บท 22: A Grim Discovery
Chapter 22: A Grim Discovery
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The first rays of sunlight peeked through the dense forest canopy, casting a golden hue over the quiet wilderness.
The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and decaying leaves.
A group of twenty-four villagers moved cautiously along a narrow dirt trail, their steps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves.
At the front of the group walked Sam and Komal, the trusted leaders of the hunting party. Their faces, shadowed by the early morning light, carried an air of quiet determination.
Sam's broad shoulders bore the weight of years of leadership.
His rugged appearance—unruly dark hair streaked with silver and a worn leather hunting vest—told of countless battles fought in the wild.
Beside him, Komal's slender frame belied her sharp instincts. Her blonde hair was tied back tightly, and her keen green eyes scanned the forest for any signs of danger.
"The gain has been less this year," Komal said, her voice low but laced with concern. "It feels like the animals are retreating deeper into the forest, as if they're afraid of something."
Sam nodded, his weathered hand brushing against the hilt of the hunting knife at his belt. "I've noticed it too," he admitted. "But I can't figure out what's driving them away."
Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp cry from the front of the group.
"Sam! Komal! You need to see this!"
Sam broke into a sprint, the leather soles of his boots kicking up dirt as he raced toward the source of the shout.
Komal followed closely, her breaths quick and shallow. As they rounded a bend, the scene before them brought both to an abrupt halt.
Scattered across the clearing were bodies—dozens of them.
Dark-clothed figures lay in unnatural positions, their lifeless forms eerily still against the vibrant green of the forest floor.
The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of moss and decay.
Sam's jaw tightened as he surveyed the carnage. "What in the gods' name happened here?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Komal knelt beside one of the bodies, her hands trembling slightly as she examined the wounds.
Deep punctures marred the chest, while scorch marks seared through the fabric. "They're all dead," she said grimly, standing and wiping her hands on her leather gloves.
The rest of the hunting party gathered around, their faces pale and tense. The crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional gasp of shock broke the eerie silence.
"What do you think did this?" Sam asked, his voice steady despite the dread creeping into his tone.
Komal shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied the corpses. "Not animals. If it were, parts of their bodies would be missing—eaten. This..." she gestured to the scorched clothing, "this was no animal."
Sam ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts racing. "Their clothes... their weapons..." He crouched, picking up a broken dagger from one of the bodies. The craftsmanship was foreign, unlike anything he'd seen before.
Sam exhaled heavily, straightening up. He turned to his team, his commanding presence drawing their attention.
"We can't leave them here. These are people, like us. They have families who deserve closure. We'll bring them back to the village and give them a proper burial."
The villagers exchanged uncertain glances. The idea of carrying so many lifeless bodies back to their home was unsettling.
But Sam's unwavering gaze left no room for argument. Slowly, they nodded their agreement.
Komal approached Sam, her steps slow and deliberate. Her hand rested lightly on his arm as she spoke in a hushed tone.
"This doesn't feel right, Sam. Whatever happened here... it's not over. I can feel it."
Sam placed his calloused hand over hers, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I know you're worried. But we'll figure this out. I promise I won't let anything happen to you or the village."
Komal nodded, though the furrow in her brow remained.
One by one, the villagers began lifting the bodies onto their shoulders.
The dead were surprisingly light, their emaciated frames suggesting they'd suffered long before their end.
The group moved in solemn silence, the weight of their burden both physical and emotional.
The dirt path leading back to the village felt longer than usual.
The forest around them was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Sam's eyes darted to the shadows, ever alert for any signs of danger.
As they emerged from the forest, the first sight of their village brought a collective sigh of relief.
Fields of golden wheat stretched out before them, dotted with the occasional scarecrow.
The morning light bathed the wooden houses in a warm glow, their thatched roofs glistening with dew.
Despite the tranquility of the scene, the sight of the hunting party carrying bodies drew immediate attention.
Villagers paused in their morning routines, their faces etched with confusion and concern.
By the time Sam and his group reached the center of the village, a crowd had formed.
Mothers with children in tow, elderly men leaning on walking sticks, and farmers with tools still in hand—all gathered to see what had happened.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"What's going on?"
"Are those our people?"
"No, look at their clothes..... They're strangers."
Sam raised his hand, silencing the murmurs. "Everyone, please! I know you have questions, and I'll answer them all. But for now, gather outside my house. I'll explain everything there."
The villagers hesitated before nodding in agreement. Sam's leadership had earned their trust, and they knew better than to doubt him in times of crisis.
As the group moved toward Sam's home, Komal lingered beside him. "Do you think the village is safe, Sam?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sam glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I hope so. But whatever happens, we'll face it together."
Komal gave a small nod, her resolve hardening.
The morning sun climbed higher as the villagers prepared for the meeting, their unease growing with each passing moment.
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End of the chapter here.
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