The Ranger's Daughter- Chapter 2

Hello, everyone! Here's chapter 2 of my story.

Chapter 2: Surprising News

As time wore on, Hyldie’s spirits began to lift. Her lantern provided ample light to find her way through the dreary streets, and so far she hadn’t been tormented by the biting snidges and gnats that usually came out at nightfall.

Still, she reminded herself, she had to be cautious. She found very few people in the streets, but the ones she found were often unfriendly. When she smiled at them, they responded with glares. Once, she saw a few men with daggers, and hid behind a wall as they passed. Not from cowardice, she told herself. They may not have meant to hurt her, but in Dugtown, you couldn’t take any chances.

When she arrived at the inn, Hyldie gave a sigh of relief. She realized that she had been more afraid than she dared admit.

After locating their inn room, she knocked on the door. No answer. She went in and saw that her father’s old cloak was still gone from the peg.  Worried that he had gone to look for her, she went to the spot where she had left a note and sighed with relief. It hadn’t been moved. If he had come here first, he would have picked up the note to read it.

Feeling more relaxed, she put her cloak on the peg and started a fire in the stove. When that was done, she wrapped the new cloak in paper, then set to work on making supper.

She couldn’t help but worry about her father’s absence, but she told herself that he was only a little late. Her father did forget the time occasionally, and perhaps he had gotten deep in conversation with the friends he had planned to visit.

Her father was a born Dugtowner, and he always made calls on old friends when he and Hyldie were passing through Dugtown. His job as a Skreean Ranger kept him abroad, and Hyldie with him. She had grown up used to going to sleep and waking up in strange places, whether it was an inn, a house, a tent, or the bare ground. She had grown up doing the cooking, mending the clothes, and hunting on occasion. Some people questioned Jaron’s approach to fatherhood, and Hyldie had once heard someone say that it was “a cruel way to bring up a child”.

In fact, Hyldie had once been left alone in a cottage, set up with provisions and supplies, while her father tracked down a destructive pair of bomnubbles that were troubling a village up north. They had led him far out into the Stony Mountains, trampling and killing as they went, and it had been days before the ranger was able to return to his daughter.

Hyldie was at times lonely, and she sometimes wished for a permanent home, where they could settle down and make friends. But she couldn’t imagine her father ever settling down.  Folks called him a “wild man”. He had been that way since his wife’s death, for that was when he had resolved to become a Ranger- Hyldie had been only 5 years old. Yes, he was wild, but he loved his daughter like nothing else. He travelled often, but took Hyldie along whenever he could, and she had never resented him for lack of attention.

Hyldie replaced the covering on the henmeat stew and watched it come to a boil. When it was thoroughly cooked, she filled a bowl for herself and sat down in a chair near the fire. She couldn’t deny the worry she had for her father, so she prayed aloud to the Maker for his safety.

After she had finished the stew, she sat for a long time, gazing into the fire.

Hyldie had not realized that she had dozed off, until she was startled awake by the sound of clunking in the hall outside their room. When the fog in her brain cleared, she realized what it meant. She smiled.

“Pa!” Hyldie jumped up to let him in, and her father walked into the room.

Jaron Freebonnet was a tall man, with dark eyebrows and hair, and a cheerful countenance. In almost every way, he bore a striking resemblance to his daughter. They both shared the same deep green eyes and noble features, although Hyldie had gotten her freckles and slight build from her mother.

“Hyldie,” he said, wrapping his daughter in an embrace. Hyldie looked up at him, and saw thought she saw a hint of a frown in his face. Had something happened? Hyldie thought about asking, then realized that he would talk about it when he felt the need.

“The stew is on the fire,” Hyldie remarked as they walked into the small kitchen.

“Thank you, Hyldie,” Jaron said, unsmiling. He walked over and began dishing out a serving of stew for himself.

“So, how did everything go?” Hyldie asked, trying to encourage him to bring up the topic.

Jaron glanced up for a moment, then went back to eating. “What? Oh, fine, fine.”

Hyldie stood there for a while longer, watching her father eat his stew. Something was obviously bothering him, but she knew that he didn’t like to be pressed.

“I have something for you,” she said, changing the topic.

Her father grinned at her, and she knew that she had cheered him up. “Why, Hyldie! You certainly didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to,” Hyldie insisted, then went to fetch the paper bundle that contained the cape. “Happy Birthday,” she said, handing it to him.

As Jaron opened the package, he threw back his head and laughed. “Hyldie! How is it that every year, you buy exactly what I need?”

Now Hyldie was laughing. “Maybe it’s because every year, you never fail to mention it? I would be deaf if I didn’t know you wanted a cape!”

“I didn’t know I mentioned it that much.”

“You talk to yourself all the time. You say, ‘This cape must be 15 years old,’ and ‘I sure do need a new cape; this one’s riddled with holes!’”

“Ah.” Jaron wiped his eyes. “What else do I say?”

“Oh, it depends.” Hyldie was trying to keep the joke going, but she could sense that her father’s mirth was already fading. “Sometimes I can tell what happened on a Ranger Mission just by what you say to yourself.”

Jaron smiled, but Hyldie could tell that he was thinking about the other thing.

The thing he hadn’t told her.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, unable to resist asking the question.

Jaron was silent for a long while, then looked at his daughter. “No, Hyldie,” he said, then added, “I heard a rumor today.”

Hyldie waited for an explanation. “What rumor?” she finally asked when her father did not continue.

Her father frowned, and Hyldie could see that whatever he had heard bothered him deeply. “As you know, I went to visit some of our friends here,” he began slowly. “I stopped by a tavern at about noon. While I was waiting for my brew, a Torrborro merchant arrived. He said that he had recently returned from a trip to the Hollows. He had news.”

Hyldie nodded, feeling a twinge of dread in her stomach.

“He said that there was an attack on the Isle of Anniera, across the sea. All of it, destroyed.”

Anniera. Hyldie’s mother had grown up there. Hyldie felt a great sadness, deepened by a seed of anger at who had done this.

All those people…

“Survivors?” she asked, her heart feeling heavy.

“From what this man said, the Hollowsfolk tried to evacuate the citizens. The only ones that made it were in a small boat, and they were all wounded. Many of them died.”

“Who would do this?” Hyldie asked, “Who would do this terrible thing?”

“That’s the worst of it,” Jaron said. “No one knows where they came from, or who sent them. The merchant didn’t know what they were; only that they were monsters. Snakes that stood upright like humans. They stormed the island at night, and no one had a chance.”

Hyldie shuddered. She didn’t dare imagine what it would be like to be one of those people on the island, to awake in the night, only to find the island crawling with monsters.

“And that’s not the worst of it,” Jaron said. “The merchant said that these monsters are out to conquer. They may not be finished” He looked at her steadily.

Hyldie gave a small, nervous smile. “Skree is too far away. They would have to sail their whole army across the Dark Sea. They would want to attack the surrounding countries near Anniera first. They wouldn’t come here, would they?”

“No,” said Jaron, but Hyldie could see the worry in his eyes.