Marie Among the Moles

That she find an answer to this question became more and more urgent as she approached the village square, a large compound containing the great hall and the private homes of the elder panel members. She spat bitterly, with both her parents' death and the panel's reaction to her speech earlier that night. Now the area around the square was deserted, pitch-black, and the entrance to the inner courtyard barred by a locked eight-inch tall gate.

She stared up at the top of the fence, the only way into the compound, and decided that fear was not an emotion she had the luxury of feeling currently, given the circumstances. She stuck her fingers into a knothole and pulled herself up, almost within reach of another one. As she struggled to hook her fingers inside it, she heard footsteps approaching. She didn't have time to even turn her head before they were directly beneath her, a hand gripping the sole of her tennis shoe. The hand pushed up, giving her a much-needed bost, and her hand closed around the top of the fence. She quickly pulled herself up, arms strained but not giving out as she pulled herself up onto the narrow board. She crouched there, looking down gratefully at her uncle. "Thank you," she said.

He nodded solemnly and resumed his post in the bushes next to the proper entrance of the great hall, a large iron door that no amount of adrenaline would have allowed someone to rip off of its hinges. There was likely to be trouble, he knew, but maybe he could be of some use when it bubbled up to the surface.

Alone again, Marie swung herself onto the other side of the fence, bracing herself against a nearby tree the avoid crashing noisily itno the dimly lit courtyard. A soft glow emanated from a globe in the center, within a small pile of straw and dead leaves. She surveyed the area and, finally, slowly began to inch along the courtyard, crouching behind bushes and staying within the shadow of the wall whenever possible. She watched the open door on the other side of the yard anxiously as she approached. The closer she got, the more clearly she could hear the voices coming from within the darkened stable, as well as the slow, heavy breathing of some great beast. Leaning her head against the planks making up the stable's exterior wall, she breathed as quietly as possible as she strained to her the two men's voices over the pounding of her heart.

"I see it's coming along well, very well."
"More or less. There are a few things we need to work. For one, I think we should give McGurty's idea a try. If we coud just condition it to be more loyal--he'd be a whole lot easier to round up."
"No kidding! Remember when one of them showed up in the courtyard last time? I nearly had a heart attack.."
"Yeah, well, at least.."

The man was cut off by a metal stake, the sort normally used for picking up bits of trash, piercing his throat. "It sounds like he's still talking," Marie thought in a detached way, jamming the pointed end of the stake in as far as it would go, forcing the odd gurgling noises emanating from the man's still-moving mouth to an end, and making him drop to his knees, pulling Marie down with him.

Horrified by what she had done as well as her proximity to a very fresh corpse, she pulled frantically on the stake, wheeling to face the other panel member as son as she'd dislodged it. But it appeared that her quarry had vanished into thin air; only a rattling sound coming from a cage in the far right corner of the stable suggested otherwise.

She crept forward, stake raised, and soon became aware of an odd sound, a sort of low keening. Marie froze as a large shape emerged from the darkness. It was round and awkward-looking, eyes tiny pinpricks in a mass of brown fur. It ambled forward, jaws stretched so far that it was a wonder they didn't break. "This," she thought, "was the last thing my mother saw." She fell to her knees, weak before this real, live version of the specter that had haunted her dreams ever since that fateful day, emanating bloodlust and leaning heavily on its back legs, preparing to pounce. Marie closed her eyes, gripping the stake tightly and bracing herself against the inevitable bite or slash..but it never came. Only an anguished cry, and the beast flopping over onto one side, a sickle embedded in its heaving chest.

Marie opened her eyes and, seeking to confirm what she saw before her, she stepped forward and lay her head next to the gash on the mole's chest, filled with wonder as its breathing became more and more labored, then stopped entirely.

"I lost someone too, you know," Barry said, stepping out from the shadows, his hands and sweater smeared with blood. "I couldn't just leave all this to you, if you were really on to something." Marie stared at him blankly. "My best friend. You know, Rogers. The one you beat up when he stepped on your dragonfly wing."

"Oh yeah," Marie said, and, the effort of speaking having taken the rest of their energy for the moment, they sunk to the floor, struggling to catch their breath--and after they did, coming up with a plan..