It was a night that was quiet, too quiet even for the woods of whispering words. It was even quiet in more ways than one. Sure, the sound of dying men whispers and the seducing voices were gone. But so was the fluttering of branches and leaves with the ever moving breezes, the flickering glow of light nipped flies. It was quiet as if time had stopped and all that made the woods what they were, were gone.
Snap!
The first sound in a long while, was the sound of a heavy boot with silver clasps crushing through brush. Upon this boot were emblazoned art riding from the leather boots up about the leather pants, riding across tunic, cloak and even about the gloves of this mysterious man. The art was of a ghastly wisp, a group of dragons clasped in silver mist. Rather, it seemed that both the mist and the dragon was shimmering with a softened silver light.
The man moved his hand to his sheathe, rending the sword from its sheathe and pointing it at one of the trees. With the dagger straight tip piercing an inch into the wood..
"Stop hidin, ya wanker." His musky voice ranging with a type of weary sass shouted at the tree. A second paused, and nothing happened. The man pressed his weight against his blade and pushed it deeper into the wood of the tree.
"Okay!! Fine!" A youthful voice of a young boy shouted from the tree and then there was a groan. From the cracks of the tree's bark, the trunk of the tree shifted in an area close to the blade of the man. Shifting into the form of a boy. Soon the bark silhouette began to meld with something more fleshy, until a young boy wreathed in thorny vines and thick, bushy leaves stood separate from the tree altogether. "You scared 'alf the forest with that mockin display, what you want with a nymph anyways?"
The man not hesitating, had the sword blade aimed at the new boys neck. "Dan't play coy with me, buddy o' buddy. I know ya know about what I'm looking for." His voice made the facade of the young boy to turn to a hardened scowl.
"You think ah'll let someone like you know about something like that? You're out of your mind." He spat the words out, and his gaze furrowed. "Ah know what you did to my folks in the other forests. So you know ah'll not be the one to forsake their lives. You'll just have to kill me, like you did to them." The boy stepped forward, his nick running up the blade of the sword, causing viscous green liquid to bleed from the tear.
The man chuckled. Rather, it is apt to say he chortled. His back arched and his hand was over his stomach as if he had just heard something very, very funny. The boy tensed at this display, and took a step back. "Ya think a little halfwit like ya's gonna do anything about my plan."
The man's face had a smile planted there. The boy felt a little dizzy, his throat a little parched. Perhaps... he was afraid. The tree nymph shook the thought away. Nymphs feared only the gods and greater powers of this world. Not some silly mortal who thinks they can trample on the culture and tradition of the trees.
"You've killed the other nym.. nymphs.." The boy stuttered, his head feeling a little clogged. He shook it away and glared at the silver eyes man with all the fierceness he could muster.
It was at this time that the leaves and branches rustled. Vines and roots crawled up from the ground and begin to wall the area about. The man looked around amused, not at all conflicted. "Ya, so what ya bloody moron. I ain't got no time for trash. But wow, ya're trying to do this exactly like those other wankers." The man's body was relaxed and calm. This made the boy's heart beat furiously.
"You.. Do you not realize this'll turn out just the way the other's went? You're an idiot, ah may die here trynna stop you, but you'll have nothing again. Nothing'll change. You lose... lose... lose..." the boy clasped his hands to his mouth and gaped in shock. His tongue felt numb, and his legs felt week.
The plants and roots that were quite ready to assist the boy seemed to droop and fall. The boy mustered his courage and reached a hand out to the drooping plants to try and regain control, but he fell to his knees instead. His eyelids felt heavy, and though he could feel faint in mind, he could hear the words of the man in his ears.
"That's the thing, I just had to change me process a tad. A little tinker here, a poison for my blade there. Nothing that'll kill ya, that's for sure." The man crouched down, his pale faced with three scars scratched diagonally over one of his eyes were quite prevalent. "We're gonna have that long chat bout things I want and what ya'll want later on. And nobody's gonna be a bugger to intervene."
Tears dripped down the boy's face in frustration. Helplessness caused a surge of virulent emotions to be like a explosion of light in a dimming expanse. His hand jut out with a strength to the vine and the vine as if flowing with newfound vigor shot like a spear at the man's back.
The boy's eyes glinted with satisfaction, only for it to suddenly go downcast and weary. The spearing vine had met its fate with the blade. After squirming left and right a bit, it settled down and everything went quite.
"Nighty night, me wittle dryad. See ya in the morning." The face of the man haunted the last memory of being in the whispering woods.