The Samurai's Whisper

When someone would ask about the Banshee, a mix of answers would always accompany it.. as would a mix of question's.

Firmly held in history as a female presence from Irish folklore, that weeps and screams prior to a death she is confirming is going to occur of the family she belongs to.. or in sight during a time of grieving. There are many other ways of telling if she is ever near by, she is said to be seen combing her hair. She keeps to herself, and then seen weeping or crying.

Her comb left behind is another way she would try to communicate a message or even just to let somewhere or someone know she was around.

She acted as a warning or an early tell to expect a death.. most are oblivious to the idea that something like this exists.. but personal experience can lead some to think otherwise.

As the howls of the wolfs began to lower a group of them on them threaded through the descending mountainside they moved unaffected by the terrain they were facing. The wolf in front, paving the way for all that prowled behind paused as a silence fell over the valley.

His front snarl raised as the others began to close distance behind him. He turned with a gurgling growl , the wolfs behind began to disperse in different directions, aware they weren't only in the company of the people in the village.

The Irish Rover, which had set sail from Ireland many moons ago, with Miller and Brooklyn on board. Had cemented it's anchor on the coast of Japan the day before. The ship was salvaged over the course of the 1800's and had a new crew assigned to it's journey.

Irish rebels were the majority, Miller and Brooklyn were part of a rouge unit that ended up coast side in Ireland after they went AWOL, Miller from London and Brooklyn from Liverpool.

"Fuck sake lad, I am spooked now. As if it wasn't bad enough with all these masked up Samurai's. Now there's a witch too." Brooklyn said as he sat himself up back into the bush behind where they were sitting.

"Where are you going? I need your eyes down there." Miller said holding his eye firm to his scope.

"We can't stay here any longer." Brooklyn said as he jotted notes into the notebook he had with him.

His hand writing shaken from the cold read..

- Spotting on the valley hill with Miller.

- Samurais have attacked the village we were set to seek shelter in. Wind is not to strong, but we have been here for over twelve hours. Samurai's arrived.

- Very loud scream, could have honestly been a witch.

''Miller there's a witch out here or something. How do we go back to this crew and tell them this? No one is going to believe us turning up like ..Ah Paddy we ran into a village took a spot of advantage and within twelve hours half the village was killed by a pack of Japanese warriors and there's some witch screaming her head off in the tree's with a pack of wolfs?''

Miller kept his eye glued to his scope.

"Relax Brooklyn'' Miller replied.

''I am, it's time for us to get a move on before this witch turns up beside us.'' Brooklyn said as he gathered his few bits into a tied length of cloth which he threw over his shoulder.

"Stop calling it a witch Brooklyn, it could be gender neutral.'' Replied Miller.

Back at the coast, the winds were strong, the rebels had set up camp just off from where the ship had docked. The waves rattled against it's engraved wooden panels as it bobbed in the water and continued to overlap each other as they reached the shoreline. A few tents were set up behind a high dune that they used to block the fierce winds. The men were sleeping as wind rustled the beginning of the wooded area.

Even with the sniper team seriously considering turning back. The distance they would have to cover would take at least five hours.

The dimming light of the dying fire casted shadows over everything that was scattered around. The remnants of what was not long ago the life of the night. With a toss of water that remained in a pot, filled from the ocean the last waking rebel put an end to the dying light and the camp fell into the darkness that surrounded for miles.

At the village, in the valley, the Samurai's had gathered and spoke between themselves.

Miller watched the situation unfold.

The leading Ri walked towards the direction where the screams had began. He scanned the horizon. The tension was like a poison that seeped in. Stepping through the puddles and over the uneven ground he reached the entrance to the forest. A few feet behind one of his men followed.

A fog obscured but at the same time lured. There was no more scream, there was no more word.

''Is there anything out there?'' the Ri behind asked.

''I can't see anything, the fog is too thick.'' replied the leading Ri.

"Maybe hold back and we can send some men to check the area. It was probably some sort of wolf or something.''

The leading Ri turned to face his loyal soldier.

''Brooklyn.. are you ready to go?'' Miller said as he clipped back the bolt on the back of his rifles barrel.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly he looked across the valley through the break in the trees. Inside his scope, the cross hairs lining up with the spacing in the Samurai's armour between the chest and the chin. Miller watched as from the fog a sallow hand reached out rested on the Ri's shoulder.

The Samurai, still facing his soldier felt confusion as he watch the expression change on his face, there was fear showing in his eye's as he began taking steps backwards.

The Samurai froze, as he looked with his down to his shoulder.

The hand resting on him, with streels of long dark hair intertwined between the breaks in the feminine but rugged fingers.

His own breath slowed, as he looked back to his man who had now lost his footing stepping backwards over a branch and ended up on the ground, he looked back to his commander as he pushed himself backwards through the dirt on the ground. His head shook to further convince himself what he was seeing wasn't real.

Streels of long dark hair became visible, flowing in the wind and tangling around the Samurai, as the hand reached down resting over his heart.

''Brooklyn.. she's not a witch.'' Miller said as he looked on through his scope.

He exhaled slowly and at the end of his breath retracted the trigger. The bullet escaped the confinements of it's barrel and glided across the valley.

Splitting through the clothing, then piercing the skin and lodging itself into the Samurai's neck.

He fell to his knee's. Almost as if being lowered gently by the support of the presence behind him.

The hair intertwined and began to cover his face as her second hand covered his eye's. Blood trickled from his neck.

''She's the Beanshee.'' Miller said as he turned away picking up his bag and making his way over to Brooklyn.

''Who did you shoot? What's a banshee?'' Brooklyn asked as he began pulling his way through the bushes in a hurry.

''You'd have known if you weren't afraid of ghost's.'' Miller replied as he moved in behind Brooklyn. ''The banshee is from Ireland, there must have been one on the ship with us. Either that or Japan has them too.''

''What are you on about mate it's hardly a ghost is it?'' Brooklyn replies.

''Them rebels will tell you better when we get back to camp. Just keep fucking going before them ninja's get up that hill. I don't want to stick around to find out.''

"Did you down their commander?" Brooklyn asked paving a way in front of Miller who replied "Yeah..'' as he clawed branches and leaf's out of his way taking strides through the woods.

After finding out what had happened, some of the Samurai's began pacing in the direction the gunshot had sounded from. Guns in 1800's Japan were not heard of. The Japanese Emperor had only recently received arms from the Western world with the seemingly more sophisticated weapons being introduced to his army, was as a result one contributing factor to what caused the profession and need for the Samurai role in society to be abolished.

The already dying breed. Dying.

The Ri that had watched his commander falling had to return to the crowd at the hut to let his comrades know what had happened. By the time he had returned with some back up the fog had consumed the presence that accompanied him during death, and with his body laying still she took his soul with her in to the unknown.