorrow I will start.

“Kieran!” Hearing his name Kieran turned around and saw a bright orange head hurrying up the path between the gardens toward him, “Kieran, where are you going?” The girl skidded to a stop in front of Kieran and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. Her hands swung at her sides and she had smudges of dirt all over her face and neck. It was obvious she had been working in the garden and used her muddy hands to wipe sweat off herself.

“Hi, Kaja,” Kieran said in surprise, the little girl had really expressed any interest in Kieran lately, though when they were littler they had been inseparable. Well as inseparable as a little boy and little girl could be.

“So, where are you going?” Kaja persisted, she was still bouncing and wiggling; she could never keep herself still. Kieran had noticed this over the years and in the village, she always seemed to be moving and talking and almost wiggling, not once had Kieran ever seen her not doing something with her hands or body. It made her seem a little blurred at the edges, like she was never fully there.

Kaja was a few months older than Kieran but she was still somewhat shorter, not that that was unusual, most people his age were shorter than Kieran, even some who were older. And while most girls were taller than the boys now Kieran seemed to tower over them all. But Kaja was still pretty tall for her age. She had a bright face with a large mouth and long nose. Her eyes were small and dark but always seemed to be laughing, while her eyelashes and eyebrows were so light they hardly seemed there. She had long, skinny arms and thick, muscular legs. Well at least her legs had looked that way when they were little, Kaja had the decency to cover her legs at least, even if her cap was sliding off her head in the most indecent manner. Under her linen cap, she had long, curly auburn hair that fell down her back in a braid that was tied off with a scrap of dirty, brown fabric. The rest of her outfit consisted of a long sleeveless tunic that fell to the top of her ankles and was tied around her waist with a leather belt.

“Um, I was just heading toward the forest to, you know, get stuff,” Kieran moved uncomfortably,  “Why did you want to know?”

Kaja tugged at the end of her long orange braid. The action made Kieran remember playing with her as a child. She had been a very fast runner, faster than Kieran at least. He remembered laughing with her, Kaja tugging on her braid and suggesting they race, Kaja flying in front of him, her feet barely touching the dirt, her winning every time. It made Kieran ache to be little again. “Well I thought you’d probably like to come help me weed the gardens!”

“Oh,” Kieran didn’t know what to say, he had really wanted to see Emma today, but it would be rude to turn Kaja down, and plus it was someone offering to be nice to him, “Ok then.”

“Yes! I knew you would!” Kaja beamed, she had let go of her braid and tossed it over her shoulder where it was now bouncing wildly against her back as she hopped up and down, from foot to foot, “well then, let’s go!” And she grabbed Kieran by the hand and started back to the gardens.

Kaja had obviously retained her speed because Kieran could not keep up. He was practically dragged behind her, his feet stumbling through the dirt, stubbing his toe almost every other step. He tried his best to keep up but Kaja moved at such a pace that he found impossible to match. So he resigned himself to the struggle and tried not to bump his toes on too many rocks. Kaja was letting out a constant stream of chatter but Kieran had no clue what she was saying, it was washing around him too fast and he was using almost all of his attention on trying not to fall.

Kaja slid to a stop in front of the set of gardens owned by hers and Kieran’s family among others. Already there were a few kids around Kieran’s age working at planting and digging and such. Kieran let out a sigh, he didn’t exactly like being around a lot of other people, he had been under the impression it would be just him and Kaja. But most of the people here were pretty nice; there was Astrid, Friederike, Lukas, and a boy Kieran did not know who was a little ways off.

“Hi!” Lukas stood up from where he had been resting and took a few steps in Kieran’s direction, “I’m glad to see Kaja convinced you to come help, you spend way too much time in the forest.”

“Yeah,” Astrid piped in, “how do you stand being in there all day? It’s so creepy!” She gave an involuntary shiver, “and there are weird things going on.” All the children around Kieran shivered again then turned back to their work. Kieran felt a bit insulted at what they had said but chose to ignore it. Kieran plopped down on his knees on the edge of his and his father’s plot, right near Kaja. Kieran was good at being alone but sometimes he liked the security of being near another person, not necessarily talking (Kaja tried to strike up a conversation but after Kieran mostly ignored her she fell silent), but just being near another warm body gave him a sense of safety.

Things were silent for a while as they weeded and turned over dirt, Kieran wondering what sort of creepy things Astrid was talking about when suddenly Kaja squeaked.

“What’s the matter?” Lukas said concernedly.

“There was a sharp stone and it poked me!” Kaja held up her hand, on one of her muddy fingers had a small gash across it, a small drop of blood made its way down the length of her finger.

“Ow,” Astrid said, “why would there be a stone in the garden? There’s never rocks in here and that’s bad luck.”

“Everyone’s having bad luck right now,” Lukas said with a sigh, “I mean, look at what’s happening in those villages just over.”

“Huh? What’s happening?” Kieran asked in confusion, “You guys were talking about that earlier, so what’s so scary about those villages?”

“You haven’t heard?” Kaja asked. Kieran shook his head.

“Well a few villages over they’ve been finding people, dead people,” Lukas began, “What’s so weird is that all of these people have been cut open along their bellies, like gshhhhht, “ Lukas made a noise like someone slicing through something, “and then their-“

“Stop it!” Kieran looked at Astrid with surprise, her face was tinged with green, and she had her hands clasped over her ears, “just stop! He doesn’t want to hear more, no more!”

“I agree,” It was Friederike who spoke, Kieran had rarely heard her voice, he knew her to be quiet and reserved, preferring to watch and take in rather than actively participate in a conversation, “It’s not something to talk about in public.”

But Lukas just shook his head, “He has a right to know, I mean, the attacks are getting closer and closer to here. “

“Lukas’s right,” Kaja said, “I mean it’s not that scary, actually it’s kind of exciting.” Astrid shot Kaja a death glare, and Friederike narrowed her eyes.

“I’m not sure exciting is the right word,” Lukas glanced warily at Kaja. Kieran had to agree, it was kind of improper for a girl to show this much interest in murder.

“Yeah, that’s really weird!” Astrid said loudly, “As in you are not normal.” Kaja glared daggers at her, her small eyes even smaller. She let out a small Hmph! of dissatisfaction the turned back to their work.

Kieran couldn’t help but smile a little bit as he thought of the connections all these children had. He imagined little golden threads connecting each one, Lucas to Friederike because they were siblings, Frederike to Astrid as they were friends Kieran knew, Astrid to Kaja through mutual hatred, and Kaja to Kieran as they had been best friends. The little golden threads flowed between the five of them and Kieran had a small sense of belonging.

He felt connected.